Nimewe watched Jellal pace up and down the marble-floored throne room. She bit her lower lip. That look on his face didn't bode well for them. What had set him off this time? She glanced at the newest members of their group.

Leo and Deira stood on the fringes, watching in silence. The assassin had a look on his face that also didn't promise anything good. But he didn't cause trouble. Her gut twisted. If she hadn't taken them through that Path, would any of them be in this situation? Who could say? At least the two of them weren't locked in the dungeons anymore. But if Leo was acting this restrained, she knew it was only because Jellal was holding something over his head. Either that or he didn't think he could kill the man without collateral.

On the other end of the line, a man with bleach-white hair and piercing blue eyes stood, arms crossed and sharp gaze examining everything. Including her. She shivered and looked away. He didn't give off any sign of malintent, but his gaze looked too deep, saw too much. He also seemed entirely unconcerned with the guards jabbing their spears into his back. Didn't he worry they'd run him through?

The final man leaned against a pillar, keeping an eye on the proceedings but not seeming terribly interested. This man she knew, thanks to Kaladin's long-winded rant. Apparently, Wit—or Hoid as he often called himself—was employed by the king of Kaladin's homeland for the sole purpose of insulting the nobility.

He also knew more than he was letting on. She could sense it. A vast reservoir of knowledge lurked just beneath the surface. He was here because he wanted to be. Not because anyone could hold him here. Did he know what had happened with the realms? Why they were all here?

Jellal cleared his throat and whirled to face them. "Some of you have clearly not learned that there is no escape from this place." His gaze fixed on Nimewe and Kaladin.

She shivered, pressing closer to Kaladin's side and ducking her head. The fury rolling off Jellal was palpable, as were the angry thoughts and desire to kill. But he wouldn't. Not yet because he still needed them both.

Kaladin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a warning growl rumbling through him. Some of the chill eased, and she peeked up from beneath her lashes to see that Jellal had moved on.

"Others of you..." He honed in on Wit. "Are a nuisance and clearly don't understand the gravity of your situation."

Wit shrugged, a thin smile on his hawkish face. "I understand it perfectly. Why else would I be here?" He waved a hand at Jellal, the grin widening. "It can't be for the riveting conversation or the brains. That's clearly lacking. Quite a misfortune." He tapped his chin. "And it also can't be for the beauty of the people surrounding me. I mean, the bridgeboy looks like a chull ran him over, and you, Jellal Fernandez... Your face rather reminds of me of my late aunt. Looked a bit like a donkey. Well, I suppose there's no helping that, is there?"

Jellal hissed, clenching his fists. "As I said, some of you are a nuisance and don't understand the gravity of your situation."

"Ah, hard of hearing too. Shame." Wit shook his head. "Do you have any good points at all?"

Twin orbs of darkness surrounded Jellal's hands, and the murderous rage burning from him sent a chill skittering down Nimewe's spine. Kaladin groaned. "Stormfather, what an idiot."

Nimewe played with the bottom of her tunic. "He's going to get himself killed."

"Good riddance."

"Kal!" She elbowed him in the side.

He snorted. "I'm just worried he'll drag us all down with him."

That was a bit harsh. Wit might be annoying, but he couldn't be that bad, could he? "We might need him."

"Need him?" Kaladin's bark of laughter rang out over the tense silence in the throne room.

Everyone turned to stare at them. Wit still had that half-amused, half-bored smile on his lips. The rest of them just stared without any expression at all. But their irritation and fear ran just under the surface. Nimewe's stomach lurched. Jellal spun to face them too, his eyes alight with rage. "Who gave you permission to speak?"

Kaladin tensed, and she sensed the battle lust rising in him. He wanted a chance at Jellal, and he'd take it too. After what had happened to his men, she wouldn't blame him. But she couldn't let him either because he'd get himself killed. Nimewe splayed her fingers across Kaladin's abdomen. "Don't." She held her hand there, drawing from the black of the pillar behind them with her other hand. He pressed against her, but her magic held, the gravity around him shifting until he couldn't move.

Jellal raised a brow, some of his irritation fading. "Not as loyal to your lover as he thought, eh?"

She glared back. How dare he get a kick out of this? "I like him better alive, Jellal."

"I'm sure you do." He turned a pointed stare to Kaladin, who had stopped struggling now. "Here that, bridgeboy? She likes you better alive. Maybe you shouldn't get into so many fights you can't win."

Kaladin's fists clenched at his sides, and Syl fluttered up anxiously by his shoulder. She zipped over to Nimewe and hovered by her arm. "Nim? Maybe you should release him?"

