“Pix,” Nate whispered.
“She’s safe. I promise. They’re all safe.”
“I don’t see the need to lie to him,” Alden said. “The shop is dead today. When the fiends don’t come out, it’s bad.”
“Tell me,” Nate said hoarsely.
“Sparks and Brick are hiding down the street. They’re safe. Pixel’s asleep with Fran. I promise.” Reed sighed. “But it’s getting rough out there. There’s not enough food. People are building barges and trying to sail across the sludge-channel to the city.”
“They’ll find a rude welcome,” Alden said.
“This can’t last forever,” Reed said. “Gathos City needs the trains back in service.”
Swept away by pain, unable to keep his focus steady on what they were saying, Nate closed his eyes. His breath caught in his chest with a bubbly hiss.
“Aren’t there other things that can help him?” Reed asked, whispering now.
“Anything strong enough to help him would kill him. You could try herbs, but I don’t have anything like that here.”
“There were a few growers at the bank, but it’s nothing but steel and ash now. They already looted the herbalist’s place. I doubt I could find anything quickly.”
Alden sighed. “I’ll boil water. The steam might help him breathe. If the riots get any rougher, we’ve only got a few days left here. I’ve got to find shelter for my grandmother.”
“The Servants might take her,” Reed said.
“I’m not in the market for a caregiver, Reed. We’re both invested in this mess—I recognize that. But you keep your cute little nose to yourself and let me mind my own business.”
“You should keep yourthoughtsto yourself if you’re not trying to have a conversation.”
Alden snorted. “Any more advice?”
“No,” Reed said.
Nate tried to open his eyes, but his lids were gummy and heavy. He tried to hear Alden over the sound of his own labored breaths.
“I can’t hide him from them much longer. They’re getting too bold.”
“The A-Vols?” Reed asked.
Nate pictured the furrow at his brow and the way it made him look younger.
Alden’s answer came a beat too late. “Yes, who else?”
It was quiet for a while. Nate woke with a soft whimper as Alden placed a steaming, wet cloth on his chest.
“Easy.” Alden rubbed Nate’s chest slowly. “Go back to sleep.”
Time passed, but Nate couldn’t measure it no matter how hard he grasped for the end of the wire. It was easier to stop. To sleep.
Someone was speaking to him.
He fought to open his eyes, but it was too hard to coax his lids up. He’d never known exhaustion like this. The stillness beckoned, and it was warm and gentle. Heavy.
Reed’s fingers were fire against Nate’s throat.
Alden was quiet, raw. “There may be a way to get him Remedy,” he said. “But you’re not going to like it.”
Their voices drifted away, heated—too far above the surface of Nate’s awareness for him to understand. The ground was opening up below him, pulling him deep into the dirt and the sludge. It was like Fran said. He’d be bones soon, drifting to the Mainland.
