Page 37 of Silvercloak

The dragons blinked out of existence as the kingpin’s attention latched onto Saffron, and while she prided herself on her ability to square her shoulders in the face of evil, there was something so oily and rancid in his gaze that she had to look away.

Instead, she visually scoured the desk, which was topped with a bowl of shiny peppermint humbugs; a detailed drawing of a racing steed covered in razor-sharp blades; a handwritten letter signed by the Steel King of Nyrøth, which surely had to be a forgery; and a jeweledashtray filled with the kind of entombed eyes Saffron had seen on the roulette wheel. All of them looked very much conscious, aware, the whites of them spidered with blood vessels, the pupils dilated and afraid.

“Vogolan,” Lyrian said coolly.

At first Saffron thought this was some sort of curse, until one of the velvet drapes rearranged itself into the shape of a mage in a scarlet cloak. Saffron blinked in surprise as a pale, hook-nosed face materialized in the fabric—then stepped clean out of it.

“Yes?” replied the mage Saffron presumed to be Vogolan.

“Truth elixir, if you please.”

Vogolan drew his moon-embroidered cloak to one side, revealing a leather Brewer’s belt at his slender waist. He plucked out a vial of pale yellow potion, then crossed to where Saffron stood and held the vial up to her lips. She obligingly opened her mouth and swallowed. It tasted sickly sweet—far more so than Auria’s.

“Your name.” Lyrian leaned back in his armchair, steepling his gnarled fingers the same way Aspar always did.

Saffron steadied her breathing, leveled her gaze, and spoke. “Saffron Killoran.”

There was something petrifying about the blankness of the kingpin’s stare—so similar to his son’s. As though his humanity had long since died.

“Are you still a Silvercloak?” Lyrian asked.

“No. I never truly was. I didn’t pass the final assessment.” Saffron added this last part to make the Bloodmoons think the elixir was uncovering lies.

Levan’s cerulean eyes narrowed. “That’s not what you told me in the alley.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to seem useful to you.”

“I already know about your fraudulence and imprisonment,” said the kingpin, with a blasé wave of his hand. “It was all over theGazette.What I want to know is why such an incompetent wretch could be useful to us.”

Saff wasn’t expecting him to already know who she was, and itrocked her balance. “I overhead Levan torturing a Brewer for information on a Nalezen Zares. I don’t know who that is, but I believe an old friend from the Academy might be able to help.”

Levan’s lip curled viciously, victoriously. “Which friend?”

Saints.

She’d have to answer; she was supposed to be under the influence of truth elixir.

For a split second, she considered using Aspar’s name. She had the clearance to research Zares, after all. But if anything went wrong and the Bloodmoons killed the captain, nobody but Nissa would know the truth of Saffron’s mission. And if Nissa couldn’t convince the Order that Saff was undercover this whole time, she’d be trapped in the Bloodmoons.

“I suppose you’re thinking of Auria Marriosan,” drawled Lyrian, before she could even speak.

Her heart missed several beats.

The kingpin gave a wide, cruel smile, as though this was an immensely fun game. “Oh, yes. I know every name in this city, andespeciallyevery Silvercloak. A clever mage, is Auria Marriosan. Perfect marks on her Knight’s Scroll in Common Law, although the final Silvercloak assessment landed her in the hospital wing with a missing ear. Righteous, proud. No religion to speak of, which will be useful if she wants to be an impartial Grand Arbiter. Although she’d do well to cut the Flane boy loose. The flame-hearted Eqoran would be a more suitable companion … although you have your own soft spot for Nissa Naszi, do you not?”

Saffron struggled to bridle her fear.

How in the hells did the kingpin know so much?

She had thought herself prepared for this meeting, but he was twice as prepared, and he hadn’t even known she was coming.

“Yes, Marriosan.” Lyrian looked deep in thought. “Now,shewould be a valuable card to keep in our pocket.”

Levan cleared his throat. “Killoran made the point that the Silvercloaks wouldn’t willingly cooperate with a Bloodmoon. Better for her to make the approach.”

“Well, we’re rather skilled at encouraging cooperation.” Lyrian stroked his chin. “Marriosan. Her grandfather is a gelatier. Do you think he could still make banana cream pie without his hands?”

The words clamped around Saff’s chest.

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