Keep Your Wits

Being one of the world’s foremost diplomats came with its share of prestige, and Isla liked being acknowledged for her efforts. But there was a teensy downside—hardly worth mentioning—where her personal life was concerned. Because people naturally expected her to be flawlessly, endlessly above it all.

Criticism? Blame? Misrepresentation? Speculation? She had to pretend they couldn’t touch her. And even when people were beastly and made personal jibes, she had to be the better person. Because her behavior reflected upon everything she cared about—her parents, other reavers, the In-between, the clans, and most especially, upon Hisoka-sensei.

But she’d benefited from Amaranthine guidance. Members of the clans held to a necessarily long view, and they’d helped Isla to cultivate a similar perspective. Oh, but there were times. Moments when she was sorely tempted to lash out or make a point or set the record straight. Or to tell off meddling star-crossers who shouldn’t even have her contact information … yet somehow managed to get in a triumphant little I told you so.

“Since when is Twosies an oracle?” she muttered.

Lapis hummed in a distracted way. But he also produced a crystal, a subtle reminder that they couldn’t very well discuss one of Stately House’s new—and unregistered—crossers in front of their driver.

She let her palm rest lightly over the stone, ensuring her next words were private. “It’s nothing. One of the children at Stately House has a new name. Boniface mentioned it in passing.”

Lapis slid his fingers between hers, though he kept a disinterested gaze on the view out the car window. “I met young Twosies. Part star. It would explain a penchant for prophecy.”

“Yes, well. Just because he has impish ancestry doesn’t mean he knows anything about anything.”

That earned her a puzzled glance.

“It’s nothing. Really. Sorry.” She tried to pull herself together. According to the sign they’d just inched past, the airport was at the next exit.

“Heritage holds sway over all of us. For instance, are you a battler or a ward?”

“Neither,” she snapped. But that wasn’t the whole truth. “Both.”

Lapis rolled his wrist in a casual gesture the clans liked to use when someone else made their point for them.

Fine. Whatever. In any event, she couldn’t take out her frustration on Boniface, whose text was kindly meant. While she was trying to phrase an answer that didn’t have claws to it, an earlier message caught her eye, and she withdrew her hand from Lapis’s. Because Rhomiko’s name was in the preview. With a sense of trepidation, she opened the text from Tsumiko.

Isla, please listen. Rhomiko is with me,

and they asked me to reach out to you.

Here is their message:

“Hisoka will never call you to his side.”

Does this mean anything to you?

She stared at this fresh series of texts in disbelief. Was the whole world against her? Yes, fine. Maybe she’d been wrong about Sensei. Maybe she’d wasted years yearning for someone who was destined for another. But did they have to rub her nose in it?

As the car glided to a stop beside the terminal, Isla switched her phone to airplane mode and powered off. She was in no mood for this nonsense. Not after having spent a perfectly lovely night with Lapis. Not when she was so ready to look forward. Not back.

Then car doors popped open, and her luggage landed on the curb.

Lapis left the vehicle and turned back to offer a gentlemanly hand.

She managed a wan smile.

His gaze lingered on her lips, and his quirked. Oh. Of course. His ring was there, an oblique invitation. Or perhaps a dare. Because it was nice—for once—to be the one pursued.

Lapis angled his head, and she fell in step beside him, lengthening her stride, only to check it when he swerved to circle a display of books for sale. Chastity Landis’s most recent release was among the offerings.

“Do we really have time for this?” she whispered, glancing around. “Anyone might see.”

“Nobody will notice. They never do if I don’t want them to.”

It was one of their little traditions. Well, she’d come up with the scheme. Lapis was the one who mostly carried it out. Essentially, if he found one of their books in any kind of shop, he’d add a signature of sorts. Isla could, too, but it was harder for her to be sneaky about it. They each carried an inked seal for the purpose—slim, capped rods, like the seals used for official signatures in many Asian countries. Only theirs didn’t involve red ink or kanji. Whenever Chastity Landis left her mark, it was a tiny blue castle, twin banners flying, floating up among the clouds.

Because without Lapis, Isla’s authorial hopes would have never been more than castles in the air. And Lapis had once remarked that their books let his imagination soar, so that he felt as though he’d regained some small part of the sky.

Isla had always been enormously pleased that Lapis wasn’t just humoring her, that he was proud of the stories they’d written together. Enough to want to further adorn them. To give the readers who discovered them an additional reason to treasure them.

So far, nobody had connected Lapis’s ports of call to the appearance of tiny castles in the vicinity. And so far, nobody had successfully duplicated the metallic shimmer of the ink he used, which made authentication possible. Fans referred to it as Chastity Blue.

While Lapis stealth-stamped, Isla’s mind raced through practical matters—customs and security and gate assignments. Would Lapis escort her all the way to her flight?

