Page 79 of Shadowfox

I saw the angle of his shoulder tighten, that little tick he never noticed he had. His fingers flexed against the metal rail.

I tapped the folded paper against my knee twice.

One beat. Pause. One beat.

He dropped his gaze.

Time passed like melting ice.

No one spoke.

We shifted, moved in subtle rotations around each other, not enough to draw attention, just enough to see and be seen.

The watchers began to notice.

One turned his head toward Sparrow, then back.

The other lifted his cigarette again but didn’t inhale. It was a fake drag, the kind meant to buy time while eyes scanned a crowd.

I saw the moment the first watcher marked Egret. It was barely a reaction—just the tightening of the jaw, a flick of recognition—but it was there.

And then the second one spotted me.

Another minute passed. Then two.

There was still no sign of Farkas, no tall man in a wool coat, no pronounced limp, no little girl with hair like river water and a shy mouth.

My hands were cold. I hardly noticed when they’d gone numb.

Will shifted again—more this time.

He moved two steps toward the edge, then back. His left hand scratched at his chin. A signal was buried in it.

Five minutes.

Still no contact. No Farkas. No Eszter.

A train came and left. The watchers and their quarry remained, all pretense of casual comrades waiting for a lift evaporated.

The guards at the end of the platform repositioned. One stepped forward and rested a hand on the rail beside the access ramp. The other tapped the butt of his weapon once against his boot. A pair of uniformed men straightened and gripped their rifles, no longer casual or bored.

I rose from the bench.

Egret crossed the platform and leaned against the far column, his arms crossed, a casual posture for any onlooker, though I could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his heel hovered just above the ground, ready to pivot, to run.

Or to fight.

Will met my eyes for the first time.

There were no words.

I checked the time again.

20:29.

Another train groaned behind me.

The final boarding call echoed across the station in garbled Hungarian.

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