Tes blinked. “A what?”

  “And yet here you are, shadowing me.” She studied Tes a moment longer. Her eyes were the same shade of brown, but this close, Tes had time to see that one had the faintest glassy shine, before both narrowed and the Antari said, “I know you.”

  Tes cringed.

  It was true, they had met once, three years before. Tes had been new to freedom, to London, to need, and so perplexed by the sight of the Antari as she passed her in the street, she couldn’t help herself.

  “You tried to pick my pocket.”

  That wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t the contents of her pocket Tes had wanted. It was the silver-bright light of the magic itself, the way it pulsed and twined, but more than that, it was the closeness of it.

  Until that moment, she’d thought there was only one Antari in the world, Kell Maresh, the crimson prince, and even then, she’d only seen him once, and at a distance, his silver threads so bright they blurred the shape of him within. But here was another, and her hand seemed to move before her thoughts, reaching for the Antari’s magic, hoping to steal a thread, just one.

  She hadn’t been quick enough.

  Or perhaps, the Antari had just been quicker.

  Lila Bard’s hand had caught her wrist, grabbed it with such force she thought the bones inside would break.

  “Please,” she’d said. “I need my hand.”

  “Then you better find another way to use it,” Bard had said. But a moment later, her fingers had loosened, just a little. “How old are you?” she’d asked, and Tes had lied and said fourteen though she was barely twelve. She’d lifted her chin as she said it, because she wasn’t a coward, even if she was afraid.

  “Look at me,” said the Antari, and Tes had done it, even though it hurt her eyes. Bard had leaned in, close. “Never steal something unless you’re sure you’ll get away with it.”

  With that, she’d flung Tes’s hand away and carried on down the street. The whole interaction had lasted less than a minute, but Tes had never forgotten. Apparently, neither had Lila Bard.

  The Antari finished Tes’s tea, and stared into the dregs at the bottom of the cup. “Why are you following me?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Don’t lie,” she warned, and as she said it, the magic around her twitched, and Tes felt the bones of her rib cage constrict, a strange and horrible sensation, one she’d never felt before, because it was forbidden. Bone magic.

  “You’re not—supposed to—do that,” she said, gasping for air.

  “Really?” said Lila, feigning surprise. The invisible hold only tightened. “Let’s see if anyone notices…”

  Tes couldn’t breathe, couldn’t break free, so she did the only thing she could—she reached out and grasped the nearest silver thread, felt it hum against her palm before she pulled. In truth, she wasn’t sure what it would do, if it would do anything at all.

  But the Antari recoiled, as if burned. The hold on Tes’s rib cage vanished, and she sucked air into her aching lungs as Bard’s face darkened. “What did you just do?”

  Tes dragged in a ragged breath and winced, trying not to think about the feel of stitches tearing, the dampness at her side.

  “Please,” she said. “I’m being hunted. I need help.”

  Lila raised a brow. “So find a guard.”

  “I need your help.”

  She cocked a brow. “And why is that?”

  “You’re the strongest magician in London.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.” Lila rose from her stool and turned to go.

  “I know you’re an Antari.”

  Lila Bard paused then, cocking her head, studying her with those two brown eyes. “And how do you know that?”

  Tes hesitated. “I can see it. Your magic.”

  She seemed to consider, then shrugged. “Bully for you,” she said, walking away. “Don’t follow me again.”

  Tes got to her feet. “They’re going to kill me.”

  “Sounds like a you problem.”

  “I have something they want. A doormaker.”

  “I don’t—” Whatever Lila Bard had been about to say, the words died. She stopped. And when she turned back, the anger and annoyance had both been replaced by true surprise. “You have the persalis?”

  Tes hesitated. So it had a name. “If a persalis is a device that makes doors to other places…”

  Lila did something shocking then. She laughed. Not loud, but softly, to herself. “Once in a while,” she murmured, “the world does provide. Now,” she said, grabbing Tes by the shoulder and hauling her onto her feet. “Who’s coming to kill you?”

  “Assassins. They came to my shop last night and—”

  “I saw. How many are there?”