She stared down at the little creature and slid the hand on Kaladin's lower abdomen up to his shoulder. Squeezing in warning, she dropped the spell. "Kal, don't do anything stupid. I will restrain you if it means keeping you alive."

He remained tense, but he offered her a curt nod.

The tension in the others bled away to its normal levels, and everyone returned to staring at their feet or at anything but Jellal.

"Now, if you can all shut your mouths for five seconds, no one will end up in the dungeons or dead." Jellal clasped his hands behind his back and resumed pacing. "You're all going to a place called Star City. My intel there says it would be a good place to set up a base. It's your job to get it for me."

Nimewe gritted her teeth. So, they'd have to take more lives, would they? Of course, they would. Jellal was heartless. He'd mow over anything in his way to get what he wanted. Including innocent people.

***

Leo crossed his arms, afraid that if he didn't, he'd lose his restraint and attack the arrogant spawn of Rith right now. But he had to wait. Had to have patience and bide his time. Attacking now would just get Deira injured or killed. His mother too. No doubt Jellal had some sort of system in place that would ensure the deaths of every captive in the dungeon if he was ever killed.

Patience. He could wait. He held his breath for a long moment, willing his magic to still and his heart to stop racing. Closing his eyes, he ignored Jellal for a brief moment. Let him and his mission wait. If it didn't, Leo was going to do something he'd regret.

An arm snaked around his waist, followed by a warm body pressed into his side, and he opened his eyes to see Deira there. Her touch soothed the jumble of emotions and searing anger bubbling up inside him. He had to wait for her sake. Quietly, he unfolded his arms and slipped one around her shoulders. She needed him to keep it together and be level-headed as usual.

"I don't care who you have to kill to get the city," Jellal was saying. "Just take it. Most of the people there won't have the first clue what hit them. They're magicless and useless. But my intel reports that the mayor, Oliver Queen, is one and the same with their most formidable hero—The Arrow."

What kind of stupid name was the Arrow? Leo raised a brow. What self-respecting hero would want to be called that? What about something interesting like Shadow or the Desolation of Evil? In hindsight, none of those names sounded all that great either. But why did anyone need a code name?

"Are you listening to me, Ryalin?" Jellal had stopped pacing and was standing in front of him with crossed arms.

Leo blinked. No. But he couldn't say that. "Yes. Attack Star City. Take it at any cost. Watch out for this Arrow guy."

Jellal grunted, eyeing Deira, who was still clinging to him. The barest spark of interest entered the man's dark gaze. Leo narrowed his eyes, shifting to stand in front of Deira. If this man thought he could get away with hurting her for his own selfish gain, he had another thing coming. "Back off."

"What was that, assassin?"

"I said, back off. She's off-limits." He gritted his teeth. "Try to use her to hurt me, and I'm going to make sure you die a very, very slow death, and Rith curse the consequences."

Jellal rolled his eyes. "You couldn't hurt me—"

Leo flicked his hand, and the shadows sharpened into a blade, resting lightly in his tight grip. "Say that again."

He could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on them. And none of them seemed happy with him. Well, after Wit's escapade, why would they be? The man was insufferable, and now he'd gotten Jellal riled up to the point of violence.

"You'd better put that knife away, assassin. One word from me, and your mother dies."

Leo locked eyes with Jellal. He didn't want his mother dead, but he wouldn't tolerate any harm coming to Deira. Jellal needed to know without a doubt that the consequences for hurting her would be swift and brutal.

Deira squeezed his upper arm. "Leo, let it go. He didn't do anything to me."

"You should listen to her. She's clearly smarter than you." Jellal crossed his arms. "Put the knife away."

Leo relaxed his grip on the blade, letting it dissolve back into shadow and flee. "I won't be so cooperative if you hurt her. Remember that."

Jellal shrugged and turned away. "You're all going to head out now. And there's one more prisoner joining you. He's been a little—" Jellal snickered. "Difficult. I'd watch it around him. He might snap if you're not good." He spun on his heel to face them, a sly smile on that smug face of his. "Guards, put them on the transports and get them out of here."

***

Arcannen Rai reclined in the back of one of the wagons loaded with supplies. He watched from beneath hooded lids as the guards dragged the group of prisoners for this mission out into the open. He glamoured himself to a non-descript, forgettable appearance. Dirty brown hair, dull grey eyes, and skin that was neither pasty nor tanned. He just was. Perfectly forgettable, perfectly disguised.

