tall is he? she wondered, sizing up the cut of his shoulders, the length of his arms. A touch of cool air brushed her cheek, and she blinked, realizing Jin had returned.
He was sitting again on the back of Alucard’s chair, having appeared without so much as a greeting.
“Well,” asked Alucard, tipping his head back, “is everyone here?”
“Nearly.” Jinnar pulled the competition roster from his pocket. “No sign of Brost. Or the Kamerov fellow. Or Zenisra.”
“Praise the saints,” muttered Alucard at this last name.
Jin chuckled. “You make more enemies than most make bedfellows.”
The sapphire in Alucard’s brow twinkled. “Oh, I make plenty of those, too.” He nodded at the man on the couch. “And the shadow?”
“Tall, dark, and quiet? Name’s Stasion Elsor. Nice enough fellow. Shy, I think.”
Stasion Elsor, thought Lila, turning the name over on her tongue.
“Or smart enough to keep his cards close to his chest.”
“Maybe,” said Jin. “Anyhow, he’s a first-timer, comes from Besa Nal, on the coast.”
“My man Stross hails from that region.”
“Yes, well, hopefully Stasion’s stage manner is stronger than his tavern one.”
“It’s not always about putting on a show,” chided Alucard.
Jin cackled. “You’re one to talk, Emery.” With that, he dismounted the chair, and blew away.
Alucard got to his feet. He looked at the drink in his hand, as if he wasn’t sure how it had gotten there. Then he finished it in a single swallow. “I suppose I better say my hellos,” he said, setting down the empty glass. “I’ll be back.”
Lila nodded absently, her attention already returning to the man on the couch. Only he wasn’t there anymore. She searched the room, eyes landing on the door just in time to see Stasion Elsor vanishing through it. Lila finished her own drink, and shoved herself up to her feet.
“Where are you going?” asked Stross.
She flashed him a sharp-edged smile and turned up the collar of her coat. “To find some trouble.”
V
They were nearly the same height. That was the first thing she noticed as she fell in step behind him. Elsor was a touch taller, and a fraction broader in the shoulders, but he had a narrow waist and long legs. As Lila followed, she first matched his stride, and then began to mimic it.
So close to the river, the streets were crowded enough to cloak her pursuit, and she began to feel less like a thief with a mark and more like a cat with its prey.
There were so many chances to turn back. But she kept going.
Lila had never really bought into fate, but like most people who disavowed religion, she could summon a measure of belief when it was necessary.
Elsor wasn’t from London. He didn’t have an entourage. As she closed the gap, she wondered how many people had even noticed him back at the tavern, besides Jinnar. The light in the Sun had been low. Had anyone gotten a good look at his face?
Once the tournament began, they’d have no faces anyway.
Madness, warned a voice, but what did she have to lose? Alucard and the Spire? Caring, belonging, it was all so overrated.
Elsor put his hands in his pockets.
Lila put her hands in her pockets.
He rolled his neck.
She rolled her neck.
She had a variety of knives on her, but she didn’t plan on killing him, not if it could be helped. Stealing an identity was one thing; stealing a life was another, and though she’d certainly killed her fair share, she didn’t take it lightly. Still, for her plan to work, something had to happen to Stasion Elsor.
He rounded a corner onto a narrow street that led to the docks. The street was jagged and empty, dotted only by darkened shops and a scattering of bins and crates.
Elsor was no doubt an excellent magician, but Lila had the element of surprise and no problem playing dirty.
A metal bar leaned against a door, winking in the lantern light.
It scraped the stones as Lila lifted it, and Elsor spun around. He was fast, but she was faster, pressed into the doorway by the time his eyes found the place she’d been.
Flame sparked in the man’s palm, and he held the light aloft, shadows dancing down the street. A fireworker.
It was the last sign Lila needed.
Her lips moved, magic prickling through her as she summoned a couplet of Blake. Not a song of fire, or water, but earth. A planter on the windowsill above him slid off the edge and came crashing down. It missed him by inches, shattering against the