I COULDN’T REMEMBER how I got home.
One minute, I was running through the warehouse district, and the next, I was on my balcony, dropped to my knees. My body shook. My mask stuck to my face. I leaned over and heaved. I was covered in other people’s blood.
The clock tower struck four—only a couple of hours until dawn.
The glass door to my room opened and James stepped out. “Tobiah?”
I looked up and tore the mask off my head. Cool air stung my face and throat.
“Saints.” James rushed at me and took the mask from my clenched fingers. “What happened? Is that your blood? You look—” He shook his head.
I must have looked like death. “It’s not my blood,” I rasped after a heartbeat. Most of it wasn’t my blood, but I couldn’t manage any more just yet.
“Good.” His shoulders dropped as tension ran out. “A cracked rib we can hide. Minor cuts and bruises might be from sword practice. But this? What happened? Tell me everything.”
With some encouragement—and help—I got to my feet and followed James into my quarters. I washed up, first peeling off the dirty, bloody clothes. My shirt was ripped from the falls and the fights, and maybe I’d been hit with weapons, too. I couldn’t tell one pain from another.
Haltingly, I told James about the events of the night, from finding Romily, to the setup and betrayal, to the Nightmares and the glowmen. “I killed him,” I whispered. “Mercush. Romily’s brother.”
“He wasn’t human anymore.” James kept his tone hard. “He killed his own sister and he would have killed you.”
“I know.” I pulled off the wrap binding my ribs. The cloth was soaked with blood and sweat, and a huge bruise flowered over my cracked rib, still blue and purple in the center, but browning at the edges. Tonight’s events probably hadn’t helped the healing. “I know Mercush wasn’t human anymore, and that’s how I justified it to myself. But then I watched the last glowman kill the Nightmares, and I didn’t do anything to stop it.”
James closed the space between us and didn’t quite touch my shoulder, like he wasn’t sure I didn’t have some grave injury there. But his voice remained calm and steady, with a new intensity. “They saw your face. They might have identified you. Still, you didn’t kill them. The glowman did. That’s not your fault.”
Was it my fault if I could have saved them? Was my identity more important than their lives? They were Nightmares. Criminals. They consorted with Hensley and other shine-makers and flashers.
But they were also my people, and what kind of prince was I—what kind of king would I be—if I allowed them to be slaughtered by monsters? Even monsters they’d created? Surely I could do something more than kill glowmen—and let them kill Nightmares. There had to be a better way.
Sill, generations of kings hadn’t stopped shine and glowmen. Why did I think I could?
Well, maybe those kings simply hadn’t been doing enough. That was why I’d resorted to vigilantism, after all.
To complicate my problems, Hensley would soon know I’d lived, if he didn’t already. He’d be furious when he saw me. He’d take measures to protect his firefly and delivery.
Tomorrow night. The delivery would happen tomorrow night.
I found a clean bandage for my ribs and wrapped it tightly around. A sack of ice wouldn’t go amiss right now, but I didn’t want to wake anyone just because I’d nearly died.
Dressed again, I ran damp fingers through my hair and staggered to the writing desk in my bedroom, grabbed a few supplies, and returned to the parlor, where I placed everything on the table. Pens. Ink. Paper.
“What are you doing?” James followed me around, ready to help.
“I need to write a list.” I wiped the nib clean before dipping it into the ink. “Of things I’ll need next time I go out. Can you get them?”
“Maybe you should rest first.” James sat across from me. “At least for a few hours.”
I couldn’t have the luxury of rest. There was too much to do. “Ranged weapons, for sure. Have I mentioned a small crossbow to you? One of the Nightmares on the roof the other day had one. I’d want mine to be even smaller. I’d have to be able to hook it to my belt.”
“Does this mean you’re going to need a new belt too?”
“Yes. It’ll need to hold lots of items.” I wrote as quickly as I could. “Including a pouch for painkillers. Enough for me and anyone injured I come across.”
“You can’t medicate the whole city, Tobiah.”
“I’m not going to try. But I need the option to help relieve pain when I see it.”
“Fine.” He grabbed the paper and pen from me. “Just let me write. This is illegible. When was the last time you slept?”
My hands fell to the tabletop, bruised and scratched, knuckles skinned. They needed treatment, but I didn’t want to stand up again, now that I was sitting down. “I’m not completely sure what day it is,” I admitted.
James spent a few moments rewriting my list and complaining about my refusal to sleep. “You won’t heal like this, you know.”
“Make sure you add plenty of crossbow bolts and a spare string.” I nodded to myself, but the motion made my head swim. “A spare mask as well. Saints, what else? I had so many ideas just the other day.”
