Chapter Fifty-One

The last thing she wanted was to trek fifty blocks north in the cold. But without the Dreadlords to drive her or cash on hand to take a cab, she had no other choice. She braved the 14th Street subway entrance, paying off a particularly irritable troll, to take the 1 uptown. She pickpocketed her way through the platform to rejuvenate her magic, and by the time she exited onto the Upper West Side, she was starting to feel better. The magic burn was dissipating.

Her previous disdain for the neighborhood was completely gone. Even a few weeks ago, she would have sneered at the clean, well-lit streets, and now, this felt... right.

She breathed a sigh of relief as Graves's brownstone came into view. There was so much more inside those four walls than she had ever dreamed. Though it felt like coming home, her steps were tentative as she approached the front door and its ostentatious dragon knocker, knowing the firedrake that lived within. She smiled at the thought. But the look vanished when she lifted it and knocked.

She could easily just walk across the threshold. His magic couldn't keep her out. But she felt more a guest now than the last time she had knocked on this door. She didn't know if she was welcome.

The moment lingered. She lifted the knocker again and banged on the door. A moment passed, and then the door heaved slowly inward.

Graves appeared before her. He was dressed in a rumpled dress shirt and slacks. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone at the top, and the sleeves were rolled up nearly to his elbows, revealing his holly tattoos. A half-empty bottle hung from his hand. His hair fell over his forehead, the streetlight catching on the midnight-blue strands. His eyes, those dark storm clouds, took her in in one long, lingering look. He looked like he'd had a worse few days than she had, and that was saying something.

"Kierse?" he asked in what could only be described as shock.

She had never heard the tone from him before. Never heard him even use her name on his tongue. She had always been Miss McKenna or Wren. It was unnerving.

He looked at her for a moment like she was a complex math equation. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

"I don't believe you have ever asked permission." He recovered his bravado long enough to sweep his arm out and allow her inside. He dropped the bottle of bourbon on a console table as he toed the door closed behind her.

She rubbed her hands together and then blew on them. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"I'm alone."

They stood together on the cold threshold. No words crossed between them, just silence. Graves was rattled by her appearance. As if the string that ran between them was tenuous and at any point could snap.

She needed to get the words out, but somehow seeing him like this made it all the worse. They both had their backs to the wall. Neither of them had fully put their faith in the other. Not even as everything began to change over the weeks together. And now she had to find a place within herself to let go. Something she never did with anyone.

Before she could begin, he asked stiffly, "Are you here for a reason?"

"I came back to... apologize," she forced out.

He arched an eyebrow. "Apologize for what, exactly?"

"For what happened with Nate." She stared down at her hands. "Can we sit to discuss this, please? I have a lot to tell you."

His Adam's apple bobbed once before he nodded. They stepped into the sitting room, and Kierse couldn't bite back the smile. The little green book sat on the side table. Her blankets were folded neatly next to her favorite seat. No sign of Anne, but she came when she pleased.

Graves went immediately to the dead fire. It made the room feel so much colder and less welcoming. He got it going again in silence as she settled on the couch. Soon the warmth from the fire radiated throughout the room, and the feeling slowly returned to her hands.

She waited until Graves settled into the chair across from her before continuing.

"I don't know how else to explain it," she said, dropping her gaze and trying to find the courage to open up to him. "My love for exits isn't manufactured. My father abandoned me young, and I lived on the streets. It was a terrible situation," she said with a shudder. "I don't even like to think about those years."

Graves nodded in understanding. He, too, had been abandoned. He knew the weight of that.

"So, then I was picked up by my mentor, Jason." She took a deep breath. Oh, how she hated saying his name out loud. "I was raised in his thieving guild—a prodigy," she added with disdain. "There is nothing positive that I can say about him except that he kept me alive. Barely."

She wanted to tell him more, wanted to say all the ways in which Jason had cobbled her. But the pain that she endured at his hands still burned like fire in her veins.

