Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,52

still with the jack in his hand, still as a statue. “I don’t know,” he says. “But I think I’d need another Solarian to help.” He holds the jack necklace back out to me.

“It’s yours,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I can’t break the enchantment right now anyway. You hold on to it for now.”

I blink, confused, but I don’t want to argue with him about this. So I accept the necklace and fasten it around my throat. It feels familiar where it falls against my collarbone. Comforting.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling suddenly unbearably sad. “Sorry for everything.”

Nahteran shrugs. “It wasn’t your fault.”

I bite my lip. I’ve spent ten years struggling toward understanding just that, but it still feels wrong now. Like I should have done more.

“It hasn’t been all bad,” he continues. “The Silver Prince is a monster, but he took me under his wing, weirdly enough. And being under his wing—that helps me with my own goals. It’s why Cadius lets me stay here, why I have access to anywhere at all. I’m the liaison to the Silver Prince in places where he can’t go himself.”

“And what are your goals?” I force my hands to be still, to stop fidgeting with the jacket. “You told me your official business. So what’s your unofficial business? And what about the Prince?”

“My business is the same as yours, I bet.” His smile kindles back to life. “To stop the soul trade.”

“And the Prince’s?” I press.

Nahteran hesitates for a second. “This is a place of trade,” he says at length, glancing at the door, like he wants to check that we’re still alone. “There are many things the Silver Prince wants. My job is to get them for him—”

That’s the moment when my walkie-talkie crackles to life. My heart speeds up, and all my muscles snap to attention.

Nahteran looks down at the noise, looking confused as I dig the device out from under my cloak and press the button to listen. Graylin’s voice, staticky and muffled, issues from the receiver.

“Maddie, come to the vault. We’ve found it.”

14

“Graylin?” I stab at the walkie-talkie with my finger while Nahteran stands up, silent, with quizzical eyes. “Graylin, what vault? Where are you?”

But only another burst of static answers me. I wait, my heart in my throat, but there’s nothing further. The device falls silent. For a long moment, Nahteran and I stand there in the silence. My body trembles, on alert.

We found it.

“What is it you’re looking for?” Nahteran asks quietly.

“A suit of armor.” The words spill from my mouth, as if expelled by the growing bubble of panic taking up residence in my chest. “A suit of armor made of phoenix flame. It’s a metal that creates—creates tears, holes—”

I’m not explaining this well at all. I pull up my sleeve, showing the gauntlet, its gold pattern shimmering against my skin. “It lets people travel between the worlds, the Realms, but it damages the barrier. We think that’s how Cadius has been getting souls in and out of Winterkill. It’s Mom’s actually. She and Cadius have a past.”

Nahteran’s eyes widen as he looks at the gauntlet, seeming to process this new information. Then he raises his eyes to mine. “I know where the vault is.”

My breath catches. “Really?”

“I think so. At least, I know the general direction.”

Nahteran straightens his jacket and strides toward the door, suddenly all movement and purpose. I slip out after him, keeping pace with three steps for every two of his.

My head is spinning. Just a few minutes ago, I was holding the trade records in my hands, starting to put together who S.P. was. I was positive that my brother really was lost, that after everything, ten years of numbness and a few weeks of wild hope, I would never see him again. But now he’s walking ahead of me, moving with a purpose and a certainty that I’ve scarcely seen, even in adults. For the first time I notice the slender, leather-sheathed sword hanging from his waist.

The party is raging on, everyone seeming louder and drunker and more awful than they did when we arrived. I’m not sure if it’s because of the night wearing on or because my brain has overloaded its processing capacity. But even staggering, yelling, howling with laughter, the guests draw back to make way for Nahteran. He cuts through the crowd like a knife, and I follow, keeping one hand on the walkie-talkie.

Ever since I entered Cadius’s office, I’ve scarcely spared a thought for