Chapter 18: Silver

Lucian and I ran up eight flights of stairs with the guards behind us.

The roof door stood open to the night.

Wind came across the Lowell roof, cold and hard, with the whole city lit up below.

Tristan stood at the parapet with Bridget in front of him.

He held one arm across her chest. In the other hand he held a long knife, and the blade was silver.

It shone white against her throat.

"Stop there," he said.

The guards spread out along the stair door.

"Tell them to stay back, Ward," Tristan said. "Tell them, or she goes over."

Lucian raised a hand.

The guards stopped.

"Let her go, Tristan," I said.

"Shut up."

"You have nowhere to run. Your father is in cuffs."

"I know where my father is!"

His voice cracked on it.

Bridget made a small sound, and a thin red line showed on her neck where the silver had touched.

She was a human, and it did not burn her. It cut her.

"Margo," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Not now," I said.

"I did it for the house. I thought he'd..."

"Not now, Bridget."

Tristan laughed, a wild short sound.

"Look at you both," he said. "Look at the pair of you. You think you've won."

"Let her go," said Lucian.

"I'll trade. The girl for you."

"No," I said.

"Yes," said Lucian.

I felt him make up his mind through the bond, flat and quiet and sure, and I understood what he meant to do.

"Lucian, don't."

"Ward walks to me and she goes free," said Tristan. "Nobody else."

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