Arthie reached under the desk and pulled out the real ledger. Its violet ribbon looked almost exactly like the replica she had tucked into the book Laith had pocketed before he was dragged away.
Get behind me.
She had the ledger at last, but she could barely summon triumph. She couldn’t stop repeating that moment in her head, when Laith’s alarm and fear morphed into the realization that she had betrayed him.
It was him or her.
And yet, he hadn’t done the same to her. He hadn’t said a word when the vampires apprehending him had asked him if he was here alone. He hadn’t even looked angry, only heartbroken.
He’d taken the fall and the false ledger, and now he would die.
Arthie pulled on the lever, and the vault doors slid open again with a forlorn sigh. She snapped her pocket watch closed. Jin would arrive any moment now. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the office door swung open.
She saw Jin first, then Flick. Both of them had been expected. She hadn’t expected Matteo, blond and pale and almost ghostly. And certainly not the figure before them: a vampire with a trim beard and dark, shoulder-length hair tied at the base of his skull. He had a cravat set with a ruby knotted at his throat and a gold hoop in his right ear that glinted in the lamplight.
For this very reason, the plan had always been to leave before the auction concluded. But it couldn’t have been over yet. Not unless—Matteo. She should have known he would do this.
Arthie faced him. “Penn.”
He smiled at her. “Hello, daughter.”
Arthie caught a whiff of the cigar in his hand and she was eight again, standing on his ebony doorstep while silver needles of rain pelted the cobblestones, clouds heavy and gray. Her cheeks were still stained with the death of her parents, blood still crusted under her nails.
“I’m not your daughter,” she said, forcing herself back to the present.
The firelight lit his half-Arawiyan skin. She used to envy anyone who could pass as a peaky before she realized such a wish was a betrayal to herself. The easy route was never for her.
“You were the only one who came close. Good word, look at you,” Penn said, almost surprised, as he closed the door behind him. His voice made her feel safe and comfortable, two illnesses she never allowed herself to catch again.
Please, please, please.
Jin made a sound in his throat. It seemed she was betraying everyone tonight. She had meant to tell him when they’d first found each other. It would have been easier to process the horror on his face when he learned the truth, to watch him pull away and disappear forever. But later became tomorrow, and tomorrow became next month, and next month became a decade.
Arthie loved secrets, but love was a feeling much like hate—so full, so heavy, so laden with everything. And for all the secrets she collected, she hated her own.
She loved Jin in a way she would never speak aloud, in a way that made her feel weak and foolish. In a way no one but he loved her back. She hadn’t wanted that to end. But one secret had slowly become another, each tangling with the last, and when he looked at her now she realized that somewhere along the way she had pushed him away herself.
“All that talk of your parents dying in Ceylan,” he said, the words rushing out of him in a mix of anger and hurt. “It was—it was—”
“True,” Arthie finished. “Penn took me in for about a year after I got to Ettenia. Before you. I’ve never lied to you, Jin.”
“No,” Jin agreed mockingly. “You only left out just about everything.”
Penn set his cigar on an ashtray and swiveled the mirrors on his desk, sealing his vault back into obscurity. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”
Jin huffed a laugh. “Oh, we’re leaving all right.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” Penn asked, tilting his head to the door. “You step out of this office, and you will die. Just as your friend soon will.”
“Which friend?” Flick asked, searching about the room. “Arthie, where’s Laith?”
Jin looked at Arthie. He was the only one who knew she had never intended for Laith to leave with them. There was that guilt again, knotting her tongue and stifling her conscience.
“He was apprehended,” Penn answered. “Arthie was lucky enough to have been sealed in the vault.”
Lucky enough. It wasn’t luck that had saved her, but her own quick thinking. Arthie would have been insulted if she didn’t feel so horrible.
“Oh, Arthie,” Flick breathed, whirling to face her. “I am so sorry. You must be devastated.”
Arthie was irked that Flick thought she might be more devastated than the rest of them.
“There are rules that must be followed,” Penn said sternly. “Break them, and there are repercussions. Now give me the ledger, and tell me what this is about, little lion.”
A memory rose in the quiet. Her hands bloody, her skirts dripping red. He had drawn her against his side despite the mess of blood.
She clutched the ledger tight to her chest.
“The Ram has too much power, and we’re going to challenge it,” Flick said, stepping to Arthie’s side.
Jin stepped to Arthie’s other side. She could tell he was angry and hurt, that he had an endless list of questions to ask her, but his presence gave her comfort. “It’s the only way to save Spindrift.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Penn called. Someone new entered the room. “I’ve apprehended the intruders. Don’t look at them, look at me. Placate our guests and resume the festivities.” The vampire nodded and finally left, and Penn turned to address Arthie. “You and your friends have caused quite a stir.”
“And exponentially increased the value of my work,” said Matteo.
“Don’t talk,” Jin snapped. “Don’t pretend to be one of us.”
Matteo looked at him coolly. “As if I was in search of a reason to disgrace myself.”
“Open the ledger,” Penn said. A line jumped in his jaw.
Arthie slipped the ledger from its case and flipped it open. There were notes, but it was mainly an account, tracking exports and imports and commodities. She flipped to the page marked by the ribbon. It was the same export, over and over again. The first few hadn’t gone far before being returned.
Flick read over Arthie’s shoulder. “What’s an EJC Corpus? Are these weapons?”
Ettenia lacked the resources to produce anything on a large scale. It was why they’d dug their claws into places like Ceylan for tea and cinnamon, Jeevant Gar for spices and textiles, Qirilan for silk and opium, far-off Morubia for gold and ivory. In many ways, the East Jeevant Company was as bad as the Ram.
Penn’s voice was tight. “Of a sort. Starve the lion long enough, and no force can vanquish him. By my definition, that makes one a weapon, doesn’t it?”
“Starve?” Flick asked with a frown. “I thought we were talking about the EJC’s exports.”
Penn picked up his cigar. His face was grave when he nodded. “We are. The exports are vampires.”