He dropped through the grate first. Lore followed. A splash, the hem of her dressing gown immediately soaked through. The tunnel was so dark it took her eyes a minute to adjust, and when they did, she made sure not to look down. She really didn’t want to see what kind of garbage she might be marinating in.
“I am curious, though.” Bastian’s voice floated out of the dark right in front of her as if there’d been no lull in their conversation, making Lore jump. A lighter flicked, mother-of-pearl and gleaming, illuminating Bastian’s face as he brought the flame to a thin cigarette in his mouth. “What, exactly, do the vaults have to do with anything?”
“You’ll find out after you get us into them,” Lore said, summoning a bravado she didn’t feel. “We can turn around and go now, if you’re that interested.”
“A negotiator,” Bastian mused. He approached the grate on the opposite wall, the orange glow of gas lamps seeping through the metal lattice. Boosting himself up onto the ledge, he pulled the iron pick from his boot again and went to work. “As interested as I am in whatever you have going on at the vaults, I think it prudent to satisfy my other questions beforehand.”
“Weren’t you going to blackmail all the answers out of us anyway?” Gabe gritted out.
Bastian glanced over his shoulder, a bladed grin tugging up his mouth and coming nowhere near the dark glitter of his eyes. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Gabriel. I’m sure you can find a way to give me only half-truths. You learned from the best, after all.”
Gabe’s scowl deepened.
The Sun Prince gestured to Lore with a courtly hand. “Ladies first.”
His hands clasped her waist before she had a chance to move forward on her own, pulling her close enough for his breath to stir her hair. “This opens on a street that leads straight to the docks,” he said in a whisper, like he was telling a secret. “Don’t stray, there’s all sorts of unsavory types who congregate here. But you know that.”
He didn’t give her a moment to react, boosting her up to the ledge with the grate. The rock was slick enough that she had to grab the iron and pull herself through immediately, if she didn’t want to splash back down into questionable water.
The culvert opened up onto a near-abandoned side street. Brine-scented wind pressed the wet hem of her dressing gown against her legs, making her shiver. She pulled the edges of it tighter, tied the belt again. Blush-pink was decidedly not the right color for sneaking out of the Citadel through a storm drain.
This was a street she recognized. She’d run belladonna here once, sewn into the pockets of an old jacket of Mari’s, one of the first times she was trusted to undertake a mission on her own.
But you know that.
Her stomach twisted and roiled like an underwater current.
Behind her, Bastian emerged from the culvert, looking hardly worse for wear. He pulled three black domino masks from his pocket, and then a length of white linen. “Here, you’ll both need these.”
“Another masquerade?” Gabe sounded like the prospect was almost as appealing as gnawing off a finger.
“Hardly,” Bastian scoffed. “Everyone wears them at the ring. These fights are illegal, technically, and no one wants their identity revealed.” He flashed a grin. “Be thankful I’m not making you wear a sack over your head. Half the nobles do.”
Scowling at Bastian, Lore tied the mask over her eyes as the Sun Prince did the same. Then he took the length of white linen he’d pulled out along with the masks and began wrapping it around his hands.
Like a boxer.
Bleeding God in a bandage.
Gabe’s face was a thundercloud as Bastian handed him his own mask, but he didn’t say anything. He just tied it on, and loomed, and glared. The mask softened him, almost, hiding the eye patch from view. Made him look less like someone whose life was indelibly marked by violence.
Bastian clapped his wrapped hands together. “Now then. Nothing like a refreshing trip through a storm drain. Onward.” He started down the alleyway. Sharing a pointed look through their masks, Lore and Gabe followed.
“You saw his hands, right?” Lore pitched her voice so it wouldn’t carry. “Wrapped. He’s taking us to the fighting rings, and it looks like he’s participating.”
“Splendid. The very last thing I want to do this evening is save the Sun Prince’s ass.”
“You seem certain he’ll lose.” Lore shrugged. “He looks like he could be a good boxer.”