“Rosalia will let you borrow her pendant for the meeting,” Beck says. From the look on Rosalia’s face, I’m guessing she didn’t agree to this beforehand, but she doesn’t argue.
“It still seems risky,” I say stubbornly. “They might guess that someone gave me the pendant.”
“It’s definitely risky,” Beck says. He gives me a serious look. “This is very dangerous, Alli. We’re not going to pretend it isn’t.”
Rosalia nods in agreement. “It will be very, very bad if you get caught. Do you understand?”
I gulp. When two thieves tell you something’s dangerous, that’s when you know you’re probably going to die. These Shadow people . . . they’re not just thieves, and they’re not just killers. They’re thieves who are successfully killing other thieves.
But if Ronan really is in danger, then the risk is worth it.
Besides, the last thing I’m going to do is admit to Beck and Rosalia that I’m scared. “Oh, please. I laugh in the face of danger.”
“Yes, that’s what concerns me,” Rosalia mutters.
I roll my eyes at her. “Okay, I get it. Getting caught is bad. So how do we make sure we don’t get caught? I mean, for one thing, you’ve already told me that both Mead and Peakes are Shadows. And both of them know who I am. They’ll know I didn’t pass my trial, won’t they?”
Beck nods. “That’s true. And it’s definitely a risk. But we’re counting on the fact that neither of them is likely to expose you.”
“And why is that?”
“My brother,” Rosalia says, “may have gotten in over his head with the Shadows, but I don’t think he’d intentionally endanger you.”
I’m not so sure about that. I wouldn’t have thought Peakes was Shadow Guild material either, but clearly none of us know him as well as we thought we did. Before I can argue, Beck jumps in. “Both Peakes and Mead think of you as a friend. Or as a friend of mine, at the very least.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen how Mead treats his friends,” I say.
Beck frowns. “What do you mean?”
Oh. Right. I never told him about the time Mead almost got me blown up by a spell. It was an attempt to warn me, and he probably thought he was doing me a favor. But there had to have been easier, less-likely-to-kill-me ways to warn me.
I have more pressing concerns than recounting that story at the moment, so I ignore Beck’s question and ask one of my own. “When exactly is this meeting?”
Rosalia grimaces. “Tomorrow evening.”
“And you’re sure they won’t suspect me?”
“As we told you before,” Rosalia says, “they don’t know you. They don’t have any reason to distrust you.”
“They don’t have any reason to trust me either.”
“True,” Beck says. “But it seems like they’re getting a bit reckless. Not only by displaying bodies in the dining hall, but also by trying to recruit people like me. Anyone who asked around would’ve figured out I’m loyal to the king, but they seem to be desperate enough to give it a shot anyway. You’ve got an even better chance of fooling them than me. You have a clean slate, and they have no reason to question you. They might be just desperate or reckless enough to accept you.”
“Might be,” I say. “There seems to be a lot of guessing in this plan of yours, Beck.”
“Like I said, it’s dangerous. You know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there were a better alternative. But something has to be done. Someone has to stop them.”
“And you think that someone should be us.”
“I think that someone has to be us.”
I’m not sure I agree, and I’m very sure that I don’t care as much as they do about what happens in the Guild. If the Guild tears itself apart fighting over leadership, that’s not my problem. I should just walk away from all of this and let the thieves sort it out.
Except that they might kill Ronan, and I can’t just sit back and do nothing if he’s really in danger. I don’t care if the Shadows target other Guild members, but I can’t let them win as long as my brother’s name is number two on their hit list.
Besides, walking away and letting people fend for themselves is exactly what Beck did at the end of our trial. What the Guild trains people to do. What I swore I wouldn’t do. New Alli isn’t supposed to be selfish.
I sigh. “Okay. Let’s say for just a moment that I agree to this ridiculous plan of yours. What exactly do I have to do? I go to this meeting with you, pledge myself to the Shadows or whatever . . . and then what?”
