A bell sounded, and all around, blacksmiths’ heads turned to face their fires, all of them pushing their metals into the blaze at the same time. The rest of the city might have the clocktower to help tell time, but the Bark had its bell. The ringing of it marked the start and end oftimed intervals so all blacksmiths would know how long to heat their creations. A useful tool, not just for the workers.
With everyone distracted, she took her chance. She slid open the door sandwiched between two forges and stepped inside the office.
Phineas sat at his desk, a mildly amused expression on his face. He had a hand outstretched over an ornate wooden box, but upon seeing her, he paused, shifting his hand to pick up the unlit pipe beside the box instead.
Phineas looked neither surprised to see her nor discomforted by her invasion of his privacy. He grinned lazily at her. The bastard.
“My dearThé-a,” he crooned, drawing out the two syllables like he was fluttering a long stretch of ribbon between his front teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You don’t get to call me that,” she spat. “And you know exactly why I’m here.”
Phineas tapped the pipe on his chin. His hair was not the blond it had been the last time she’d paid him an impromptu visit. Nor was it the red she’d seen the other night. Today, it was a harsh, all-consuming black.
“I know so many reasons why you might show up here unannounced and alone. I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re here to work for me again. So, pray tell,” Phineas said, “which other reason is it today?”
The pipe tapped, the sound the loudest in the small space. It made her want to reach for one of her daggers.Slow, she had to take this slow.
“The Siren’s Hair,” she started.
Phineas sighed. “And here I’d hoped you’d make this mundane Monday more interesting for me.”
“You’re going to sign its ownership over,” she finished. “How’s that for interesting?”
Phineas lifted a single black brow at her. “Consider me intrigued. You expect me to just give my only legal business to you for free?”
“Of course not.”
“All right, I’ll bite.” He flashed his teeth, some a bit sharper than they should be. “What do I get in return?”
She tilted her head as if considering the question, as if she hadn’t come here knowing exactly how this conversation would play out. “You get the honor of knowing I finally bested you.”
Phineas scrunched his mouth to the side. “Have I taught you nothing about how deals work?”
“I think you still have your fair share to learn about deals. Especially keeping them.”
He shrugged his shoulders as if to sayWhat can you do?“I was trying to teach you a lesson. Never make a deal in which you don’t get what you want first. Which is why I’ll never agree to whatever deal you’re proposing.”
She leaned in, placing both hands on the small desk. “But who said anything about a deal, Phineas? This is blackmail.”
Phineas’s jaw slackened just a fraction, but it was enough for her to notice. Enough to make her grin. It had taken her years, but she now knew what made Phineas Wraw so successful.
Phineas met her eyes and laughed outright. Loud and hard, the sound quickly filled the room, shaking the little desk between them. When he got ahold of himself, he said, “Oh, but dear, you have nothing to use against me. Nothing worth the price of what you’re asking.”
“Don’t I?”
The smile vanished from Phineas’s face. “You know nothing,” he growled, and for a second, Nes could have sworn she caught fangs poking out from between his lips. She grinned wider.
She pushed up off the desk and raised a hand, ticking things off on her fingers. “Let’s see,” she said, her voice only too innocent. “I know you deal in information. I know you’re the one who let Damari into the city. I know you want to find her as much as I do but have had no luck. And I know you’ve been having me followed for weeks. So, Phineas, tell me, what are the chances of me knowing something juicy about you? High, wouldn’t you say?”
His hands were clenched into fists atop his desk—his skin turning an alarming shade of white over his muscles, as if his bones were on the verge of breaking through. “Just spit it out already,hound.”
Hound. She’d always found the nickname derisive. But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe it fit her perfectly. She could be the hunter. It was far better than being the prey.
“I know what you are,” she hissed.
She expected him to laugh again, to deny her accusation. He didn’t. He sat perfectly still in his high-backed chair. But she didn’t let him unnerve her. She held the best cards right now, and he knew it.
“Once I considered the possibility, everything fell into place. You should really be more careful with your secrets.” She tsked.
