“Then you better find another way to use it,” Bard had said. But a moment later, her fingers had loosened, just a little. “How old are you?” she’d asked, and Tes had lied and said fourteen though she was barely twelve. She’d lifted her chin as she said it, because she wasn’t a coward, even if she was afraid.
“Look at me,” said the Antari, and Tes had done it, even though it hurt her eyes. Bard had leaned in, close. “Never steal something unless you’re sure you’ll get away with it.”
With that, she’d flung Tes’s hand away and carried on down the street. The whole interaction had lasted less than a minute, but Tes had never forgotten. Apparently, neither had Lila Bard.
The Antari finished Tes’s tea, and stared into the dregs at the bottom of the cup. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie,” she warned, and as she said it, the magic around her twitched, and Tes felt the bones of her rib cage constrict, a strange and horrible sensation, one she’d never felt before, because it was forbidden. Bone magic.
“You’re not—supposed to—do that,” she said, gasping for air.
“Really?” said Lila, feigning surprise. The invisible hold only tightened. “Let’s see if anyone notices…”
Tes couldn’t breathe, couldn’t break free, so she did the only thing she could—she reached out and grasped the nearest silver thread, felt it hum against her palm before she pulled. In truth, she wasn’t sure what it would do, if it would do anything at all.
But the Antari recoiled, as if burned. The hold on Tes’s rib cage vanished, and she sucked air into her aching lungs as Bard’s face darkened. “What did you just do?”
Tes dragged in a ragged breath and winced, trying not to think about the feel of stitches tearing, the dampness at her side.
“Please,” she said. “I’m being hunted. I need help.”
Lila raised a brow. “So find a guard.”
“I need your help.”
She cocked a brow. “And why is that?”
“You’re the strongest magician in London.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Lila rose from her stool and turned to go.
“I know you’re an Antari.”
Lila Bard paused then, cocking her head, studying her with those two brown eyes. “And how do you know that?”
Tes hesitated. “I can see it. Your magic.”
She seemed to consider, then shrugged. “Bully for you,” she said, walking away. “Don’t follow me again.”
Tes got to her feet. “They’re going to kill me.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
“I have something they want. A doormaker.”
“I don’t—” Whatever Lila Bard had been about to say, the words died. She stopped. And when she turned back, the anger and annoyance had both been replaced by true surprise. “You have the persalis?”
Tes hesitated. So it had a name. “If a persalis is a device that makes doors to other places…”
Lila did something shocking then. She laughed. Not loud, but softly, to herself. “Once in a while,” she murmured, “the world does provide. Now,” she said, grabbing Tes by the shoulder and hauling her onto her feet. “Who’s coming to kill you?”
“Assassins. They came to my shop last night and—”
“I saw. How many are there?”
“Two.”
“That’s all?”
“They’re strong.”
“I’m sure,” said Lila blandly, steering Tes toward the stairs.
“Wait,” she said, trying to twist around. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safer.” The Antari pushed her up the stairs. “To talk.”
“I have to go back. I left the box—” But the words fell away as they reached the narrow landing at the top of the stairs. Three doors led to three rooms, and one stood open, but not empty. Tes saw the ripple of crimson light as Bex strode through, palm up, the metal buttons already peeling away from Lila’s coat, shooting toward the molten ball of metal in the assassin’s hand.
“Look out!” shouted Tes right as the metal divided itself into nails and the nails shot toward them. Lila Bard shoved Tes down to the floor, but the slivers of metal only changed course and followed, falling like sharpened rain. Tes curled in, braced for the impact, the piercing pain, but the nails missed skin, found cloth instead, pinning her cuffs, her collar, the hem of her coat to the wooden floor of the landing.