"The best lesson he ever taught me was how to escape. Even if it was to escape him." She gulped, forcing herself to continue. "So, when I moved in here with you, I saw a cage."

Graves frowned. "That wasn't my intention."

"Wasn't it?" she asked. "I was free to come and go but not free to live my life."

He clenched his jaw but said nothing.

"So, you can't blame me for reeling at the cage and immediately putting into place ways to save myself when this inevitably went south." She glanced down at her shaking hands, hating the sound of the words. "I was prepared to die on this mission, but my brain couldn't stop me from putting contingencies in place. But then... things changed."

Graves straightened at those words. "How did they change?"

"You don't know?"

She saw that he really didn't. He had no clue how she felt. They'd both been so closed off, so unable to be exactly who they were. They'd been hurt in their previous lives, and now even admitting to feelings of caring felt interminable.

"At first the job was just a job. But you went from being a monster to a stranger to a friend and then... more. Someone I could almost... trust," she volunteered. She pushed forward. "I'm not just doing this job for the money or to help my friends. I'm doing this to help Torra get out of that place. I'm doing it to keep the spear out of King Louis's hands. I'm doing it for you."

"I thought you were gone."

Kierse sighed. "I didn't mean for it to all go down the way it did, but you had to know things were different. You had to know I was coming back."

"You were gone for three days," Graves said. "I admit that I blew up on you, but I thought you made your choice."

"I know," she said tenderly. "But I came back." Her heart was in her throat. She was baring herself to him, and she didn't know if it was going to be enough. If she had shattered the modicum of trust they'd gained over the last couple of weeks, maybe she'd never get it back.

Finally, Graves asked solemnly, "This wasn't your exit?"

"No," she said fiercely. "No, this wasn't my exit at all." He seemed startled at her vehemence. "I only left because of Ethan."

"And is he okay?" Graves asked carefully.

"Yes. It wasn't the kind of overdose that my friends originally thought. Someone slipped him and three of Nate's wolves wish powder. I absorbed the magic out of Ethan, but the wolves... They died."

Graves came swiftly to his feet. "And no one came to get me? I have the antidote. I could have helped to heal them."

"We didn't know that's what it was when Nate came to get me. We just thought it was drugs." Tears came to her eyes again. "I don't know, Graves. It all happened so fast. By the time I realized it was magic, I did what I could."

His eyes rounded in shock. "Their deaths are not your fault."

"They're because of me. I wasn't strong enough. I don't know enough about my powers."

"They're my fault," he insisted.

"Blame doesn't matter. It doesn't bring them back." She swiped angrily at her eyes. "I need to be stronger. I need to learn to use my magic so I don't end up in another situation like this." She looked up at him sadly. "But that's why I was gone these last three days. That's why I didn't come back. I woke up and came straight here... after pickpocketing a few unsuspecting strangers."

"I'm glad you're back," he said, releasing a harsh breath. "I'm glad you saved Ethan. I'm glad you figured out your magic and how to rejuvenate it."

She nodded. "Almost good as new. It was like my powers were waiting for the moment when I really needed them. I was able to see and smell the magic. I understand what you mean by intent now. I understand everything. I even warded Five Points to keep wish powder out of the establishment."

"As I knew you would with practice. Unfortunately, sometimes magic only awakens during a trial," he said.

"At least it did awaken," she said. "So, you see, now we have all the pieces to finish the job tomorrow. I want to do this. No, I need to do this." She swallowed hard, letting him see her vulnerability and earnestness. "I'll go in either way, but we're better off together. You know that we are."

Life flickered back into Graves's eyes at those words. She could see a new plan lighting there.

"We are better together." And the words he uttered were like music to her ears. Soft and seductive. He came to his feet. "A new bargain?"

"We don't need a bargain to seal this anymore. We do this together. Get in, get the spear, kill King Louis, and get us all out of there."

He nodded. "Done."