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he wouldn’t get caught staring. Despite the dirt and worry and the tattered hood blocking much of his view, Ravi was definitely more pleasant to look at than the grimy alley or dusty street beyond. He had an almost delicate angular profile, with a pointed chin, slender, straight nose, and lips that weren’t full or thin but somewhere in between. The sharp slashes of his jaw and cheekbones saved him from being too pretty, but not by much. Still, it was his eyes that truly set him apart. Despite Ravi’s obvious efforts to hide them, his eyes occasionally caught the light from outside, glowing gold, like amber. Daks had never seen eyes that color before, and he had a hard time not staring.

Now that he thought about it, last night he could’ve sworn he’d seen those eyes lit from within by some otherworldly light while Ravi had spoken that prophecy. But that had to have been a trick of the moonlight. Glowing eyes were a sign of Riftspawn, and Daks knew Ravi wasn’t one of those. He would’ve sensed Spawn a mile away, and besides, Riftspawn eyes glowed red, and Ravi’s had seemed almost silver.

Daks didn’t usually go for the skinny, pretty ones—probably because the pretty ones never went for him either—but he could see the appeal, and he’d frankly always been more opportunistic than picky. The journey all the way up to Scholoveld would be a long one. Perhaps they could find a way to pass the time together, if Ravi ever got over that whole being-furious-with-him thing.

His stomach tightened as another thought occurred to him, and he turned his gaze back to the alley. Life probably hadn’t been easy for Ravi on the streets. The pretty ones didn’t last long outside the brothels. But gifted and pretty? Slavers like Tarek probably would have been frothing at the mouth to get their hands on him. Ravi had to have been either very smart or very lucky to make it this far and still be a little soft beneath his prickly exterior, or at least as soft as he’d been with Sparrow and that Vic guy. Maybe he hadn’t been out there long on his own. Curiosity gnawed at him, but he shoved it down. Not his business. The boredom was torture, but better that than getting any more involved.

SHURA RETURNED just as the brilliant oranges, pinks, and reds of dusk faded to pale violet in the small patch of sky above the alley. The streets and tannery had slowly emptied of bodies and noise by then, and Daks was practically crawling out of his skin with the need to be doing something. Ravi had seemed infuriatingly content to sit quietly the whole time, lost in his own thoughts, so Daks didn’t even have awkward conversation to distract him. The Seer would fit in great alongside the old farts at the Scholomagi, with their dusty old books and scribblings—a match made by the gods.

A shuffling in the alley caught his attention, and he sighed with relief. After he and Ravi stepped back to give her room, Shura squeezed through the opening and tossed two new packs on top of the others.

“As soon as the sun goes down and the rest of the streets clear, we need to move and move quickly,” she began without preamble. “Maran has agreed to smuggle us out of the city—”

“She did?” Daks cut in, surprised.

Shura narrowed her eyes. “In exchange for an introduction to the High Council for one of her lieutenants,” she continued pointedly. “This lieutenant will travel with us to Samebar.”

Daks groaned. “That’s all we need, more deadweight.” He caught Ravi’s outraged huff and shrugged. “No offense.”

Shura’s lips thinned as she took a step toward Daks, claiming all his attention again. “I’ll remind you that this situation is none of my making, Vaida. If you think you could have negotiated better on our behalf, feel free to do so when we meet up with her people.”

Finally sensing the danger he was in, Daks took a step back and threw up his hands. “No, no. I’m sure it was the best choice we had. Thank you, Shura, for taking care of everything.”

“You’re welcome,” she sniffed.

Ravi stepped forward. “And Vic and Sparrow? Did you see them?”

Shura nodded. “They were at the Dog and Duck when I arrived. It is as we feared. The streets and docks are crawling with brothers and guards, plus there is talk of strangers bearing hidden weapons. Your descriptions are being spread, but it will be harder to catch up with us after dark. We need to leave tonight, though, before everyone in the city is looking for you.”

Daks winced, and Shura merely blinked slowly at him for a long time in silent judgment.

When she stayed silent a bit too long, Daks cleared his throat and asked meekly, “Will you tell me the rest now, please?”

Her scowl eased slightly, and he relaxed. “The rebels are a real, organized group now, if still a bit small and underfunded. Maran says she is only one leader in their ‘army.’ She says unrest is spreading like wildfire, as we’d heard. There are rumors the brothers have lost their magics, that the gods are punishing them for their abuses of power by cutting the Thirty-Six off from their holy talismans, and the king does not seem to be working very hard to quell such talk. Other rumors of a barbarian invasion to the north, led by a mysterious wizard and a renegade brother, have everyone on edge, including the rebels. The people are frightened, and it won’t take much for that fear to ignite into rebellion. She and her fellows are preparing for that moment.”

“What do they want with the High Council?” Daks asked.

“Magic,” Shura replied with a shrug. “They want to negotiate and bargain for potions and protections and the like, I assume. Rassans have been purposefully kept in ignorance about magic, and if the Thirty-Six have not lost their power, they’re going

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