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 to be. There was no way she could let them know she was having these impious thoughts.

Get the Partizan; make the Master happy. That was the one thing Julius and Ingrid had been sure of, but recently it felt messy, uncertain.

“The princess.”

Ingrid looked up again, a bloodthirstiness coursing through her like fire, a burning need for revenge.

“What about her?”

“He’s considering their relationship,” Phi said, picking at her eyebrow, an absentminded twitch. “We think they’re too close; it might hinder our plan.”

The princess, the princess, the princess. What was so special about the princess?

Ingrid had suggested multiple times that they should just abandon the princess of Maradova, that there was no helping her.

The Maravish monarchy represented everything they were against, the root of it all. Yet Ingrid simply couldn’t shake how much she hated that senseless spoiled little girl, who’d tripped her over in the Tompkins Manor and ruined everything.

Her fingers tensed in a way that sent pain shooting up through the bones. She relished it.

“What does he need me to do?” asked Ingrid.

“Haru believes his master and the princess are only days away from finding the hiding place, but there’s been a change of plan. First, we’re going to allow the princess to find what’s hidden in Takeshin, and we’ll take it later. He thinks it might change her mind a little. And, second, he’s decided we need to send someone to get closer to Jamie. Make the transition easier.” Phi let out a grunt that was almost a laugh before adding, “And if that fails, there’s always the Hamelin Formula . . .”

Ingrid struggled to hide her delight. “Just give me the orders and I’m there.”

“No! Haru will be taking care of it. He’s already got closer than we’d anticipated.”

“What?” Ingrid’s hands clenched painfully, all that delicious expectation deflating into nothing.

“He wants you to stay as far away as possible. That’s your order.” Phi spoke casually, as if this wasn’t the worst news Ingrid could ever have heard. “From what he saw on the roof, you are far too reckless when it comes to the Partizan, and he wants you to stay away from all targets until further notice.”

Jamie was being ripped away from her. The one thing that would make the Master truly value her.

A million thoughts and questions exploded in her mind. Was the Master mad at her? What was so special about Haru? Why wasn’t she getting her way?

Arms crossed against her chest, Ingrid cradled the wretched pain, letting it fuel her anger. This was the princess’s fault. She’d taken her prize away and foiled them too many times, and now she’d turned the Master against her.

“Okay.” She acted disappointed so as not to give too much away. “I understand.”

Phi narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and Ingrid made a great show of whimpering as she touched her wrists.

Phi let out a long sigh before offering an attempt at comfort. “Just focus on getting better, and if you need any more painkillers, come and find me.”

Ingrid didn’t say thank you; it would have been too out of character. Instead she sniffed loudly, as if embarrassed by her outburst. “I’ll get better soon so I can be useful again.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks as Phi left. Then, as soon as she was sure Phi was out of sight, she let the snarl crawl onto her face. Wincing, she picked through her jacket to find her salvaged blade; a slick of Haru’s blood still stained it from Jamie having thrown it. The feel of the steel spider made her shiver with anticipation, terrible acts of revenge and torment bubbling in her head.

If they weren’t going to let her get close to Jamie again, she would find another way of getting even.