The prisoners were tugged and corralled into the back of his wagon and the second one. The guards then took their positions on either side of the two transport vehicles. Arcannen sighed. Airships were so much faster. But Jellal had reassured him that this was an efficient means of travel and that, if he proved himself here, he'd be allowed a place on the team.

If he proved himself? He'd do more than that. Jellal had no idea what he was in for. Manipulating the boy would be easy. Almost too easy. The kid seemed eager for a second who was actually onboard with his dumb plan. But he dreamed too small, and Arcannen did not. So, Arcannen would win. It was that simple.

The newest passengers on his wagon eyed him and shifted to the very back, as far from him as possible. What had Jellal told them about him to keep them so far away? He rolled his eyes from beneath his hood. The boy was likely afraid he'd undermine what little power the boy had over these individuals. And the boy was right. But he wouldn't do it in any obvious or quick way.

"You're the ones I'm to work with?" He lowered his voice to a snaky whisper, figuring that it was best not to speak normally. Someone could identify him later when he appeared as himself. For now, he'd do his best to set himself up as a friend, to find out what their motivations and desires were. Everyone had a weak spot. Everyone had ideals. He just needed to know theirs.

The dark-haired, hawk-faced man closest to him offered him a knowing smile. "And you're the one he warned us to keep an eye on. But I wonder..." The man stroked his angular jaw, his smile turning razor sharp. "I wonder if it isn't the other way around. Maybe it's that you're here to keep an eye on us, eh?"

Arcannen stiffened. How had he known? Was it just a lucky guess? The gleam in the man's eyes told him it wasn't. Well, he'd try to play along. "I'm Isaturin." He stuck out a hand with a sigh. "And I was warned that some of you were extremely volatile. Something about numerous escape attempts and if I want to keep my head, I should avoid being caught up in it."

"Is that so?" The man didn't take Arcannen's hand. "Well, wise advice, I'm sure."

Arcannen dropped his hand to his lap, gritting his teeth. How dare this lowlife refuse his gesture of goodwill? Not that it had really been a gesture of goodwill, but it was the idea that counted. Why did this man seem to see straight through his disguise?

"Why do you keep your face hidden from us?" The man leaned back against the wagon's wall, lacing his fingers behind his head.

He scrambled for an explanation. His glamor would have to change if he wanted to keep the hood. And he wanted to do that very much. The less they saw of him, the better. Even if his glamour was forgettable and solid, he didn't want to take the chances that someone in this new, crazed world could see through him. "Scars." He adjusted the glamour. "Half my face was burned as a child." He cleared his throat. "I don't like letting people see."

The others still didn't speak, but they were watching the exchange now. The man who'd been acting as spokesperson shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Arcannen resisted the urge to growl. This man was more trouble than expected. Could he get rid of him without ruining his plans to manipulate Jellal? Maybe. If he was smart, he probably could. But not on this trip. He settled back against the wagon's front wall, waiting for Jellal's teleportation mages to work their magic. If they could even do what Jellal claimed they could.

***

Amadeira curled into Leo's side, burying her face in his shirt. His strong arms wrapped around her, and he held her close. One hand cupped the back of her head while the other rested at the small of her back. He stroked her hair without a word.

She smiled. "A selenium for your thoughts?"

"You value them that highly, do you?" His laughter rumbled through her body.

"More. But I'm poor." Her smile widened. "Humor me."

"I suppose I can do that."

"So?"

He sighed and shifted her. She nestled between his legs and rested her head against his chest, let her eyes shut. His thoughts must be unhappy if he didn't want to share. He cleared his throat. "I wanted to kill him back there, consequences be cursed."

"I know."

"And it could've—no, would've—gotten my mother killed." He tensed. "And it would've injured you, most likely."

She rested her palm on his thigh. "But you didn't."

"No."

"Then that's the important thing." She opened her eyes and stared at the flashes of color passing as Jellal's mages teleported them. The flashes seemed slower than before. "Looks like we're slowing down."

He settled his hands on her belly and rested his chin on her head. "I won't kill for him. Only for justice." He paused. "Or for survival."

"Let's hope we don't need to. You think this Arrow will provide trouble?"

He groaned and lifted a hand. Probably running it through his hair like he usually did when he was frustrated. "Not thinking he will. Counting on it."

She'd been afraid he'd say that. "We'll be ready for it?"

The colors stopped flashing by, and the landscape settled until tall grass swished around the walls of their cart and the city loomed in the distance. She stared at it and waited for his answer.