  “Two.”

  “That’s all?”

  “They’re strong.”

  “I’m sure,” said Lila blandly, steering Tes toward the stairs.

  “Wait,” she said, trying to twist around. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere safer.” The Antari pushed her up the stairs. “To talk.”

  “I have to go back. I left the box—” But the words fell away as they reached the narrow landing at the top of the stairs. Three doors led to three rooms, and one stood open, but not empty. Tes saw the ripple of crimson light as Bex strode through, palm up, the metal buttons already peeling away from Lila’s coat, shooting toward the molten ball of metal in the assassin’s hand.

  “Look out!” shouted Tes right as the metal divided itself into nails and the nails shot toward them. Lila Bard shoved Tes down to the floor, but the slivers of metal only changed course and followed, falling like sharpened rain. Tes curled in, braced for the impact, the piercing pain, but the nails missed skin, found cloth instead, pinning her cuffs, her collar, the hem of her coat to the wooden floor of the landing.

  She twisted, trying to get free, but Lila was already on her feet, a dagger in one hand. She slashed at Bex, but as she did, the blade simply dissolved, and the killer slammed her boot into Lila’s chest and sent her crashing down the stairs into the tavern below.

  Shouts went up, and Tes heard the Antari ordering everyone out, and then the shape of the assassin filled her vision as Bex knelt before Tes, watching as she fought to free one of her hands. The fabric at her cuff tore a little, but didn’t give. And if there had been amusement in the killer’s face the night before, it was long gone. Her eyes were flat and grey and dangerous, and a vicious bruise was blooming beneath both, as if her nose had been recently broken. She flicked her wrist, and a short, sharp blade took shape in her palm.

  “Where is it?” demanded Bex.

  Tes swallowed, and shook her head. “I don’t have it.”

  It was the truth. She’d left it sitting on the floor next to the bar below.

  “Wrong answer,” said Bex, and then, before Tes could tear free, she drove the knife down through the back of Tes’s trapped hand.

  Her mind went white with pain as the blade sank through to the hilt, the tip lodging in the wood below.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” hissed Bex, and Tes felt a scream rise up her throat, but when it came spilling out, she couldn’t hear it, not over the sudden howl of white noise in her ears.

  A wall of wind slammed past her, and into Bex, sending her back across the landing and into the far wall, hard enough to splinter wood.

  Tes gritted her teeth and yanked the knife out, choking back a sob as the steel came free. She thought she might be sick, turned her head and saw a swish of coat, and a pair of black boots as Lila Bard strode past her, blood dripping down her cheek.

  Across the landing, Bex pushed off the wall and straightened, rolling her shoulders with an audible crack.

  “Ice or stone?” asked the Antari, and when Bex only cocked her head in question, Lila touched the cut at her temple and said, “Never mind. I’ll choose.”

  She moved fast, faster than a body should. A blur of limbs, her bloodstained hand thrust out as she shot across the landing, and Tes saw the silver of her magic twitch and brighten as the words spilled out.

  “As Isera.”

  The spell took shape just as her fingers grabbed at Bex’s front, but somehow, the killer twisted free at the last moment. The Antari’s hand found cloak instead of skin, and frost shot across the fabric—through it—turning the cloth to ice in the time it took to say the spell. Bex ducked and spun out of the cloak and it fell, and shattered on the landing floor between them.

  The killer stared down at the frozen shards, and for the first time since she strode into Tes’s shop, the bland arrogance was gone, replaced by surprise, and perhaps, even, a touch of fear.

  “Not fair, Antari,” she said as the metal bracer on her forearm unspooled, forming into blades.

  Lila Bard only shrugged. “Fair has no place in a fight.”

  Bex’s blades came singing through the air, but this time, the Antari was ready. She didn’t duck or dodge. Instead, she flung her own hands out, and the metal shivered to a stop.

  “Just the one trick, then?” she asked. “Fine. But I can play it, too.”

  The blades twitched, and then began to turn back toward Bex. The killer clenched her teeth, and they stopped, hovered, caught between them. In the air, Tes saw the strands of magic drawn taut as rope.

