Page 20 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

A brief flash of curiosity shows from behind his hard stare.

“Go on,” he says, almost reluctantly.

I shiver at the closeness of the blade, and speak. “Give me the magic to heal one person, and my life is yours. I’ll do whatever you ask. But…” I drop my voice, and somehow, the man steps closer. I remind myself to breathe and ignore the bite of the blade where it touches my neck. “Itisa life. I’ll do whatever you want, but you can’t hurt me.”

Keeva’s horrified gaze flies to me. “Maeve, no! She wouldn’t want this.”

“My sister doesn’t make decisions for me. And neither do you.”

The man’s eyes lock on Keeva. “That’s who the magic is for?”

“Does it make a difference?” Bitterness twists my words. Who the magic is for shouldn’t matter—we should all be able to get help when we need it.

He doesn’t answer but trails the dagger from my jaw to the place where the silver chain hangs down my neck and disappears into my tunic. I feel the tingle of its fading power and shiver. He lowers the blade.

“A life for a life,” I insist. “Swear it.”

Nothing else fills my lungs but leather and smoke and sweet sage, even as every instinct in me screams torun.

His green eyes are pure scheming, working through the bargain, studying me like if he just looks hard enough, he can find a way around the condition not to hurt me.

Something flares deep behind the shadows in his cunningstare, and he leans in closer—close enough for his breath to just barely brush over my skin. “I swear,” he murmurs, reaching inside his leather jacket, right over where his heart would be—if he even has one. “Looks like we have ourselves a deal.”

The walk home is achingly quiet.

Midnight gathers around us, gauzy and clinging thinly to the stones. The mist is thicker than on the way here, wrapping in heavy tendrils that feel like a collar tightening around my neck.

I can’t tell how much of that comes from the tiny vial of shimmering magic now tucked in my pocket and how much is the weight of the promise I just made.

Even if the Whisperer keeps his word and doesn’t kill me, there are still a dozen different ways I could die by tomorrow. Someone could’ve seen us going into that house. The Lady of Shadows could have spies on Keeva, keeping tabs on her poison supplier. We could turn a corner any second and walk straight into a unit of gardai. The green tunic visible through the slash in my cloak where the Whisperer’s knife just missed my ribs feels like a glaring torch, waiting to draw a guard’s attention.

Slowly, we retrace our steps, winding back down the hill to Quayside. The crunch of Keeva’s boots is the only sound breaking the silence between us.

She reaches for my arm. “You shouldn’t have done that, Maeve.”

We turn onto the lane where I live, where Finn lies waiting for us.

“No.” Emotional exhaustion makes it easy for bitter words to slip their shackles. “You should have.”

For a single second, my chest swells with something hot and righteous before hurt twists across Keeva’s face and regret fills me.

I don’t mean the words I said. I often don’t.

Doesn’t change the fact that I said them, though. The bitterness and hurt in me flame out as fast as they flare, and all I’m left with is the ash of regret.

After,I promise. After we help Finn, I’ll apologize.

Keeva’s dark eyes shine. “If you knew what they’ve done…”

“So tell me.”

She recoils. “What?”

My eyes narrow on hers. “Tell me why that woman, that”—I drop my voice—“Whisperercouldn’t stand the sight of you. Or how you knew I’m just as fast as that asshole with a blade.” I step right up to her; I think I see guilt flicker in her eyes. “Whatshipmentswas he talking about, Keeva? What have you been selling that made them so angry?”

Her lips press into a thin slash, and Keeva’s eyes dart behind me, to where the lane is thick with deep shadows. I check over my shoulder, dread stalking close.

There’s no one there.