14

The Master’s Hand

The Tiger’s face is pale and taut. After the song fades, there’s only silence in the Court. Every eye is on Orso. He smiles widely and raises his hands. “Well now, this is a somber affair. I thought we were celebrating my return.”

The music starts up. A crowd of singing Ghosts, Gamblers, and Thieves is accompanied by a piano.

Loup appears at Orso’s side with a goblet of wine. Everyone starts to laugh and chatter. The Hyènes come down from their perches and grab reluctant partners, swinging them around in their violent dances.

Ettie looks at up me. She’s stopped trembling. “I’m safe now, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” I say. “They can’t hurt you now.”

Which technically is true—the Law protects her. But the Tiger is watching Ettie with hungry, determined eyes. He has never been one for obeying the Law.

Tomasis catches my eye. I know from the slight raise of his head that he wants to speak. I slip away from Ettie and sidle up to him, my head bowed reverentially. He cocks his head to one side, studying my face with searching eyes. His necklaces sparkle, catching the dancing light of the candles.

When he speaks, his voice is low enough for my ears alone to hear what he has to say.

“Justice is a fire that rages through your bones. The Law hangs upon your heart like a burden.” He reaches out with a leathery hand and runs a finger down the side of my face, tracing the line of my cheek and neck, pausing at the Guild tattoo behind my ear. “You’ll make a good Thief Lord in your time.”

I flinch, recoiling at his words.

I don’t want to be a Lord. Tomasis is my Guild Lord, my Father in the Miracle Court. To consider anything else would be blasphemy.

“I won’t always be around, little kitten,” he says, as if reading my mind. His eyes dance with amusement as he watches my expression.

I can’t bear to think about what his words mean. A world without Tomasis would be unthinkable. How could I ever watch him be cut down by age or infirmity? How could I watch other hands lift the jewels from around his neck and wear them against their own skin as Lord of the Guild of Thieves? I myself could never do it.

“A Guild Lord does whatever he must to protect his children,” Tomasis says gently. “But a Guild Lord also chooses his enemies wisely.” He glances over at the Tiger, who’s still sitting rigid at the Lords’ table, watching Orso and Ettie. “There are things even I can’t protect you from.”

He holds out his hand, and I take it in my own and kiss his large knuckles. I whip out the tin cup I “rescued” from the Châtelet and offer it to him. He frowns, taking the battered piece of tin and raising an eyebrow at me as he turns the cup over, inspecting it. Then he sees the words stamped into its underside—