  “When two magicians wield the same element,” said Lila Bard, “it becomes a battle of wills. Let’s see, then, which of us folds first.”

  Her face was smooth, one eyebrow cocked as if it were all just a game, but Tes could see the strain in the air around her—she was using all her strength. So was Bex. The blades shivered, and the landing began to tremble as the two wills drew not just on the knives, but the surrounding metal. The hinges groaned and the nails pinning her down drew free, and Tes did what she should have done the moment the fight started.

  She got out of the fucking way.

  Tes scrambled down the stairs. She didn’t look back, not when halfway down she felt the tension break, the shudder of air and hiss of steel and the thunk of metal as sharpened points found wood.

  She hit the ground floor and staggered, pain shooting through her bloody hand and wounded side, but she kept going, across the empty tavern to the door, which she flung open, only to collide with a man coming in.

  She stumbled back, felt a hand on her shoulder, but there was no malice in it, only a gentle firmness as he steadied her. She looked up and saw silver light, saw red hair, parted by a streak of white, saw two eyes, one blue, the other black.

  Kell Maresh, the Antari prince.

  Tes was pretty sure she was supposed to bow, but her side hurt too much and he was still holding her up so she managed only a weak “Mas vares.”

  Like Lila Bard, he stood at the center of a silver net, but something was wrong with the threads. Where the other Antari’s shone bright and steady, his flickered and frayed.

  Broken. His magic was broken.

  Kell Maresh looked down at her and frowned. “You’re hurt.”

  And Tesali Ranek looked up at him and said, “So are you.”

  His frown deepened, a question forming on his lips. But he never got a chance to ask, because in that moment, the building rumbled and shook from the battle upstairs, and Kell looked up, over Tes’s head, and Tes looked past him into the street and screamed, “Look out!”

  Kell was already turning. Already drawing a sword from his hip as he did, the blade singing as it clashed against Calin’s ax with ringing force.

  “Get back,” he warned, and it took Tes an instant to realize he was speaking to her. She retreated into the tavern, and so did the Antari prince, Calin on their heels. The second killer was just as tall as Kell Maresh, and twice as wide, his body blocking out the light of the street beyond as surely as a door.

  “Now this is a treat,” he said in that broken-stone voice. “I’ve killed a lot of people, but never one like you.”

  “An Antari? Or a prince?”

  His face split in a wretched grin. “You know, they say you’re hard to kill. I think they’re just not trying hard enough.”

  The ax swung again, and Kell Maresh produced a second sword, crossed the two in time to stop the weapon’s force.

  “You’ll need more than swords,” said the killer.

  “I doubt it,” said Kell. “You look like you’ve lost a lot of fights.”

  Calin’s smile widened. “No,” he said. “The losers are all dead.”

  He surged at the prince, who twisted, and blocked, and Tes saw her chance, and bolted for the open door. She was nearly there when it slammed shut in her face.

  “Don’t let her leave!” shouted Lila from the top of the stairs. “She has the persalis.”

  The Antari prince glanced at Tes, eyes wide in surprise, and in that instant, Calin spun his ax and slammed its handle into the prince’s cheek.

  Kell Maresh staggered, lip splitting from the blow. His fingers went to the cut, and came away red.

  “Come on, princeling,” goaded Calin. “Don’t tell me that eye is just for show.”

  Kell’s hand clenched, and Tes saw his magic twitch, the way Lila’s had before she called forth the freezing spell. But then he spit the blood onto the floor.

  “You’re not worth it,” he said, and as Calin roared, and came again, Kell swept his arm across a table, sending an abandoned pint into the killer’s face. The glass didn’t shatter, but the spirit splashed the killer’s front. Kell scraped his blades, and a spark leapt off, and onto Calin. It caught, fire racing over the killer’s front.

  He flailed, struggling to douse the flames, and Tes knew what she had to do.

