I pause long enough for the man to realize exactly how we might know.
“It was you, wasn’t it, that night on the ship? That started all this mess?”
“Yes. Both of us,” Adraa answers. “And a couple of those men were guards.”
“We can handle that internally,” the man rushes, still hopeful. “We’ll find and question them. So stop this. Or better yet, join the Guard yourself when you are old enough.”
“Are you even old enough?” I ask.
He glares at me.
“We can’t do that,” Adraa replies in a stiff voice. “This is more personal than a fight for justice or cleaning up the Guard for you.”
He steps toward her and the magic on my arms flares in warning.
He sighs. “Revenge, then? How typical. If the Vencrin have done something to you, then report it and we can—”
I interrupt, not liking the way he’s looking at Adraa. Like she’s the easier target in this exchange. Is he trying to get himself killed? “Sorry, you seem like one of the good ones, but I think the problem might be bigger than the Vencrin, and if we’re right, the Guard can’t do anything.”
“Bigger than the Vencrin? Is there another player involved?”
I can tell Adraa is done with this conversation and so am I. “That’s what we are trying to figure out,” I say. “We are trying to get proof.”
“Proof?”
I point down to the building. “That’s one of the warehouses where they store the drugs. Like we said, proof.”
The boy stares at both of us, and then at the den below. “You are up here in masks trying tostopthe drugs? You two are just bloodthirsty do-gooders?”
I frown. “We aren’t exactly bloodthirsty.”
“Yes,” Adraa says at the same time.
“Ah, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He sighs and rubs his neck. “You’ve got fifteen minutes and then we are going in. And if we catch you…”
“We know,” I say as I unbuckle my skyglider. “This won’t be the end of our questioning.”
“Is your neck okay?” I ask Adraa once we are out of earshot.
“I know that guard,” she whispers as we descend upon the drug den.
“Who was he?”
“Lady Prisha’s head guard. His name is Hiren.”
The name rings in my ears. Her sister’s guard. “So he’s one of the good ones?”
“Gods, I hope so. Because if he isn’t and I find out—”
“He seemed genuine,” I try to reassure her. Though it irks me how willing they were to hurt her. It feels good under the mask, but it’s a jolting reminder to know that without my name or title I’m…vulnerable. We both are.
“Yeah, and upset about the traitors.”
We drop to the roof and our conversation transfers to hand signals as we target the arched window we’ve been watching for days.
“Vrnotwodahs,”I cast, and we wait for the next bolt of lightning. After it splinters across the sky I slide to the lip of the roof, complete a dangle-and-swing movement, and land on the thick stone windowsill. Adraa follows right after, and I grab her waist to steady her landing. I smile at her in my arms, but she rolls her eyes and crouches in the shadows I’ve crafted. I refocus, trying not to think about the warmth in my hands.
Below us everything looks abandoned. Empty stalls, broken crates, and wicker boxes fill the chasm of space. Deserted trading bazaars don’t get pretty makeovers. A few wizards walk underneath us and we lean back.
