their operatives with parasites, I could answer.”
That wasn’t the way normal memories worked. William had done something to himself, Cerise was certain of it now. He was enhanced somehow, just like the Hand’s freaks. Either he was one of them or he’d made himself like them in the name of revenge.
Cerise wished she could open his head and search it. Since that wasn’t possible, she would have to settle for going with her instincts, and they told her he wanted revenge, yearned for it, the way a man dying of thirst yearned for a drink. When he spoke about Spider, his whole demeanor changed. He tensed, his eyes focused with predatory alertness, his body ready as if it were a coiled spring. She wanted to find her parents with the same desperation.
And now it had cost her aunt an eye. How the hell was she supposed to live with herself after that? How many more injuries would it take?
Often wrong, but never in doubt. Right. “Richard?”
“Yes?”
“The Hand has a tracker. They may track the body down the river. Let’s put some sharpshooters on our side of the wards. If they show, maybe we could even out the score.”
“Very well.” Richard turned, stabbed William with a long look, and left the room, Erian in tow.
“You’re still winning,” William said.
“Urow is hanging by a thread, my aunt is blind in one eye, and my other cousin has two broken ribs.”
“Yes, but they’re still breathing.”
Good point. So why didn’t it make her feel any better?
Ignata reemerged, carrying a box. She set it on the table. “Wallowing in self-hatred or self-pity?”
“Right now it’s hatred for the Hand,” Cerise told her. “When I switch to self-pity, I will definitely let you know. I should’ve dumped the body overboard.”
“Oh, please.” Ignata rolled her eyes. “Mom had the time of her life playing with it. I’ve told her again and again: wear the damn goggles. Kaldar stole those special for her. I told her, Mikita told her: wear eye protection, Mom. But no, the lot of us are apparently stupid. We don’t know anything, and she can see just fine, and when she wears her goggles, the lenses fog up …”
Ignata pulled the towel off her shoulder and threw it across the room.
“It helps to throw something heavy,” William said.
Ignata waved him off. “You, hush. Look, Ceri, we all make mistakes, and we pay for them, especially if they’re made out of arrogance.”
Ignata plucked a vial from the box, and the scent of dirty socks and rotten citrus spread through the room. Valerian extract.
“So as much as you’d like to own this particular mistake, it belongs to my mom. She owns it all by her own lonesome self and she knows it. If she had worn the goggles, she’d have gotten away with a couple of broken ribs like my brother.”
Ignata counted off ten drops into a glass and poured some water into it from a bottle. “Drink. You need sleep.”
Cerise took the glass.
“I wouldn’t,” William murmured.
Ignata fixed him with her glare. “You—be quiet. You—bottoms up. Now.”
It was only valerian, and arguing with Ignata was like trying to reason with a pit bull. Cerise gulped the water in one big swallow. Fire and night rolled down her throat.
“What did you put in this?”
“Water, valerian, and a very strong hypnotic. You have about five minutes to get to your room and shower, or you’ll pass out where you stand.”
“Ignata!”
“Ignata-Ignata-Ignata!” Ignata waved her arms. “When was the last time you ate or slept? What, nothing to say? You have tonight to sleep, tomorrow to rest, and the day after tomorrow you’re going to take our posse to the Sheeriles, and after that, I won’t have time for you. I’ll be busy patching up everybody else. So you just go on! Shoo! And take your blueblood with you.” She pointed a long finger at William. “You, walk with her and make sure she doesn’t pass out someplace on the stairs.”
Cerise sighed and headed up the stairs. William followed her.
“She’s mad,” he said.
“No, she is trying to keep it together and not cry. Her mother and brother could’ve died. There isn’t much she can do, so she’s bossing me around.”
He frowned. “You mean, in revenge?”
“A little, yes. My father used to tell me, ‘When you’re in charge, everything is your fault.’ She blames me a little.” Her feet grew heavier with each step, as if someone slowly poured lead into her bones. “She’d never admit it even to herself, but she blames me.”
“So that’s what it’s like to have a large family,” he said.
Now her head grew too heavy. Her eyelids tried to close on their own. She stopped by the door to her room. “Something like that. You haven’t seen the worst of it. Did they give you a room?”
William bared his teeth. “Yes. Kaldar showed it to me.”
He said Kaldar’s name like he wanted to strangle him.
“I’m not mad at you about the worms,” she told him, trying to force her thoughts into a coherent pattern. She yawned. “I’m sorry, I’m very sleepy.”
“That’s okay,” he said. He was standing a little too close.
“What kind of blueblood says
William looked at her.
“I’m exhausted and miserable. Promise me. No snapping people’s heads off their necks, no broken bones, nothing to make me regret taking you to my family.”
“You got it,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“The little girl says there is a monster in the woods,” he said.
Something lurched in her chest. “It’s her.”
William was looking at her.
“It’s Lark,” she said, her chest hurting. “She thinks she’s the monster.”
William’s arms closed about her. She should’ve said something. She should have pushed him away. But she felt so tired and so down, and his arms were strong and comforting. He held her to him, and the dull ache gnawing at her receded. It felt so nice, that she just leaned against him. He dipped his head. She watched him do it but didn’t realize why he was doing it until his lips grazed her mouth.
“Sleep well,” he said. “I’ll watch your family for you.”
He let her go.
Cerise closed the door and stared at it for a long moment, unsure if they had really touched or if she had imagined it. She got nowhere and sat on her bed to pull off her boots. She got the left one off, and then the bed turned upside down and fell on the back of her head.
WILLIAM awoke to the darkened bedroom. The air was cool and a narrow sliver of moonlight sliced through the draperies to fall at the floor. For a moment he lay still, looking at the ceiling, his arms behind his head.
He’d kissed Cerise and she let him. His memory had preserved the moment with near perfect recall. He remembered everything: the tilt of her face, the angle of her hair, the puzzlement in her dark eyes, the feeling of holding her against him, the delicate trace of her scent on his lips. He would kiss her again, even if her entire family lined up to shoot him while he did it.
William rolled off the bed, moving on quiet feet, and tried the door handle. Still locked. They had shut him in like he was a child.
