A Gathering of Shadows (Shades of Magic #2) - V.E. Schwab Page 0,162

champions returning in fresh attire, their masks tucked under their arms, their faces on display.

The wolfish Rul went straight for the nearest table of food, where his Veskan comrades were already deep in their cups.

Tos-an-Mir maneuvered the crowd, trailed by her sister, Tas-on-Mir, the first magician to fall to Kell. Rhy could only tell them apart by the gems set into their dark skin, Tos-an-Mir’s a fiery orange where Tas-on-Mir’s were pearlescent blue.

Alucard was the center of his own private universe. Rhy watched as a pretty ostra brought her painted lips to Alucard’s ear to whisper something, and felt his grip tighten on his glass.

Someone slouched against the pillar beside him. A slim figure dressed in black. Lila looked better than she had that afternoon: still drawn, with shadows like bruises beneath her eyes, and yet spry enough to swipe two fresh glasses from a passing tray. She offered one to Rhy. He took it absently. “You came back.”

“Well,” she said, tipping her drink toward the ballroom, “you do know how to throw a party.”

“To London,” clarified Rhy.

“Ah,” she said. “That.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, thinking of her match that afternoon.

She swallowed, kept her eyes on the crowd. “I don’t know.”

A silence formed around them, a raft of quiet in the sea of sound.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last, the words so soft Rhy almost didn’t hear.

He rolled his shoulder toward her. “For what?”

“I don’t really know. It seemed like the right thing to say.”

Rhy took a long drink and considered this strange girl, her sharp edges, her guarded face. “Kell only has two faces,” he said.

Lila raised a brow. “Only two? Don’t most people have one?”

“On the contrary, Miss Bard—and you are Bard again, judging by your clothes? I assume Stasion has been left somewhere to recuperate? Most people have far more than two. I myself have an entire wardrobe.” He didn’t smile when he said it. His gaze drifted past his parents, the Arnesian nobles, Alucard Emery. “But Kell has only two. The one he wears for the world at large, and the one he wears for those he loves.” He sipped his wine. “For us.”

Lila’s expression hardened. “Whatever he feels for me, it isn’t love.”

“Because it isn’t soft and sweet and doting?” Rhy rocked back, stretching against the pillar. “Do you know how many times he’s nearly beat me senseless out of love? How many times I’ve done the same? I’ve seen the way he looks at those he hates …” He shook his head. “There are very few things my brother cares about, and even fewer people.”

Lila swallowed. “What do you think he’s doing?”

Rhy considered his wine. “Judging by the way this is going to my head,” he said, lifting the glass, “I’d say he’s drowning his feelings, just like me.”

“He’ll come back.”

Rhy closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

“Yes,” said Lila, “you would.”

* * *

“Ned,” said Kell in the early hours of the morning, “you wanted to give me something, the last time I was here. What was it?”

Ned looked down and shook his head. “Oh, it was nothing.”

But Kell had seen the excitement in the man’s eyes, and even though he couldn’t take whatever it was, he still wanted to know. “Tell me.”

Ned chewed his lip, then nodded. He reached beneath the counter and drew out a carved piece of wood. It was roughly the length of a hand, from palm to fingertip, the length etched with a pattern and the end pointed.

“What is it?” asked Kell, curious and confused.

Ned dragged the Red London lin toward him and balanced the point of the carved stick on top. When he let go, the wood didn’t fall. It stood, perfectly upright, the carved point balancing on the coin.

“Magic,” said Ned with a tired smile. “That’s what I thought, anyway. I know now it’s not really magic. A clever trick with magnets, that’s all.” He nudged the wood with his finger and it wavered, then righted. “But when I was young, it made me believe. Even when I found out it was a trick, I still wanted to believe. After all, just because this wasn’t magic, that didn’t mean nothing was.” He plucked the stick from its perch and set it on the counter, stifling a yawn.

“I should go,” said Kell.

“You can stay.” It was very late—or very early—and the Five Points had long since emptied.

“No,” said Kell simply. “I can’t.”

Before Ned could insist—before he could offer to keep the tavern open, before he could give Kell the