I could draw this out into a negotiation, but the general is already two steps behind.

“I’ll give you all of it. The whole belt.”

I hear the rustle of boots behind us, the shifting of weight. Bastian’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Antonio Rowan leans forward hungrily. “At what cost?”

“No cost. Free of charge.”

“Imelda—” Bastian starts to interrupt, but a look from me cuts him off.

I unclip the cubes from my belt and slide the whole thing across the general’s desk. He carefully opens the first latch. His eyes narrow, though, as he opens the second, and third….

“These are not the components you stole.”

I raise both eyebrows in surprise. “No?”

“I do not have time for games.”

“I think I just proved to the entire world that I don’t play games.”

His lip quivers with checked fury. There’s a flash of danger in his eyes, and I brace myself, thinking he’ll reach for the pistol at his hip. Instead, he calls the guards back into the room. “Search her,” he says to the first. “And you search her things. Find the other belt.”

I smile as they obey his command. Bastian looks a little lost. I smile, because I know they won’t find them. I made sure of it. I left the belt where only one person would know to look. The guard searches me roughly, finds nothing. Antonio Rowan looks up skeptically when he’s finished. The other returns to report the same. The Longhand general doesn’t hide his anger now.

“Where are they?” he asks.

“The belt on your desk is the only one in my possession.”

He snaps each container shut, opens the nearest drawer, and dumps the belt inside.

“Leave. Go now before I have you arrested.”

Bastian offers a quick bow to the Longhand before shoving me back into the hall. He doesn’t talk until we’re beyond the Longhand patrols. The second we’re out of earshot, he breaks into laughter. “What’d you do with them?” he asks giddily.

“They’re in good hands,” I reply. “They’ll get back to the right people.”

He smirks. “The Alchemist. I’m starting to see it now.”

And to my surprise, he throws a friendly arm around me. Heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks. My heart pounds in my chest. Mostly because I almost got thrown in prison, but some of it has to do with how comfortable Bastian’s arm feels around my shoulder.

It feels like home.

Outside the Longhand camp, his crew are packing saddles and preparing ashes. Like proper rebels, they look ready to move on to the next place on the map. We’re walking that way when Bastian pulls me to a stop. His face looks surprisingly serious for once.