Something warm spattered on my face. But it didn’t smell like peppermint.

The broken-nosed man released me and straightened, swearing. I managed to turn my head in time to see the scoundrel who’d been standing beside him crumple, blood on his lips, eyes glassy with shock.

Behind him stood Zaira, in her party gown, a knife in her hand.

“Egghhhssssoffo,” I tried again.

The man with the bleeding face slashed at Zaira with his sword. But a glowing ripple shook the air in front of her magical corset, and the blade rebounded out of his hand. Cursing louder, the broken-nosed one fumbled in a leather pouch.

“Looking for something?” Zaira held up a glass bottle.

I summoned the shreds of my strength and tried to lunge up out of the casket.

Zaira, grinning, kicked the lid shut in my face.

For one moment of sheer panic, I pushed ineffectively at the lid, still too weak to shove it open. The coffin seemed to wrap tight around me, as if I’d been encased in stone. I choked on the close air.

Then I heard glass shatter against the lid. Something bumped the casket, jarring it to the side. Faintly, the odor of peppermint seeped in. I held my breath.

Zaira flung the lid back, holding her remaining glove across her nose and mouth. She wrestled me up out of the coffin; I tried to help, but my limbs dragged like bags of sand.

Three bodies lay sprawled in the street. The nervous horses had dragged the hearse several yards off. Broken glass glittered in the moonlight.

Zaira pulled my arm over her shoulders and helped me stagger away, half hauling me. When I finally had to gasp in a breath, the fresh air cleared my head, bringing more feeling back to my body.

“You’re luckier than you deserve.” Zaira tossed her glove aside, now that the air was safe to breathe, but didn’t slow our pace. I had to struggle to keep up. “And Grace of Victory’s bloody sword, you’re useless.”

“Thank you.” I seemed to have regained control of my tongue. I had better put it to good use before Zaira disappeared again. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

She flicked a glare at me. “I almost didn’t, Prissyface. I was trying to decide whether to go back to Ignazio’s house or run for it when you traipsed past my hiding place, blind as a beggar to the footpad after you. Then I remembered that if you die, I die too, unless I get a new Falconer. So I figured I’d better make sure he didn’t kill you.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I should give you more credit.”

Zaira grunted. “I’m not sorry for anything I said to you. I meant every word of it.”

“I know.”