I shook my head.

"No. I don't work for you. Not yet."

“That’s what they all say at first. That girl… There’s no one matching her description in our records. Unusual for a noble. Don’t you find that curious?”

“That doesn’t change my answer.”

She smiled.

"Would it really be so bad?"

"What?"

"Being under me."

My stoic mask cracked, my face flushing bright red.

She laughed.

"Well trained but inexperienced. I’ll remember that."

I closed my eyes, remembering my meditations, going to that place that was so far away.

I took a deep breath. She was trying to unbalance me. Not trying; succeeding. I wouldn’t give her what she wanted. Not because of Isla—no, definitely not because of her.

Sanctifiers were trying to leash me and make me their pawn, but I was tired of being a piece in someone else’s game.

When I opened my eyes, Reed was staring at me, chin cupped by her thumb and index finger.

“Jacob Sin, you are… interesting, special even.”

There was that word again.

She was right. I am special.

I stood straighter.

“You can’t control me. Not with your contracts. Not by holding debt over my head. I’m free, and I always will be."

“And what’s your freedom worth?”

“What?”

“I was an indentured servant for ten, long years. It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

I frowned. There was no deception in her reddish-brown eyes. Instead, she smiled like someone looking back on fond memories.

"When my father died, it was the Sanctifiers that saved me and my family from poverty. They gave me an education, a home for my mother and sister, and my first taste of real power."

She turned away from me, looking over the people in the crowd, her smile turning vicious.

“Do you know what power is, Jacob?”

“The ability to kill and not be killed.”

“Oh! I like that.”

She reached for my left hand, turning it over to examine the palm.

“Yes, a killer’s hand. How many people can you kill in a minute? One person? Two? Three?”

She tossed my hand away, leaning closer to whisper in my ear.

“We can kill thousands with a stroke of a pen. A single line in a trade agreement, and suddenly, there’s not enough water to go around. Or maybe we adjust the metal contracts and make the smelters starve. That’s power, Jacob. That’s what I offer you. If serve me well.”

It was tempting, the power of the quill and the counting board. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to throw Isla to the wolves, but something within me growled. An animal instinct, born from my time on the street, from years of bleeding on the Red Room’s floor as Sin’s cruel laughter echoed in my ears.

“Now, tell me. What do you know about the girl?”

“Nothing. I know nothing.”

It was true. Isla’s background was a secret she kept close to her chest.

“Nothing? You’ve been travelling together for a month. Are you shy, or are you lying to me?”

I held my tongue as Reed dissected me with her eyes.

“Interesting. Well, it’s never too late to learn. I’ll even sweeten the deal. If you discover the girl’s identity, I'll share what Rugar and Alden are planning for you when you get back to the capital. So, do we have a deal?"

I grit my teeth.

That information could mean the difference between life and death. It was worth more than whatever secret Isla was keeping.

“For the last time, no.”

I winced.

Why? Why did I say that?

Reed stared at me for a long, hard moment. No was not a word she was used to hearing.

“Suit yourself. Many Inquisitors prefer the stick over the carrot, but I find that approach… unreliable. It’s better to give people what they want than to punish them for their weaker inclinations. I’ll leave you with the carrot-”

“And your stick?”

She smiled.

“Maybe I’ll show it to you. Pray I don’t use it.”

"Excuse me. Lady Reed?"

Reed's face softened as she turned to the source of the new voice.

A young man in a wheelchair rolled toward us, pushed by a sweaty, older man dressed as a butler.

"Yes, Lord Vangrave," Reed said.

She added a melodic quality to her voice. It would have been charming if she hadn’t threatened me a moment ago.

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"Can you introduce me to your friend?"

"Of course, this is Jacob Sin, an associate of mine."

"So, you're the elf that the whole town is talking about."

"Half-elf. Do they say anything good?"

Lord Vangrave flashed me an awkward smile.

“No.”

He stretched out his hand. I reached out and shook it, flustering the older man.

"You're supposed to take the Lord's hand and bow with your forehead to his knuckles!"

