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It was the only truth that mattered.

CHAPTER 22

LILY

The cart rattled down roads I didn't recognize, wheels clattering over uneven cobblestone. The world blurred past in fragments—brick, fog, the occasional face turning quickly away as we passed.

Inside the covered space, no one spoke.

Garrick lay stretched across the floor, head pillowed on folded fabric someone had found. Blood seeped through Mira's fingers where she pressed them to his side, golden light pulsing weakly beneath her palms.

“Still with us?” she asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Takes more than a knife to kill me, beautiful,” Garrick managed. Even wounded, he couldn't resist. “You should know that by now.”

“I have asked you repeatedly not to call me that.”

“And I've repeatedly ignored you.” His grin was pained. “It's part of my charm.”

“You have no charm.”

“Liar.” He coughed, winced. “You think I'm very charming. Devastatingly so.”

Mira's jaw tightened. Her hands pressed harder against the wound, golden light intensifying. “Be quiet. You're wasting energy.”

“Energy well spent if it makes you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you might actually care if I died.”

Mira's expression didn't change. But her grip on his side tightened before she could stop it.

“Don't be absurd,” she said coolly. “You're simply difficult to replace. Good fighters are scarce.”

“Ah. So I'm useful.”

“Occasionally.”

“I'll take it.” His hand lifted weakly and found hers where it pressed against his side. His fingers wrapped around her wrist—not pulling, just holding. “Though for the record, if I do die, I want you to know⁠—“

“You're not dying,” Mira interrupted sharply. “I won't allow it.”

Garrick's grin softened into something more genuine. “There she is.”

“Shut up and conserve your strength.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

But he didn't let go of her hand. And she didn't pull away.

Adeline sat pressed against the wall opposite them, bandaged hands folded carefully in her lap. She shifted against the wood, wincing as the cart's jolting sent pain through her damaged nerves. She watched her brother with an expression caught somewhere between fury and terror.

“You promised,” she said quietly. “After the opera house. You promised me you'd be careful.”

“I was careful,” Garrick said. “The other bloke's much worse off.”

“The other bloke does not have a knife wound to the side.”