City of Spells

by Alexandra Christo

  Tavia was great at holding grudges, and ever since the battle on the Kingpin’s island, she’d been clutching on to this one tighter than ever. Yes, Saxony had sent messenger bats that nearly got them killed. And, yes, she had even planned on killing Wesley way back when, but that was before he saved her life and before she knew her sister was Ashwood’s puppet.

  It wasn’t Saxony’s fault that Zekia had taken him.

  Despite what Tavia believed, Saxony didn’t want Wesley in Ashwood’s clutches any more than she did. He was dangerous at the best of times, let alone when he was in the Kingpin’s pocket.

  Besides, she owed him a life debt.

  “You will have to talk to Tavia eventually,” Karam said. “Preferably before you are on the battlefield together.”

  Saxony slumped down onto a nearby log, kicking at the dirt. “It’s not like I haven’t tried,” she said. “But I’ve developed a magical new ability to walk into a room and somehow make Tavia walk straight out of it.”

  Karam sat beside her and sighed in that way she always did when she thought Saxony was feeling sorry for herself. “Yes,” Karam said. “She is so stubborn. It is strange how you were ever friends with someone who could hold such a grudge.”

  She looked at Saxony with her eyebrows raised.

  “Subtle,” Saxony said. “I get it. We both need to sort out our issues, but can’t I just indulge in my misery for a while? You could comfort me. I’ll take anything you can give.”

  She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Karam gave her a stern look, which only made Saxony smile more.

  It felt like these days the only comfort Saxony had was Karam. Their relationship was unyielding, a part of herself that she knew would never waver or change, even in the face of war. Everything else seemed to have shifted irreparably, from Saxony’s leadership to Tavia’s friendship to the Uncharted Forest itself.

  Saxony had grown up among these trees, and yet they seemed the strangest of all to her now. It was still beautiful and Saxony still felt a certain peace when she looked into the skies and saw the leaves curling into the clouds, shielding them just enough to let the warm orange sun through but to act as a barrier to most of the rain.

  Yet it felt like a place from her past rather than her future.

  She remembered running from one tree to another as a child, skipping across their branches like she was flying, the moss under her feet and the sky in her large curls, looking down on the boat-filled waterways that glistened like jewels. She would close her eyes and listen to the song of the forest, the music of its branches and how the tune changed with her mood.

  Now all she could think about was Creije, falling victim to Ashwood.

  That was the city she had fallen in love in.

  The city she’d met her best friend in.

  The city in which they’d started this quest.

  And they were primed to lose it.

  “You’re my constant,” Saxony said.

  She pressed her forehead to Karam’s, placing her hand to feel the steady drumbeat of her warrior’s heart.

  “Coming back here hasn’t felt much like home at all these past few days, except for when I’m with you. With you everything makes sense.”

  “Yes,” Karam said. Her breath tickled Saxony’s lips. “I am really quite amazing.”

  Saxony scoffed, but she didn’t argue. She simply closed her eyes and inhaled the sound of Karam’s half laugh, memorizing the melody of it before she finally pressed her lips to hers and let the rest of the world fall away.

  4

  TAVIA

  The forest was like a fancy cell. If cells had birds that woke you up before sunrise.

  Not that Tavia hated it. The Uncharted Forest was beautiful, but she couldn’t get comfortable. Tavia was used to shadowed streets and a cautious moon, with bright-eyed tourists and endless possibilities of magic and mayhem.

  There was none of that here.

  Not to mention that they had been in the Rishiyat camp for over a week and the only real progress made in their war against Dante Ashwood, Kingpin of all that was unholy and bastard-like, was that they hadn’t gotten themselves killed.

  Yet.

  The forest was pretty, but it didn’t seem to be helping them. As it was, their army had a grand total of eighty Crafters, including the sixty they had rescued from the Kingpin’s island. Some followed Saxony’s amja, some followed Asees, but most of them just looked like they wanted to go home. Wherever home was.