He didn't respond, and she looked up to find him staring off into the distance in the direction of the city. She frowned. "Leo?"

His gaze dropped back to hers. "I don't know."

***

Running into other people wasn't his idea of a good time. They still had a way to trek in order to reach the gods-forsaken city the spiky-haired, tattooed freak wanted them to take. Ezra hung his head between his hands. Why hadn't he just taken his chances by now and made a break for it? Metal couldn't harm him, and nothing could stab through him. His ka'kari had made sure of that.

He stared down at his palms and watched the silver pool up from them. It didn't form into the familiar orb. Just stayed under the surface where he wanted it.

The Globe of Edges. He still couldn't quite believe he'd found it. That it had chosen to bond with him, of all people. How many years had it been since he'd found it?

Forget it. It didn't matter.

He stared at the city and the people approaching them. Was the fight going to start now? It better not. They didn't have time for this, and he didn't want to fight anyway.

"Stop where you are!" Isaturin strode to the front of the group and stood in the middle of the road, his cloak billowing around him.

Ezra snapped his head up at the shout. Great. Trust the scarred stranger to make a wonderful first impression on people that, from the looks of it, were armed to the teeth.

The strange, black-clothed man who had been cracking jokes about Jellal sidled up to him. "What do you think of him? You've been awfully quiet our whole trip." He grinned. "I can tell you're thinking about something."

Ezra frowned and crossed his arms. The approaching group didn't stop at the stranger's command. He glanced at the man beside him. "Thinking? Yeah, thinking about when I can go home."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. Not anytime soon anyway. Were you in a terrible hurry?"

"I suppose not. Who are you, again?"

"Sad you can't recollect. Ah, well. The broody sorts seems to have some defect or another. Always do." The man offered him a bright smile as though he shouldn't feel bad for it.

Good thing he didn't. "Doesn't answer my question."

"Impatient too. I'm sure," the man said, "that you'll get along with the group famously now. You see that man over by the other cart? Well, the two of them actually." He pointed.

"What about them?" Ezra tried not to sigh.

"You three will get along wonderfully. All three of you have long faces and attitudes to match. We just need to find you a woman who happens to appreciate features that even your mother couldn't, and you'll fit right in."

Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Is there a point to all this? No? Didn't think so. Go away."

The man shrugged. "I'm Wit, by the way."

"Did you do all of that just to make me suffer for being impatient?"

"Who knows?" Wit grinned. "I am Wit, after all, and my job is to poke fun at everyone around me. It's why I'm still here. Or, alternatively, why so many people want to kill me. Lucky me."

"You're lucky because people want to kill you?" Ezra raised both brows and groaned. "Why did I get stuck with you lot?"

Wit shrugged. "Fate. Or, if you'd prefer, sheer dumb luck."

"Luck?"

"Never said what kind."

Ezra shook his head and stalked up to where Isaturin was botching any chance of good relationships with the newcomers. Even now, they were engaged in a heated exchange. Judging by the looks on the faces of some of their newest companions, the altercation wouldn't end pleasantly.

He grabbed the man's shoulder and shoved him out of the way. "Go back to the cart and keep your devils-cursed mouth shut. You're only causing problems."

The man hissed. "How dare—"

"Save it for someone who cares." Ezra turned his back to the man. Let him do his worst. If Isaturin tried to shiv him, he'd get a nasty surprise. And Ezra wouldn't have a scratch. Would be a pity about his cloak though. It was new.

He examined the party in front of him with an apologetic smile. Or, at least, he hoped it seemed apologetic. "Sorry about him. He likes to run his mouth a little too much, and he never says anything pleasant."

I should know. Had to spend a full hour with him on the way here.

"Who are you people?"

Ezra measured the brown-haired man up and crossed his arms. Power-hungry and a born killer. He knew the sort, and he narrowed his eyes. "Just passing through on our way to Star City."

"I asked who you were, not what you were doing." The man's blue eyes narrowed. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't gut you all right now."

Ezra's gaze flicked to the group behind the man. This sort of person wouldn't care what happened to his team. If they even were his team. Servants or captives, more likely. They shifted, eyeing the man warily. He turned his attention back to the domineering man. "Because your crew is as likely to stab you in the back if you attempt it as you are to win."

The man's lips thinned. So, he knew that, did he?

"So, I propose you just go on your way without trouble, and we'll go on ours." He glanced over his shoulder. The rest of his team lounged around the carts, their attention fixed firmly on him. Isaturin sulked in the corner, but Ezra could feel the man's gaze on him as well. He'd have to keep an eye on the fool.

