Chapter 5

"They're waiting in the parlor."

Fran found me in the office down the hall from my bedroom. She had quickly gathered the right people—the right remnants—in less than a day. A task only my aunt and her extensive social contacts could have completed so efficiently.

"How did they feel?" I asked.

"Anxious." She rubbed the backs of her arms. "You could hear a pin drop in the room. I suggest you get downstairs before Sabina takes control of your meeting."

Naturally, the queen herself would show up in place of her sector and the Blood descendants. I folded a letter that had just arrived and hid it inside the pages of a book, throwing them both in a drawer for safekeeping. "Let's get this done, then."

"Nicky?"

"What?"

She licked her lips. "Sol asked to attend the meeting."

I almost laughed. "Of course he did."

"He's looking out for you."

"He doesn't trust me."

"You know that isn't true. He respects your decisions." She took a step closer, biting her lip. "He's just worried about your head. He doesn't want you making the wrong choice for the city just to—" She winced, knowing better than to finish.

"Just to save one woman." I arched a brow, but my aunt looked away.

"He doesn't want you do something you'll regret. A broken heart doesn't make wise judgements."

My head pounded between my temples. How many times had we had this same conversation with different words? I leaned over the desk, avoiding her stare. "I won't tell him where he's allowed to go in his own house, Fran. But eventually, he'll have to learn that I am not my father, and he cannot fix the past by compensating now for his previous silence."

He lived with the blame of my father's death. Sol had a feeling that derailing the train would be a bad idea, and yet he didn't stop my father. Afterward, he had to watch what became of holding his tongue. Not that it was his fault, nor had I ever accused him, but I knew well how the past liked to influence the present, and Solomon didn't want me to make a decision based on emotion. It was in my blood to be my undoing.

She started toward the hall but paused in the doorway. "Your father would be so proud of who you've become, Nicolai, but he would have never wanted you to take on the world without your family. We will do anything to help you get Milla back. So please, stop seeing your uncle and the rest of us as enemies when we're just trying to look out for you."

I waited until her footsteps were further down the hall before following her out, neglecting the guilty seed she planted until it shriveled dry.

The parlor was stillquiet as I entered, my uncle on my heels. Sabina took over the chaise, lounging on a hip with an amused look on her face, a glass of what appeared to be wine in her hand—though I had a strong inclination it wasn't wine. Regulus, the Mirth descendant skilled in shifting, paced in front of the hearth.

Three other descendants I was less familiar with stood near the windows overlooking the side driveway. One of the family haelens was in attendance—Ruth, was it? A younger man stood nearby with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were such a light blue, they were almost clear in the morning glare pouring between the curtains. Long blonde curls were tied in a loose binding behind his head.

The last descendant shielded herself in the shadows formed in the room's corner, stepping away from the natural light in favor of the darkness—the bender of shadows, a darkthief Milla was always so intrigued by. She kept her distance from the rest of us.

"Who are you?" I gestured at them both.

"Bree," said the darkthief. No further introductions needed there.

"Finnius. Finn for short." He bowed his head in a courteous greeting. "I'm a mentalus, a thought reader. I apologize, I didn't know you already had a Mirth remnant or I wouldn't have—"

"A little advice, Finn. Don't sell yourself short in the pitch." My inspection drew me closer. His suit was second-hand, the tweed worn at the lapels and wrists, but it was cleaned and pressed. A yellow handkerchief stuck out of his vest pocket. "You look a bit young. Where did my aunt find you?"

"She didn't." He winced. "Rook overheard from his contacts in the city that Mrs. Attano was looking for mind manipulators. He suggested the job to me personally, and I gladly offered to fill the need—for the right price, of course."

"The right price," I drawled. "Typical Canary Boy." I flicked the gold pocket square and smiled. I knew his type, where he came from and the streets he lurked.

A scolapa would have been more useful than a mentalus. Control gave us advantage, but so did information. I supposed I couldn't afford to be particular at this point. Regardless of his loyalties and the specifics of his remnant, he was here now, and he was willing.

"Alright, but if I catch you worming around in my head, Finn, I'll put a bullet in yours. Understand?"

He gave a quick nod.

"Good. Well, thank you all for coming on such short notice." I stepped away from the new recruit to claim a glass on the serving table and poured myself a drink.

Sabina sat up straight, her red lips in an ever-present smile. "When Nicolai Attano calls, it is best not to keep him waiting. Wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of those explosives your family is so well known for."