  They weren’t in good shape, even with the forty buskers Tavia had wrangled into staying on their side without Wesley to lead them. And if Wesley were here, then he’d probably tell her—when. When Wesley got here—he’d tell her what a piss-poor job she was doing at managing everything while he was away.

  “You don’t have the authority for this, busker.”

  Casim, underboss of Rishiya, stared down at Tavia like she was a fly he quite fancied swatting. A specter of his face, tired but youthful, hovered over the open fire like a cloud. His mouth was stern, eyes faded and just as wicked as Tavia had always pictured them.

  It had taken her days to secure this meeting, and robbing Casim’s buskers—arrogant little gits like Nolan included—hadn’t exactly helped to put her in the underboss’s good graces. Still, it had gotten his attention, and after a few delg bats and a lot of wishful thinking, Casim had agreed to meet. Or, more precisely, sent her a charm that melted into the open flames and then sprouted his uppity little face from the embers.

  “I have the authority,” Tavia said. “The buskers in this rebellion follow me now.”

  “And you want me to send more buskers to your cause,” Casim said. “Risking my own neck in the process.”

  “It’s not like Ashwood is going to let you keep your neck once his power trip comes to an end. He’s preaching Crafters as the new, superior race. You think just because we use magic, we’ll be any better off than the regular folks he’s going to exterminate or enslave?” Tavia almost laughed. “We’ll either be next, or be regulated to his guard dogs, watching over the prisons and jumping when he tells us how high.”

  Casim’s entire face twitched at that.

  Like any underboss, he was not the sort of person who liked taking orders. Underbosses were charged with ruling entire cities, with the Kingpin trusting them to keep the trades going, and usually Ashwood’s only concern was how much magic they sold, or what charms they should push. Tavia could see that the thought of Ashwood breathing down his neck and imposing his every whim on Casim’s city was not his idea of a bright future.

  “You think he controls you now?” Tavia asked, pressing the nerve. “Just wait and see what happens if he wins.”

  “And you think us teaming up will save it all?”

  “I think that you can convince the other underbosses to join forces and that might just save us all.”

  “Doubtful,” Casim said. “When it comes to the Kingpin, they’re all a bunch of damn chickenshits.”

  Tavia kept her chin high, and her stare hardened. “You can convince them. There are nine underbosses in this realm and I know for a fact that each of them values what you have to say.”

  Which was a lie. Technically, Casim was part of the inner circle. Part of the four underbosses who thought themselves superior enough to dictate to the other five—Casim, Stelios, Ilaria. And Wesley. Casim was by no means the most powerful or the most respected, but, with Wesley gone, he was the best she was going to get. She doubted the others would even give her the time of day.

  Casim was the easiest link to pull from the chain.

  “What do you know of the other underbosses?” he asked. “You’re just one in a sea of replaceable buskers that Wesley took under his wing.”

  Tavia shook her head.

  He didn’t know how wrong he was.

  Wesley had kept Tavia versed on every other underboss in the realm. Just in case, he’d said to her. You never know when they’ll crawl from their shadows.

  Tavia
knew their wants and their ways. She knew their limits and their lies. She knew each and every one of the underbosses by name and she knew that all of them would turn against Dante Ashwood for a better offer. If crooks could be trusted to do one thing, then it was to not be at all trustworthy.

  “Are you saying that you’re not powerful enough to convince the others to help?” Tavia asked. “Maybe I should be talking to Ilaria or Stelios instead.”

  She would have done it in the first place, except that Casim was not only their closest ally, being underboss of the city they were hiding in, but he was also one of the most scared when it came to Wesley’s name.

  Casim’s snarl grew.

  “Watch yourself, busker. Don’t think that just because you were under Wesley’s protection before that it affords you any mercy now that the Kingpin has him.”

  Tavia wondered if someone’s teeth could break from gritting them so hard, because if so, then hers were fit to bursting. Just the mention of Wesley’s absence set her off-kilter and brought her hand to his bone gun, which was nestled in her belt loop, where she always kept it these days.