"You'd better watch it with your people." The stranger glared at Isaturin.

"I don't need you to tell me that," Ezra said, "and they aren't my people. We work as a team."

"Some team. That one's a loose cannon."

A dark-skinned woman with lively green eyes stepped forward and cleared her throat. "Let's just leave, Akram. We're going to be late."

The brown-haired man narrowed his eyes. "You'd better not be telling me what to do, Gwen. You won't like the consequences."

"Just a suggestion."

"Good." He stalked past Ezra and snapped his fingers at the group behind him. "Let's go then."

Ezra stepped aside and watched them pass. The green-eyed woman—Gwen—smiled at him as she passed, offered what little apology she could. He didn't respond, but it was a nice gesture. At least someone had tried. It was better than he could say for anyone else.

When they'd left, he rounded on the rest of his group, his gaze fixed on Isaturin. What was wrong with him? He really was as much of an aggressive brute as Jellal had claimed. Ezra strode to the carts and paused beside Isaturin. "I'm not a violent man, Isaturin. Don't give me a reason to be."

He left the man to ponder that and continued over to join Kaladin and Leo.

***

Hoid watched them bicker from his corner of the room. He laced his fingers behind his head and sighed. They wouldn't be able to work together until they rooted out the traitor in their midst and figured out that they were all on the same side.

The assassin and the bridgeboy might be able to do it. If they worked together. Hoid pursed his lips. Would they work together? He shrugged and closed his eyes. They could. But it would require work on his part. One thing was for certain. He had to keep them alive.

Why was it he was always having to do that? A bone-deep weariness settled over him. Sliding through Shadesmar and manipulating time and space so that he could be where he was needed had its appeal. But it also had its downsides. True, he was older than almost any other being in the Cosmere. And he didn't look a day over thirty.

That's nice. If you're interested in settling down.

But that was the problem. He wasn't. Travel had become his way of life. Give up seeing the world to settle down? Not a chance. He fingered the flute in his belt with a smile. Maybe he was tired and wished for some time to rest, time not to be everywhere he was needed. But that was minor compared to the thrill of doing it. And if he had a little fun along the way, what was the harm?

He cracked one eye open. Still arguing.

The assassin seemed adamant upon going alone, but Kaladin was insisting he shouldn't because it would only create unnecessary risk. Hoid huffed and shut his eye again. Typical of the bridgeboy. Always cautious. Always so interminably grumpy. Too bad he was needed.

"You have anything to add to this, Wit?"

He opened both eyes this time and sat up with a smirk. Of course Nimewe would be the one to cave and ask him. But just how much did she perceive about him? His smirk widened into a grin. "Should I?"

"I don't know," she said. "Should you?"

"You really should say what you mean." Hoid lounged against the wall. "You might confuse people otherwise."

"You know exactly what I'm asking."

"True. But do they?"

She glanced back at the two men facing off. "No."

"Do you?"

She sucked her lower lip in and caught it between her teeth. Ah, there was the catch then. He grinned. "You don't."

"No." She sighed. "But I'm tired of the arguing."

"What am I to do about that?" Hoid crossed his arms and closed his eyes again. Let her figure out what she wanted first. He was still too tired to get up.

"Say something sage?"

"Something sage."

She released a soft groan. "Stop it. Stop it, right now."

"Stop what, exactly?"

"Stop... Well... Stop—" She sucked in a breath. "Oh, curse it all! Stop being so you, I suppose."

Hoid shrugged. "That's impossible even for me, I'm afraid. Ask me for something else I can accomplish, would you?"

"Fine. Make them stop arguing. I know you're wiser than you let on. Kaladin told me about that story you told him—"

Hoid raised a finger and cut her off with a lazy smile. "Just to be clear... The one about the chicken? Or the one I adapted to fit him?"

"The—"

"The crem and chull example, then? Perfect. Continue."

"Why hasn't anyone killed you yet?" She huffed. "I'd think there would be a line."

"Like I told Ezra earlier. Sheer, dumb luck. In that I'm lucky everyone else is so dumb."

"You're a drip, Wit. Get up and deal with them."

He opened his eyes. "If you insist. No need to get waspish about it, madam. Makes your tone dissonant."

Her brows pinched together, and she spun away. He followed behind her with a tepid smile. Well, he'd better talk these two chull-headed fools out of continuing to butt heads. He meandered up to the table and sat on it with a sigh. "I see that the two of you are struggling to decide who should use the one brain-cell you have between you."

