In the chill night air, snow fell outside Scaggs’ burnt-out cottage as Liv stood next to Drake, wondering if he was entirely serious about killing her.

  He was watching her the way a candy seller might look at a child who couldn’t decide between a licorice and a taffy.

  “Come on then, how do you want to die?” Drake asked.

  In equal parts terror and disbelief, Liv stayed silent, trying to look like she was on the verge of a decision. If she could just stall a little longer, she could… live a little longer… which was a good thing, but she didn’t have any ideas after that.

  “Fine then,” he said, “since I want to try it out, sleep and never wake up.”

  “Wait.” She flinched.

  But it was too late. Drake was already tracing his finger through the air, leaving glowing lines of an intricate sigil in its wake.

  And then a whistling whipped out of the darkness, and with a thunk, a knife appeared in his forehead. Barely sunk in with most of the tip still visible, it couldn’t have killed him, but it must have hurt like the Bastard himself.

  “After you!” a voice—Rafe’s voice—called from behind. The boy jumped out of nowhere and planted his foot in Drake’s gut.

  The wizard staggered back.

  Rafe spoke between breaths, “When someone asks… how do you want to die… always say… ‘after you.’”

  Drake sprang forward, his hands glowing with spark, and pushed them straight into Rafe’s chest.

  Howling as a blazing sigil appeared, when it disappeared an instant later, Rafe looked pissed. He elbowed Drake in the jaw, then punched him in the forehead with a commanding crack, felling the wizard like a sack of rotten potatoes.

  Rafe shook out his fist and mounted the carriage, saying, “Hi Olivia, I’m your brother Rafe. Nice to meet you. Now, let’s get out of here.”

  “Are you all right?” She climbed onto the bench beside him.

  Whipping the reins, he yelled, “Yaw!” at the horses.

  But they didn’t budge, not even one inch.

  Groaning with the snap of electricity, Drake stumbled to get up as showers of amber sparks shot off him in random directions.

  “Yaw!” Rafe yelled again, this time with urgent desperation, but the horses continued to ignore him.

  Liv hopped down, crying, “Run!” then made for the woods and, glancing over her shoulder, was relieved to see Rafe chasing after.

  “Wait, Stop! You don’t understand,” Drake called out, sounding too sincere to be sincere.

  Liv hesitated a step, and as she looked back, the tree behind her, the one directly between her and Drake, splintered to nothing in a flash of spark.

  Rafe stumbled past, grabbing her arm, and dove head first into a thicket. Twigs snapped, branches bent, and briers snagged Liv’s legs, but Rafe pulled her through until they burst out the other side.

  Amber light flashed as more trees exploded into kindling, but it was happening at a distance, farther and farther away.

  They ran until Liv’s lungs stung raw with the chill of the night, and then they ran some more. Rafe yelped and swore, plunging through thicket after thicket, clearing the path and pulling her along.

  And once the sound of exploding trees stopped, they ran even farther, just for good measure.

  Finally, in a shallow ravine, Liv slid to a stop behind Rafe.

  He was sweating and scratched up, but otherwise looked fine. She, on the other hand, was not doing so well. Her muscles burned like they might pop. Her back cramped like she might vomit. Every bit of energy gone, she slumped to the ground, her vision fuzzing.

  “You okay?” he asked, and she felt his arm go round her.

  Rafe had never so much as patted Oliver on the back without punching him, but now his hand on her shoulder felt gentle, comforting. It steadied her. Still, this was Rafe, her brother, her tormentor, and Liv shrugged it away.

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  She blinked, clearing her vision, and remembered Drake’s burning sigil on her brother’s chest. “Oh Songs, Rafe,” Liv shook her head, looking at the condemned.

  “What’s wrong? You look okay to me.” He crouched beside her.

  “Not me. You.”

  “What? I’m fine.”

  Liv put a hand on her brother’s chest, closed her eyes, and felt for the sigil. A burning emblem, stars and moons interlocking like clockwork, entered her mind, so searingly bright that she could hardly look at it, much less pick at it or try to figure out how it worked. A moon ratcheted, spun forward, then flicked back like a stuck clock.

  “No, no you’re not,” she whispered as his belly quivered beneath her fingers. “It’s a spell. Drake said I’d go to sleep and never wake up.”

  “So?”

  “He stuck it on you.”

  “Oh,” he said, not quite understanding.

  “Don’t. Go. To. Sleep.”

  “Okay—” his eyes widened. “What happens if I do?”

  “I’m guessing you’ll… die.”

  “Oh.” A stuttering laugh got stuck somewhere in his throat. “Is that all?”

  “Yeah…” She nodded. “Are you tired? Sleepy all of a sudden?”

  “No.” He shook his head, shoulders tensing.

  “That’s good. Just stay awake until we can undo it.”

  “Okay, well, do your thing.” He motioned to his chest.