"It sounds like you came more out of curiosity than loyalty, Madame."

"Can you blame me?" She swirled her drink. "We want to know what the hells is going on. One day the OIC promises the ban will lift, the next the bloody bridge is in the river."

"The OIC promised many things they had no intention of following through on," I said. In as few words as possible, I explained my meeting with Hartsong and the cabinet, told them what I knew and why we couldn't rely on the newly appointed officials to function in favor of descendants.

"So Hartsong lied, and you thought it'd be in everyone's best interest to destroy the last thing connecting us to the Districts?" Bree asked. "What if there was a reason he said what he did? What if you just made things worse?"

"No," Sabina said. "Nicolai was right to do it."

Her defense caught me off guard, so much so that my mouth slammed shut before I could respond to the darkthief.

"You're all too young to remember what happened on the Continent, but my mother never let me forget." Her gaze fell on something far away. "It started similar to this, with tensions high and descendants doing what they could to appease those without remnants, silencing themselves and their gifts to make others more comfortable. The kings on the Continent ripped away their rights to use their remnant soon after, all in the name of safety. But those who made the journey to the Isle saw it for what it truly was—control."

"Sabina is correct," Solomon said from a chair pushed near the hearth. "My mother doesn't speak of what happened on the Continent, but the kings were obsessed with order, enough so they took away the free will that the rest of us have taken for granted living here."

Order... The word sparked something in my memory. Weeks ago on the bridge, the morning I met Gavriel and brought him to his knees, he had spoken of something similar.

"Order will be reestablished when Chaos is destroyed," I muttered.

The weight of their stares fell on me. The bleeder queen stood slowly. "Where did you hear that, Nicolai?"

"Gavriel said it once when he thought he had me beaten. It made little sense then, but now—" I closed my eyes and inhaled a slow breath before I spilled Milla's secret. If Gavriel knew Milla's remnant was of Chaos, then the Firenzes and everyone involved in his plans might know as well.

Someone had turned on her family, and now Milla's enemies had her caged.

But why? If they wanted to destroy Chaos, why didn't they kill her when they had the chance? Why go through the trouble of sending her to Hightower? Unless they wanted something out of her specifically.

"Now, what?" Regulus asked. I had almost forgotten the shifter stood there, positioning himself behind Sabina's chaise.

I threw back the rest of the contents in my glass and set it down on a side table. "Now, Sabina has given me a better understanding about the OIC's vision for the future. Gavriel might be gone, but he wasn't alone in his cause. I'll need each of your help to undo the progress they've made so far."

"You want to raid Hightower?" Sabina asked. A question without even the hint of a smirk. It was the most serious I'd ever seen the queen.

I nodded. "Yes. Only once the prisoners are returned home can we begin negotiations with the OIC. Not a moment sooner."

Regulus released a long breath. "How the hells are we going to break into Hightower, much less free everyone inside? You've been there, Nico. I've only heard rumors of the place, but it doesn't sound very penetrable."

I strode to the hearth, where the fire inside was dying, matching the energy in the room. "Do any of you have someone you care about in Hightower?"

Each of them nodded. The darkthief's shadows curled at her feet, slipping from the darkened corner.

"If you would let them rot in that hellish place, then get the fuck out of here. I don't have time to make a fancy speech to convince you why this is the right thing. If you'd like to be a part of something bigger than yourselves, if you're tired of letting powerless men make you feel powerless, then I will gladly accept your help."

"What do you need, Nicolai?" Sabina asked.

"It's very simple." I took out a cigarillo and lit the tip. "I need a way in, a layout of the place to plot our approach, and a way to move the stone composing the prison."

"What about a portal?" Regulus glanced at Bree. "Can't darkthieves use the shadows to create..." He gestured his hands in a circle.

She frowned. "It's not that simple. Spinning, the act of creating enchanted objects, requires shadows from the void. The shadows in this realm are already attached to something."

"How do we get you the proper shadows?" I asked. Never thought that sentence would come out of my mouth.

"Well." She canted her head with a sigh. "You can either wait until Magrahel, when the veil between our world is at its thinnest, or..."

"No time for that," I said. Magrahel was weeks away. "Or what?"

"Or you steal a shadow from someone who has just passed. It's incredibly illegal and unethical. If you go that route, I will not harvest the shadows myself. You'll have to find someone else to do it."

"What if I do the killing?" I asked.

