Arthie made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs at a perfect viewing distance from Matteo and his disbelief. She knew she’d bagged Flick by the way the girl’s mouth had dropped open, and now it was only a matter of time before the painter came around. His secret was too precious for him not to.
“Say that again, darling?”
“Don’t call me darling,” Arthie said, sitting back and willing away the stupid goose bumps conjured by his voice.
“Arthie, dearest,” Matteo amended with eerie calm, giving her a glimpse of the beast that lay beneath his nonchalance. “Say that again, will you please?”
“We’re breaking into the Athereum. The Festival of Night is around the corner. We’ll use the auction as cover to find the missing ledger.”
Matteo dragged his hands down his face with a groan. “Firstly, no. Secondly, absolutely not. Especially not if the Ram is involved.”
“Oh, he isn’t,” Arthie said. “His incriminating ledger is, and we’re going to get it.”
Matteo looked perplexed. “And let me guess, you plan to expose the Ram with it.”
Flick looked very interested in her answer. Arthie pursed her lips to the side. “Something like that.”
“Which is exactly why we shouldn’t do this,” Matteo said, and it didn’t slip her notice that he’d said we, including himself. “How do you even plan to meet the Ram if you were to retrieve this ledger?”
Arthie didn’t want to discuss her post-retrieval plans in front of Laith. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe secure an invite to a fancy ball. Aren’t they usually attended by anyone of importance?”
“The Imperial Square Gala,” Flick said. “They only invite the top of the top to that one.”
“Not the Ram, sweet,” Matteo said.
“None of this is important right now,” Laith asserted.
Matteo gave him and his kitten a proper look.
“Laith Sayaad,” he said before Matteo could ask.
“Of the Horned Guard,” Arthie added. “And that’s his unnamed kitten, because he’s one of those monsters who doesn’t name his pets.”
Matteo rose and paced several feet, then sat down again. “You brought the Horned Guard inside my—no. Arthie?” He looked as exasperated as she often felt, and it filled her with glee. “I believe you have much to tell me.”
“Much has transpired since we last met,” Arthie agreed.
“We’ve had quite the night,” said Jin.
Arthie recounted the events of the past day and night, leaving out the finer details of her first exchange with Laith. If the intensity of Laith’s gaze on her now was any indication, he had taken note of the omission.
“I can’t help you,” Matteo said when she was finished.
“And let me guess why,” Arthie said. “Because you know nothing of the Athereum?”
Matteo gave her a crooked grin. “Exactly.”
Jin strolled closer, making a show of the coin dancing across his knuckles. She had known he would find it during their walk through the house. It was pewter, twice as big as a duvin and far prettier—engraved with an obscure A surrounded by vines and thorns, the words mortui vivos docent following the curve.
The dead teach the living.
“One Athereum marker dedicated to one Matteo Andoni,” Arthie announced. “One personalized ticket to the inside. If anyone had a way in, it would be you.”
The Athereum had very likely begged him to be a member, what with his social standing in White Roaring.
“How…” Matteo started before deciding otherwise. He sighed.
“Jin has—and how can I put this nicely—fingers that are slightly more adhesive than most,” Arthie explained. Flick laughed with a tinkling bell of a sound, and Arthie, watchful as she was, saw how Jin lit up like a lighthouse at sea.
“Right, now that that’s settled: Flick, are you in?” Arthie asked.
Flick didn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”
She didn’t ask for payment, she didn’t even give it a moment’s thought. Everyone stared, and Arthie could tell that Jin had immediately written off her quick tongue as her being overwhelmed. But Arthie wasn’t so sure.
“What—what will I receive in return?” Flick asked too late.
“Excitement,” Arthie answered. “Now sit down. Let’s put that penmanship to work.”
Flick sank into the matching armchair a good distance from Matteo.
“Did you fail to notice the part where I hadn’t agreed to help you?” Matteo asked. There was a smudge of black paint on the side of his neck and another on the inner shell of his ear.
“As sure as you failed to notice the part where I hadn’t asked you to,” Arthie replied.
He slumped back. “I’m going to miss our chats when all of you turn up dead.”
Laith sat down on the rug in front of the coffee table and crossed his legs, an eye on his kitten as it curled up in a corner of the parlor. “You are going to ascertain it never comes to that.”
“Ascertain?” Matteo repeated. “Where did you say he’s from again, the dictionary?” But Matteo looked as if he knew exactly where Laith, with his kohl-rimmed amber eyes and curved dagger, was from.