  It gave her the smallest of comforts, but it was all she had left of him.

  “Wesley is where he needs to be for the moment,” Tavia said, the bluff heavy on her lips. “And you’re a fool to threaten me. Wesley named me the best busker in all of Creije.”

  “But he’s not there with you,” Casim said, sounding uncertain. He craned his neck, searching the shadows of the room with grim reluctance, as if Wesley might just appear around the corner.

  And there it was.

  Maybe there were those who might have feared Casim.

  But Casim feared Wesley.

  And Tavia could use that.

  “Wesley isn’t here,” she said. “For now. But do you really think that the Kingpin can hold him for long, or that he’s not exactly where he wants to be? Dante Ashwood is powerful, but Wesley is Wesley, and when he gets back, he’ll come to me asking for a report on who was too scared to do what had to be done. He’ll want to know his enemies.”

  Casim’s eyes widened a fraction, but he kept his game face on for the most part, which Tavia had to give him credit for. Still, the fear was there and she had seen the slip of it. She had been the one to cause it.

  Wesley would be proud of her for that, wouldn’t he?

  “Fine,” Casim said. “I’ll send you my buskers and I’ll talk to the other underbosses about where their loyalties lie. Maybe I can convince some of them to help without getting myself killed for treason. But if I’m going to risk my life, then I want something in return.”

  Tavia didn’t like where this was going. Deals with underbosses never went well and it was always better to stick to threats instead. That’s what Wesley would have done.

  “I want Wesley himself to give me his protection,” Casim said. “I want his promise that he’ll ensure my safety and reward me for my loyalty after all is said and done.”

  Tavia felt a headache coming on.

  She couldn’t ensure Casim’s safety any more than she could ensure her own, or that of her friends. The plan had always been for Wesley to take Ashwood’s place, because he was the one who could make real change and Tavia knew that everything he’d do, even the awful stuff she’d hate, would be in the best interests of Creije and the rest of the realm. But when he came back, though he’d stand by Tavia and the others, the last priority on his list would be ensuring the safety of another underboss.

  Casim didn’t need to hear that right now though. He needed to hear that he was safe.

  “Of course you’ll have protection,” Tavia said. “By Wesley himself. It goes without saying.”

  She pictured Wesley’s face when he got back and heard about what she’d done. Whether he’d be mad, or just laugh at the idea of being a bodyguard.

  Casim smiled. “I’ll be in touch. Look out for my truce.”

  And then he disappeared, into the fire and into the wind, leaving only the stale stench of their alliance in the air.

  “What are you doing?”

  Saxony’s voice was unmistakable.

  Tavia turned to see her friend, brows knotted together, and Karam by her side, surveying the fire with a neutral look, like she was still deciding what the right reaction should be.

  “Was that who I think it was?” Saxony asked, walking into the clearing. “Did you just make some kind of a deal with an underboss?”

  Tavia didn’t like how scolding Saxony’s voice sounded, like Tavia was a kid in need of punishing for going against what the grown-ups wanted.

  “You’re making a deal with Ashwood’s henchmen now? Tavia, you can’t trust them.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Tavia said. “Creije is on the line, Ashwood is conquering districts, and I’m not going to let my home fall to ashes. We need to start thinking of a plan to get Wesley some help before it’s too late.”

  “So this is less about Creije and more about your boyfriend,” Saxony said.

  Tavia’s eyes narrowed.

  It was about all the people the alliance could save. She didn’t contact Casim just for Wesley; she did it because every night all she could picture were the innocents in her city, injected with the Loj over and over until Ashwood had sunk his claws in deep enough to leave marks that would never fade.

  She pictured her mother, whispering at shadows as the magic slowly ate away her mind.

  Can you see them now, ciolo? she always whispered. My ghosts.

  “Saxony,” Karam said, stepping in between them like she could sense a battle on the horizon. “Perhaps we should talk about this another time. You two are both—”

  “You might not like Wesley,” Tavia interrupted. “But you should know that having him as an enemy would be a mistake.”