“You’ll need to play along with whatever they tell you to do,” Rosalia says. “They’ll likely test you at first, give you some simple tasks. Maybe ask you to recruit other members. You’ll need to complete these tasks without protest, or at least make it seem as though you’ve completed them. You’ll look for the coin, if you can. In the meantime, you’ll be gathering information. Try to learn the names of everyone you meet. Find out what they’re doing and what they’re planning. Earn their trust, and then learn their secrets.”
“Right,” I say, “I’m sure that will be super simple. So after I’ve gathered all of these secrets, what do I do next?”
“Nothing,” Rosalia says. “Beck will take that information to the king, and I’ll take it to my own Guild connections to help bring the Shadow Guild down.”
By “bring the Shadow Guild down,” does she mean kill them? I’m not sure I want to know the answer, so I don’t ask. “In other words, you want me to be your spy. And steal the coin back. And that’s it.”
“Right,” Beck says. “It’s simple enough.”
It isn’t, actually. It isn’t simple at all. But they’re not asking me to steal anything other than the coin. They’re not asking me to hurt anyone. And although I swore I’d never be a thief again, I didn’t technically say anything about pretending to be a thief in order to take down bad thieves and save my brother. . . .
But thinking about Ronan makes my gut twist with guilt. I could get arrested or killed doing this, and I can’t even tell him why I’m doing it. With every decision I make, it’s like I’m getting further and further away from him, even when all I’m trying to do is get closer. But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him, but this is so much bigger than me. When I swore off thieving, I also swore off being selfish—doing things solely for my own personal gain. And isn’t this the opposite of that? Isn’t protecting Ronan and helping Beck (and, unfortunately, also helping Rosalia) the opposite of being selfish?
Ronan might not see it that way. But maybe Ronan never has to find out.
“All right,” I say, “teach me how to be your spy.” I push off the pew and leap to my feet. But I leap a little too energetically, and I stumble over a few spilled coins on the floor. My feet slide out from under me, my arms flailing for balance and accidentally whacking Beck. I hit the ground in a poof of dust.
Rosalia looks down at me, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “We have a lot of work to do.”
I scowl. “Who made you the boss of everyone?”
“Someone has to be. And neither of you are qualified.”
“Excuse you,” Beck says, pretending to be offended. He rubs his jaw where my flailing arm hit him. “I’m the one the king chose to do this, you know.”
“And you’d be a total failure without us,” I say.
“Would not!”
“Would so,” Rosalia and I say at the same time.
I glare at her. “Stop stealing my lines!”
“What makes it your line?”
“I’m the clever one here. Clearly I thought of it first.”
Rosalia closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, pretending to be in pain. “Do something with her,” she says to Beck.
“Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“He has,” I say. “Too bad he’s just no match for my stunning wit.”
“ ‘Wit’ isn’t the word for it,” Rosalia says, but I think she’s trying to hide a smile.
For a second, it’s like I’m in the Guild all over again, laughing and joking with Beck and his friends. It was always so easy, fitting in with them. Feeling like one of them.
It’s not like Ronan hasn’t tried to get along with me, and it’s not like I don’t want to live with him. But there’s always this pressure to be New Alli, to not let him down. I don’t have to care about that with Beck and Rosalia. I don’t have to constantly hold my temper or watch my mouth. I can let Old Alli run free.
Unfortunately, my good mood doesn’t last long. Rosalia seems determined to annoy me.
“It’s filthy in here,” she says, striding around the chapel like she owns the place and surveying it with a scornful expression.
“How dare an abandoned chapel in the woods not be up to your standards,” I mutter.
She ignores me and quickly takes control of this operation. Before Beck or I can form a single word of protest, she’s cleaned and rearranged half the chapel.
“It makes the most sense to sleep in the loft,” she explains, dragging Beck’s blankets up the ladder. “You’ll have a better vantage point if anyone enters. You’ll see them before they see you. Besides, it’s a little warmer.”