The young noble gestured to his servant with a dismissive wave.

"It's fine, Reggy. I'm Victor Vangrave, the Lord of the Dellends. This is my steward, Reginald."

The Lord was a year younger than me, handsome in well-cut clothes and shoulder-length black hair. He was also half-dead. Sickness had ravaged his body, leaving him deathly pale and wheelchair-bound. An unnerving emptiness lingered behind his eyes even when he smiled.

"A pleasure," I said. "What brings you here?"

"I'm still the Lord of this land. I need to make public appearances, and the Lagos brothers need to legitimize their power."

"And what do you get out of this?"

Victor looked out over the crowd of Steeltown’s elite.

"I want them to look at me and be reminded of the price of these parties. The land is dying, and the people with it."

A virtuous noble? Castille would never believe me.

"You never know, Lord Vangrave. The Dellends may be changing soon."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch."

Reed gave me a sly look before speaking.

"Since you're here, you may as well enjoy yourself. You’re old enough to join this year's toast."

Reginald took out a white handkerchief and patted the sweat from his forehead.

"Something the matter, Reggy?" Victor asked.

"I... It's just the thought of you drinking. Think of your health, my Lord."

"A little wine shouldn’t hurt. Van Lagos is known for his taste in alcohol. Every year, he imports the best wine in the Abyssal Lands just for this party."

Reginald sniffed.

“Of course. Once a smuggler, always a smuggler.”

I noticed the lack of cups around the room.

"Then why is no one drinking?"

Victor flashed a disarming smile.

"Van Lagos always gets to drink first, right after his toast. It's the tradition."

"I see."

Victor smiled.

"If I may ask, what brings you to Steeltown, Jacob?"

"I-I'm a merchant."

"A merchant of what?"

There was an edge of contempt to the woman's voice behind me. I turned to see a parted crowd with two girls in white on either side. One was a redhead; the other was a blonde with dead eyes. Lady Kateen glided between them, her chin held high and her eyes locked on mine. Walking in her heels that peeked under her flowing white dress, she was an inch taller than me. Two younger girls trailed behind her, holding the train of her dress.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

I smiled. After the run-in with the Lagos brothers, I’d had time to think of an answer.

"I sell a lot of things: food, water, mining equipment... and explosives."

Lady Kateen's eyes widened.

"Do you work for the Briggs Family?"

Briggs? Why did that name sound familiar?

"Never heard of them."

"You're lying. Anissa!"

The redheaded handmaiden on her right shot to attention.

"Yes, Lady Kateen," she said in a mousey voice.

"Give him the document."

"Yes, my Lady."

She reached into the white messenger bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a letter stamped with a red wax seal. Anissa scurried forward and bowed, pushing the letter forward with both hands. I took the letter with raised eyebrows. Anissa walked backwards to her Lady's side, her shoulders slumped and eyes down.

Kateen flashed her a pleased smile.

"Isn't she splendid? A chaste beauty unlike the whores the Lagos brothers have flitting about."

She paused and gave Victor and Reed a small curtsy.

"I apologize for my crude words, Special Inquisitor and you, my Lord. You're too young to hear such things."

"Please, I'm not that young."

"I take offence on behalf of the whores," Reed said, snatching an appetizer from the tray of a server she waved over.

Lady Kateen straightened from her curtsy and turned back to me.

"Jacob, was it? You're new in town, so I will give you grace for not coming to me immediately. You now have the opportunity to correct your mistake and pay your respects."

She gestured to the letter. I broke the seal, opening it to see a document written in High Elvish.

"What's this for?"

"By the rights of the Steeltown Compact negotiated by the Sanctifier Guild, all merchants in Steeltown operate under my protection and with express approval. If you have no connection to the Briggs Family, signing my contract shouldn't be a problem."

I looked from Lady Kateen to the contract to Victor and Reed.

Well played.

She served her document in front of the official ruler of the Dellends and a Sanctifier Inquisitor. If I refused her, she could have me judged and found guilty before I left the room. I nodded to myself. Lady Kateen was not to be underestimated.

