to find the alchemist, the true murderer. And now the con man wanted something more from her in return.
Why not? After all, what more did she have to lose?
Perhaps not every move needed to be a triumphant one, as long as she was moving toward her endgame.
“What is it that you want?” she asked, lifting her chin. This way, it was easy to pretend that she was a princess granting a favor, not a nobody begging for help.
“Revenge,” said the con man.
“And you think I can help you achieve that?”
“Perhaps. You are, after all, threatening me with your power over my mortal being.”
Of course—of course he wanted to use her for her Affinity. Ana narrowed her eyes. Luka’s voice whispered to her, gently pushing her on. Be specific. Flesh out the details. “Tell me what your revenge scheme entails. And be specific.”
Quicktongue’s smile widened as though he found something delightful in her response. “All right, I’ll be specific. I plan to destroy my enemies one by one and take back my position and what was rightfully mine. For that, I’ll need an ally. Someone powerful. And by the Deities”—he gave her a look that was somehow both caressing and calculating at the same time—“you must be the most powerful flesh Affinite I’ve ever seen.”
Flesh Affinite. Ana almost let out a breath in relief. Flesh, not blood. She’d kept her secret well, and it was imperative that Ramson Quicktongue continue to think she was a flesh Affinite. Because while there were hundreds of flesh Affinites, working as butchers or soldiers or guards, there was only one Blood Witch of Salskoff.
Ramson Quicktongue was not as smart as he thought he was.
“I won’t kill anyone for you, if that’s what you want.”
“Kill? I never said ‘kill.’ I said ‘destroy.’ There are many ways to destroy a man besides taking his life.”
The bartenders and bounty hunters had described Ramson Quicktongue as cunning and ruthless. She hadn’t understood them until now.
Ana steeled her nerves. She dictated the terms, not him. And she would never choose to harm innocent people.
Really, now? Sadov whispered in her head. Little monster, do you think yourself so righteous? Do you really think you’re above this con man, when you have so much blood on your hands—
“No torture,” Ana said loudly. “No killing. I am to decide how to use my Affinity in our alliance. I’ll ensure that no harm comes to you, and that you can dispatch your enemies as you wish. If you agree to those terms, I’ll pledge my alliance to you for two weeks. After you’ve found my alchemist.”
He narrowed his eyes, tapping a finger on his chin thoughtfully. “Three weeks,” he said. “And in return, I want three weeks to find your alchemist as well.”
“We agreed on two.”
“I never agreed; I considered.”
“Don’t get caught up in the technicalities.”
“Don’t be stubborn. We both know that you need me, and I need you. That’s why we’re still here, talking to each other in a civil fashion. Three weeks, Witch—that’s only fair. Look, I’ll make a Trade with you, to show you my goodwill.”
He sounded sincere, which made her even warier. “A what?”
“A Trade. A con man’s promise.”
“You realize you just contradicted yourself, don’t you?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Believe it or not, there is a code of honor among the thieves of the underworld. The Trade. It’s a contract of a mutually beneficial exchange. Think of it more as a…a type of currency, for us. Once you invoke the Trade, there’s no reneging—otherwise, you face dire consequences.”
“Why does that matter? You’ll face dire consequences if you renege on your offer, Trade or no Trade.”
The con man sighed. “Look. I’ll find your alchemist,” he said, and Ana felt hope rustle its wings inside her. “I’ll do it in three weeks. I could track jetsam back to its ship if I wished. And in return, you’ll pledge your allegiance to me for three weeks.”
It sounded straightforward enough. “All right,” Ana said. Her mind was working fast, searching the agreement for holes, buttoning up the last of the terms. “So you agree to my terms?”
Ramson Quicktongue looked at her in that calculating, inscrutable way of his—yet Ana sensed something else in his gaze. Something like…curiosity.
“Very well,” he said at last, and pushed himself off the wall, tossing his washcloth on the floor. “I agree to your terms. Six weeks together, during which I keep my nose out of your business and you keep your nose out of