Carnival of Secrets (17 page)

“Drink.”

Obediently, Mallory emptied the glass. She couldn’t ask why she got so cold, never asked why he knew how to make it better. She’d thought about it, but every time she started to do so, the urge to ask vanished.
Good daughters don’t question their fathers.
Her father could always assess what was wrong within only a few moments, and he inevitably brewed some potion or other to make her better.
Why ask, when he can fix it?

He went to the window, picked up the little sachet he’d refreshed every month in every house she could recall, and sniffed it. “No strangers came
here
, did they?” As he spoke, he checked the line of salt that edged every room in the house. Hers was unbroken. “Was someone at the door? In the house?”

“No.” Mallory shook her head.

Adam’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t muss his perfectly ordered hair; he didn’t scowl at her. He simply asked, “What happened?”

Mallory sighed. She didn’t want to, but she told him, “I had a date, sort of . . . with Kaleb. I ran into him and then we had dinner and . . . it wasn’t planned. I didn’t know I’d see him.”

Her father swallowed visibly. “Did this Kaleb do something to you? Did he touch you? Did he
hurt
you? Tell me, Mallory.”

It felt like words were being pulled from her lips. They tumbled out too fast. “No! We kissed, but I
wanted
him to kiss me. It was after dinner . . . and there was a strange woman. She threw Kaleb aside and”—she looked directly at her father—“she released
birds
from her mouth. I think she was a daimon. I couldn’t kill her. I couldn’t
hurt
her, and then she blew ashes into my face.”

“Ashes?”

“One of the birds disintegrated, and I inhaled it,” Mallory said.

The bed dipped as he sat on the foot of it. “Is there more?”

For a moment, Mallory almost told him about how strange Kaleb made her feel, how right the world felt when he was near her, but she kept her lips firmly shut and shook her head. Her hand curled around the still-warm glass, she stared at her father and concentrated on the daimon, not Kaleb. “She breathed
birds
.”

He took the glass from her hand. “Let me get you another drink.”

She nodded. After he left, she reached under her pillow. Her hand closed around the carved stone pendant she usually wore. Her mother had believed that it would protect her. From what, no one would tell her. Mallory had questions about that too, but her mother had said that she wouldn’t answer those questions until Mallory turned seventeen.
Three days ago.

Last night, Mallory had tucked the pendant under her pillow, but that apparently wasn’t close enough since she still had the shakes. She got out of bed and rummaged in a drawer until she found a ribbon. She slid the pendant onto it and tied it around her throat and immediately felt better. A rock shouldn’t make that much of a difference, and even when she wore it, there were still times she was struck by illnesses unlike anything that ever hit any of her friends in any of the cities where they’d lived—but she felt better with it on.

Before her father returned, she was back in bed.

He came in and sat on the edge of the bed again. He brushed her hair away from her eyes. “You know you were just as frustrated by being sick when you were little. The first time you got better after one of these episodes, you tried to get me to give you a ‘never sick again’ potion. I would if I could. I’d protect you from every moment of anything that hurts.”

“Being sick reminds me that I’m human, right?”

“It certainly proves I’m not as omnipotent as I wish I could be.” Adam squeezed her hand. “I can stay home today.”

“No.” She tried to smile back as if she didn’t feel as wretched as she did. “I’m seventeen, not seven, Daddy. I’ll sleep, and if I feel worse, I’ll call you. I know the routine.”

Her father kissed her forehead. “If there was a ‘never sick again’ potion, I’d give it to you. All I want is to protect you, Mallory.”

“I know,” she assured him.

For a moment he said nothing, and then he brought up the detail that they hadn’t discussed. “Once you’re well, I’ll expect to meet this Kaleb before you go anywhere with him again,
and
before you let him in the house. Do you understand?”

She half laughed, half groaned. “I doubt that he’ll be back. He has probably rationalized it all away, but he
did
see me fall to the ground like a klutz.
That
he’ll remember. It’s probably not safe for him anyhow, right? If we could tell him . . .” She let the sentence linger, but her father didn’t offer to let her reveal secrets.

Instead, he asked, “Did you invite him into the old house?”

Her father’s voice was so calm that if she didn’t know him, she’d think nothing of it, but she did know him. Adam was decidedly not at ease.

“Once,” she admitted. Her eyes started to drift shut. Some of his potions did that, but she hated the helplessness of it. She blinked, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“Has he asked you to go anywhere? Give him anything?” He stopped her as she tried to sit.

She frowned, but stayed reclining. It wouldn’t matter soon. The need to sleep was winning. “No.”

Adam tucked the covers closer around her. “I need to meet him, Mallory. You are too precious to me, and—”

“I like him,” Mallory finally admitted drowsily. “I
need
him. I can’t explain, but I think I really need him.”

Her father didn’t reply to what she’d said. Instead, he instructed, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere with him or let him in the house. Say it.”

“I promise,” she agreed reluctantly, and then she gave in to sleep.

T
WO DAYS LATER
K
ALEB
still hadn’t been back to the carnival—or to the human world. His ribs were healing, but even a cur couldn’t heal that many fractures in a few days. The matchboard had been updated, and Kaleb was to face Sol. His odds of winning his match without help weren’t good. He’d spent his entire life fighting, and he was capable of doing so with a few injuries, but only the best fighters were left this late in the year, and fighting an opponent like Sol wasn’t something to do with broken ribs, a gouged thigh, or even the various more manageable injuries. The wise thing to do was to forfeit the fight, but Kaleb hadn’t often been accused of being wise.

Once he healed, the next most pressing problem was that other daimons knew where Mallory was. Between Marchosias’ announcement and the Watcher’s arrival, it was abundantly clear that Kaleb wasn’t the only daimon who had located her. Suddenly, Kaleb needed to win both the competition and Mallory, and he needed to do both pretty much now. If he did, he’d have everything: position, pack, and safety.