  She pushed off the door, launched herself back across the tavern. She fell to her knees beneath the bar, searching with her hands until she found the hidden parcel, and pulled it out. The doormaker—the persalis, Lila had called it—the source of all this strife.

  She began to tug at the threads, pulling them apart, but this time, she wasn’t just disassembling the spell. Her fingers flew across the magic, as across the room, Calin had put himself out, smoke rising from his singed dishwater hair. He surged toward the Antari prince, as the ceiling above them gave way, and Bex came crashing down. She landed in a crouch atop a table and rolled out of the way just as Lila dropped through, blood running into one eye and a wicked smile on her face.

  The stories about Delilah Bard were true.

  Despite the violence, and the chaos, she was clearly having fun.

  She held in her hands a pair of blades now; not steel, but conjured out of stone and ice.

  “Some people,” she mused, “just don’t know how to die.”

  Blood darkened the cloth on Bex’s arm and thigh, and stained her cheek, and there was a feral light in her eyes, her magic burning crimson on the air around her as she called her metal home into a shield, then a sword, then a molten whip.

  Tes worked faster, blood slicking her wounded hand as her shaking fingers frantically tied off a knot. The building groaned, and Tes wondered how much longer it would hold. She didn’t want to find out.

  Calin swung his ax, only to find that the metal edge had disappeared, drawn into Bex’s fight, while Kell’s sword held firm, its edge gleaming with spellwork. He brought the blade to the killer’s throat, but Calin only smiled.

  “I’ll get that magic out of you,” he said, “one way or another.” The floor rumbled as he spoke, and earth shot up between the slats, turned to tendrils. Kell Maresh slashed through them, but they simply parted and re-formed. One found his wrist, and clamped down, dragging his sword out of the way, exposing the prince’s chest, and throat.

  “Stop!”

  Four heads turned toward Tes.

  She was on her feet, holding the persalis out in both hands.

  “This is what you came for, right?” she said. “Then take it.”

  Lila Bard looked at her in horror. Bex smiled grimly, and took a step toward her, and as she did, Tes’s fingers twitched, pulling on the strings at the edge of the spell. A light flickered through them like a lit fuse, a spark only she could see. It skated, bright and fast across the surface of the box.

  And then, the persalis burned.

  IV

  “No!” shouted Bex, surging forward, but Lila blocked her path as the object in Tes’s hands went up in flame. It burned fast, far faster than it should—days of work, erased by a single spell—and then the persalis crumbled, like ash, between her fingers.

  “Shouldn’t have done that, little girl,” growled Calin.

  Bex stared, face going from scarlet to grey.

  “You’re dead,” she snarled, metal coiling back around her forearm, but Lila Bard stepped between the killer and the girl.

  “So keen to go again?” she asked, a sharp thrill in her voice. “You should know, I’ve been holding back.” The air whipped around her as she said it. The whole inn groaned. The light in the lanterns peeled into ribbons. “And Kell here, well, he hasn’t even gotten started.” Those ribbons of flame circled his shoulders. The wind caught his copper hair. If Tes didn’t know better, if she couldn’t see better, she might have thought the magic was his own.

  The two killers finally seemed to take stock of their situation. Blood stained Bex’s skin from a dozen weeping cuts. Smoke wafted off Calin’s half-burned shirt. Two of the strongest magicians in the world stood between them and Tes, and the persalis they’d come for was nothing but a smear of soot on the splintered floor.

  Calin flashed Kell a smile that felt like a threat, but said nothing.

  Bex’s eyes slid past the Antari, and landed on Tes.

  “You and I,” she said coldly, “are not done.”

  Lila flicked her wrist, and the tavern door swung wide.

  “Run along now,” she said. “Unless you’d like to stay and tell us who hired you. We can pour a pint and talk about the Hand.”

  Bex’s mouth twitched, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by Calin throwing his arms wide. His power flared, and every one of the tables and chairs came flying toward them.

  Tes flinched, but Kell and Lila moved at once, their hands outstretched, silver magic flaring bright as the torrent of wood splintered and broke apart against a wall of will. By the time the debris collapsed to the ground, the room beyond was empty.