Chapter 1

They probably did.

"You heard him!" another Warden shouted. "Kneel down and put your hands up!"

"Sure," I called back. "Give me one good reason."

"You are carrying restricted property."

"That is not a reason. That is a boring job description."

A second bolt scraped my coat and buried itself in a wooden door ahead of me. The door shook. I didn't slow down.

The case was worth more than my apartment, my freedom, and the fingers on both hands. It belonged to a client who had not bothered to give me his name. The payment had been half in advance, which meant the other half was now sitting in the pocket of a man who wanted me dead.

That was the kind of delivery I usually called a bad night.

This one had started six minutes ago when a Warden patrol stopped me at the southern gate and somehow knew exactly what I was carrying.

Someone had sold me out.

"Talia Quill!" the lead Warden yelled. "Stop running, or we take your debt contract to the execution desk!"

My foot caught a loose stone. I stumbled, grabbed a rusted fire ladder, and swung around a stack of crates.

"You people really know how to make a girl feel welcome!"

The alley ended at a high wall.

I stopped so hard my knees nearly folded.

Eight feet of black brick blocked the way. To my left, the Wardens were closing in. To my right, a dead-end loading yard held a collapsed cart, three barrels, and one stranger bleeding against the wall.

He lifted his head when I looked at him.

His eyes were too bright. Not fever-bright. Fire-bright.

"Come here," he said.

I laughed once. It came out sharp and breathless.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"If you want to live, come here."

"The armed men behind me are going to kill me. You look like you are already halfway there. I am going to pass."

He pushed away from the wall and almost fell. One hand clamped over his side. Blood ran between his fingers, but it wasn't red. It was dark. Almost black.

The Wardens entered the yard.

Their crossbows came up.

"On your knees!" the lead officer ordered.

The stranger turned toward them. A thin line of black light crawled beneath the skin of his throat.

"You have three seconds," he told me.

"For what?"

"To decide whether you want to be arrested or useful."

"You are asking a lot from someone who has not even bought me dinner."

His gaze dropped to the case against my ribs, then returned to my face.

"That case is bait. They want it intact. They will kill you after they take it."

My fingers tightened around the handle.

He was right. The Wardens did not chase couriers for ordinary smuggling. They didn't threaten execution desks unless someone had already signed the order.

"And you are what?" I asked. "The better option?"

"No."

He took one step closer. His coat hung open, showing a black shirt soaked through with blood at the waist. He looked expensive, dangerous, and very close to collapsing.

"I am the option that can get you over that wall."

The lead officer leveled his crossbow at my chest.

"Move away from the Ash heir," he said. "Now."

The stranger smiled without humor.

That got my attention.

"Ash heir?" I said.

"You have heard the name."

"Everyone has heard the name. Most people prefer hearing it from farther away."

"Smart girl."

"Do not call me girl."

"Then stop standing there like one."

A bolt snapped through the space between us and struck the wall behind him.

He grabbed my wrist.

His palm was hot. Not warm. Hot enough to hurt through my glove.

"Hey!" I yanked back. "Take your hand off me."

"You want out?"

"I want my hand attached. Those are different goals."

The black light under his skin flashed.

He pulled me against him just as the Wardens fired again.

Two bolts hit the wall. One clipped his shoulder. He grunted, but his grip didn't loosen.

"Touch the wall," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"That has never worked on me."

"It will now."

He shoved my hand toward the brick.

The moment my bare fingers hit the wall, the alley moved.

Not physically. The bricks stayed where they were. But every line in the wall lit up in my vision, thin silver paths running through mortar and stone. The city suddenly looked like a locked machine, and someone had put the key in my hand.

My breath caught.

The stranger watched my face.

"There," he said. "Steal the force."

I stared at him.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"I do not steal force. I steal useful things. Keys. Seals. Wards. Occasionally a ring from a man who deserves to lose it."

"You steal whatever is inside the thing you touch."

His eyes sharpened.

"You just have not touched the right thing."

The Wardens rushed forward.

The lead officer shouted, "Take them both!"

The stranger's fingers tightened around my wrist.

"Now, Talia."

He knew my name.

I hated that almost as much as I hated the way my pulse jumped under his thumb.

"If this kills me," I said, "I am haunting you."

"If this kills you, you will have bigger problems."

I pressed my palm into the wall.

Then I reached for the silver paths.

Something tore loose.

Power slammed through my arm. It tasted like cold metal and burnt sugar. My shoulder jerked. The wall groaned, and a hidden seam split open beside us.

The Wardens stopped.

"What the hell?" one of them said.

The stranger dragged me through the opening.

We fell into a narrow passage behind the wall. He hit the ground hard. I landed on top of him, my knee against his hip, my hand still trapped in his.

His face was inches from mine.

His breath brushed my mouth. Hot. Uneven. He smelled like smoke, blood, and expensive soap.

"Get off me," he said.

"You dragged me through a wall. You do not get to complain about personal space."

"You are crushing my ribs."

"Good. Maybe they will stop trying to kill you."

His mouth twitched.

It was almost a smile.

That was worse than the blood.

He rolled us sideways and shoved the stone panel closed. A bolt struck the other side a second later.

"They will get through," I said.

"Not before we move."