“At least you know that you’re going to die.” Nolan took a menacing step toward her. “I hope you’re prepared for how slow I’m going to make it. Maybe I’ll even bring your head to my underboss. I’m sure Casim would appreciate one of Wesley’s little goons as a trophy.”

“Wow.” Tavia grimaced. “That’s really graphic. I think you offended my friend’s delicate sensibilities.”

She gestured with a nod behind him and when Nolan finally turned, he came face-to-face with Karam: Creije’s most deadly fighter and the woman who was currently teaching Tavia how to kill someone in a dozen different ways.

Karam stepped forward, her skillfully embroidered clothes cascading down to her ankles in a way that was almost delicate, and so very much the opposite of Karam. Even from where Tavia stood, she could smell the peppermint salve on her friend’s sliced knuckles, something the fighters in Creije loved to use to soothe their injuries and that Karam wore every day, just in case.

“I thought we agreed that you were going to stop being stupid,” Karam said, Wrenyi accent thick on her tongue.

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Tavia said. “Did you follow me here?”

Karam crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you complaining about me saving you?”

“I don’t need saving.” Tavia leaned back in the booth. “I’m a busker, not a damsel.”

Nolan looked between them with a disbelieving scoff. “Are you two finished?” he asked. “Because we were about to kill her.”

For the first time, Karam looked at him, as if she had only just realized—or cared—that he was there.

“We have not been introduced,” she said.

“No,” Nolan said. “We haven’t.”

Karam held out a hand. “Hello,” she said.

And then she used that hand to grab ahold of Nolan’s shoulder and pull him toward her.

Without warning, Karam cracked her head against his.

The buskers broke into a frenzy as Nolan stumbled back, clutching his bloody nose. Quickly, Karam landed a kick to one of the others.

Tavia jumped up from the booth just as Nolan regained his footing, smashing a glass from a nearby table over his head. She shifted the backpack on her shoulder and landed a kick to another busker’s knee.

He went down with a yelp.

“This is why I had to follow you,” Karam said.

She kicked a busker in the chest and as he bent over to catch his breath, she rolled across his back and punched another clean in the face.

“You are so reckless.”

Tavia sighed at the lecture, which was becoming Karam’s specialty these days.

“If you were so worried about my safety, then you could have helped me take Nolan down back in the streets before his buddies showed up,” Tavia said.