“If I hadn’t been so arrogant, that bastard wouldn’t have come after you. I humiliated him! I should have been watching. I should have protected you better.”

“You were eleven years old!” Elene said.

“Every scar on your face is my fault. Gods, look at you! You would have been the most beautiful woman in the city! Instead, you’re here, giving crusts to beggars.”

“Instead of where?” she asked quietly. “Do you know any girls who’ve been prostitutes since they were children? I do. I’ve seen what you saved me from. And I’m grateful for it every day. I’m grateful for these scars!”

“But your face!” Kylar was on the edge of tears again.

“If this is the worst ugliness in my life, Azoth, I think I’m pretty lucky.” She smiled, and despite the scars, the room lit up. She was breathtaking.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She actually blushed. The Drake sisters were the only girls Kylar knew who blushed, and Serah didn’t blush anymore. “Thank you,” she said, and touched his arm. At her touch, shivers went through him.

He looked into her eyes, and then he blushed, too. He’d never been so mortified in his life. Blushing! That only made it worse. She laughed, not a laugh at him in his discomfort, but a laugh of such innocent joy it pained him. Her laugh, like her voice, was low, and it brushed over him like a cool wind on a hot day.

Then her laughter passed and a look of profound sorrow stole over her face. “I’m so sorry, Azoth—Kylar. I’m sorry for what you’ve had to pay to put me here. I don’t even know what to think. Sometimes it seems the God’s hand doesn’t reach very far into the Warrens. I’m sorry.” She looked at him for a long time and another tear tracked down her cheek. She ignored it, just absorbing him. “Are you a bad man, Kylar?”

He hesitated. Then said, “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “A bad man would have lied.”

“Maybe I’m an honest villain.” He turned away.

“I think you’re still the boy who shared his bread with his friends when he was starving.”

“I always took the biggest piece,” he whispered.

“Then we remember differently,” Elene said. She heaved a deep breath and brushed her tears away. “Are you . . . are you here for work?”

It was a shot in the solar plexus. “There’s a wetboy coming to kill someone at the party tonight and steal something. I need an invitation to get in.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.