“But if someone comes in, he’ll be trapped up there,” I say. “They’ll be between him and the door.”
She waves my comment away. “That will happen regardless, since there’s only one exit. But from up here, he’ll have the advantage. He could even throw a knife at someone from above.”
While I have no doubt that Rosalia is excellent at throwing knives, I’ve never seen Beck exhibit this skill. But before I can ask, Rosalia has already climbed back down and moved on to her next point of contention. “You cannot eat off these pews. They’re filthy.”
“I haven’t—” Beck starts to object, but she’s already brandishing a cleaning cloth—one that I brought, I might add—and attacking the nearest pew with a rather terrifying efficiency.
“Are you just going to sit back and let her do all this?” I mutter to Beck.
He grins, watching her work. “I’m thinking about it, yeah.”
As if she heard him, Rosalia’s head snaps up, and she points at us. “You two. Make yourselves useful. Clean out that fireplace and make plenty of space in front of it.”
“Wait,” I say, “shouldn’t he sleep closer to the fire?”
Rosalia shakes her head. “Only if necessary. There’s a lot of dry wood in here. It might not be safe to keep the fire burning at night. It could spread while he’s asleep.”
“What’s he going to burn?” I ask. “Wood from the forest?”
“He could,” Rosalia says, bustling past me and attacking a cobweb with her cloth, “but that should be a last resort. He’ll end up freezing to death collecting firewood. But I see plenty of wood to burn in here, don’t you?” She gestures toward a particularly crumbled pew that’s sagging in the middle where the boards have split.
I cast a glance at Beck, eyebrows raised. I wouldn’t exactly call myself devout, but defacing the chapel seems like asking for trouble. And Harona is a saint I really don’t want to be offending right now. “These are too big,” I point out. “They’ll never fit inside that fireplace. Unless you’ve got an ax lying around somewhere?” Now that I think about it, I wouldn’t put it past Rosalia to be hiding an ax. I’m sure she’d be proficient with it.
“We’ll figure out the wood later,” Beck says. “Let’s see if the fireplace is even usable first.”
“Won’t someone see the smoke from the chimney?”
“It’s a risk,” Rosalia says. “But given how isolated this spot is, it’s a small one. Just make sure to use only dry wood to reduce smoke, Beck.”
I expect the fireplace to be disgusting, but it turns out to not be so awful. There’s a layer of dust and grime and ash in there, but once we sweep it all out, it doesn’t look half bad. There don’t seem to be any leaks over here, so there’s no moisture or mold to worry about.
“I think this thing might actually work,” Beck says, and I nod in agreement.
We stand up, surveying the results of our labor. “Rosalia, what do you think?” Beck asks.
She turns around, takes one glance at us, and bursts out laughing.
Beck and I look at each other. Dirt is streaked across the left side of his face, his clothes are now darkened with ash, and his hands are stained with soot. I look down at myself, only to find that I’m just as dirty. “Oh great,” I say.
Beck starts laughing too, which only makes Rosalia laugh harder. She puts one hand to her mouth to stifle it, but her laughs just come out as squeaks. It’s possibly the most undignified thing I’ve ever seen her do.
“It’s not funny,” I say, glaring at both of them. “I have to go home like this, you know.”
That sobers Beck up instantly. “Sorry. I forgot. Will your brother be mad?”
Of course he forgot. He doesn’t really understand that I have this whole other life now. Not because he doesn’t care about me or anything, but because a normal life is such a foreign concept to him that he can’t really imagine it. It’s like trying to explain snow to someone who lives in a desert.
I sigh. “I guess it doesn’t matter at this point.”
Rosalia has stopped laughing too, and she’s giving me a look that’s almost curious. But whatever she wants to know, she doesn’t ask.
I glance up at the sunlight receding through the windows. “I probably should be going,” I say reluctantly. I didn’t meet Ronan on his way home from work, and he’s probably wondering where I am. Plus, I don’t want to wander through the woods in the dark.