  Liv stammered out, “I-I’m not that good. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “But you can throw lightning?”

  “Spells are different. I’d need to know how it works, and if I broke it, which I don’t even know if I can, it might just kill you.” Realizing how morbid that sounded, she added, “But I know a lot of wizards who can help.”

  Did she? Scaggs was missing, and Drake had put the Bastard’s thing on him, trying to kill her. And Thelemule… “Well, I know one, who might help,” she said, sounding less reassuring than she would have liked.

  “But we can fix it, right?” Rafe looked like he would prefer comfort to the truth.

  “I think so, but we’ll need to get to Greatwen as fast as possible.”

  “There’s a village to the south. We could steal a horse,” he offered.

  “Or hire one.”

  “You got coin?”

  Liv found herself wondering if she could trust him with Ms. Scaggs’ gold. She snorted, realizing she’d now be dead without him, and he’d soon be dead without her. She shoved the satchel into his hands, lifted the flap, scooped out a handful of gold coins, and dropped them back in.

  “Shite, that’s a lot of money.” He held the bag out to return it.

  She pushed it back. “You carry it. You’re bigger anyway.”

  Rafe groaned. “I really am screwed, aren’t I? I mean if you’re just handing me bags of gold.”

  “We’ll figure something out. Just don’t go to sleep, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and as the two started walking, she asked, “How the Hells did you get here, appearing like that?”

  “I was hiding in the back the whole time. I’ve been… following you all day,” he said sheepishly. “Since the market. I mean, Messer, my dad, told me to. I mean he didn’t tell me to do nothing bad or nothing, just follow. And I wanted to meet you, I mean, we met on the carriage last night, I guess, but you know… meet you when I wasn’t being hijacked.”

  “Meet me?” It struck her—he didn’t know who she was. “Didn’t Messer tell you about me?”

  “Just that you’re Oliver’s sister.” His brow furrowed. “You keep looking at me like that. Have we met before?”

  Should she just tell him? But what would he do? Laugh at her? Punch her? Hug her?

  Still, she had to tell him something, and something popped into her head. “Well, I was a cat at the time.”

  “Cat, what cat?”

  “Throat Ripper? The snow leopard. Twice for yes, once for no. That’s backwards, you know.”

  They walked for a minute while he processed that.

  “So wait, you’re really a cat?” he asked.

  “Like a cat-cat? Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know. It would explain why no one told me about you. If you were a cat magicked to look like Oliver’s sister…” he trailed off.

  “I’m not a cat.”

  “Why’d you go by all those places today, the dress shop, the Dolphin, if you weren’t going in?”

  She coughed. “You saw that?”

  “I said I was following you all day. Saw a cart almost run you over too… I tried to get to you.” There it was again, that strange quality in his voice: gentleness.

  She found herself saying, “I didn’t know where to go. I just needed to think. Things haven’t been so… easy with friends recently. But ah, don’t worry about that wizard. He’ll work for money.”

  She touched the satchel. Would he? He’d thrown that coin back.

  “I know the feeling. My dad dumped me here last time he went to Shivar.” Rafe let out a tired sigh. “That’s how I ended up getting that job from the priest. You remember? That time a freaking cat set my pants on fire.”

  “Well, I would apologize.” She shrugged. “But you did kind of deserve it. You were robbing us.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  They walked a while longer.

  “Hey, Olivia?” he asked.

  “You can call me Liv.”

  “Do you ever see Oliver?”

  A shiver went up her spine. She felt like she should tell him. “About once a week,” she whispered.

  “Really? Well, next time you see him, could you ask.” Rafe choked up. He was trying very hard, and very unsuccessfully to hide that he was crying. “Just tell him I want to see him is all. After that fall… After Messer threw him. I just need to see he’s okay. There’s this knot in my gut. It keeps getting tighter and tighter. I know I don’t have no right to ask but I just—”

  “Rafe, it’s me… Oliver.” She held her breath and looked away.

  “What?” The gentleness dropped from Rafe’s voice. Not harsh, just not gentle.

  “The book that turned me into a cat, we used it to make me like this.” She lifted her arms, motioning to her body.

  Over the next few steps, her brother widened the distance between them. He let out a long low groan. “Oh Songs.”

  She stayed silent as they walked on.

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to think. I know that…” As he spoke, something between annoyance, bitterness, and revulsion crept into his voice. “Fine, let’s forget about it for now, deal with it later.”

  She wondered what that meant. She’d been hoping for a hug, almost expecting one. But Rafe was his father’s son, and ‘deal with it later’ was far better than she’d feared. At least he hadn’t split on her. Then again, if he did, he’d be dead, so it wasn’t like he had a choice.

  “Don’t tell Messer?” she asked.

  “Bastard’s no,” he snorted, glancing at her with unapproving eyes.

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