Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(47)

“No, I’ll go,” said Silas. “I can leave tonight. My joints aren’t what they used to be, but I’m still as fast a rider as you. Crenshaw knows me better, and I don’t want your cover questioned. You need to get established here. See if you can learn what Craft’s public reason is for going. And find out if Abraham Miller was the customs inspector on duty. We really need to search his place one of these days, if we can ever get a safe chance.”

“And what should I do?” I asked.

“Go back to finding a husband.” Silas came to a halt and turned to Grant. “And you’re going to make sure she gets home tonight. But first—a word in private. Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable, Miss Viana.”

Silas jerked his head toward what appeared to be a bedroom. Grimacing, Grant followed obediently. Silas shut the door.

I settled down on the chair that held Grant’s coat and looked around as I propped up my leg. A tidy kitchen sat off to one side, and the loft’s main space appeared to be a mix of living room and office. From the bedroom, I could just barely hear muffled voices—angry ones. I stared at the door avidly, wondering if my spy career was at an end. Tossing ethics aside, I jumped up and pressed my ear to the oak.

“—know anything about the Glittering Court?” Silas was saying. “They consider those girls valuable merchandise! The Thorns hire thugs to guard them. It’s not going to go well for you if you’re caught dragging her around at night!”

“Her position—”

“Damn her position. Magic isn’t going to happen just because she’s pretty and well placed. Of all the times for you to— Argh. I can’t believe this.” I heard the floor creak and wondered if Silas was pacing again.

“She isn’t some hapless girl.” Grant sounded remarkably calm. “She already knew a lot of our methods, and she picked up on everything else I knew in a matter of weeks.”

“I’m surprised it took that long,” grumbled Silas.

“And, she even memorized the entire cipher.”

“You showed her the cipher? Yes. Yes, of course you did.”

“How else was she going to safely pass written notes?”

“Well, apparently by putting on a mask and sneaking off in the middle of the night! You’re lucky she’s alive, alone and defenseless.”

“She’s not defenseless. She carries a knife. She knows how to fight.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. On the ship, Grant had always kept his praise at a minimum.

“Her coming here wasn’t the plan,” Grant continued, “but given the circumstances with Aiana—”

“Aiana shouldn’t be involved with this either. People already mistrust Balanquans. She’ll get in a lot of trouble if she’s caught sneaking around.”

“Aiana can take care of herself. Don’t worry about her.”

“She’s not the biggest problem. You are. You don’t know how to run spies, so don’t start now. If you were doing this the right way, no one in your ring would talk to each other. They wouldn’t know each either. They wouldn’t know how to get here! Your prodigy should have used her cipher skills to leave a message in a dead drop for Aiana on the Thorn property, which then would’ve been passed on to you in another drop.”

“Mirabel knew the news was important and had to get it to me,” Grant argued. “This was pretty resourceful.”

“This is how spies get made—and killed. She’s not doing this again. She’s out. She needs to go back to her parties and dresses.”

I closed my eyes. No, no. I needed this. I needed the money to help Lonzo. And I needed it for myself, to prove I was capable and resourceful.

“Silas, you’d be wasting a huge opportunity. Let her do this. She’s smart. She’s got the right connections. She can distract men.”

“Yes, I can tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. Are you sleeping with this girl?”

A beat of silence. I opened my eyes.

“Of course not.”

“Do you want to?” pushed Silas.

Another hesitation. “You’re wasting time. This is irrelevant and ridiculous.”

“You being ridiculous is relevant.” When Silas spoke again, he was calmer. Wearier. “Look, this is the biggest case we’ve ever had. It’s bigger than us. The colonies are in danger. As is your future. Have you changed your mind? Have you forgotten what’s at stake for you?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then cut her off, Grant.”

When neither man said anything else, I realized they were probably about to come out. I scrambled back to my chair and pretended to be focused on my ankle as the door opened.

“Thank you for your assistance tonight,” Silas told me, his tone far more cordial than it had been a minute ago. He picked up a coat and a satchel. “Grant will get you back. I’m off to Bakerston.”

He left without another word. I looked up at Grant expectantly, ready to hear him say my work with the McGraw Agency was over. Instead, he asked, “What’s wrong with your foot?”

“Hmm? Oh. The ankle’s hurt ever since the storm. And now my calf does too.”