Page 48 of Daughter of No Worlds

Via laughed, low and smooth. “Trust me, my work is always functional.”

When I turned around again, Max was leaning over one of the workbenches, picking up the half-finished weapon on top of it. “You’re taking contracts?” He did not hide the disapproval in his voice.

Via emerged from the closet with her arms full of bottles, nudging the door closed with her elbow. “I so deeply enjoy when you come here and criticize everything about my life. Put that down, it’s not finished.”

He obeyed, but continued to stare down at the weapon with a wrinkle of distaste over his nose. “The Guard commission these?”

“I’ve got to make my money somehow.”

My eyes settled on some stacked crates in the corner. The lid on the top one was askew, revealing piles of glinting steel.

There were probably close to a hundred weapons in those crates alone, if they were all full.

Max followed my gaze. “And business is good?”

“Business is mine alone.” Via gestured to the small glass bottles on the table. “Now do you want these, or not?”

I joined Max beside the table. All of those little vials held black liquid — and yet, they were so oddly colorful, catching a glint of blue or purple or orange when the light flickered just the right way.

Max observed them for a moment. Then he chose three bottles: one that was so black it seemed to swallow the light completely. Then one that shimmed with a sheen of purple. And, lastly, one that sparked orange, as if it were reflecting flames even when it wasn’t.

“Pick one,” he then said, to me.

“What are these?”

“It will be more fun if you don’t know.”

“My fun or your fun?”

Via laughed. “Smart question.”

Max smirked, his eyes glittering. “Depends on which one you pick.”

I looked down at the table. My gaze settled on deep burgundy that flashed with brighter red. It reminded me of the spatters of my blood on Esmaris’s deep crimson jacket — so much so that the sight of it brought a whisper of anger to my skin.

But anger was good. Anger was better than guilt. Anger was a reminder of why I was doing any of this in the first place.

“This.” I handed Max the bottle. He held it up to look at it for a moment, furrowing his brow but offering no comment as he tucked it into his jacket.

“That’s all we need,” he told Via, who then packed the vials away and returned them to the closet.

She walked us out of her workshop and back to the front door. Max dropped a handful of coins in her palm.

“Too much,” she said, pocketing it anyway.

“Do fewer contracts.”

“Idealistic as only a rich man can be.” She winked at him, and then her gaze slid to me. “Wonderful to meet you, Tisaanah. I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

And then, she disappeared back into the dusty shadows of her apartment.

Max and I strode back down the street the way we came. We once again passed the man with the green coat and the parrot. This time, I couldn’t resist. I stopped short, turning around and backtracking to him. He turned a calm, bespectacled gaze to me, and I offered him my most charming grin.

“I must ask,” I said, “Did you get the coat to match bird, or the bird to match coat?”

The man nodded seriously, as if I had asked him an extremely important question, and his voice reflected this grave nature as he bent down to whisper the answer in my ear. I felt both enlightened and satisfied as I quickened my steps to catch up with Max, a smile tightening my cheeks.

“What’d he say?” Max asked.

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