“I think you might know,” Arthie said. He struck Arthie as the sort who knew so much that they had no option but to act the opposite.
Matteo tipped his head. “From a kingdom hewn of desert and strength, sprawling palaces and sparkling mirages. You’re Arawiyan.”
The description alone made Arthie imagine she felt a little bit of that relentless heat and enchantment that Ettenia did not have. Laith ran a finger absently along his exposed collarbone, pulling her gaze to the lean muscles outlined by his fitted sleeves.
“Cursed to remain secluded, are you all not?” Matteo asked.
“No longer,” Laith said distantly. “We are now free to access the remainder of the world.”
Were they really free, if triumphing over their curse had simply moved them into a new circle of prey?
“Next on Ettenia’s list, I can imagine,” Arthie said.
Matteo laughed. “I do not think Arawiya can be written off so quickly.”
Apt, Arthie thought, looking at Laith.
Flick leaned forward. “Have you been there?”
“The kingdom was corralled by an impenetrable forest for a near century,” Matteo said, affronted. “I’m immortal, not ancient.”
“A discernible difference for sure,” Jin said, rolling his eyes.
“I’m curious why someone from that far away has taken interest in Ettenia,” Matteo continued, following Arthie’s own line of thought. “And so keenly, at that.”
“I like to excel at whatever I do, vampire,” Laith replied, an edge to his voice. The air went cold as they regarded one another, two predators in a pen.
Arthie heard the shift of Jin’s umbrella, the rise of Flick’s breathing that Matteo, being a vampire, registered with a flare of his nostrils. She studied Laith’s calm, the steady beat of his gaze that missed nothing. He was hiding something as much as Flick was—but Flick wore her secrets on her face, plain as day.
“Indeed, I am a vampire, though if I had to choose a descriptor for myself, I think I’d use gorgeous or tantalizing.” Matteo lifted one leg over the other. “Anywho, it’s an ingenious idea, infiltrating the Athereum during the Festival of Night. They expect a full house for the charity auction, and you’ll be able to bypass the issue of your pulses causing suspicion. Blood companions will be roaming the halls, and the vampires in attendance will be well-fed.
“But if you haven’t heard, vampires are going missing. At least thirty have been reported across the district in the span of a few days, several of whom are members of the Athereum. It’s believed the vampires are still out there and not piles of dust, though you won’t be hearing much about any of it.”
Arthie wondered if he was more worried about the disappearances than he let on. With no known correlation between any of the cases, there was every likelihood that he could be next.
“My point is,” Matteo continued, “the Athereum is on high alert, which doesn’t bode well for your little adventure.”
“I decide when we pull off this heist,” Arthie said. He didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t asking him. “And that’s now.”
“Where’s the fire, darling?” Matteo leaned forward, and her retort disappeared off the edge of her tongue.
“We don’t do this, we lose Spindrift,” Jin said finally. Flick gasped.
Arthie cut Jin a look. Laith didn’t look too pleased either.
Matteo’s brows shot up. His concern almost looked genuine. “And who is threatening Spindrift?”
When Arthie said nothing, Matteo sighed.
“I’ll take that silence to mean it’s the Ram. Fine. Since you asked so nicely,” he said. He took the pencil from Flick and smoothed the paper down with a gentle hand. The very air seemed to relax with the gesture. There were canvases propped against the walls, paintbrushes holding their breath in half-full glasses awaiting his return.
“Now, it’s not that breaking in is impossible as much as it is obscenely difficult.” Matteo held out the coin. “Let’s start with the Athereum marker. As everyone knows, there’s no getting in without one.”
Everyone leaned close when he pressed a notch on its side, and a layer of the coin popped open on a tiny hinge.
Jin whistled. “Now that’s sexy.”
“See these numbers?” Matteo asked. They were stamped along the marker’s inner curve. “Each coin has a unique set. Without a match of numerical code, you’re not only denied access, you will suffer the very, very, very minor inconvenience of being impaled with a blunt stake through the heart.” He pursed his lips. “A lot more painful for the living to die in such a way, but this is the Athereum, a society that cares oh so deeply about human suffering.”
Arthie had always known how the Athereum dealt with trespassers, but when Laith slid a furtive glance at her now, uneasiness slithered through her. Did he know what she planned to do once they located the ledger?
“Think of it as their lex talionis,” Matteo added.