Unfortunately, to convince Mallory to be with him, he needed to spend time with her, and right now he was too injured to risk that. He had to let himself heal enough to get through tomorrow’s match and hope that she’d stay safe for the time he was stuck here in The City. Even with rest, he’d need to take Zevi’s pain depressors to hide any flinching, hope that Aya’s plan evened the odds, and avoid receiving any killing blows. Two of those were on him, but the third element hinged on Aya—assuming she could really do what she promised.

If anyone could pull off miracles though, it was her. She had been one of his biggest threats in the past year. He’d watched her eliminate fighters who should’ve gutted her. She was savvy in ways that he didn’t understand, and at the same time, she was dispassionate as she slit throats and took kill trophies. Breeding seemed like such a small thing for her to allow it to stand in the way of the future of wealth, comfort, and safety.

For him, being safe enough to have a large family was a
goal
. The desire to create a pack was innate for some curs, but Kaleb hadn’t ever felt it until he found Zevi.

At the thought of his sole packmate, Kaleb looked at the lightening sky and realized that Zevi was still out somewhere. He should’ve been back by now. This close to morning, the only real action was at the Night Market—which wasn’t somewhere Kaleb liked Zevi to go alone.

He pulled a jacket on and winced as one of the knives inside it bounced against his ribs. When even small actions made him hurt, he really had no business fighting Sol, but there were plenty of threats at the market that he could still handle just fine.

A
YA WAS UNSURPRISED TO
find Sol following Zevi through the market. If she hadn’t seen how fast the cur could move, she’d be more alarmed, but she suspected that Zevi was far more capable than Kaleb seemed to believe. The bigger surprise was that no one had attempted to injure Zevi yet.
Or maybe there had been attempts and Zevi resolved them.
It wouldn’t be wise to underestimate Kaleb’s packmate, but it also wouldn’t be advisable to ignore the dangers to him. She needed to keep Zevi safe.

“Aya? For you.” A young girl slipped a folded note to her and then vanished back into the shadows.

The urge to read the message vied with the need to protect Zevi. If Zevi died, Kaleb would be useless. He was likely to suspect her of treachery as well.

Aya saw movement out of the corner of her eye and stepped to the side—just in time to see Kaleb lunge at her.

He caught her arm, but with the quick reaction that had served her well in the fight circles, Aya extracted herself from his grasp.

“Why are you following Z?” Kaleb started.

Aya shoved him toward the doorway of a stall and whispered, “I’m trying to keep watch on him.”

Kaleb pushed her away from him with a growl.

Aya caught his arm and tugged him farther into the stall. “Sol is out there. Stay.”

One of the brokers approached and bowed. The movement didn’t quite hide the avarice in his eyes. “We have special rates for fighters.”

“I’ll be right back.” Aya shoved Kaleb onto a mound of pillows and stepped outside. She glanced at the note that she had crumpled in her hand and read:
Ready. ~E.

Aya dropped the note into a fire and scanned the immediate area. The flickering lights of the Night Market cast dancing shadows, but Aya had spent enough time here that she knew where to look for the street scabs who wandered those shadows. None of her usual resources were lurking nearby, but a scab she’d used a few times for small jobs looked up. Better still, the girl was a cur.

Aya beckoned her closer. “You know Zevi?”

“Kaleb’s Zevi?” the cur clarified. “Sure. He went—”

“Find him.” Aya pulled out a handful of coins. “I need him kept safe and brought to me here. Now. Hire help if you need. I’ll pay fair price.”

The cur nodded once, whistled some sort of pattern that brought three more scabs running toward her, and then the four scabs all took off into the market. That issue resolved, Aya returned to the pleasure stall. She’d have preferred to save her coin and keep Zevi safe herself, but Kaleb was more of an issue at the moment. They didn’t need him approaching Sol and revealing the extent of his injuries.

Back inside, Kaleb gave her a look of relief, but before he said anything, Aya held out a blank marker to the vendor. “We’re expecting a cur to join us. Aside from him, no one disturbs us.”

The vendor started, “We have several packages to enhance your enjoyment of the pleasure quarters. The rate for fighters—”

“I’m not interested in bartering. Private room. Another cur will join us. Let me know when our third party arrives.” Aya grabbed Kaleb’s hand and led him to one of the rooms. Inside, she took a handful of salt and chalk and closed the privacy circle. Once that was done, she released Kaleb’s hand and said, “If I intended to kill Zevi, I would’ve done it before I sought you out.”

Kaleb shook his head. “So if it was more advantageous, you’d kill Zevi.”

Aya resisted the urge to smack Kaleb, but he wasn’t Belias. Striking Kaleb wouldn’t be a harmless act; it would have repercussions—and not the sort she liked. “I needed to come to the market, and while I was here, I’ve been watching Zevi so Sol didn’t hurt him.”

Apparently willing to believe her, Kaleb nodded. “Were you here to kill Sol?”

“If I do, we waste an opportunity. When you fight him and win after you were so severely injured, it will make you look invincible.”

“Right now, I
doubt
I would win,” he interjected.

“I told you: I’m going to change that.” Aya opened a pouch and filled it with the chalk she’d just used to close the circle. “I’m going to make it so you are able to eliminate him.”

Kaleb opened his mouth to speak, but a red ripple went through the circle around them before he did so.

Aya shoved her boot-clad foot across the circle, lowering it and revealing a tense-looking Zevi. The vendor stood beside him with a grin that Aya would have loved to knock off his face. Instead, she gave him her most disdainful look and directed, “I don’t want to be disturbed. Raise a locked circle, and then close the stall for the rest of the night.”

“The rate for a circle like that and closing the rest of the stall—”