“Oh, please.” Coco snorted and kicked another pebble at him, grinning when it hit him squarely in the chest. “You’re the least chivalrous person I know.”

He glared between us, trying and failing to quell our laughter. “So this is my reward for helping you. Perhaps I should return to my cousin’s, after all.”

“Oh, shut it, Bas.” I pinched his arm, and he turned his baleful look on me. I stuck my tongue out at him. “You agreed to help us, and it’s not like you aren’t pocketing your share. Besides, she just had a drop. It’ll be out of her system soon.”

“It’d better be.”

In response, Coco flicked a finger, and Bas cursed and jolted as if his pants had caught fire. “That isn’t funny.”

I laughed anyway.

Too soon, Tremblay’s townhouse loomed before us. Built of pretty pale stone, it loomed over even its richly crafted neighbors, though it gave the distinct impression of opulence gone to seed. Green crept steadily up the foundation, and the wind whipped dead leaves across the gated lawn. Brown hydrangeas and roses dotted the flowerbeds—beside an outrageously exotic orange tree. The spoils of his black-market trade.

I wondered if Filippa had liked oranges.

“You have the sedative?” Bas whispered to Coco. She sidled up beside us and nodded, extricating a packet from her cloak. “Good. Are you ready, Lou?”

I ignored him and grabbed Coco’s arm. “You’re sure it won’t kill the dogs?”

Bas growled impatiently, but Coco silenced him with another flick of her finger. She nodded once more before touching a sharp fingernail to her forearm. “A drop of my blood in the powder for each dog. It’s just dried lavender,” she added, lifting the packet. “It’ll make them sleep.”

I released her arm, nodding. “Right. Let’s go.”

Raising the hood of my cloak, I stole silently to the wrought-iron fence lining the property. Though I couldn’t hear their footsteps, I knew the others crept after me, keeping close to the shadows of the hedgerow.

The lock on the gate was simple and strong, crafted from the same iron as the fence. I took a deep breath. I could do this. It’d been two years, but surely, surely, I could break one simple lock. As I examined it, a shimmering gold cord drifted up from the ground and wrapped around it. The cord pulsed for only a second before snaking around my forefinger as well, linking us. I sighed in relief—then took a deep breath to steel my nerves. As if sensing my hesitation, two more cords appeared and floated to where Coco and Bas waited, disappearing into each of their chests. I scowled at the fiendish little things.

You can’t get something for nothing, you know, a loathsome voice at the back of my head whispered. A break for a break. Your bone for the lock . . . or perhaps your relationship. Nature demands balance.

Nature could piss off.

“Is something wrong?” Bas edged forward cautiously, his eyes darting between me and the gate, but he couldn’t see the golden cords as I did. The patterns existed solely within my mind. I turned to look at him, an insult already rising to my tongue.

You worthless coward. Of course I couldn’t love you.

You’ve already fallen in love with yourself.

And you’re terrible in bed.

With each word, the cord between him and the lock pulsed brighter. But—no. I moved before I could reconsider, twisting my forefinger sharply. Pain lanced through my hand. Through clenched teeth, I watched as the cords vanished, returning to the land in a whirl of golden dust. Savage satisfaction stole through me as the lock clicked open in response.

I’d done it.

The first phase of my job was complete.

I didn’t pause to celebrate. Instead, I hastily swung the gate open—careful to avoid my forefinger, which now stuck out at an odd angle—and stepped aside. Coco streaked past me toward the front door, Bas following closely behind.

Earlier, we’d determined that Tremblay employed six guards to patrol the house. Three would be posted inside, but Bas would see to them. He had quite a skill with knives. I shuddered and crept onto the lawn. My outdoor targets would suffer a much kinder fate. Hopefully.

Not even a moment had passed before the first guard rounded the townhouse. I didn’t bother hiding, instead throwing my hood back and welcoming his gaze. He spotted the open gate first and immediately reached for his sword. Suspicion and panic warred on his face as he scanned the yard for something amiss—and spotted me. Sending up a silent prayer, I smiled.

“Hello.” A dozen voices spoke within my own, and the word came out strange and lovely, amplified by the lingering presence of my ancestors. Their ashes, long absorbed by the land until they were the land—and the air and the trees and the water—thrummed beneath me. Through me. My eyes shone brighter than usual. My skin glowed lustrous in the moonlight.

A dreamlike expression crossed the man’s face as he looked at me, and the hand on his sword relaxed. I beckoned him closer. He obliged, walking toward me as if in a trance. Only a few steps away, he paused, still staring at me.

“Will you wait with me?” I asked in the same strange voice. He nodded. His lips parted slightly, and I felt his pulse quicken under my gaze. Singing to me. Sustaining me. We continued staring at one another until the second guard appeared. I flicked my gaze toward him and repeated the whole delicious process. By the time the third guard came around, my skin glowed brighter than the moon.

“You’ve been so kind.” I extended my hands to them in supplication. They watched me greedily. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do.”

I closed my eyes, concentrating, and gold exploded behind my eyelids in an infinite, intricate web. I caught one strand and followed it to a memory of Bas’s face—to his scar, to the passionate evening we’d spent together. A trade. I clenched my hands into fists, and the memory vanished as the world tilted behind my eyelids. The guards fell to the ground, unconscious.

Disoriented, I opened my eyes slowly. The web dissipated. My stomach rolled, and I vomited into the hedge of roses.

I probably would’ve stayed there all night—sweating and puking at the onslaught of my repressed magic—had I not heard the soft whine of Tremblay’s dogs. Coco must’ve found them. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I mentally shook myself and crept toward the front door. Tonight was not the night for squeamishness.

Silence cloaked the inside of the townhouse. Wherever Bas and Coco had gone, I couldn’t hear them. Creeping farther into the foyer, I took stock of my surroundings: the dark walls, the fine furniture, the countless trinkets. Large rugs in tawdry patterns covered mahogany floors, and crystal bowls, tasseled pillows, and velvet poufs littered every surface. All very boring, in my opinion. Cluttered. I longed to rip the heavy curtains from their rods and let in the silver light of the moon.

“Lou.” Bas’s hiss emanated from the stairwell, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Coco’s warning reared to life with terrifying clarity. There’s something waiting for you at Tremblay’s. “Quit daydreaming, and get up here.”

“I’m technically night dreaming.” Ignoring the chill down my spine, I half sprinted to join him.

To my surprise—and delight—Bas had found a lever on the frame of a large portrait in Tremblay’s study: a young woman with piercing green eyes and pitch-black hair. I touched her face apologetically. “Filippa. How predictable.”