Page 24 of Us in Ruins

Margot raised an eyebrow. “You mean, whoever pieces it together will be golden. You know, like, adored.”

Van laughed. A sound so unthinkable coming from him that Margot actually startled backward. “You can’t be serious.” At Margot’s flat-lipped expression, Van sobered. “You’re serious.”

“Venus was the goddess of love,” she said, like it explained everything.

“So, she’s going to give that power to just anybody? The treasure is gold. It’s the only logical solution.” Van’s words were measured. Less like he was arguing and more like he was informing. It sparked something desperate and defiant in Margot.

“Just admit it. You obviously didn’t get it because Venus knew her power would be wasted on you. You know, you really ought to give me more credit—”

Van halted abruptly. “What’s that noise?”

Margot listened: the slow trickle of water shifting beneath the city, the reverb of cars racing across the streets overhead, and then, on top of it, a pitter-patter, close and growing closer.

It almost sounded like...

A fat, gray rat skittered down the sewer. A shriek tore out of Van at deafening decibels. He flung himself toward Margot, and instinctively, her arms wrapped around him. The rat scampered up the tunnel, completely unfazed by the ruckus.

Van’s chest and shoulders heaved with frantic breaths. They stood like that, chest to chest, until his breathing matched the rhythm of hers. Then, like Van woke from a trance, he lurched out of her grasp. Clearing his throat with a cough, he said, “Vermin carry diseases.”

“Whatever you say, tough guy.” A laugh spilled out of Margot. It was easier to be brave when the person you wanted to impress just squealed at the sight of a rodent. “Admit it,” she said, not bothering to hide her smug smile, “you need me.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort.”

Margot crossed her arms against her chest. “We’re both searching for the same thing. Why can’t we search together?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Van said, continuing forward.

Margot didn’t budge. “Tell me.”

“You’re impulsive and unpredictable. Emotional. Untrained. You don’t know north from south, and you’ve clearly never used a set of spades in your life. I have no interest in working with someone who will jeopardize my chances for success.”

The words struck Margot like a blow to the chest. Van’s features didn’t falter, didn’t flinch. He delivered every line item in her list of inadequacies with clinical precision. And Margot’s heart stung like he’d cut open all the deepest parts of her and left them there to bleed.

Her lip quivered, and she hated it. Hated that she couldn’t squash down her feelings into neat little boxes. Hated that he was right about her. About everything.

She wanted to run, hide, lick her wounds in private. Some incessantly loud part of her wanted to give in, give up. To quit like she always did when things got hard or monotonous and run off to try something she hadn’t failed at yet.

But she couldn’t. Not this time.

“You’re wrong about me.” Her voice cracked, caked with emotion. “I need you because you know where to find all the trials, but I’ve been trying to tell you that you also need me.”

Digging into the depths of her backpack, Margot pulled out her secret weapon. The shard weighed heavy in her palm. Van grasped at it, almost like his hand had a mind of its own. “The shard from the trial of Ignis. How did you—”

Margot swiped the shard out of his reach. She folded it back into its linen cloth and returned it to the inside pocket not even Van could pick. “I know you don’t understand, but if I don’t find this Vase before my dad drags me back to America, my life is over.”

Van still stared at her backpack, a puzzled look on his face.

“Let me help. I’ll do anything.”

His lips thinned, a look Margot had quickly learned to recognize as his thinking face—certain that an analytical whirring could be heard coming from his robot brain if she listened hard enough. Margot wasn’t sure what it said about her that in less than twenty-four hours she’d started picking up on his mannerisms. (That she was observant? That she couldn’t stop herself from noticing him, whether she liked it or not?)

Finally, he asked, “Anything?”

“You name it,” she said.

Van stalled next to a decrepit ladder, one hand on the middle rung. “I want the treasure. You can keep the Vase.”

Margot squinted. “What if there’s no treasure?”

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