The Burning Hand by Jodi Meadows Page A

men shouting orders.
    Police, it sounded like. Hensley had gone to find the police like a good, upstanding nobleman.
    I shoved my mask over my head, and adjusted the holes over my eyes.
    Faintly, I caught Hensley’s voice. “They were just around here. The Nightmare gang and that vigilante.”
    So he hadn’t identified me to the police yet.
    But he knew who I was. Everything truly was different now.
    I sucked in a ragged breath and ran north along the river, toward Fisher’s Mouth, where I turned toward the palace.
    James would be waiting for me. I needed to tell him what happened—and figure out how to put it right.

FIVE
    â€œWAKE UP, NAMELESS girl.”
    Dawn seeped around the curtains, lighting the dark room into gray. Candles had drowned their flames or been put out—I couldn’t remember—and the smothering air of encroaching death had lifted.
    Tobiah was still lying on his back, but he’d turned his head and hints of color lit his skin. When our eyes met, his were bright and alert, and so, so familiar.
    I sat straight, heart pounding with hope. “You’re alive.”
    â€œMy dear Wilhelmina, you’re amazingly accomplished at stating the obvious.” His voice was groggy, deep with the remnants of his long slumber.
    â€œAnd you’re well enough for sarcasm. I think you’ll live.”
    His grin was all Black Knife. Because of the mask, it was an expression I’d only sensed before, never seen, but I knew it just the same: the lift of his cheeks, the light in his eyes, and the waythe world seemed to pause.
    This was the boy I’d fallen in love with.
    Please forgive me for what I’m about to do; know that it is duty and honor that compel me to act against my true feelings .
    Forgive me.
    I took a ragged breath. “I should send for your mother. She has no idea you’re—” Alive. Awake. He’d been so close to death just hours before.
    â€œIn a few minutes.” He closed his eyes. “Just give me a few minutes before I have to be . . . what they all need me to be.” He went still, as though he’d drifted off again, but then he smiled. “You’re the one with the no-talking-or-get-stabbed rule. Not me.”
    How did he not have a million questions? Maybe he was saving them. “How do you feel?”
    His hand moved beneath his blankets, as though touching the bandages or testing the wound. “Like I got shot a month ago.”
    â€œIt was yesterday.”
    â€œYesterday?” He started to sit, biting back a grunt and gasp as blankets fell around his waist. Bandages covered his stomach, but his chest and shoulders were bare, exposing muscles built from years of sword fighting. “Wilhelmina.” His tone turned serious as he took in my appearance: the trousers, the disheveled hair, the knife tucked into my belt as though Patrick might strike again. “How did I recover?”
    â€œHow do you think?”
    Light grew around the curtains. With a soft groan, Tobiah swung his legs off the bed; trouser hems brushed the tops of hisfeet. His dark eyes were wide and warm. “What did you do, Nameless Girl?”
    â€œI couldn’t let you die.”
    He leaned his whole body toward me, shoulders and chest and face. A hand slipped forward on his knee, almost reaching. “You never fail to amaze me.”
    It took everything in me to stay put. Not move. He was for someone else, and for all the questionably moral things I was willing to do, that was a line I could not cross.
    The bedroom door swung open and the gas lamps hissed to life, saving me from temptation. James strode in with Francesca and Meredith behind him.
    Tobiah tugged on the blankets to cover himself.
    The queen regent gave a little shout and hurried to embrace him. Meredith pressed her hands to her chest. Only James didn’t seem shocked, but for a whole second he sagged with naked relief.
    I moved toward the writing