“They’d watch and smile while I did it. They’d help and laugh to drown out your screams,” she said. “The buskers stand against Dante Ashwood and if you stand with him, then you’re not one of us anymore. And I don’t think you want to be an enemy of the streets.”

For the first time, she saw the defiance in Nolan’s eyes lift, and a flash of the fear she had so desperately wanted latched onto his face.

“Tell me about Wesley.”

“I don’t know much,” Nolan said. “There were some whisperings about him and the Kingpin wanting to amass more forces in Tisvgen. It could be bullshit, I don’t know.”

Tisvgen.

It didn’t make sense for Ashwood to take Wesley there, unless Creije was on the verge of destruction.

Unless it was too dangerous of a place to keep such precious cargo.

“And the Loj?” Tavia asked.

“There are groups of Crafters in every city we have,” Nolan told her. “They’re supplying the buskers across Uskhanya with the elixir. Direct from the Kingpin.”

“But Casim—”

“Dante Ashwood isn’t stupid,” Nolan said, interrupting her. “The only underboss he’s ever trusted was yours.”

Wesley. She knew it was true. They were only allowed to get so close to Ashwood before because Wesley had been with them. The old man had barely spoken of the others, and when Wesley joked about killing his peers, Ashwood only laughed like he might just approve.

“Ashwood isn’t giving the elixir to any of the underbosses,” Tavia said. “He’s going straight to the streets.”

“Rendering Casim and all the rest of them useless,” Nolan confirmed. “We don’t follow the underbosses like we used to. We get our orders directly from the top now.”

“Casim didn’t mention being usurped,” Tavia said.

“He doesn’t know,” Nolan told her. “None of them do. The Crafters that gave me the elixir said that if I sold it under Casim’s nose, then the Kingpin would reward me in the new world. All the coin, magic, and Cloverye I could want.”

It was a small dream to have in a big world, and so Tavia knew what Nolan really wanted—what he’d really betrayed his underboss for—and it wasn’t booze or the deception of power. It was what everyone in the realms wanted. Survival. Nolan didn’t think Tavia and her side stood a chance.

“How many have you sold?” she asked. “How many elixirs are on the streets of Rishiya?”

“I only sold a handful myself,” Nolan said. He wiped blood from his face and onto his arm. “They told me to distribute it out among the other buskers, but the amityguards have been right on my ass, so I haven’t had the chance.”