Page 60 of A Whisper in the Walls

Dahvid reached back to his own wound. His fingers came away bloody, but he could tell it wasn’t deep. With a mental push, he cut off the magic of his flying spell. The crowd roared for him to finish her, but looking up, he knew she was already dead. He crossed the distance to stand in her shadow, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I am sorry. You fought well.”

Attendants hurried out moments later. Dahvid walked back to the same spot in the sand, chest heaving slightly, and sat again. This time he did not wish away the seconds. He held the hourglass to his lips and drank each one eagerly. Time had never tasted so precious.

“Send out the third!”

Darling was smiling down. Dahvid took up his stance as the gates opened. A man Dahvid had never seen before came striding out. He was shirtless. While Dahvid didn’t recognize the stranger’s face, it was impossible not to recognize the art decorating his body. There were tattoos everywhere. Darling had somehow found another image-bearer. But the true shock came as the stranger reached the edge of the center circle. Close enough that Dahvid could finally see the details. They were not just tattoos.

His eyes flickered over to where Cath was sitting. She looked like a ghost. One hand was raised to cover a gasp. They both knew why. All of the art was hers.

Every single tattoo on the stranger’s body bore a resemblance to her style. Dahvid remembered her mentioning another relationship. Someone before him who didn’t matter to her now. She’d never bothered to tell him that the man was an image-bearer, though. Clearly, it was a secret that only Darling had been able to unearth. Designed to unnerve him. And it was working.

Dahvid couldn’t seem to settle his heart rate. His breathing was coming too fast. He felt like he’d been sprinting through Ravinia’s hilled streets all morning. He fell back into his stance, but he could not help eyeing each tattoo and wondering about the story behind each one. How long they’d been together. Whether she’d loved this man the way she’d claimed to love him.

Darling signaled.

The fight began.

28 NEVELYN TIN’VORI

Her tasks were complete.

The black dress hung ominously in the center of the room. Finished, it looked like a fancy shadow ready to drape itself over a queen. She’d also continued layering the walls of the room with magic. The spells were so thick now that the sounds of the lovers next door hadn’t been audible in days. None of the evening foot traffic in the nearby square could be heard.

It was as silent as a tomb.

There was evidence of her last craft project as well. The wax shavings littered one corner, but the results were worth the mess. Dozens of candles, all cut down to stubs. It hadn’t been easy to find the right pearl-gray foundation, but once she had them, it had been a simple matter of painting on the midnight-blue veins that shot through a typical waxway candle. She’d held up a real one and her fakes in the light and could scarcely tell the difference.

Now all she needed was a knock on the door of her apartment. She’d been waiting for three days. The red ribbon dangled limply in the window, obvious to anyone who passed. And yet Ren Monroe had made no appearance. It was starting to unnerve Nevelyn. What if their partner had abandoned them? Worse, what if she decided to hand them over to the Broods? It was a logical move. One that would nestle the girl deeper into the bosom of their wealth and power. Nevelyn could almost imagine a team of guards surrounding her apartment and crashing through her door to find a poor girl with a strange dress dangling from the ceiling.

“What a disappointing treasure I would make,” she said to no one.

There was a knock at the door. Finally. Nevelyn cast a glance around the room, making sure all was in order, before rising. She opened the door—no more than a crack—and was shocked to stillness. It was not Ren Monroe. It was not the Broods or their henchmen.

“Garth?”

“I am so sorry to visit uninvited. I know… I know it’s not… This is all rather uncouth. I haven’t had the chance to see you. Not since our dinner. I walked you home that night.…”

“And I specifically had you leave me in the square. A square that is surrounded by ten different apartment buildings. Hundreds of possible living spaces. There is a reason that I did not invite you to the place where I lived, Garth. What did you do? Follow me?”

She was angling the door to keep his view narrowed to the blank wall behind her. Any wider and he’d have a visual of one of the dangling black cords that connected to the dress. There was the natural instinct to hide her plans from him, but there was another truth buried beneath that one: she liked Garth. She wanted to remain Nan to him, for fear that if he knew her as Nevelyn—he might decide to ignore her like everyone else did.

“No!” Garth said, blushing with proper embarrassment. “I mean, of course not. That would be awful. I just… I asked around about you. I really didn’t mean to be creepy. It’s just… I like you, Nan. I can’t stop thinking about you. I guess I just wanted to spend more time with you. I knew this wasn’t the right way—”

Nevelyn could think of no other course of action. She slid boldly through the crack in the door, shut it behind her, and reached up to kiss him. It was fumbling and awkward and she felt like she caught more beard than lips. Garth corrected that. He bent down to her. A warm hand found her cheek. There was something about the way he pressed forward that wasn’t forceful, but inviting. Nevelyn did not mind the way his hands tangled in her hair. She did not mind that he smelled like sweat and burned cocoa and rain. She realized, as they pulled away from each other, that she’d been waiting to kiss him for years—even if she had only met him weeks ago.

“So… you’re not mad?” Garth whispered.

“Of course I’m mad. You stalked me!”

“Right. Yes. I’m sorry. But…”

“But I kissed you. And I think I will again.”

Garth smiled and she made good on her word, standing on tiptoes so that she could peck his cheek. She found herself half wishing there was not a strange dress dangling from the walls of her apartment. But to wish that away was to wish away the entire revenge. It was to pretend there had never been a House Tin’Vori or a brother named Ware who their enemies had planted in the ground. It was to pretend they’d not lost everything and that she was only a peasant girl named Nan with nimble fingers. She could not bring herself to do that, even if Garth was warm and kind and a fine kisser.

“You can’t come in. It would be… uncouth.” She used his word, which made him smile. “But I do like you. And I do want to see you again. For now, go home.”

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