Zaria blew soulsteel residue from her fingers as Kane, Jules, and Fletcher all spun to gape at her.
“What?” she demanded.
Jules was the first to speak. “Did you justkill them?”
Kane shook his head before Zaria could respond. “The shots weren’t loud enough or bright enough. Look—there’s not even any blood.” He knelt down beside Price’s prone form, his gaze flicking up to meet Zaria’s. Hazel eyes glittered beneath long lashes. “You said dark market weapons were meant to be lethal. I took that as an indication you weren’t going to fulfill my request.”
Zaria shrugged. The idea of a weapon that looked lethal butwasn’t—a weapon that could intimidate without killing—had intrigued her. Creating it had been tricky, as she’d known it would be; predictably, everything hinged on having the exact right amount of each alchemological substance. But after firing more than one hole into the wall of the makeshift workshop Kane had provided her with, she’d eventually gotten it right. She just hadn’t wanted to give one tohim, afraid he’d ask questions she didn’t care to answer.
“So what if I did?” The question was defensive. “You can’t say it didn’t come in handy.”
Fletcher shook his head. “Son of a bitch. Even if they’re not dead, you can’t shoot acopper, let alone two.”
Zaria chose to ignore this. “I thought this was a time-sensitive scenario.”
“She’s right.” Kane considered Price and his companion with disdain. “Fletch, find the supplies and get back to your position. Zaria will release the first explosive the moment we walk out this door.”
Fletcher nodded, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the adjoining hall.
Jules was already poking around the perimeter of the space, and Zaria had a mind to join him when she felt Kane move closer. His wry grin flickered as she turned to face him.
“That was a good call,” Kane said, softly enough that Jules didn’t seem to hear. “I might even miss working with you once this is over, Mendoza.”
Surely that was a lie, but the set of his mouth was serious. Almost grim.
Zaria didn’t know how to respond, so she deftly sidestepped the topic. “You play very well. I guessed as much.”
“What?”
“The pianoforte.”
Kane’s brows drew together. “I told you I didn’t play at all.”
“You did,” she allowed. “But I knew you were lying. I could tell by the look on your face.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
For some inexplicable reason, she felt her cheeks heat. “You look at an instrument like a man who understands what it’s capable of. Like a man who knows music.”
Kane made a low hum in the back of his throat. “My mother taught me before she died. I hadn’t touched one since, but I never forgot that song.”
Zaria’s heart thudded dully in her ears as she noted the tense set of Kane’s shoulders. How many years had he refused to touch a pianoforte? How many years of melancholy had he injected into today’s performance?
I might even miss working with you.
“Here,” said Fletcher, making a sudden reappearance with his cheeks lightly flushed. In his arms were a number of items. He handed Kane a black leather package—his tools, Zaria supposed—then tossed her the aleuite explosives. She’d contained them within a couple of large vials, knowing the glass would shatter to dust the moment the reaction took hold. Nothing would be left unless someone knew what to look for.
She took the vials, immediately handing one off to Jules.
“We’ll need to be quick,” Kane said, checking his pocket watch yet again. “I allotted five minutes for us to retrieve everything. It’s been eight, and we only had a two-minute buffer, which means I now have five minutes to pick the lock. Hopefully, it’ll take even less time than that.” He shot Zaria a meaningful look. “Ready?”
She forced herself to nod, though she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t certain she remembered whatreadyfelt like.
Jules, by all appearances, felt much the same. He glanced at her from beneath worried brows, and Zaria saw the question in his eyes:We’re really going to do this?
She gave a jerk of her chin. Jules’s expression softened into resignation, and together they fell into step behind Fletcher and Kane as the former led them back out into the Exhibition. The volunteer who had been outside the door was gone, which struck Zaria as a bad sign.
This assessment was reinforced by Fletcher, who said solemnly, “Ten pounds says he heard the commotion and went to tell someone. Get out of here and be quick about it. We can’t have that windowpane disintegrating before we’re ready to go.”