  “I can handle Wesley,” Saxony said.

  “You’ll handle him? He’s on our side.”

  “Speaking of our side, if we’re all on the same team, then why are you going behind my back?”

  Tavia all but scoffed. “Weird how much that hurts, isn’t it?”

  Saxony’s jaw clenched and the air between them grew thick with the rising sun.

  “You both must take a breath and remember our mission,” Karam said. “We cannot tear ourselves apart when our foes are waiting to do just that.”

  Tavia looked to Karam. She wasn’t sure when the warrior had become the peacemaker, tying Tavia to her old friend in an awful, obligatory way that she still couldn’t get used to.

  “We need to come together to find a solution to this war,” Karam said. “Tavia is right in saying that Wesley is an asset and that the underboss of Rishiya can provide us with more soldiers.”

  “I know that,” Saxony said. “But we need Crafters to win this war and we can’t do it without my amja’s help. I just need time to convince her. And once I do, we can fight the Kingpin and save Zekia and—”

  “So Zekia is worth saving, but not Wesley,” Tavia said. “She can be redeemed, but anyone you don’t care about can go straight to the fire-gates?”

  Saxony’s eyes tensed and Tavia didn’t miss the flicker of hurt that crossed her friend’s face. “That isn’t what I said.”

  The wind breezed warmer on Tavia’s cheeks and she knew that the change in the air wasn’t just from the sun anymore, but from Saxony’s magic. Her Crafter powers were like a wildfire, buried skin-deep, ready to rise at any moment.

  “What you say and do are two different things,” Tavia said. “Who’s to say which side of your personality we can trust today?”

  Saxony didn’t say anything in response, and whether that was because there was nothing she could say, or because she knew Tavia wouldn’t listen anyway, it didn’t matter. Saxony turned without another word and headed back into the camp in the space of a few blinks, leaving Tavia alone with Karam.

  “You need to stop punishing her,” Karam said. “We are not enemies here.”

  Tavia wasn’t so sure.

  She could
forgive a lot of things, but Saxony’s actions had nearly gotten them killed at the train station when they tried to escape Creije. Her family had attacked them in Granka, and Saxony’s letters had led the Kingpin straight to Asees and Arjun’s Kin. And then there was that whole matter of Saxony’s little sister kidnapping Wesley from right under their noses.

  It wasn’t enough that Ashwood had murdered Tavia’s mother with magical experiments, but now he’d taken the one person she had left who—

  Tavia swallowed.

  It’s okay, ciolo, her mother’s voice whispered.

  Tavia had thought that as an orphan she knew what it was to be alone, but she was wrong. In the span of no time at all, she had lost her underboss, her home, and her best friend. Wesley had always been there for her to rely on, even if she never wanted it, and Saxony had always been a source of light and friendship in a city she took for granted.

  Now both were gone.

  Now everything seemed wrong.

  “Keep acting like this and you will push everyone away,” Karam continued.

  “There are more important things than Saxony’s feelings or my popularity,” Tavia said. “If we don’t stop Ashwood from destroying Creije, he’ll trample the other eight cities too, and then spread the Loj elixir across Uskhanya. And after our realm is gone, he won’t stop there. Maybe he’ll go for your realm next.”

  “So you team up with any crook you can?”

  “Casim isn’t just a crook, Karam, he’s an underboss. Buskers across the city will listen to him and he could even convince the other underbosses to give us buskers from their cities. Then we’ll have the numbers to really give Ashwood a run for his money.”

  “And you can save Wesley,” Karam said.

  Tavia didn’t deny it.

  What was so wrong with wanting to save her oldest friend and the only home either of them had ever known? It didn’t make her a bad person, just because every motive she had wasn’t selfless.

  “I understand that you want him back,” Karam said. “But the way that you are doing things is—”

  “Saving Wesley saves the city. It’s as simple as that. And if you and Saxony have a problem, then maybe you’re the ones doing things wrong.”