And worse still, she had told St. Silas, in no uncertain terms, that she loathed him.
Then, salt into wounds, she had held a gun to him.
Leena was sure at this point that St. Silas would derive great pleasure from knowing her brother was missing or dead.
Not for the first time in her life, Leena wished she had more sense and less propulsion to push forward in spite of the consequences, but her foolhardy ways would likely see her in Newtorn Prison—if she survived this contract.
“You are late,” St. Silas noted. His quick bow was perfunctory, his tone chilling. “How is yourspecial friend?”
“I do apologize for my lateness.” Leena barely curtseyed back. “I must ask, have you seen my brother?”
“If I had seen your brother, believe me, Miss Al-Sayer, you would be the first to know.” He sat back down at his desk, attention already drifting to the assortment of parchments before him.
She leaned over the desk, ignoring his taunts. She tried to force his eyes away from the ledgers and back to her.
“As you know, Rami’s very talented with a sword,” Leena said. “Sometimes, to make a few coins, he participates in back-alley fights—fights run by the Black Coats. He told me he had one yesterday and he has not come home since. Even if the match was delayed until today, he should have been home by now. Iknowsomething terrible has happened.” Her fists were clenched so hard over the wooden table that her knuckles turned white. Desperation had led Leena once more to St. Silas’s door, and she was sure he would not miss the irony, or the chance to capitalize onit.
St. Silas put his pen down slowly. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure why you’ve come to see me, madam.”
Leena ground her teeth together in an attempt to bar the insolent words that threatened to explode out of her throat, making a hideous situation between them even more impossible. “You’reunsurewhy I’ve come to see you,the Saint of Silence, merchant of secrets?”
His expression remained steady and, unlike her, he was clearly in total command of his emotions. “My hand—when it is my own to move—rarely lifts for others. It is how I’ve survived for so long. So, once again, I ask you: What do you want from me?”
“He is my brother—”
“There are many brothers in the world. I cannot help them all.” He looked away dismissively, returning once more to his ledgers. “Let the matter rest. I’m sure he’ll wander in at some point.”
Leena stared at him. “You mistake me, sir. I’ve not come for your help. I’ve come only for information. I would be so very grateful, andin your debt,if you were to tell me where to look first. Then that is where I will go.”
At her words, St. Silas’s eyes drew back to hers, a sudden stillness in his shoulders. “You will go by yourself?”
Leena nodded.
“To the Black Coats?” he amended, as if there had been a miscommunication.
“Yes.”
“One of the most violent gangs in all of Golborne?”
Leena nearly replied that she already worked for the Saint of Silence and who could be worse thanthat,but kept her mouth shut. “He is my brother,” she repeated staunchly.
His eyes narrowed, as if not quite believing her. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”
“Likely a bit of both.”
Leena waited for it—his demand for payment. She braced herself, her entire body tense with anxiety. She had nothing left to give him other than the knowledge that she could be possessed by ghosts.
The request did not come.
St. Silas folded his arms. Gone was his habitual sly ease, and a strange tension now rolled from him in waves.
“Orley is the head of the Black Coats. His headquarters are located in Ridgeways. He will know where your brother is.” His voice was a challenge, as if he didn’t quite believe Leena’s intention to go alone.
Leena stood up, swiping a damp palm over her skirt. “Thank you.”
She had barely stepped foot into the hallway when she heard St. Silas move to follow her.
“You will go now? At this unsaintly hour?” There seemed to be an underlying sharpness to his question.