And then she caught sight of someone who shouldn’t be there.

He spotted her and strolled her way, and she fumbled for her phone, turning it back on, waiting for wifi to reconnect.

Tsumiko’s next texts popped up.

I do think this is important.

Stars, you know.

They’re good at portent.

Isla quickly tapped in a question.

Is Sensei awake?

He is. Yes.

He’s no longer locked away?

No. He’s back.

I know you were worried.

We all have been.

So her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Sensei really was back. And he’d come for her. Her fickle heart soared. Well, why wouldn’t she be happy to see him. Here was proof that he did care. Pocketing her phone, she glanced back, wanting to share her good news with Lapis.

But she couldn’t see him.

Employing camouflage, no doubt.

Hisoka had stopped across the way, looking especially fine in his gray cloak. Tsumiko was right. He was truly back—calm and smiling and here. Lifting a hand, he tapped a finger to his lips, which curved in a secretive smile, asking for silence. Because of course he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself. Then he beckoned with a subtle twitch of his fingers.

“Back in a mo,” she murmured in Lapis’s direction.

Her heels clicked terrazzo as she wove between other people, making her way to Hisoka’s side.

“And here you are,” he said warmly. “I knew we’d connect if I made my way here.”

As if he hadn’t been essentially missing for months.

As if she hadn’t been abandoned without a word and warded out.

As if he could step into his usual place without so much as an apology.

But how could she scold when he was here for her? And weren’t there more important matters than her complicated feelings? She loved him, yes. That would never change. Neither had the fact that she was one of the few people who could take him to task.

“Really, Sensei! Your schedule! Didn’t you check with Canarian? We were meant to be ….” She caught herself and checked her pockets for a warding crystal. Not all of their itinerary had been made public, and there were too many people who might overhear. “Argent stepped in, despite everything. Didn’t you know?”

“Are you disappointed that I came to collect you?”

“No! Never that, but …!” She shook her head and weakly protested, “This isn’t like you. I suggested Ginkgo postpone, but Tsumiko said …. wait. Tsumiko was just saying …?”

Isla retrieved her phone, but Hisoka plucked it from her hand.

What a childish thing to do.

She responded in kind, practically pouting. “I’ve been waiting for you,”

“Then your patience has been rewarded.” He indicated the length of the sprawling airport lobby. “Shall we?”

“Of course. I’m so sorry. Your suddenly being here has completely thrown me off. I was … wait a moment, Sensei. My bag!”

“You won’t need it.”

“But my notes!”

“As if you didn’t already have every little thing memorized backward and forward.”

Was that meant to be a compliment? It hadn’t felt like one. “I have personal notes. For a project I’ve been working on.”

“Where are your priorities, Miss Ward?”

In books, it was always so lovely when the hero swept in and took care of everything, but Isla was beginning to be annoyed. “I have flight reservations. I can’t be late.”

“You won’t be late. And you must admit, my way is faster.”

“That would break five treaties!” she hissed in shock.

He steered her toward a set of escalators. His grip was quite firm.

“Give me my phone. I need to tell Lapis …!”

“I’d like all of your attention just now, that’s a girl.” He leaned close with a gleam in his eye that promised mischief.

She didn’t like his tone. His calling her girl …? So Isla demanded, “What is this?”

“What do you want it to be?” he countered, evasive as ever.

Somewhere behind her, a long way off, a shout rose. It was a compelling voice, urgent and familiar and thundering with sway.

“Wait. Did you hear …?” But when she tried to turn, Hisoka pulled her into his arms, twirling her like a dance partner. She was clamped to his side with so much force, she was certain there would be bruises. “Sensei, that hurts.”

“Look at me,” he urged. “Isn’t this want you wanted?”

Maybe it was. But something was very wrong, and she was having trouble focusing. So she did the only sensible thing. She closed her eyes. Because illusions relied heavily on sight. And because she could tell now that her personal wards were jangling almost as urgently as the array of remnant-studded pins in her hair.

Wind suddenly sliced across her skin, icy cold.

She was chilled through, as if she’d been outside for a while now.

Then her stomach dropped, and they were airborne.

“You can stop trying to trigger your personal wards.” It was a feminine voice. Hisoka’s smile twisted into something mean, then the illusion dropped. “We disarmed them at the beginning, since we are not fools.”

“Nona Hightip,” Isla greeted coolly.

“Always so eager to have the right answer.”

Her sister appeared, as did the tangle of sigilcraft they’d woven while Isla had been lost in a fox dream. Senna Hightip placed a finger against Isla’s forehead and ordered, “Sleep.”

The world immediately dimmed.

Though her mouth had gone very dry, Isla did the only two things she could. She swallowed the ring that had been tucked in her cheek. And she wished that stars didn’t make so much more sense in hindsight.