James continued. “I thought time in the Guild would grow you a spine, but your maturity lags behind your talents. This is no child’s game that we play. We’re dealing with the Palace and the Council, the most powerful men in the three cities, and the swords they control. You don’t win this war with petty raids on their storehouses. You draw blood. Do you think Malikel or any of his soldiers would think twice about killing you? You’re nothing to them. Street scum to be ignored, played with, or abused.”

He looked her over, appraising her like a piece of damaged china. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll have one good kill from you for all the resources I’ve invested in your training. Do this one job, and I’ll let you leave. But it needs to be done tonight.”

He reached below the table and brought up a parchment and a small leather vial. “One of your maps and a bottle of clearberry juice. I’ve circled Malikel’s chambers, as well as the living quarters of his most trusted men. It should be easy enough to understand. Of course, you don’t have to accept, but every choice will have its consequences.”

Eighteen

E I G H T E E N

Kyra didn’t know how long she stayed in her room after James left, replaying the conversation in her head. She was a fool, many times over—for joining the Guild, for trusting James, for thinking that she could get involved, and that she could leave.

James was wrong. There were steps she wasn’t willing to take. The kill had been an accident. She wasn’t an assassin, and she wouldn’t kill a Council member. She couldn’t.

But James was more than capable of carrying out his threats.

The thought brought Kyra to her feet, and she barreled downstairs two steps at a time, images of the girls bound and captive flashing through her mind. Kyra burst into the kitchen to find Idalee grinding peppercorns with Bella.

Bella raised her head. “Kyra?”

“Where’s Flick?” Kyra asked. She surreptitiously scanned the room, shrinking under Bella’s worried eye. The kitchen looked normal. Stew bubbled on the stove. Everything was in its place. No assassins hidden under the cabinets.

“He went to the wool district,” said Bella. “Do you need him?” The cook put down her pestle and moved toward her. Kyra took a half step back. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell Bella what had happened. Maybe it would be all right.

“Just tell him I’m looking for him,” Kyra said roughly. She fled into the dining room before her resolve could crumble any further.