Zaria refocused on the materials in front of her. Every explosive required an oxidizer and a fuel source, but in this case, the aleuite would act as the latter. Combined with an oxidizing agent, it would still explode, though not in a way that destroyed. It could be dangerous if you got too close, but otherwise it should leave the Exhibition’s displays—and themselves—unharmed. Alongside her chemicals, she had already fitted together the outer casing, and now the difficulty lay in the insertion of the impact fuse.
Well. That and getting her hands on more soulsteel.
She couldn’t focus. Her head was full of the expression on Kane’s face when he’d told her how much he cared for Fletcher. Zaria sighed, leaning back in her chair. Fragmented light streamed through the dirty window, turning her desk a dappled gold. When she shut her eyes, the pattern was imprinted on the back of her lids, fading as the seconds slid past. It was only dusk, but already she was tired. The kind of tired that seemed to linger in her bones no matter how much rest she got.
A light knock sounded on her door, and she pushed her chair back with a grating sound. “Yes?”
Jules stuck his head inside. “Are they here yet?”
“No. Soon, though.” She didn’t want to see Kane and Fletcher again. Didn’t want to be nice to Kane’s face while he stared smugly down at her, thinking he had the upper hand. It rarely shifted, that smug expression. Not when he’d laid eyes on Cecile’s dead body. Not even when Zaria had pressed a gun to his blackened heart.
“What are you making?” Jules inclined his head toward the assortment of chemicals and metal bits on the desk. Wax had pooled around the bottom of a candlestick, engulfing the corner of a sheet of parchment that had the misfortune of being too close.
Zaria’s eyes stung. Her head was full of Cecile, of the necklace, ofso much anxious energy she didn’t know how else to expel it. She had craved the sweet release of creating magic and the kind of pain that didn’t originate inside her head.
Because there was somuchpain, even though she hadn’t seen Cecile in years. It was like the woman’s presence had caused something inside her to ease only for that contentment to come crashing down around her, the emotional shift so abrupt, it gave her whiplash. It felt like losing her father all over again. Was it foolish, at eighteen years old, to yearn for an adult she could rely on? Itzal may have been cold, but he’d alwaysbeenthere, a steadfast presence always available to provide advice no matter how harsh and impatient his approach.
“I was just working on commissions,” she told Jules, then gestured at the mess on the table before her. “This one, though, is for Kane.”
He shifted his weight, mouth soldering in what she recognized as determination. “I’ve been thinking… you should teach me to help you.”
The readiness with which he spoke left Zaria stunned. He’d never suggested such a thing before. It was an absurd offer—he knew how difficult alchemology was to learn. Zaria was an impatient teacher, and most important, she didn’twantthis for him. “Absolutely not.”
Jules didn’t cower beneath her disbelieving stare. “You can’t keep creating this much magic on your own. You know that. Your body—your soul—won’t be able to withstand it.”
Zaria’s cheeks heated. She didn’t like to speak of souls. Didn’t like to imagine a part of her existed over which she had no control. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Kane wanted your help because he knows how good you are. His expectations are high, and I think we both know hedoesn’t understand your limits. What happens when he inevitably asks too much of you? The Exhibition is less than a week away. You won’t be able to create everything he needs in time.”
“I’ll be able to do it. On myown.”
“But I’m saying you don’t have to.”
“And I’m telling you to drop it!”
“Why the fuck won’t you let mehelp you?” Jules all but hollered the words, making Zaria go motionless, blood stilling in her veins. Jules never yelled. He especially never yelled at her. Sure, they sniped at each other every so often, but always with the understanding that neither of them was truly angry.
“Because,” Zaria whispered once she had collected herself, remembering how she’d urged Kane to be honest with Fletcher. The word felt shaky on her tongue, and she swallowed, trying again. “Because it’s dangerous, Jules, and you’re already in enough danger.”
The silence that fell in the wake of her admission was taut, threatening to snap. Zaria recoiled as she felt a wall slam down between them. Jules narrowed his dark eyes, nostrils flaring. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Zaria felt like she was being submerged in water too deep to tread. She felt herself withdrawing, her overwhelming emotions becoming a dull, jumbled hum in the back of her mind, as if her brain was anticipating the fallout and trying to disconnect. She fought to remain present—shedeservedthis. The pain that accompanied the way Jules was looking at her right now.
And then, haltingly, it all came tumbling out. The conversation she’d overheard between George and Ward’s men. The real reason she had been so desperate to take Kane’s offer. How she’d gone to find Kane with the intention of asking him to track down Cecile, only to be accosted by the man with the gun. Cecile’s death and hermurderer’s mention of Kane. Kane saving her life not once but twice, and how furious she was at him anyway, because he treated everyone like they were expendable.
Everyone but Fletcher—and her. For now.
She gave Jules each and every truth, all her good intentions crumbling down around her. A dozen different emotions flitted across Jules’s pale face. Horror. Relief. Disbelief. Fury. He eventually settled on betrayal, studying Zaria as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I don’t know where to start. Were either of you ever going to tell me?”
She braced herself, regret coursing through her. She wished she’d done this so very differently. “I thought your father would. Or I hoped he would, rather.”
“My father doesn’t tell me anything important,” Jules snapped. “You know that, Zaria. How could you keep that from me?”
“I was going to tell you once I was certain he hadn’t! But then everything with Cecile happened—”
“Yeah, let’s revisit that. What the hell are you on about? Someone’s after you, and they killed Cecile, and you didn’t tell methateither?”
Although they were questions, the words slammed into Zaria like a brutal statement of fact.They killed Cecile.
