Casim, underboss of Rishiya, stared down at Tavia like she was a fly he quite fancied swatting. A specter of his face, tired but youthful, hovered over the open fire like a cloud. His mouth was stern, eyes faded and just as wicked as Tavia had always pictured them.

It had taken her days to secure this meeting, and robbing Casim’s buskers—arrogant little gits like Nolan included—hadn’t exactly helped to put her in the underboss’s good graces. Still, it had gotten his attention, and after a few delg bats and a lot of wishful thinking, Casim had agreed to meet. Or, more precisely, sent her a charm that melted into the open flames and then sprouted his uppity little face from the embers.

“I have the authority,” Tavia said. “The buskers in this rebellion follow me now.”

“And you want me to send more buskers to your cause,” Casim said. “Risking my own neck in the process.”

“It’s not like Ashwood is going to let you keep your neck once his power trip comes to an end. He’s preaching Crafters as the new, superior race. You think just because we use magic, we’ll be any better off than the regular folks he’s going to exterminate or enslave?” Tavia almost laughed. “We’ll either be next, or be regulated to his guard dogs, watching over the prisons and jumping when he tells us how high.”

Casim’s entire face twitched at that.

Like any underboss, he was not the sort of person who liked taking orders. Underbosses were charged with ruling entire cities, with the Kingpin trusting them to keep the trades going, and usually Ashwood’s only concern was how much magic they sold, or what charms they should push. Tavia could see that the thought of Ashwood breathing down his neck and imposing his every whim on Casim’s city was not his idea of a bright future.

“You think he controls you now?” Tavia asked, pressing the nerve. “Just wait and see what happens if he wins.”

“And you think us teaming up will save it all?”

“I think that you can convince the other underbosses to join forces and that might just save us all.”

“Doubtful,” Casim said. “When it comes to the Kingpin, they’re all a bunch of damn chickenshits.”

Tavia kept her chin high, and her stare hardened. “You can convince them. There are nine underbosses in this realm and I know for a fact that each of them values what you have to say.”

Which was a lie. Technically, Casim was part of the inner circle. Part of the four underbosses who thought themselves superior enough to dictate to the other five—Casim, Stelios, Ilaria. And Wesley. Casim was by no means the most powerful or the most respected, but, with Wesley gone, he was the best she was going to get. She doubted the others would even give her the time of day.