Arthie saw Flick shiver. Perhaps she was too green for the job.
“Tit for tat,” Jin explained, knowing Arthie needed the definition. He picked up Matteo’s marker and flipped it, the coin winking out of sight for several seconds. “There’s a flaw—the marker might have a unique identifier, but anyone can use it to gain access.”
“Given how difficult it is to obtain a marker, from needing to be a certain age to holding a good standing in society, no vampire leaves it lying about.”
“Except you?” Laith asked.
“You know, I’m not sure I like him,” Matteo said to Arthie.
“If I needed to like everyone I worked with, I’d have to do everything myself,” Arthie said.
“Hey!” Jin said.
Arthie bit back a laugh.
“Well,” Flick ventured. “At least we have one marker. That’s a start.”
“We do,” Arthie said.
Matteo’s mouth curled slowly, and she knew he was going to refuse. “Your gaze upon a man, dearest, it’s—”
“I have some of the fastest runners in White Roaring. I should think your secret’s worth more than your marker,” Arthie said.
“Start with the Hanging Cliff. They’re quick at the press,” Jin said, tilting his head to Arthie.
“The Gold Rudder prints faster,” Arthie said, tilting her head in return. “Especially given the magnitude of the news.”
“Mm. You have a point.”
“Or,” Flick said, “you can steal his marker and let him beg his way in.”
Arthie and Jin stared at her, both equally impressed, and Flick blushed under the scrutiny.
“You really are quite adorable, regaling me with such heinous threats. Do you think I find them frightening?” Matteo rose from his seat, leaning closer to Arthie. She inhaled sharply. His next words were low, for her alone. “You know, darling, not everyone needs to be threatened to work for you. It’s possible for someone to simply want to.”
Before she could make sense of his words, he straightened. “Short of tossing you in through the window, I don’t have a way to get you inside, and contrary to what you might think, threatening me in increasingly creative ways won’t make me produce ideas.”
Flick sputtered and pointed at his marker. “But—”
“This?” Matteo laughed. “This is worthless, sweet. No more than a paperweight. You’ll find I don’t care much for the Athereum. But I’ll help you on one condition: Take me with you.”
“No,” said Laith without missing a beat. He rose to his feet.
Arthie lifted a brow at him. “No?”
“We’re not striking deals with questionable parties. If he won’t help you, we are leaving.”
“He says help as if you weren’t just threatening me,” Matteo said.
Jin, still leaning against the wall, barked a laugh. “Are you hearing yourself? You jumped in through a second-story window and she said yes.”
“Khalas,” Laith said. “We will do this my way—”
“Or what?” Arthie asked, going still. “We can end this deal right now and let them blow Spindrift to the seas. I’ll build it back, better and bigger than before.”
Fire beat under her skin, tumbling like the sea that brought her to these shores. Through the corner of her eye, she saw Jin stiffen, but he was smart enough not to put his mouth where he shouldn’t and call her bluff.
“If he fails to—” Laith began.
“If he fails, we all do,” Arthie said. “So you had better pick up the slack.”
“Now sit down,” Jin said, and the tension rose as his grip tightened around the handle of his umbrella, even as the rough grind of his voice gave away his distress.
Laith remained standing.
“That’s settled then. We might as well get the ducks waddling after us too,” Jin said, glaring at Arthie as if she’d gone and destroyed Spindrift herself.
“Why is it worthless? Were you exiled?” Flick asked.
Matteo squinted an eye. “‘Exiled’ isn’t the right word. My entrance would cause quite a scene, and I don’t think I nor the Athereum is ready for it. Especially while they’re strung tight with the disappearances.”
“Why?” Arthie asked.
Matteo winked. “A story for another night.”
Flick still looked confused. “But you said you wanted to get inside.”
Arthie drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. She didn’t know what he’d done to be not-exiled, but she would find out, she always did. “He wants us to sneak him in. You want to see someone in particular.”
“You have a very big brain for someone so small,” Matteo said, genuinely impressed. Jin smothered a snort. “Do we have a deal?”
Arthie’s lips thinned. “I seem to be striking deals with every questionable man I see. I’ll get you in.”
Jin cast her a look. She knew she made it sound as if getting inside the Athereum was as easy as swinging by the nearest eatery. As if they’d already hammered out their plans and secured their way in.
She nodded at the pencil in Matteo’s hand. “Now, tell us about the Athereum.”