The argument stopped.

Both men turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"I'm going to assume you're insulting me." Kaladin crossed his arms. "After all, it's all you ever do."

Leo mirrored the other man's posture, but a frown of confusion marred his brow. Ah, yes. He'd almost forgotten that the assassin's world had lost that information quite some time ago. Pity.

"Why, yes!" Hoid clapped slowly. "Glad to see which of you has the functioning cell. Kaladin, if you wouldn't mind, could you use it to think for a moment about your argument? Here, I'll tell you a—"

Kaladin held up a hand, and his face paled. "No. No stories, Wit. Stormfather—" He shuddered. "No stories. The last wasn't all that helpful."

"It wasn't?" Hoid sighed. "Pity. Your girl seemed to think otherwise."

Kaladin shot Nimewe a frown. "I don't know why. What do you want? We're busy—"

"Wasting time. I know."

"We're not—"

"Really? I've been listening from the corner. You know," Hoid said, "my horse has an easier time deciding where to go and what to do than you lot do."

"Your horse isn't storming a highly fortified location with technology that is unknown." Leo turned away. "I will go alone. End of story. I'll be in and out in a flash, no one the wiser."

"I doubt that very much." Hoid clapped his hands together with a gleeful laugh. "But, you're welcome to try. We'll see you back here in about an hour."

Leo's girl shot to her feet. "Leo, you can't just leave. What about backup?"

He cupped her cheek in his hand and dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I'll just Step. The shadows are always just within reach."

The man was capable of sweetness? Well, learn something new every day. Hoid shook his head. Shadows would only be of so much use. The assassin was slippery. Hoid gave him that. But it wasn't going to be slippery enough. Not in this situation.

***

Leo Stepped from a shadow into the dark interior of a basement. Lights glowed from strange boxes, and displays of images hovered mid-air. He frowned. What was this place? Obviously, he'd finally found the secret base Jellal had briefed them about, but what was it? How was any of this useful? It looked like it would cramp the place up.

A door opened and slammed shut from somewhere up above. Leo glided back into the dark recesses of the building and gathered the shadows to himself. So much for getting intel without company.

Things never truly go according to plan.

He stilled his breathing and waited.

A tall, well-built man stepped into view. He flicked on the lights, leaving Leo's area with less shadow than before. His piercing blue eyes scanned the interior, and he crossed his arms. "Felicity, I want everything you have on the intruders. We've got another group spotted on the outskirts of the city. Reports were received of another suspicious group squatting in one of the abandoned buildings a few blocks down."

The woman addressed sashayed in, pushing her glasses up on her nose. She bit her lip and dropped her stack of files down on a desk before flopping into the chair. "You've got it, Boss. Anything else?"

Must be the Arrow and his accomplice.

"Get the team together." The man paced the open stretch of floor, coming so close Leo could've grabbed him. "I have a feeling we're going to need to fight."

"Done." Felicity tapped away on a strange contraption with letters on it. "You think it'll be enough?"

Arrow scrubbed a hand down his face before running it over his short-cropped hair. "I don't know. We should send a distress call to Barry. Just in case."

Barry? Who was Barry? Leo tucked the information away. Maybe it mattered, and maybe it didn't. He could at least remember the name and the fact that reinforcements might be on their way. He kept listening.

The Arrow paced past his hiding place again.

Seconds after he'd passed for the third time, the room lit up. It almost looked as though something made of light was streaking around the room at very fast speeds. Leo shrank back into the shadows. What now? Maybe he should've brought backup.

Then again. They'd just be in his way.

"Barry?" Arrow stopped pacing and gaped at the person who had materialized from the light.

Remarkable. Leo blinked. Yes, it was a person. What was this? A technique like his own? He didn't think so. But if not, then what was it?

"Oliver. I came to get help."

"Help?" Oliver chuckled. "Funny. I was about to send you a message asking for precisely that."

Barry shook his head. "Sorry, but I can't. Central City is under attack."

"You too?" Oliver paced back toward Leo's hiding place. "Seems awfully coincidental. What kind of—"

Leo stepped back to put more distance between himself and the Arrow, hiding deeper in the shadows. His back smacked up against something metal. Then it was tipping, and everything around him came crashing down.

Both men turned to look at him. He swallowed and turned to Step. He wouldn't get any information here. Not now that he'd—

He didn't Step. Seconds before he could, steel-strong hands grabbed him and yanked him back. His pulse hammered in his throat, but he forced himself to remain calm. This wasn't the plan, but now he'd have to make it work. If he could take them out now, maybe they'd be able to complete the mission with less bloodshed.

