Bailey pops up out of absolutelynowhere. “What are youdoing?” he demands. “I thought I lost you.”
I jump a mile and almost shout. He’s lucky I don’t draw a dagger.
Jax is laughing under his breath again. He’s let me go, and I don’t even know when that happened. “Go,” he says to Bailey, more sternly. “We follow.”
“No,” I say, trying to make my thoughts focus. I catch Bailey’s sleeve. “Stop.” I lean in and drop my voice. “Does Journ have another scraver?”
I say.
He startles almost as hard as I just did— and then he cringes, his eyes skipping away. “No?”
“Don’t lie to me. There’s a scraver here. I can tell.”
“I’m not lying.” He wets his lips. “It’s not Journ’s.”
“Then whose?”
He looks between us. “Don’t you know? It’s here with the Truthbringers.”
CHAPTER 19
JAX
Earlier, I told Tycho that he’d changed, and I’m seeing the proof right now. As I told him, it’s not confidence. It’s a shift in his bearing. A difference in his composure. An equilibrium where before he always seemed like he couldn’tquitefind his footing.
When we first met, I didn’t want to lie to him about Alek and the Truthbringers, but I had no choice. And even though I didn’twantto do it, a part of me knew I could get away with it. Tycho has a generosity of spirit that’s easy to exploit— which is probably why so many people have taken advantage of him. Despite everything he’s been through, he was too earnest, too honest, too trusting.
But there’s an edge to him now. Hard- won, like a blade forged in a fire that’s not quite hot enough. It might not be pretty, but it’s sharp, and that’s all that matters.
Something about that makes me sad.
But it also makes me proud.
Tycho has a firm grip on Bailey’s sleeve, and he jerks him a little closer, keeping his voice low. “The Truthbringers have ascraver?”
Bailey is staring up at him, his eyes wide and panicked. “I haven’t seen it,” he says, his head shaking vigorously. “But— but—”
“But what?” Tycho demands. “Do they have it in a cage like Nakiis?”
“Likewhat?” Bailey frowns, then wets his lips. “What . . . what’s aNakiis—”
“The other one Journ had,” Tycho says impatiently.
“No. It— it—”
“Hey!” a man from one of the vendor stalls shouts from a ways down. He’s peering through the thinning crowd. “What are you two doing to that boy?”
Tycho straightens, loosening his grip. Bailey immediately jerks free andbolts. He ducks between patrons and slips between planks in the wall.
Coins or not, I don’t think he’ll be reappearing.
“Silver hell,” Tycho mutters. “I think we really scared him off that time.” He looks up toward the man who shouted, and he affects that same terrible Syssal accent he used in the tavern. “He try to pocket my coins,” he calls back.
“Now boy gone,” I call to the vendor. “You pay us what he stole?”
The man’s eyes flare wide in surprise, but then he grunts and turns away, busying himself with his wares.
Tycho snorts, but he runs a hand across the back of his neck. “We should keep moving,” he murmurs in Syssalah.
