King Of Fools. Amanda Foody

Narinder paused and rested his forehead against his.

      “When you say you’ll be in Olde Town more, will it only be for business?” the musician asked.

      “You tell me,” he murmured.

      “Pay me another visit, when you’re not so bruised.”

      Levi smirked. “The shiner doesn’t look that bad.”

      Narinder’s breath was hot against his neck. “It’s no fun hurting you if you’re already hurt.”

      Levi felt so dazed he barely noticed Narinder open the door and ask for someone named “Tock.”

      While they waited, Levi cleared his throat, no longer as keen to return to business. “I have a free morning.”

      Narinder shook his head. “Remember when I said your ego was too big to notice mine?”

      “Ah,” Levi said, embarrassed. “You’re busy. But you’re the one who suggested we wait.”

      “I’m successful, not responsible.”

      Someone knocked on the door, and Narinder opened it. A girl strode in, a saxophone hanging from a cord around her neck. Her short black hair looked as if she’d cut it herself, and her laced leather boots appeared military grade. She had thick thighs and a knife strapped to each one.

      She smirked when she saw Levi. “You’re better looking in your wanted poster.” Behind her, Narinder gaped in exasperation.

      Levi shrugged and sent Narinder a sly glance. “At least I’m wanted.”

      “Levi, this is my cousin, Tock Ridley.” Narinder said it like an apology. “Tock, this is Levi.”

      Levi had already noticed the resemblance. Though Tock’s tan skin was a few shades fairer than Narinder’s deep brown, they both had warm, dark eyes and brows with the same determined set to them.

      “So this is why I should trust her? Because she’s family?” Levi noted.

      “Yes,” Narinder said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Tock bristled and elbowed him in the side. He winced. “We’re very close.”

      Levi had to admit her clothes and weapons gave her an intimidating air—a quality he certainly didn’t possess. But she didn’t look like she’d be thrilled about taking orders. “What are your talents?”

      She tapped her sax. “A split music talent—”

      “That’s worth nothing on—”

      “And a blood talent for explosives.”

      Levi stilled. He’d heard of those talents, of course, but they were extremely rare. Before the Revolution, those with Talents of Mysteries had largely populated the upper classes. When the First Party overthrew the Mizers, those with Talents of Aptitudes, like dancing, music, strength, and others, rose to power and removed or relocated those they viewed as a threat. Someone with the ability to conjure a potentially deadly explosion shouldn’t have survived the Revolution.

      “Her father—my uncle—created the blast that blew open the National Prison’s gates during the Revolution and freed Chancellor Semper,” Narinder said, as though he could hear Levi’s thoughts. That explained the reason Tock had been spared.

      “Impressive,” Levi told her. “Do you have any leadership experience? Done any casino work?”

      She inspected her fingernails with disinterest. “Nope.”

      With her talent, if Tock approached the Orphan Guild, the Doves or the Scarhands would fork over a fortune for her. But she hadn’t gone to the Guild, and judging by her current bored expression, Levi had no reason to believe she actually wanted this sort of work.

      “Narinder, can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked. Narinder followed him out into the hallway, and Levi hastily shut the door behind them. “Is she really the best you’ve got?”

      Narinder looked away sheepishly. “I promise you—she’s good at what she does.”

      “She doesn’t seem to want gang work.”

      “She does. She’s just...like that.” He gestured toward the door helplessly. “She’s wanted to do something like this for months. I’m finally giving in.”

      “Giving in?” Family members didn’t normally encourage each other to join the gangs.

      “Well, I’m tired of her blowing my things up. This cathedral has stood for four hundred years, through fires and disasters and revolution. But it’s never had to face Tock when she’s in a mood.”

      “You’re not really selling her,” Levi said warily. “And I’m having a hard time believing that you’d put your cousin at risk with this job.”

      “That’s always been my fear, but I know Tock is capable of protecting herself.” His eyes fell on the bruise around Levi’s eye. “Far more than you are.”

      Levi ignored the gibe. “If she really wanted this, I’d think she’d act a little more interested.”

      “She knows you’re broke,” Narinder admitted. “She thinks she wants volts and thrill, but I know her better than that. She’s not shallow. And the way you talk about Olde Town... I think this would be good for her. That’s the only reason I’m okay with this. Because it’s not the other gangs—it’s you.”

      Maybe he did have a heart of gold, because Narinder’s words struck Levi in all the right places. And whatever his thoughts about Enne and his promise to Jac, he liked Narinder. Narinder’s help might’ve been freely given, but Levi wanted to do something for him in return.

      “Fine,” he breathed, praying he wouldn’t regret it.

      Narinder sighed in relief and kissed Levi in a way that said thank you. Levi decided he could, as it turned out, grow fonder of doing business this way.

      They returned to the room, and Levi announced, “You’re hired.”

      “I am?” she asked.

      “Yep. You can start immediately. If you want the job, that is.”

      Tock straightened, her surprised expression turning smug. “Doing what?”

      “You’re going to round up all the Irons around Olde Town, armed with that natural intimidation you wear so well. And you’re going to make it clear to the whole neighborhood that Chez Phillips is gone, war is coming, and I’m the only chance they’ve got.” He hid a smile. His little speech sounded pretty impressive, if he said so himself.

      “You sound as desperate as you look,” she said. “And that job sounds pretty boring.”

      Levi’s irritation rose. “Joining a gang is cause for execution these days. If you were scared, I’d understand, but exactly what about this is boring?”

      “I don’t get scared,” she said.

      “Well, you should,” he snapped. He’d spent the past two days—before and after the Shadow Game—scared out of his mind. Every day working with Vianca was a day lived in fear. He might’ve been the youngest street lord by at least ten years, and he might’ve been so injured he could barely walk, but of all the things he could be belittled for, he wasn’t a coward.

      “The Orphan Guild was attacked last night without warning, with automatics that fire five bullets a second. The Guild might work primarily with the gangs, but you know where else the workers go? Casinos. Dens. Bars. Night clubs.” He lifted his arms up, gesturing to all of the Catacombs. “I’m willing to bet someone who works here has a past. I’m willing to bet gangsters find their way here every weekend, just like any other patron. The wigheads are only going after the gangs now, but at some point, what they call a gangster just means a criminal. Then what they call a criminal means an accomplice. Then what they call an accomplice means a bystander. Sit it out,