Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(40)

And Enne wouldn’t take anyone’s taunts any longer.

“I’d ask,” Enne snapped, “but mommy’s dead.” It was a very unladylike thing to say, even if it felt oh-so-good to do so.

“Oh, so the doll has some bite,” Alice sneered. “Fine, lie or play whatever game you want, but I want you to know how it works here. There are no favorites. There are no cheats. You get your roles on merit alone, but that doesn’t mean anyone will take kindly to you if you’re trying to play us for fools.” Alice made a show of looking down at the floor. “You know, missing that net wouldn’t be hard, with the right push.”

Two days ago, Enne might’ve withered in the face of such a threat. But yesterday she’d poisoned Sedric Torren, one of the most dangerous men in the city, and today she wasn’t in the mood to hear anyone else call her a doll. She wasn’t so breakable.

She finished her water and handed Alice back the cup. “Then push me,” she growled, her fury growing. But her anger had far less to do with Alice’s words and everything to do with the doubt that was burying itself in her mind.

Lourdes had lied about a lot of things. Enne had braced herself for the truth when she’d decided to come to New Reynes, but this was different. These lies involved Enne. Lourdes had hidden her politics from her daughter, but Enne hated to imagine that she might’ve concealed Enne’s very identity from her, as well.

Alice shrugged, but gave a menacing smile. “’Lo, Tommy! We need a catcher. Doll face here is getting cocky.”

Tommy, one of the other acrobats, left his group at the bars and ran to join them. To Enne’s surprise, she realized the rest of the troupe had stopped practicing. They’d been watching her.

No one had ever watched her before.

“We’re going to practice some tricks,” Alice told Tommy as he smiled, unaware and well-intentioned. “I think the new girl could use more of a challenge. I want to make sure she knows how it works around here.”

Enne gritted her teeth. She hadn’t asked for this. She wasn’t looking to impress anyone or win anything.

But she’d spent her entire life fighting for next to last. So if she had to play, she would not lose. She would not break.

She had other business in this city.





LEVI

Enne was wearing some of the clothes Levi had given her, and whoever the original owners of that fur coat and blue dress might’ve been, he decided she wore them better.

“New Reynes looks good on you,” he said.

She didn’t grace him with a smile. She pulled the coat tighter around herself and shivered.

“She’s in a mood,” Jac warned. He leaned against the alley wall behind them, his presence quiet even though he took up so much space. He’d also worn his best—a gray vest and pin-striped shirt. His jacket was draped over his arm, and he smoked a cheap cigar. It smelled foul—Levi hated them—but it was preferable to the other substances these streets had to offer.

“We’ve been waiting for ten minutes,” she groaned. “Are you sure Mansi is coming?”

“Of course she is.” Levi flashed a smile, though the doubt had occurred to him, as well. But Mansi was more dependable than the sunrise—she’d be here. “It’s a favor for her lord.”

Jac grunted.

“Oh, is he in a mood, too?” Reymond asked. He stood on Levi’s opposite side, grinding a pebble into the cobblestones with his blue-and-black-striped cane. It looked like something out of a candy shop.

The Sauterelle wasn’t much to look at, even from the front, and, unfortunately, they were in the back. The alley was an offshoot of an offshoot off Tropps Street, a collection of discarded liquor bottles, random articles of clothing and food wrappers. Faintly, the ragtime from within the cabaret murmured in the darkness. Levi felt an itch in his fingers picturing the Sauterelle’s numerous card tables. He was in the mood to win tonight.

“You went too far today,” Jac said low enough that only Levi could hear.

Levi tensed, his winning mood already diminishing. “You tell me this now?”

“It wasn’t you, Levi. It was an act, and Chez saw through it,” Jac said. “He doesn’t want a show. He wants volts.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” They were already sneaking into the Sauterelle just so they wouldn’t have to pay for tickets.

Jac shook his head. “I just have a bad feeling.”

Reymond plucked the cigar from Jac’s mouth and took a hit. “You always have a bad feeling. You’re more jitter than person.” He handed Jac back the cigar, who looked less than eager to have it returned. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” Levi said hurriedly, because he already knew Reymond’s advice: if there was a threat, squash it. Break the rules before they broke you.

Jac inspected the cigar, clearly decided he no longer wanted it, and offered it to Enne.

“What do I look like?” she asked.

Jac grinned. “Like a Sinner.”

She hmphed.

The back door to the cabaret opened at last, and Mansi poked her head out. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Reymond. “Oh, um, Eight Fingers,” she said weakly.

“I’m a friend, little missy,” Reymond said, his voice welcoming, though Levi knew each of his eight rings contained a different type of poison, memorabilia from his days as a Dove. “We’ve come to enjoy a good show.”