Page 67

“He’s hurt a lot of people.” He’s not quite meeting my gaze. “A lot, Kestrel. I won’t pretend I’m nursing some noble streak that makes me want to protect everyone, but this is my family we’re talking about. I took a huge risk in entering the Trials without talking to him first. If he survives, he’ll kill my mother and anyone else he can find who I love.”

Of course Cato has people. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before. We all have people. I just didn’t expect his reasonings for eliminating the Chariot to mirror how I feel about Death. His mother is still alive. I might desperately crave answers about my mother’s death, but she’s dead. Those answers won’t make her any less so. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head sharply, his vulnerability gone in an instant. “I don’t need your sympathy and I sure as fuck don’t need your pity.”

It’s almost the same thing Vesper said to me. It’s certainly the same feeling I’ve had when others make assumptions about me because of where I come from. “I don’t pity you.” I swallow down another apology. It won’t do anything but piss Cato off. “We’ll kill the Chariot tonight. He won’t have another chance to hurt your mother. And, when this is over, if you want help dismantling every piece of his mockery of a court, I’ll be happy to lend a hand.”

“Sure, Kestrel. I’d love a hand.” His faint smile fades away abruptly. “Trouble.”

I follow his gaze to find Nonnie slipping through the same door Vesper did just a short time ago. There’s no good reason for them to be following Vesper—and a whole lot of bad ones. I push to my feet. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Kestrel.” He grabs my arm. “You can’t harm one of the Wands Court without endangering yourself and Vesper. Whatever you do, don’t hurt them.”

I shake him off and charge forward, skirting the other two tables and reaching the door in seconds. It leads into a dim hallway with a low ceiling. Footsteps echo in the distance. I silently follow the sound.

As I approach a corner, I hear Vesper’s and Nonnie’s voices. In what I’m learning is typical Minor Court bullshit, both their tones are even as if having a normal discussion, but the content of their words is inherently violent.

“You should have died the first night,” Nonnie says easily, as if commenting on the weather. “Picking the Wheel of Fortune is the only thing that’s kept you alive, but Their luck won’t prevail forever.”

“Nonnie, I am heartily tired of your toothless threats. Stop wasting my time and get out of my way.”

Nonnie laughs softly. “Toothless, am I?”

A scuffle. A pained cry, instantly muffled.

No.

I throw myself into motion, swinging around the corner in time to see Nonnie standing over Vesper. The latter is laid out on the ground, their braced leg beneath the Knight of Wands’s foot. Even as I launch myself forward, Nonnie puts their full weight on that foot, their expression turning eager as Vesper can’t contain another pained sound.

“Get away from them!” I slam into Nonnie, knocking them back several steps and into the wall behind them. They’re taller than me by quite a bit, and though they’re petite, they have the benefit of regular meals and training. When they wrap their hands around my forearms, it hurts.

But I’ve dealt with pain before, and I will not be dissuaded. I slam them into the wall again. “Do not touch Vesper. Ever.”

Nonnie’s shock disappears, quickly replaced by a mocking grin. “Your little pet has come running, Vesper, just like you taught her. Does she know she’s nothing more than a blade in your hand, to be used and discarded when she’s served her purpose?”

I hate how their words wriggle into my brain, worming deep and tugging on suspicions I haven’t let myself consider. It doesn’t matter if Vesper is using me; I’m using them right back. The logic doesn’t quite diminish Nonnie’s effectiveness, though. “Shut up.”

I don’t realize we’re not alone until a thin arm bands around my chest and pulls me abruptly away from the Wand. I try to surge forward again, but it’s like trying to fight the tide. I get nowhere.

“That’s about enough of that.” The sound of Death’s dry voice makes all three of us freeze. He continues without hesitation. “Your aunt is looking for you, Nonnie.”

Nonnie’s face has blanched almost green. They slide sideways along the wall, their gaze pinned over my head to where Death must be staring at them. “Don’t think you’re safe, either,” they snap. The threat is half-hearted at best, completely undermined by the way they turn and stride away the moment they are beyond reach.

Death turns us to Vesper. “Do you need assistance?”

“No, thank you.” Vesper heaves themself to their feet. I note the way they wince when they go to put weight on their left foot. Nonnie hurt them, damn that motherfucker. Vesper takes a careful breath. “Please release my ally, Death. Sunset isn’t upon us yet.”

“The Moon and I are due for a discussion.” When Vesper doesn’t move, he sighs. “She’ll see no harm from me, Wheel. You have my word.”

Don’t go.

I swallow the words. This might be my only chance to talk to Death before the end of the Trials. He’s been remarkably absent whenever I think to look for him, and no matter what Vesper and Cato say, I can’t willingly accept him as a new Cinque member. I might not have a choice in the end, but I’ll be damned before I invite him into some kind of alliance. He has knowledge I need, and he actually wants to talk today for some reason. There’s no scenario where I pass up this opportunity.

I give a jerky nod when Vesper looks to me for confirmation. It takes them a few moments to disappear around the corner, and Death waits for several long beats, until Vesper’s irregular steps fade away. Only then does he release me.

It takes effort to push past my racing heart and think. To buy myself time, I study him. The weariness that plagues all the other champions at this point in the Trials doesn’t seem to touch him. He looks exactly the same as he did during the Culling. In fact, he might be wearing the same armor as when he took to the dais. Whoever his priest is, they either can’t be bothered with fashion or he refuses to allow it. His cadaverous face turns his eyes into shadows. I have to concentrate not to shrink away. “If you’re going to trade questions again, it had damn well better be more than a single one. You’re wasting both our time.” My voice is all bravado. I can’t make him answer me; he’s more than proven that already.

“I’m not interested in playing games.” He seems taller in these closed quarters, closer to a specter than a human. “You must stop being so reckless.”