The contract gave her a cut of any income I earned in the Dellends. In return, I would get protection for my caravans in and out of the region.

What a scam.

The countryside of the Dellends was abandoned. There were no beastkin or bandits attacking caravans. Not when a cartel would pay you just to stand around town and act like a guard. If I had to guess, the protection was to make sure merchants couldn't lie about their inventory and shortchange Kateen. The last clause of the contract proved it. It allowed her to review the financial records of any businesses under her protection.

Not good.

It would only take a little digging to figure out I wasn't a real merchant. If she figured out our real reason for coming here… My anxiety spiked. I needed to stall. I needed to do something!

"Well, will you sign the contract or not?" Kateen asked.

Before I could respond, the music stopped. The crowd fell silent as space was cleared in front of the floating centrepiece in the middle of the hall.

Van Lagos stood alone in that space, holding a golden goblet in his left hand as four guards hauled a large, wooden cask to his side.

"Friends, Associates, and Steeltowners. The world turns, and you once again find yourself in our not-so-humble home.”

Low, scattered laughter rippled through the crowd.

“There is much to celebrate. Profits and productivity have never been higher. Each day, we produce more steel for the soldiers of Luskaine, more gold for the country’s coffers and affordable tools for farmers and the common people.”

The crowd cheered.

“Lady Kateen. Tiny Tom. Step forward."

Kateen gave me one last withering glare before she turned away, her handmaidens clearing her path to the front of the crowd. Tiny Tom didn't need any help; the crowd parted for the giant of a man.

Van Lagos smiled as he saw each member of the Steeltown Compact step forward. The servers worked through the crowd, the food on their trays replaced with metal cups. Two servers handed silver goblets to Lady Kateen and Tiny Tom.

I picked up a metal cup and worked my way through the crowd to get a better view of the three leaders. The shifty-eyed man I saw with Tiny Tom hung a few steps, a mirror to Finnick Lagos, who was a few steps to the side of Van Lagos.

A few moments later, Dugan appeared on my right, a cup already in his hand. As the cups were handed out, a guard tapped the cask, screwing a faucet into its side. The guard stepped back to let Van Lagos pour the first cup of rich, red liquid into his goblet. He walked forward into the cleared space, raising it high.

"To another year of records profits and the Steeltown Compact!"

"Hear! Hear!"

The crowd raised their metal cups in salute.

Van Lagos drank from his goblet, savouring the wine’s flavour with closed eyes. When he opened them, he smiled and scanned the crowd.

"Come! Drink! Let the party begin!"

The hall erupted in cheers as orderly lines formed around the cask of wine. Guards carried more casks in through the hall's entrance.

Van Lagos laughed, swaying with the music as it picked up again. His movements were sluggish and wild, as if he was struggling to stay above water.

“Something’s wrong,” I whispered.

It didn't make sense for a man of his size to be this drunk from one cup of wine. Finnick Lagos noticed as well. He watched his brother with concern and then terror as his head lulled and Van Lagos collapsed on the ground!

The music cut off. Shrieks rang out as a second person collapsed. The short woman split her head on the edge of a low table, spilling the contents of her cup on the floor.

"The wine! It's the wine!"

Shouts echoed through the hall as partygoers threw their cups on the floor. The guards on the walls unsheathed their weapons, looking for something or someone to attack.

Between the anxious guards and Kateen, this hall was a trap. I turned to the older woman. She stared at Van Lagos, tightening the grip around her empty goblet as her handmaids held her dress off the wine-stained floor. A few feet away, Tiny Tom stared into his goblet, looking for his common sense.

Good. At least everyone was distracted.

The last thing I needed was attention. I hunched my shoulders, making myself small. If I could hide in the crowd, I could avoid Kateen until they let us leave the room. As I worked my way to the front of the hall, I took one last look back. Finnick was shaking his brother’s unconscious body. In the chaos, our eyes locked, and he sneered.

"It was him! It was the elf!”