“You’re a Portman.” The heavy finality in Sayuri’s voice made it clear there was no backing out of this error; Lottie was trapped forever by her mistake. And Sayuri continued with all the fire of a volcano erupting. “I didn’t know people had Portmans anymore. Ellie’s so angry—she’s the princess, of course!” She let out a humorless laugh. There was a bitter note that made Lottie recoil.
“Sayuri, you can’t tell anyone, please.” Lottie tried to grab at the edge of Sayuri’s sleeve, but the leather fabric slipped away.
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Sayuri snapped, turning back so sharply she practically sliced the room in two. “Do you think me completely dishonorable?”
Sayuri’s bottom lip quivered. It was the only vulnerability Lottie had ever seen from her.
“Sayuri.” Lottie’s voice wavered when she tried to speak, still not understanding why the other girl was so against them being a team. “This doesn’t change anything. I still believe that if we work together, we can—”
“Stop it!” Sayuri roared, turning to leave. “You and your princess still have your Partizan, and he’s a very good one.” There it was, that hint of regret again. “You have your team and I have mine, and you should all just stay out of this.”
Sayuri had lost Haru, her Partizan, her friend, and maybe the last semblance of family she’d felt close to, and watching Lottie, Ellie, and Jamie was nothing but a bitter reminder for her. Sayuri didn’t hate them; she envied them.
How must she feel to see them bicker and fight, drifting apart, when she would give anything to get her connection back with Haru? The truth unwrapped in Lottie’s mind like the moon emerging from behind a cloud, so clear and bright, yet unreachable. Why would they keep Haru around and not report him? It wasn’t just to spy on him. Sayuri couldn’t bear to see him go.
Lottie thought of Sayuri’s parents and wondered how lonely she was.
“Sayuri, stop.” Lottie was amazed she sounded so calm, and to her relief Sayuri paused in the doorway. “I’m going to prove to you that we should work together. I promise you that. We will be a team.” Lottie clenched her fists. “And I want you to promise something in return. If I can solve this mystery and help you find the hidden treasure, you have to work with us. You have to give me whatever information you have on the Master of Leviathan.”
“That will never happen.” Sayuri spoke so quietly Lottie almost didn’t hear her, before she stepped out the door. “I’m going to bed, as should you.” She let the glass begin to close behind her.
But even through the fog of the night it felt so clear to Lottie now. The source of their problems wasn’t Leviathan; it was that they hadn’t been working together.
24
THERE WERE FIVE SEPARATE SOUNDS in the compound on any given night. Ingrid liked to listen very hard and pinpoint all of them. The creaking pipes, footsteps in the hallway, the generator humming, owls hooting outside. But the fifth sound tonight was one she didn’t usually hear, a sound she hadn’t heard in a long time. Her own tragic mewling.
A deep ache kept her up at night, endlessly licking her wounds, nursing the pain in her wrists. She’d had to wait until they were back at the compound to get proper medical assistance, and she’d soon learned that her wrist bones were covered in tiny surface cracks like dried-up mud. Hairline fractures so small and insignificant, yet they made her delicate arms swell up in ugly lumps that she had to hide away under lengths of bandages.
There was something almost pleasant about the pain, that dull, throbbing bruise deep within her flesh, and there were marks too, sturdy purple handprints that completely covered her tiny body. It made her feel like she had a special connection to the Partizan who’d given her these gifts; she only wished she could return the favor. And, of course, she mustn’t forget that Jamie Volk had also stolen one of her knives, which meant she needed to take something of his too, something of equal value.
“Ingrid?” She rolled over at the sound of her name, a tall shadow in the doorway that she should have heard coming. “I have news.”
Phi was a broad, big-muscled Siberian girl who’d made a hobby of challenging any man who doubted her strength. She’d been part of Leviathan long before Julius or Ingrid had joined. Supposedly she’d known the Master at his lowest moment and was regarded as a saint in the compound.
“Sit up,” she growled. “You look pathetic.”
Ingrid flinched, but did as she was told. “What’s the news?” Her voice came out in a groggy purr, attempting to sound enthusiastic while a small part of her wondered where Julius was, if he was still on mandatory rest, and, if not, why he wasn’t also being informed of anything.
“He’s pleased with how his meeting went with the Maravish Partizan.”
Ingrid’s mouth filled with saliva, and she licked her lips in anticipation of the praise, which would turn the sting in her arms into delicious trophies.
“When do we bring him home?” Her hands were nearly shaking. All she wanted was to bring in Jamie, bring the Master his ultimate prize and bask in his approval. She’d failed him once and had seen how furious he’d been when Saskia had slipped from their side. That girl still owed them an eye.
“We would have the other night if you hadn’t made a fool of yourself,” Phi replied.
Swallowing her disappointment, Ingrid focused on Phi’s gunmetal-gray eyes. She towered over everything and everyone with a deadly fixation like a walking tank.
“Stop acting so bitter,” Phi grumbled, taking in Ingrid’s face.
Ingrid clenched her teeth, itching to tell her that if they’d been on time, and not left her alone with the Master’s favorite toy, she wouldn’t be so bitter.
But they had come eventually. She remembered how grateful she needed
