to mislead people.” He let go of her hand. “It’s so subtle, I doubt many notice.”
“You did,” she muttered.
Alucard reached out, tipped her chin up with his knuckle, and looked her in the eyes. Eye.
“I’m extraordinarily perceptive,” he said.
Lila clenched her fists, focusing on the pain that blossomed there.
“You’re an incredible thief, Lila,” he said, “especially con—”
“Don’t you dare say considering,” she snapped, pulling out of his grip. He respected her enough not to look away. “I am an incredible thief, Alucard. This,” she said, gesturing to her eye, “is not a weakness. It hasn’t been for a very long time. And even if it were, I more than make up for it.”
Alucard smiled. A small, genuine smile. “We all have scars,” he said, and before she could stop herself, she glanced at his wrists. “Yes,” he said, catching the look, “even charming captains.” He pushed up his cuffs again, revealing smooth, tan skin interrupted only by the silvered bands around both wrists. They were strangely uniform. In fact, they almost looked like—
“Manacles,” he confirmed.
Lila frowned. “From what?”
Alucard shrugged. “A bad day.” He took a step away, and leaned back against a stack of crates. “Do you know what Arnesians do to the pirates they catch?” he asked casually. “The ones who try to escape?”
Lila crossed her arms. “I thought you said you weren’t a pirate.”
“I’m not.” He waved his hand. “Not anymore. But youth makes fools of us all. Let’s just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time on the wrong side.”
“What do they do …?” asked Lila, curious despite herself.
Alucard’s gaze drifted toward the river. “The jailers use an efficient system of dissuasion. They keep all the prisoners in manacles, put them on before even hearing your plea. They’re heavy things, fused together at the wrist, but not so bad, as irons go. But if you make too much of a fuss, or put up a fight, then they simply heat the metal up. Not too much. The first time it’s really just a warning. But if it’s your second or third offense, or if you’re foolish enough to try to escape, it’s much worse.” Alucard’s eyes had somehow gone sharp and empty at the same time, as if he were focusing, just on something else, something far away. His voice had a strangely even quality as he spoke. “It’s a simple enough method. They take a metal bar from the fires, and touch it to the iron cuff until it gets hot. The worse the offense, the longer they hold the rod to the cuffs. Most of the time they stop when you start screaming, or when they see the skin begin to burn….”
In Lila’s mind, she saw Alucard Emery, not in his polished captain’s coat, but bruised and beaten, his brown hair plastered to his face with sweat, hands bound as he tried to pull back from the heated iron. Tried to charm his way out of the mess. But it obviously hadn’t worked, and she imagined the sound of him begging, the smell of charred flesh, the scream….
“The trouble is,” Alucard was saying, “that metal heats much faster than it cools, so the punishment doesn’t end when they take away the rod.”
Lila felt ill. “I’m sorry,” she said, even though she hated those words, hated the pity that went with them.
“I’m not,” he said, simply. “Every good captain needs his scars. Keeps the men in line.”
He said it so casually, but she could see the strains of memory on his face. She had the strangest urge to reach out and touch his wrist, as if heat might still be rising from the skin.
Instead she asked, “Why did you become a pirate?”
He shot her that coy smile. “Well, it seemed like the best of several bad ideas.”
“But it didn’t work.”
“How perceptive.”
“Then how did you escape?”
The sapphire winked above his eye. “Who says I did?”
Just then, the call went through the crew.
“London!”
Lila twisted, and saw the city rising like a fire in the fading light.
Her heart raced, and Alucard stood up straight, the tunic sleeves sliding down over his wrists.
“Well then,” he said, his rakish smile back in place. “It seems we have arrived.”
VI
The Night Spire docked at dusk.
Lila helped tie off the lines and settle the ramps, her attention straying to the dozens of elegant ships that filled the Isle’s banks. The Red London berths were a tangle of energy and people, chaos and magic, laughter and twilight. Despite the February chill,