Brimstone Angels

the river. They made for spectacular ruins and vast piles of rubble. Here and there, reconstruction efforts shored up an ancient mansion, and reclaimed lumber crisscrossed the proud facades of villas overrun by the opportunistic. There were no shops, as far as Farideh had seen. This would be the next bit of Neverwinter to rise from the ashes, but not for some time. She was running out of options.

Sairche didn’t know about Havilar, Farideh felt sure. Most of the time they walked, Sairche had kept up a nearly constant stream of chatter about all the ways she could improve Farideh’s situation. There was a smugness to the way she described powers Farideh didn’t have, devils Farideh didn’t know. Sairche thought she’d won already. She didn’t know there was another piece in the game, one that no one had played.

And why had no one played her? Lorcan had chosen Farideh instead, but he knew about Havilar. Was he, like Sairche, searching for a devil to pay the right price for his reserve Kakistos heir? Or was he keeping her for himself, ready for Farideh to snap or break or even just threaten to leave?

Havilar, who was reckless enough to summon a devil or run out into a strange caravansary or coax strange boys back to their room-what would a devil be able to convince her to do with careful words and subtle pressures? She thought of Lorcan’s barely suppressed impatience-what would another devil do when Havilar refused to do what they wanted? She might be lost. She might be corrupted. She might be killed.

Farideh couldn’t let Sairche find out.

“Your tour of the city is terribly droll,” Sairche said as they threaded their way down another street littered with broken lava rock and slipped pillars, “but don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Farideh stopped walking. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. “Oh?”

“There is no chandler. You’re stalling until my brother finds us.” Sairche let go of Farideh’s arm. “If you don’t want my help yet, you only had to say so.”

“Thank you,” Farideh said, trying to keep her true gratitude out of her voice. “I’ll consider it.”

“Of course you will. Just remember: You will come back eventually. You will accept my offer. It’s just best if you decide to do so on your own.”

“Is that a threat?”

Sairche smiled. “Well, it’s not an invitation to take tea. Now I’m sure Lorcan will have plenty to say when he swoops in to rescue you.”

Farideh narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need rescuing from you.”

“Precisely,” Sairche said. “I don’t make messes like Lorcan does.”

The portal opened between two fallen pillars, and Lorcan bounded out, looking fierce and frazzled. He spotted Sairche, and without a pause, pulled his wand from his belt and let a burst of flame loose at her. Sairche ducked away from it and behind Farideh.

“Fool,” she said. “Fire’s not going to-”

The second bolt struck the ruins behind her, and Sairche leaped out of the way as a rain of stones clattered down where she’d stood. Farideh scrambled out of the way. When Lorcan reached out to catch her, Sairche sprinted behind him and through the lingering portal. With a nearly noiseless pop, it closed.

“Shit and ashes!” he snarled.

“Where have you been?” The words came out without Farideh wanting them to-a demand, a supplication, a plea for him to take control of this unbearable situation.

Lorcan said nothing, scowling at the space where Sairche had been, tense and angry and thinking of something else, someone else. Of course, Farideh thought. I’m just a piece in his collection. I don’t matter.

“Where have you been?” In the braver corners of her thoughts, she didn’t want to say any such thing. She didn’t want him to save her, not even this time. But she couldn’t forget that he had barged into her life nearly every day for the last half year on the merest of pretenses, and this time he’d left her with his wicked sister, who could take everything away. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking now that Sairche was gone. Sairche couldn’t take Havilar.

“Solving larger problems,” he said. He grabbed hold of her arm and led her to a more open part of the street. “We need to go.”

“Where? Why?”

“Neverwinter’s not safe. Not anymore.”

“Because of Sairche?”

“No, because you’re toying around with …” He bit off the words. “Stop asking questions and come along, darling.”

She pulled away. “If it’s dangerous, then I need to get Havilar and Mehen. And Brin.”

“We don’t,” he said snatching at her, “have time for that. I’ll get them later.”

“If it’s safe enough to leave them, then I can leave the normal way.”

His anger made sharp pains lace her scar. You’ve given over the reins already, they seemed to say. There is nothing you can say to change that.

“I know about Bryseis Kakistos,” she said.

“Bloody Sairche,” he all but growled. Lorcan’s mouth curled into a sneer.

“Well then, darling, you must know everything. You must know how to stop the Hellish civil war we seem to have set off, and how to crush the nest of vipers you’ve blundered into?” He grabbed her arm again, yanking her close. “Ashmadai and Glasyans, and goddamned Rohini, the biggest viper of them all-for such a wide-eyed girl you stumble on a lot of villains. You must know how to lock Sairche in the Hells away from my warlocks and turn back time to keep that orc from being sacrificed to the king of the Hells, since you know bloody everything now.”

“Orc?” Farideh said. She pulled free of his grasp once more. “What orc?”

The rage on Lorcan’s face slipped behind his flippant mask. “No one,” he said. “It’s a matter of politics. You don’t need to worry about it. What you do need to worry about is being in Neverwinter when the wrong people find out. So let’s leave.”

She twisted away as he reached for her.

“Don’t lie to me-”

“Come now, darling,” he said, the edge creeping back into his voice. “I’ve never lied to you.”

No, she thought, you only talk me into circles. Not this time.

“Did you send that orc?” she said. “The one who shot Havilar?”

“Of course not!” he cried. “Lords, what do you think I am? I have no interest in killing your sister. Let’s be on our way.”

She dodged him again. “To kill someone else? Did you send him to kill Mehen? Brin?” She hesitated. “Me?”

Once more Lorcan’s insouciance shattered. “You always think the worst of me,” he said. “What exactly do I have to do to convince you I’m not going to kill you? Obviously saving you from the middle of a Hellish civil war isn’t enough?” Farideh folded her arms.

“Answer the question, please.”

“I didn’t send an orc to kill you.”

“And the others?” Farideh asked, growing angry.

“I told you before, darling. What would I be doing with orcs?”

“Yes, you did say that. Did you send an orc to kill someone?”

But she didn’t need him to answer. What he wouldn’t say was answer enough: he’d sent the orc to kill Brin or Mehen or maybe even Tam, and even if he hadn’t meant for Havilar to be hurt, she had been.

Because Farideh hadn’t cast off Lorcan’s pact. There it was: Mehen was right. It had been her fault. Her flaw.

“It sounds like you’ve already decided my guilt,” he said. “I did come to your aid in the midst of that unpleasantness, or did you forget that?”

“You came,” Farideh said, growing angrier. “But it wasn’t because Havilar was in trouble. Or because I was in trouble, was it? You weren’t watching. Because you already knew the orc would come, and someone was supposed to be dead.” She met his smoldering eyes. “It was meant to be Brin, wasn’t it? The way you said he should have stopped the arrows … I thought you meant by stopping the orc.”

Lorcan’s eyes narrowed and he tried to grab her again. Farideh struck his arm aside and stepped back.

“Don’t touch me!”