Sucking a breath in and letting it out, Leo called to the shadows. They undulated in the darkness for a moment, then crept along the floor to wind up his legs.

"Hey, watch it!" Arrow stepped forward. "Look by his feet."

Barry must've done as instructed because he sucked in a breath. "Haven't seen that one before."

Leo ignored them and continued to shape the shadows. He would win this and tell the others they just had to march in and subjugate the people. Non-violently if possible. Something heavy slammed into the side of his head, and his knees buckled.

He lost his grip on the shadows. A cry ripped from him as stars erupted in his vision before fading to black.

His head felt heavy. Everything felt heavy.

I never should've ignored the bridgeboy's request.

His world faded to darkness.

***

Kaladin paced up and down the tiny space where they'd bunked. "He's been gone too long." He reached the wall and spun, retracing his steps. As much as he didn't like the assassin's cocksure attitude, he didn't want the man dead. He recognized a professional when he saw one.

"I'm sure he'll be back, Kal." Syl hovered in front of him, face twisted in a mask of anxiety.

He lowered his voice even though most of the others were sleeping. Only Nim and that creepy addition to their team remained awake. The latter's gaze pierced into Kaladin even from beneath his hood. "That's very convincing."

Nim raised her head to look at him. She pushed to her feet and padded over. Taking his hands in hers, she squeezed. "Stop worrying."

"Stop worrying?" Kal shook his head. "The man's been gone for twenty-four hours, Nim. No word. Nothing. He's just vanished. And he wouldn't do that." He glanced at Amadeira's sleeping form. "Not without her. Something's wrong."

Syl lit down on Nim's shoulder. "We could look for him."

"We don't even know where he went."

"Isn't anyone able to tell us?" Syl bit her lip, leaned forward. "Wit might know. He always knows things. Odd things."

"I heard that." Wit opened his eyes and stared at the three of them. "And if you're looking for him, you should be looking at the places where Queen stays. I'd take a close look at that club of his. He wouldn't keep anyone important in the city hall. Too much publicity."

"What is a club? And how do you know all of this?" Nim cocked her head to the side. "Jellal didn't—"

"Tell us? He didn't need to. I've popped around a bit. It's easy when you've lived as long as I have. As for the club..." Wit shrugged. "You'd have to see it to understand. But it's a building down in the East sector of the Glades. Named it Verdant, I believe. His little sister owns it now."

Kaladin snorted. Of course he thought it was easy. This was Wit they were discussing, after all. "And how do you propose we get there?"

"Well, I could take you through—"

"If you say Shadesmar," Kaladin said, "I'll throttle you."

"Shadesmar." Wit grinned.

Kaladin shook his head. "We'll find another way."

"Wandering through the alleys and streets of the city?" Wit laughed. "Dressed like that, you'll never make it."

Did the man ever run out of things to mock? "The boots are new. And the outfit is relatively—"

"Not really the problem."

Then what? "You know what? Forget it." Kaladin strode to where Valeia was sleeping a few feet from the new fellow. Isaturin, was it? "Come on. Wake up, everyone."

Ezra stirred and opened his eyes, any trace of weariness nowhere to be found. Had he even been asleep in the first place? "Where to?"

Apparently not. "Some club called Verdant."

"You want to party at a time like this?" Ezra propped himself up on one elbow.

Party? No, of course he didn't. Why would he?

"A club is a place to party. I suppose that's not what you're looking to do there?"

"No. We're looking for Ryalin."

"Ah. And why would we find him there?" Ezra shoved off the thin blanket he'd been using and eased to his feet.

"Because Wit claims the Arrow might have a base there."

"And Wit knows this, how, exactly?" Ezra turned to Wit.

"I know more than you'd think, Ezra Cromwyll."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ezra picked up his staff and shrugged. "Let's go then."

Kaladin rubbed his temples. This wasn't going to be an easy battle, was it? Then again, what about this entire mission had been easy so far? What about anything had been easy in life? Nothing. So, he didn't see why this should be any different.

***

Leo's head spun, and he wished he had been more careful. Whoever had hit him left their mark. His cheek was sticky with drying blood, and a cut at his temple stung. Had they been wearing a ring when they punched him? It didn't really matter.

He opened his eyes.

Everything was pitch black.

What's going on?

"Looks like he's coming around."

Leo recognized the Arrow's gruff voice. So, they still had him, then. Wonderful.

