“I am not one of your charity cases.” Alden glanced at the open door and the rainy street beyond, fear flickering in his gaze before it hardened. “You shouldn’t have brought Nate here. If he got away from her once, he won’t get away again. They’ll make him sleep like they do in Gathos City.” His voice went ragged. “They’ll cut him apart. What were you thinking coming here?”
Nate was frozen in place, struck numb by the way Alden unraveled before him. It was like watching the train crumple apart.
“Alden,” Reed said in the gentle tone he used with Pixel whenever she woke screaming in the night. He took Alden’s elbow carefully.
Alden shook him off and pushed him hard, losing his balance. His body folded forward, and a strangled cry tore from his throat. Reed caught him, and Alden fought briefly before he slumped in Reed’s arms, hair falling over his face. The rage appeared to drain out of him, and he let out a hoarse, sobbed breath.
Reed’s eyes widened, and he turned a questioning gaze to Nate. He stroked Alden’s back, maybe without meaning to or maybe because he was Reed.
Nate wanted to reach for Alden, but resisted, struck with the awful thought that Alden would crumble to dust if he touched him.
“Nate,” Reed started to say, shaking his head. His pale-green eyes held a mix of apology and pity.
It made Nate want to lash out at him like Alden had. They couldn’t give up—not on wishes, not on anything.
Before Reed could say more, Alden straightened, flipping his hair out of his face and wiping his nose with a delicate sweep of his hand. “You’ll have to forgive me for that outburst. It’s been a long day.”
Silence stretched between them until Alden sighed and crossed his skinny, bruised arms. “So. You don’t look especially better-off. How did you get away from Agatha?”
“She was out.” Nate edged toward the door—hoping Alden would follow him. “Reed tricked fiends into killing her guards and breaking the door down.”
“She’s nothing without the fools who fight for her—for her chem,” Alden said, quietly bitter.
“I, uh, broke her still. So now she can’t make chem anymore. Or Remedy.”
Alden took a step toward him, one hand outstretched like a gull’s claw. “Tell me how she made Remedy,” he said, frantic. “In a still? How?”
Startled by the feverish questioning, Nate stumbled on his words. It didn’t matter anymore. He’d wrecked it all. “Serum, she said. It’s part of blood. Not GEM blood. But she mixed it with other things. Plant stuff. Chemical stuff. I couldn’t tell.”
“Blood. That. . .” Alden clenched his jaw. “Of course.”
Reed cleared his throat. “Agatha’s still out here somewhere.”
“Yes, I noticed when she brought her friends here and theyset my home on fire.”
“Nate isn’t going to leave you here.”
Alden shot an icy look at Nate, and he shrugged. Reed was correct.
“If you won’t come willingly, I’m going to carry you,” Reed said, meeting Nate’s surprised look with a resigned shrug. “And it won’t be pleasant for either of us. Come as far as the gull-catcher’s shop. We’re meeting the girls there. Find somewhere dry. Sleep.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to sleep,” Alden said, monotone. He turned to the wall where the shelves were cracked down the middle, forming triangles and angular shadows.
Nate held his hand out for Alden. His sleeve was stained with blood and greenish Remedy.
Alden traced a trembling finger along the swollen wound that circled Nate’s wrist like a bracelet. “Did you get enough?” he asked in a whisper that sounded like an apology.
Enough for now.
“I’m fine, Alden. Let’s go.”
Alden took his hand.
Alden’s haunted gaze drifted up to the tops of the tall buildings and the crumbling, ornate carvings around the higher windows. He stared like a child, frightened and curious at once. Cradling his arm over his middle, he winced with every footstep.
“You’ve really never been out here?” Reed asked, voice soft with unmasked concern.
Alden didn’t answer.
