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Chapters (45)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. PART ONE
  4. CHAPTER 1
  5. CHAPTER 2
  6. CHAPTER 3
  7. CHAPTER 4
  8. CHAPTER 5
  9. CHAPTER 6
  10. CHAPTER 7
  11. PART TWO
  12. CHAPTER 8
  13. CHAPTER 9
  14. CHAPTER 10
  15. CHAPTER 11
  16. CHAPTER 12
  17. CHAPTER 13
  18. CHAPTER 14
  19. PART THREE
  20. CHAPTER 15
  21. CHAPTER 16
  22. CHAPTER 17
  23. CHAPTER 18
  24. CHAPTER 19
  25. CHAPTER 20
  26. CHAPTER 21
  27. CHAPTER 22
  28. CHAPTER 23
  29. CHAPTER 24
  30. PART FOUR
  31. CHAPTER 25
  32. CHAPTER 26
  33. CHAPTER 27
  34. CHAPTER 28
  35. PART FIVE
  36. CHAPTER 29
  37. CHAPTER 30
  38. CHAPTER 31
  39. CHAPTER 32
  40. CHAPTER 33
  41. CHAPTER 34
  42. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  43. Tor Books by Everina Maxwell
  44. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  45. Newsletter Sign-up

Readers were scattered and rare. Most reading didn’t actually tell you that much about what someone was thinking. Tennal, like any reader, could focus on someone and read them on a shallow level whenever he wanted, though he would only pick up a vague outline of their feelings and intentions, and if he left his mind open for too long it gave him a headache. Even that shallow reading was illegal, but it could be useful if you were discreet about it.

Readers who could go deep, beyond surface emotions, were even more of an anomaly—so much so that many people didn’t believe they existed. Tennal might have appreciated being an aberration more if it hadn’t nearly gotten him arrested several times when he was growing up. But hiring out his deep-reading skills wasn’t an option because people had a habit of noticing you were doing it. And he didn’t want to get too far into a criminal operation. He’d have to pretend to be good, but not too good. “I might be able to help you out.”

“I work with readers now and then,” the man said, watching him. “Before we go any further, though, tell me—how good are you at defending yourself? You’re not much use to me if the first architect you meet can make you spill your guts.”

Tennal let a lazy smile creep onto his face. He twirled the embossed bottle. “I’m hard for architects to get to,” he said. “You want me to prove it? How about a bet?”

The boss cleared a table for them with a look. His bodyguard didn’t even have to step closer. He waved a hand for Tennal to sit opposite him.

At the back of his mind, Tennal knew this was further than he’d ever gone. He was taking risks he wouldn’t have imagined a few months ago—but it was fine. It was all fine. It had to be fine, because Tennal had run out his welcome everywhere else. He’d be out on the streets if he didn’t find something. Going home wasn’t an option. “Let’s make this easy,” Tennal said. He held out his glass for a refill. “I bet you I can go three minutes without drinking that. Start the clock.”

The boss laughed. “If I don’t write you, you mean.”