Page 46 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

And they sit in silence for about a minute, before Ambra sighs, leaning forward. “What?”

“You kidnapped him,” Maison replies, almost incredulous. “You know he probably can’t do anything for your problem and you kidnapped him.”

“He was able to disorient one handler enough,” Ambrareplies. It’s strange, speaking to someone on a screen, despite the hundreds of times she saw someone do it before. “I call that something.”

“He’s been trying to be free of the College for over a year now,” Maison says instead, and she sits up in interest, at the actual idea of getting more information. “And you’re just drawing him back in.”

“And getting him out,” she says. “I teleported him away from the danger as well.” She shifts, unsettled for some reason at the thought. “I’m not going to place him in needless danger, he’s now my only way out of this mess.”

“I take it you won’t accept more help?” Maison asks, and for a split second, his voice distorts over the phone. “You don’t have to be alone for this, we’re not going to turn you over.”

“But if I fail,” she starts, and her throat closes up, beyond her control, but he just watches as she swallows through it. “If I fail, knowing where you are, knowing where the Necromancer is, is dangerous for you. He’d…he doesn’t want to put you in danger, either.”

He inclines his head in agreement.

“After this is done, I’ll rob another bank, give him and you as much money as you ever need,” Ambra says, bracing, “I just need to kill Nalissa and Boltiex, and then I can leave everyone alone forever.”

His brows flash up, and he makes eye contact with someone off screen.

“Who else is there,” she demands, baring her teeth at him.

“Chloe,” he answers, “the alchemist who will absolutely kill you if her best friend is hurt.”

“He already got hurt, Johnsin slashed at his arm,” Ambra replies automatically. “I’ll steer clear of her.”

Maison rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he replies sarcastically.

“What claim do you have on him?” Ambra asks, and his eyebrows flash up.

“Not like that,” Maison says, his voice guarded, and even through the lines of the phone she can spot his eyes gleam red for a split second. “I’ve known him since we were children, but not like that.”

“Good,” Ambra says, crossing her arms.

“You’ve known him for all of five days,” Maison continues, and there’s a warning in his voice. “Is that wise?”

“Absolutely not,” she answers, and he smiles at her, looking very suddenly human. “Nothing about this is wise.”

He grins. “Work with him,” Maison says. “He’s a dick—”

“—no, he’s not,” Ambra protests.

“—but he knows his shit.” Maison rolls his eyes. “Use his knowledge, is what I’m saying.”

“Obviously.”

He shakes his head, before his face falls into seriousness again. “The leash, that’s the bond?”

Again, the lump in her throat.

“They split it, right?” he continues, and there’s a fear, sudden, striking inside of her. “That’s how they’re doing it, right? A bastardization of a bond?”

She can’t answer, so she just looks away, at the sleep rumpled room and the pillows with an indent of where Gurlien lay.

“So it would have to exist before, for them to do it?” At her silence, he sighs. “I’m trying to help Gurlien put it together.”

“What would he know of the bond?” she murmurs, a pang lancing through her stomach. “Humans can’t feel it.”

The body hadn’t, at least.

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