“We’re almost finished here anyway,” Rosalia says. “We’ll need to gather some wood and get a fire going. It’s supposed to keep snowing tonight, and besides, we need to keep those bottles of water by the fire so they don’t freeze. But otherwise we should be good to go for now.”
I nod. “Will you be staying here too?” I ask her.
“I’m not ready to give up the guildhall just yet,” she says, looking grim. “The Shadows consider me an enemy, and they’ll come after me eventually. But until then, I need to make arrangements and ensure that my family is safe.”
I’d nearly forgotten about that. But Rosalia and her brother aren’t the only Peakes family members. I don’t even know how many of them there are.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll meet you guys here tomorrow evening, then?”
“Come around six,” Beck says. “The meeting is at seven, and we’ll need time to discuss the plan and then walk across the city and find the meeting place.”
That will be difficult. We usually eat dinner then. I’ll have to figure something out. “Okay,” I say. “See you then.”
Rosalia nods in acknowledgment, which is as much of a good-bye as I’m going to get from her. But Beck grins at me. “Later, Allicat.”
I smile back, but mine is grim. Tomorrow we infiltrate the Shadows.
Chapter Eleven
The snow is falling harder by the time I leave the chapel, and out on the streets my feet slip and slide over the damp pavement. My coat doesn’t have a hood, so I keep my head bowed and move as quickly as possible.
Outside the apartment building, I hesitate. I don’t have a key. But when I try the handle of the outer door, it’s unlocked. After climbing the stairs and making my way to Ronan’s apartment, I find the door cracked slightly open.
He’s waiting for me.
That’s the first sign that I’m in trouble.
Ronan sits on the sofa, a heavy law book in his lap. More books surround him, piled in the armchair and on the table and on the floor. I walk in, and he looks up.
The fireplace crackles loudly. Neither of us speaks.
Ronan opens his mouth, but my appearance seems to have startled whatever he was going to say right out of him. Beneath the layer of recently fallen snow, I’m still covered in ash. “Have you been climbing up a chimney?” he blurts.
I should come
up with an explanation for the dirt, but I’m too tired from everything that’s happened today to think one up. I close my eyes. “Just get it over with.”
“Excuse me?” He sounds more confused than angry.
“The lecture. I know you’re mad at me because I’m late and didn’t meet you at the office. So just start lecturing and let’s get this over with.”
Silence.
I crack open one eye. Ronan has a strange look on his face. It isn’t anger, like I was expecting. It’s . . . sadness?
“I was really worried, Alli,” he says quietly.
“Oh.”
Ronan closes the book in his lap, holding the spine in his left hand. “I had no idea where you were or if you were okay.”
“I—I didn’t think it would be a big deal. It’s not like it’s a rule that I have to meet you there every day.”
“But you didn’t tell me that you wouldn’t. I waited outside the office for an hour.”
I exhale. A couple of half-melted snowflakes fall from my shoulders to the floor.
Ronan rubs the bridge of his nose with his right hand, looking exhausted. Finally, he looks up at me. “What were you thinking, Alli? What were you doing? Where were you today?”
I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Nothing. Nowhere.”
Ronan sighs. “Wrong answer. Try again.”
“I . . . wandered around,” I say. “I went to the marketplace. I went in some shops. I walked through a park. You know, around.”
Ronan drops the book in his hand onto the stack on the floor in front of him. The thud makes me jump. “You want to tell me what really happened?”
“I just did.”
“Alli.” It’s the sternest his voice has ever sounded. And the most exasperated. “You still haven’t told me why you’ve been crawling around the inside of a fireplace.”
It’s abundantly clear why my brother is studying to be a lawyer. He’s really good at this whole interrogation thing. “I was . . .” I falter, looking for an explanation he will believe that won’t give away the truth. I can’t let him know about Beck, but maybe a partial truth would work. “I was meeting someone,” I blurt.
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