“I was thinking I’d make a few smoke bombs. You’d have to light a fuse, but they’d give you a way to distract people or cover yourself.”
“Where did you learn to make smoke bombs?” I almost frowned, but it hurt too much.
“The Academy. Chemistry.”
I sighed. “I’ve always thought the Academy would provide a more interesting education than a string of tutors. You’ve just proven me correct.”
He finished writing and turned to a blank page. “You’re rattled. It’s understandable. And you’re exhausted.”
“I’m not ready to go to bed yet. There’s too much on my mind.” It was true. Though my thoughts came sluggishly, I couldn’t stop thinking. I was too tired to sleep. Too rattled.
Rattled. What a soft word for everything I was feeling. Not that there were words for the overwhelming sense of foreboding and regret. For the uncertainty and horror.
“Maybe,” James said after a minute, “instead of a list of supplies, we make a statement of what you—as the vigilante—stand for. What are you willing to do? What won’t you do?”
I took several deep breaths. “That’s a good idea.” I leaned my elbows on the table and cradled my face in my hands, careful of the bruise growing on my cheek. “I don’t want to be caught off guard again. Not ever. If I make decisions about my actions in advance, I’ll react with a plan, rather than emotions.” With wrath and hatred.
“Right. Just like sword practice. When someone swings at your head, your natural instinct is to guard your face with your arms. But if you’ve been trained, you’ll block using whatever weapon you have available.”
That made sense. I could condition myself to respond in ways I’d never regret.
“I’ll help you,” James said.
My cousin’s words—my brother’s words—filled me. I didn’t deserve such a steadfast friend. Not with the secrets I was keeping from him. “Thank you.” The words weren’t enough.
He smiled. “Let’s talk about your statement, then. If you won’t go rest.”
I rubbed my face. “But I don’t know what I should have done last night. Was I right? Was I wrong? How can I decide what I stand for when I’m not sure about what I’ve already done?”
“Then we’ll work on it when you’ve had some distance.”
“What would you have done?”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, acknowledging my question with a glance and thoughtful tilt of his head. “Tell me again. Everything.”
I did. And now that I was washed and my injuries more or less cleaned, I could think more clearly. I could put the events in order, rather than jumble them.
James listened, pausing me to ask questions a few times, and finally he said, “I would have done the same thing.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “The same as you did.”
My chest tightened with anxious hope. “Why?”
“To protect you.” His eyes were hard. “I wouldn’t have killed the men directly—not unless they were a threat to your life. But they were a threat to your identity. And they chose to join the Nightmare gang. They chose to bring the glowmen there.”
Maybe. But I couldn’t assume I knew anything about the way my people lived. Romily had pointed that out often enough. I didn’t understand the different pressures they were under, the intricacies of their lives and decisions, and why too often people felt they had no choice. No good choice. No safe choice. So they did whatever seemed best.
Maybe one day I’d look back and decide what I’d done tonight was right. Or maybe I’d decide I’d been wrong.
Regardless, I had to live with the guilt of my actions. My inactions. “Here’s what I do know: people hurting others, using their power to exploit and harm—that’s unacceptable.”
“Agreed.” James made a note. “What else?”
I wanted to say something about ignorance not being an excuse for allowing horrible things to happen, but until recently, I’d been ignorant. So maybe . . . “I want people to be aware. The nobility shouldn’t be so oblivious to others’ plights. I don’t know how to do that yet, though.”
“Perhaps it will be as simple as stopping Hensley.”
I snorted. There was nothing simple about stopping Hensley, especially now that he knew who I was.
“I mean,” James went on, “when they hear stories about a vigilante, they’ll start asking why. Why does someone feel the need to do this? What is going on that makes the city so dangerous? Yes, nobles know about shine. Many know about firefly. But they haven’t seen its effects.”
And finally, I understood. “Knowing isn’t the same as experiencing. I can’t force them to experience life in the Flags—no one deserves that—but I can show them. By being the vigilante. By making them question what they thought they knew.”
James smiled. “That’s a good start. We’ll work on the rest later. For now, get some rest. I’d like to sleep sometime, too, you know.”
I could have kicked myself. James had likely been here the whole time, waiting for me to come back. He’d been my guard for only a few days, but now he was always on duty. “Stay in the spare room.” I motioned toward the other door. “Later we can figure out if you need to move to closer quarters.”
“You mean in the Dragon Wing?” He smirked as he cleaned the pen. “Wouldn’t that cause a scandal? A Rayner in the royal wing. We may be cousins, but I’m not royal.”
He was a Pierce, truly, and he had as much right to apartments here as I did. But I’d promised Mother I wouldn’t tell him. And so I wouldn’t. Not now.
But until then, I’d give him everything he should have had, and more.