Page 118 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“I never wanted tokillyou, Mave. I was already in a right state over Fennick and how he’d almost cost us the score. When you walked out, something in me just…snapped. But even in the moment, I didn’t want to see you dead. That’s why I didn’t aim for any vital organs.”
“Oh, howconsiderateof you,” Mavery said with as much bitterness as she could muster.
“Look at it from my perspective. You come back afterdropping off the face of Perrun for almost a year. I allow you to rejoin my crew, even though I had every right to turn you away. I then snag us the best job either of us had seen in ages.” He accentuated each point with a jab of his finger against the tabletop. “Even after all that, youstillwalked out on me again, all because I took care of a minor hiccup in the most efficient way I could.”
She glared at him. “You would call murdering a man in cold blood ‘a minor hiccup’?”
He scoffed. “Is it reallymurderwhen the man already has both feet in the grave? Besides, why do you care? You barely knew the bastard.”
“It was the principle of it, Nel. A principle I thought we both shared.” She dropped her voice; their argument had prompted some glances in their direction. She leaned forward, placed her palms flat against the table. “We never kill for profit—even if it makes the job more ‘efficient.’ ”
Now that she knew the truth of that night, the man sitting across from her wasn’t charming or conniving. He’d all but admitted that shooting her hadn’t been an act of malice, but the equivalent of a child throwing a tantrum. Why had she been so afraid of him? With newfound resolve, she barreled ahead.
“So, what’s the point of all this? After giving me my dagger and a cup of whatever this shit is, you hope that, in return, I’ll come running back to your bed? Is that it?”
He snorted. “Hardly. I’ve moved on. So have you, from what Vilk told me. That bloke you were cozying up with at the Night Market…was he your lover, or just another mark?”
“That’s none of your godsdamned business.”
Neldren chuckled. “Lover, then. We’ll see how long that lasts.” He sipped from his cup as Mavery narrowed her eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He blinked at her, then threw back his head with barking laughter. A few of the nearby patrons shot him dirty looks. As his laughter subsided, he took in her incredulous look, and a similar one spread across his face.
“Well, fuck me twice on Finisday! You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“At the first sign of conflict, you toss aside your lovers like a broken plaything, then you’re off to find a new one. This is what you’ve always done, Mave. You and that fickle heart of yours.”
Her blood and arcana flared in unison. “I’mthe fickle one? After all the times you’ve left me over the—”
Porcelain rattled as Neldren slammed his fist on the table. Mavery flinched. The couple sitting at the table closest to them scampered away.
“No, Mave. It was alwaysyouwho leftme! The first time, you snuck off in the middle of the night after I told you to leave the Dragons. You returned six months later, only to leave again when we disagreed on how to split our cut for a job—”
“You wanted a finder’s fee, even thoughIwas the one who—”
“Then, when you got tired of playing house with that Fenutian girl—”
“She left me to go fight in a godsdamnedwar!”
“In any case, you slithered your way back into my bed again.”
Mavery laughed coldly. “From what I recall, you didn’t hesitate when you slithered your way back intome.”
“It’s been the same thing over and overand overagain since the night we first met.” He shook his head. “Do you even remember how many times you’ve left?”
“I don’t—”
“Eight times, Mave.” He pounded the table again. “You’ve left me eightfuckingtimes in eighteen years! Admit it: you’ve only ever seen me as your backup plan.”
This time, she did not flinch. She clenched her fists, set her jaw. “Don’t you dare put the blame on me. Not when you always welcomed me back with open arms—just like you did three months ago.”
“You’re right, I did. I was an idiot then, but—”
“Sir, you’re causing a disturbance to the other guests,” said the constable who’d just approached their table. Though he appeared a pustule-faced schoolboy, his tone was authoritative and laced with contempt. “I must ask you to leave.”
