He laughed.
The woman blinked again. Then she twisted her hand, and an axe floated over the boy’s head. The wind shrieked and shoved at her.
“Why are you following me?” she asked.
The boy glanced up at the axe and then lifted an eyebrow.
“Answer me or die.”
The wind circled the woman’s legs. She shouldn’t have said that. The boy was having a nice time until she went and started spouting threats. Everyone knew you should never threaten the boy. But the boy surprised the wind when he only smiled, his dimple making an appearance.
“Are those my only two options? Answer or die?”
The axe moved closer.
He smiled up at the axe, then he asked, “Why did you come to the harbor?” And when the woman didn’t answer, the boy added, “I saw you there. In your boat. With . . . Who were you with again?”
The wind climbed the rude man’s limbs and circled over the pounding pulse. Aha. The woman wasn’t as unaffected as she appeared.
“Answer me, Ward,” she said, “or I’ll?—”
The woman broke off when the alleyway was plunged into darkness. The wind laughed. The boy didn’t need his hands to yank her into the darkness of his mind. Didn’t she know that?
There was a sharp grunt. The wild-whistling sound of a swinging axe. The clang of metal hitting brick. Bright orange sparks. A curse—not from the boy. The stinging, violent vibration of the boy conjuring again, and then the darkness vanished, and the alley was bright again.
The boy smiled, free from the water chains.
The woman—still the rude man—stared, face pale.
What had she seen? What had the boy done?
“I came,” she said, voice tight, “to stop you from destroying the city and killing millions.”
The boy nodded. “Good answer.”
The woman began to back away. “Stop following me. I may not be known by the families, but I’m not powerless.”
She took another step back, keeping her hand extended, ready to conjure.
The boy lifted his hand, and she flinched.
“Wait,” he said.
She stopped, looking toward the entry of the alley then back to the boy again.
“Do you still have the necklace?” he asked, and although his voice was steady, the wind could feel the tremble in it.
The woman tensed, and in her stunned expression, the wind saw the exact moment she realized the boy knew who she was. It felt her galloping pulse, the desire to flee warring with the desire to fight. She licked her lips. “What?”
The boy tilted his head, his golden hair falling across his forehead. “I hope it didn’t break. It was rough there for a bit, wasn’t it?”
The woman’s hand shook. The boy watched her trembling fingers.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’m not . . .” He stopped and smiled at the woman.
“Have you told anyone?” she asked, and by her voice, it sounded like she thought he had.
The wind sniffed, offended on the boy’s behalf.
