The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(25)

Someone was behind me.

Maybe someone from another gang. Soon, they’d go somewhere else and be out of sight, so I didn’t turn around and alert them to my knowledge of their presence. They probably hadn’t seen me.

Still, I checked my stealth as I continued after Melanie. She headed into less crowded areas of the market district, where being noticed wasn’t such a danger, but I kept lower to the rooftops and wished the darkness were a palpable thing I could gather around me like a cloak.

It could be.

No. Fantasies were one thing, but actually using the magic would always remain a last resort.

Minutes later, the shadow appeared in a mirror once more, gone so quickly it might have been my imagination.

Someone was following me.

I stuffed down my indignation. I was following Melanie, after all. Still, I didn’t want to lead this person to wherever she was going. Not when I didn’t know. It could be something Patrick had asked her to do.

But why wouldn’t he have told me, too? Unless he knew it was something I wouldn’t like.

With one last glance at Melanie’s vanishing figure, I slipped behind a chimney, its bricks warm with smoke and fire from below, and I waited.

My pursuer would slow, would watch for me in the direction I’d been heading, wondering if he’d missed seeing my leap onto the roof of the next building. He’d be curious whether I’d somehow spotted him. Because he’d been careful. Quiet. Only chance had let me see him.

I steadied my breathing and strained my hearing beyond the pounding of my heart and the wind that kicked up dirt and trash. Paper scraped the side of the building, and a door slammed down the street. Wind moaned around corners. Chimes clattered.

The chimney seemed to blur as a darkness moved forward.

Without hesitation, I grabbed my pursuer’s wrist, yanked him forward and around, and slammed him back against the chimney where I’d been hiding. My hand was splayed out across his chest, pinning him, and my dagger gleamed against the black skin of his throat.

No, not skin. Silk. It covered his entire face, save his eyes.

“Black Knife.” My blade stayed steady at his throat.

“You won’t look, but I hope you’ll believe me when I say there’s a dagger at your stomach.” Darkness obscured what little of his face was visible, but his eyes remained on mine.

“I believe you.” Neither of us moved, maybe both of us thinking about how we’d react if the other attacked. Or how we could attack first, without getting killed. For either of us, it would take only a quick flick of the wrist to make the other bleed to death. Even if I cut his throat, he could gut me in his last moments of life. And the other way around, too.

“So what do we do?”

“Why were you following me?”

“You were sneaking around on rooftops. Only dangerous people do that.” His arm shifted and the point of his dagger caught my clothes and scraped my skin. I adjusted the angle of my blade on his throat, and neither of us moved. “We both know how a fight would end.” His voice was low and menacing.

A fair fight, perhaps. But I could bring our weapons to life. I could bring this roof to life. I could make them fight for me.

“I suppose.” My eyes watered with the need to blink against the cold wind, but I couldn’t look away from Black Knife. Now that we were practically nose to nose, my perception of him shifted: he was young, not a grown man like I’d thought.

“You’re a very interesting thief. I’ve been trying to find where you and your gang stay, but no one seems to know. No one seems to know even your first name.”

“I treasure my anonymity. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

In his humph, I could almost hear a smirk, but the black cloth concealed the expression. “I’ve never seen you alone before,” he went on. “Usually, you have quite the entourage. Or at least that black-haired girl. You two seem close.”

Why was he talking so much? To confuse me? To trick me into relaxing? Whatever he was up to, it wouldn’t work.

“I don’t need my friends to protect me from you.” Wind picked up, howling now. A faint, acrid stench rode the air. A trash bin clattered and a cat yowled.

“No. That is obvious.” He broke our stare, glancing toward the street below. “I have a proposition. We both agree that standing here with blades at each other’s bodies is not going to accomplish anything but cramped muscles. So why not back off and sheathe our weapons? And if we decide to fight, we can get right back into this position. I prefer this to potentially falling off the roof.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you, either.”

“So we don’t move.”

“Ever?” He met my eyes again, and seemed to search me. “You may not believe that I have things to do besides chase you around the city, but it’s the truth.”

“Doesn’t change that I don’t trust you.”

“If I dropped my dagger?”

I let the corner of my mouth curl up. “You’d pick it up and throw it at me as soon as I retreated.”

“If I handed it to you?”

“I’m sure you have more weapons.” That sword he used so much.

“So you’d rather stay like this.” When I didn’t answer, he pulled back his blade and my clothes shifted straight again. “I’m not going to stab you. I’m lifting my hand, see? I’m going to put the hilt by your hand. You can take it.”