I loved writing this book, and I hope you enjoy reading it; I thank you for doing so.

Sincerely,

Francesca

PROLOGUE

“Do you want to know the secret to survival?”

Aina’s eyes snapped up from the sticky wooden table and widened at the man who sat across from her. The bar’s dim light glinted off his smile. Fast-playing flutes, rowdy drunks, and dancers stomping their feet across the floor nearly drowned out his next words.

“You count and you look,” he whispered. “You count everything and you look at everyone. Are you paying attention, street child?”

Her frown deepened. Every underage person in this bar was a street child, but she still disliked being called one. It marked her as dirty, poor, without a future. She was dirty and poor, but the idea of a future hadn’t faded from her mind yet. A high collar framed the man’s pale face as he took her in. Perhaps he was going to offer her a job. Something about him smelled rich, maybe the scent of cologne. He was probably one of the industrialists made wealthy by steam and steel.

“Thirty-six people were in this bar when you entered, making you the thirty-seventh.” He leaned closer, his gaze fixing on her as adamantly as a noose around the neck. “The door opened once inward, and twice outward, because the wind pushed your hair around your cheeks the first time, but not the next two.”

She blew a strand of wet hair out of her eyes and tried not to shiver, but she was soaked from getting pushed into the Minos River by some boys who’d robbed her. She wanted warm clothes and a bed to sleep on. She didn’t want to play this man’s game. Crossing her arms, she turned away to ignore him, but he continued speaking.

“That means there should be thirty-six people in this room, but did you count? There are thirty-five. Where is the missing link?” He barely paused for a breath. “You don’t know. He’s planting a bomb in the rafters. Don’t look up; you’ve only got twenty seconds. I have a job you might be good at. If you come work with me, everyone here will die, but we’ll survive. If you don’t, you’ll die without ever knowing what you could become. Do you want your life to end at twelve years, Aina Solís?”

“How do you know my name?” Her fists clenched, a chill crept down her spine. Plenty of bombs went off in Kosín, but what if this were just a lie to get her to follow him?

“Twelve seconds left.”

“The Diamond Guards—”

“The Diamond Guards won’t risk their lives to save a street child. Eight seconds left.”

Her mouth snapped shut. The options were few, but she was cold and hungry, and this man had a job for her.

She stood on shaking legs and walked out, the man’s presence behind her like a reaper waiting for its reward. In the last three seconds, they ran. The chill night wind bit her skin through her wet clothes. Her sprints elongated, and her lungs seared.