Reed leans back in his chair, turning his coffee mug back and forth against the table. “You want to take her down,” he says.
Isla meets Ari’s gaze across the table, a somber shadow across her face. “I can try,” she says, then nods at Ari. “But I think he would do a better job at it.”
Ari hates her in this moment for bringing the subject of Sam forward, but of course Isla would, because she’s as angry as he is. Dominique had also been her pupil, after all, and the wound of losing her is fresh.
“Shakespeare,” Reed says, shifting his attention. “When can you see her again?”
“I don’t know,” Ari replies truthfully.
“Then find out.”
“You want me to kill her?” Ari says. His voice comes out too bitter, aimed at both Reed and Isla. “I’m no polemist.”
“No, not you.” Reed looks at him. “I want you to hurt her.”
Ari feels everything in his chest tighten. “How so?” he asks.
“How do you think?” He takes a sip of coffee. “Find out who she would bleed for the most.”
Everything is falling apart. There is no way out. Ari clenches his fists under the table and fights to stay calm.
Reed regards him for a moment. “You already know, don’t you?” he says.
Her mother,Ari thinks. Losing her mother would destroy her. “I can’t be sure,” he replies coolly.
“Well.” Reed purses his lips and looks straight, past Rudra’s head and out the window at the hotel’s lush courtyard. “Let’s be sure, then. Prometheus.” He nods at the man. “Go make a call for me. I want a report on how our other philosophers are going to accommodate for St. Clair’s death. This has put pressure on our timeline for deliveries.”
Rudra’s eyes darken at the dismissal and the order, a task more suited to an assistant. He glances at Ari, but he doesn’t dare argue Reed’s own decision in front of him. “Of course, sir,” he says, and rises from the table.
“Archimedes,” Reed says.
“Sir.”
“Take two of your favorite fellow polemists and intercept Grand Central’s next shipments at the pier. We’re going to strike a few targets at once. I’d like to be relentless, now that we’ve got winds blowing in our favor.”
Isla nods her obedience. As she gets up, she exchanges a brief look with Ari. She seems to know Ari’s angry with her, but her face remains resolute, a reminder to him that, in spite of their friendship, she is first and foremost a Lumines alchemist.
Then Isla’s gone, and Ari is left alone with Reed.
“Ah, Shakespeare.” Reed picks idly at the corner of the black folder on the table. “Always so careful with your answers.”
“I’m thinking of minimizing our consequences,” Ari replies.
“And what consequences might you be thinking of?” Reed asks.
Ari’s voice hardens. “Doherty’s already anxious enough about hiscampaign. We don’t want to cause an escalation of violence in the city right before the election.”
“I’d say an escalation of violence is exactly what will help Doherty defeat an incumbent.”
“In theory, yes. But hitting several targets at once will bring the police out to investigate. You always said to avoid shedding the blood of law enforcement. This will complicate things for us.”
“Mm, dragging your feet.” Reed sips his coffee and regards him. “You’re still not telling me the whole story.”
“About what?”
“About Mozart.”
Ari frowns at him. “There’s not much to tell,” he says, “until I can meet her again.”
