Mae took off her chandelier earrings, which she placed in a glittering heap on the arm of her chair. She kicked off her high heels and curled up in the chair, as if Nick’s cool voice was a comfort to her, as if she could relax now.
So nobody was going to be making any plans tonight. Like Sin, nobody had the faintest idea what to do next, and everyone was tired.
“I’m okay,” Mae told Nick. “I didn’t like doing it. I thought maybe I would, this time, but I’m never going to like doing it. And that’s sort of a relief. Because if I hated it, even this time when I thought I wanted revenge, I’m always going to hate it. And that will make me look for other ways to get things done.”
“The killing way usually works for me,” said Nick.
“Because it’s the easy way,” Mae said. “And it gets easier every time you do it, which is the scariest part. I’m not going to plan an assassination again. But I felt like this had to be done. I learned from it, and I wanted it to be me who did it.”
Nick did not respond, which Sin personally would not have found consoling at all.
“Do you remember,” Mae asked, “what you said to me, the first time I killed someone?”
“Ah, the sweet rose-colored memories of our youth,” Nick drawled. “Good times, good times.”
Mae snickered. There was another long silence.
“Well done,” Nick said eventually.
Mae leaned her head back against her chair. “Thanks.”
Well, whatever worked for Mae. Sin went to lie down and hold her sister for a little longer. She had Lydie back safe. That was the only bright spot of her night so far.
Nick’s bed was not made for three. Sin, balanced on the edge and determined not to disturb Lydie or Toby, couldn’t manage more than an uneasy doze that was broken by hearing voices in the hall. Specifically, Alan’s voice.
“Where are you going, Nick?”
“My new master gave a whistle,” Nick answered curtly.
Sin got up quietly and walked to the door, opening it in time to see Alan’s stricken face.
Mae grabbed Nick’s wrist, and Sin noticed that Mae looked pretty stricken as well.
Sin thought for a bitter moment that Mae didn’t need to be so very upset, not when she’d got her revenge, got the pearl and thus got the Market, not when Alan thought she was so perfect.
“Take care of Jamie. No matter what he’s done. Please.”
“Do I have a choice?” Nick asked. “Personally, I was considering tipping him over the side of the boat and hoping there was a lost shark in the water below.”
“Nick, swear to me.”
Nick backed away from the stark, desperate emotion on Mae’s face. She didn’t let go of his wrist, though, keeping her gaze fixed on him as if she could hypnotize him into doing her will through sheer persistence.
“I swear,” Nick said abruptly, and Mae let go.
Nick went for the door and slammed it after him.
Mae’s determinedly set shoulders slumped a little. “I’d better get home. Can I borrow a jacket? I left my coat with the magicians.”
“Sure,” Alan said gently, and ushered her into his room, presumably to select one.
The door slamming had made too much noise. Sin spun at the sound of stirring from the bed and saw Lydie, her hair rumpled and her eyes unfocused.
“Hey, baby girl,” Sin whispered, going over to the bed and sitting on the edge so she could ease Lydie back against the pillows. “Hey.”
“Sin,” Lydie murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Sin tucked Lydie’s hair behind her ear. “None of this was your fault.”
“None of it was your fault either,” Lydie whispered back.
“Yeah, I know,” Sin said, and kept stroking her hair. She spoke clearly, so Lydie would understand, so that she would know Sin could never resent her for any of this. “And I’m not sorry. Here we are together, right? I’m not sorry about anything. It could’ve been much worse.”
A hot drink was in order, Sin thought once Lydie was asleep again. She went into the kitchen and found Alan sitting at the table. The only illumination the room offered was the moon shining through the skylight.
“Coffee?” she asked.
He glanced up at her and smiled. It was a really lousy effort. “Yeah.”
Sin turned on the kettle and occupied herself getting cups and going on an epic teaspoon quest. For once Alan seemed to have nothing to say, no enthusiastic digression about books or questions about her feelings.
Sin had no idea what to say either. She made the coffee, the chiming of the teaspoon in their cups the only sound in that dark kitchen.
“Here,” she said, offering the cup over his shoulder.
This time when he glanced up at her, he didn’t even try to smile. He looked so lost that Sin moved instinctively, putting his cup down on the table and touching his hair.
Alan went very still, as if he was stunned that anyone might reach out and comfort him. Then he shuddered, a