Her face twisted in concern, having spoken like I had just offered to walk her dog instead.

"Or..." Sabina interrupted. "You could just buy some off the black market."

My attention flickered to the bleeder. "What black market?"

Solomon stood then from his chair. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, sit down, old man." Sabina waved her hand in my uncle's direction. "The black market in Anghor."

"Anghor, the ruined city?" I asked, skeptical.

"The very same. It's completely abandoned besides the black market that runs every night of the third week, if you know where to look."

Anghor was the remains of a city three hours down the river from Lynchaven. Not as large as the Isle's capital city, but it had a massive bridge that connected the north and south similar to the one I had just destroyed. There was another if one followed the river north to the mountains, but it would take days to journey up and around to reach the northside of Lynchaven.

"Do you know where to look, Sabina?" I asked.

She nodded. "Of course I do. When would you like to set up a visit?"

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow works."

"Tomorrow?" My uncle didn't hide his distaste for the idea by the way he shrieked the words. "You can't be serious, Nicolai!"

"I won't waste any more time." I pushed away from the hearth, pointing at him with the burning cigarillo. "I already squandered enough trying to get a fucking meeting with the OIC like you requested. This could have been done weeks ago."

He refrained from speaking again, though the glare he sent me insisted this wasn't over.

I ignored him and looked back at the other descendants. "I'll get your shadows, Bree, if you're sure you can make a portal."

"I can make a little portal," she said with a shrug. "How you'll get it into Hightower is a different story. There are two ends of a portal, an entrance and an exit. One will have to be placed in the prison before you can use the other to enter."

"I think I could be of some assistance," Regulus said. "It shouldn't be difficult to steal a watchman's face and sneak inside. I can plant the portal and activate it on my side. Nico and I are well experienced in shadow travel." He winked.

"That tentatively solves one problem." Sabina looked at Finn. "What can you do, boy?"

He sighed, lifting his cap from his head to pass a hand over his hair. "I suppose when we get inside, I could... interrogate a guard and get a map of the place from his thoughts."

"Brilliant," I said. "I'm starting to like you, Finn."

The beginning of a smile crept across his cheeks.

"And what about the walls, Nicky?" Luther had entered without me realizing. His hands clasped in front of him. "How we going to move them?"

The room fell silent. No remnant could control the walls of Hightower. The simple fact made it the perfect prison for people like us.

A nearby clock ticked away seconds before I spoke again. "I'll need more time to come up with something, but I'm looking into it. I'll contact the rest of you when I have more."

Gavriel said something else that bothered me... the Remni and their descendants weren't the only ones who received powers beyond this world. His voice had replayed on a loop in my head, like there was something more to his statement, the answer laced between his words.

What did the watchmen have that granted them power over the stone? It was a question that plagued my thoughts since the day I first saw them manipulate the walls.

"I'll send you a man to show you to Archie. He's my connection in Anghor. He'll make sure you're taken care of," Sabina said.

"Thank you, Madame. May I walk you out?" I offered my arm. The bleeder had a look in her eye that felt like she had something more to say. She smiled and bid the rest of the group farewell.

Sabina was quiet until we reached her carriage, but she stopped a short distance from her guards. "I have something for you." Her hand dove into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of glossy paper. A picture. "I would have given it to you at the funeral when I saw you last, but given the situation when it was taken, I thought it poor taste."

Unfolding the picture, my breath lost its way from my chest. A photo taken of Milla when she was in the Pit. Someone in the crowd had taken it, possibly for the newspaper. She was staring at that demon creature. Her face was flat to hide the fear I'd felt trembling her body that day. In her hand was a dagger, thrust out in front of her like she held a sword instead.

Beautiful. Breathtaking. Seeing the details of her face and her body made me forget how to breathe.

It occurred to me only after I lost her, I didn't have a single picture of her. Nothing but my memory to recall her face and my dreams to haunt me.

"Thank you," I said to the bleeder, though my voice was thick and clung to my throat.

Sabina smiled. "If anyone can bring her home, Nicolai, it'll be you."

I steeled my face before it betrayed my surprise. "What are you talking about?"

Her crimson gaze narrowed. "Don't fuck with me, Attano. Camilla is alive, and she's in Hightower. That's the only reason you'd go through this amount of shit to get her back. You crawled to the OIC for fuck's sake."

She threw the hood of her coat over her long, silver hair and started toward her carriage. "Good luck tonight, and tell Archie I said hello."