"Can you hear me?" The gentler voice must be Barry. It was close too.

Leo nodded.

"Good. We have questions, and we want them answered. Now." Arrow wasn't in the mood to waste time, it seemed.

"Oliver, there's no reason for hostility. Do things by the book. Knocking him out is already—"

"Yeah, I know." Footsteps rang on the smooth floor.

The hood was ripped off his head, and Leo blinked, found himself face to face with the Arrow. "Who are you?"

The man had a black mask on now with a green vest and matching hood. Knives were strapped at his hips and to his thigh, and a quiver had been slung over his shoulder. Leo frowned. His head still hurt too much to concentrate on Stepping. Not that he could when he was tied down to this metal chair.

"Answer me!"

Leo stiffened and bowed his head. Best not to show any defiance yet. "I'm Leo Ryalin."

"Who sent you?"

He saw no reason to lie. Let Jellal take the heat for this one. "Jellal Fernandez."

"Who's that?" This time Barry was asking, but it didn't seem as though the question was intended for him.

Leo stayed quiet.

The Arrow shrugged. "How would I know?" He glared down at Leo. "What does he want with Star City?"

"He wants to be in control." Leo sighed. "He's mad, but unfortunately, he's also manipulative."

The Arrow crossed his arms. "So, why were you sent?"

"To take the city." Leo raised his head. "Like I said, he wants control."

"Then it's a pity he won't get it." Arrow narrowed his eyes. "And you're going to sit here for a good long while until your friends show up so we can deal with them."

It was what Leo would've done. His gut twisted. And he also would've killed the targets once they showed.

***

When Wit finally surfaced with everyone in the basement of Verdant, Valeia was determined to make their opponents pay. If it hadn't been for them, she wouldn't have experienced the horror of traveling through Shadesmar. The memory of oceans of tiny beads threatening to swallow her turned her stomach. Good thing Ezra had fished her out before she could drown.

One thing was for certain. She was never going to travel that way again. The six of them—Wit had left the shifty, scarred man behind intentionally, though he'd claimed it was an accident—stood on the stairs, peering around the corner.

Leo was in the center of the room, surrounded by equipment and guards. One of them wore a black mask and green hood. The other was wearing some sort of ridiculous skin-tight, red suit. Who wore that kind of thing, anyway? She shook her head. The others in the room seemed uncertain of themselves. Plus, based on their height and build, most of them seemed young.

One girl. Two guys. None looked ready, though the one in the hockey mask looked arrogant enough to land himself in hot water by doing dumb things. She looked over her shoulder at the others. Wit crouched on the step above her, a smile on his thin lips. "This is where you either win the city or lose it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. And how would he know that?

"All the protectors of this city that can stand up to you are right down there."

The group below seemed engrossed in some sort of interrogation. Leo was answering, but she couldn't clearly hear anything. Her focus honed in on the cocky guy in the hockey mask. "Then we'd better target the weakest link, hadn't we?"

Kaladin nodded. "You deal with the guy in the weird white mask, and Nim and I will deal with the Arrow." His gaze flicked to Amadeira and Ezra. "Can you even fight?"

"Passably." Ezra hefted his staff.

"I can use my knife. And my magic." Amadeira twisted her shirt's hem between her fingers. "I'll do my best to stay out of the way and just offer support."

"We'll distract them. You free Ryalin so he can help. Deal?" Valeia kept her focus on the group, not bothering to confirm whether or not Ryalin's woman had agreed. She would. No way would she leave Ryalin sitting there tied up during the fight. "Ready?"

"Ready," they all whispered.

She came to her feet and shot down the stairs, a war cry on her lips. The guy in the hockey mask immediately engaged. Cocky, like she'd thought. This would be easier than she'd expected.

His movements were slow. He threw a punch, which, had it landed, would've knocked her to the ground. It missed. Valeia didn't even need to use her abilities, but she did. This boy needed to be taught a lesson. Clearly, his trainer hadn't succeeded. She would.

She abandoned the staff and placed her arms over one another with a smirk.

The guy eyed her. "Come on, man. That all you got?"

A harsh laugh tore out of her. "Far from it, little boy."

Water blasted from her hands and slammed into the kid. He flew backwards, taking out the masked girl in the process. She yelled at him and fought to free herself from the tangle of limbs. Valeia sighed. Was the Arrow really so desperate for help that he'd hire these sorts? They were worse than useless. And they had no magic whatsoever.

A quick glance told her the others were struggling a little more to contain the other fighters. The man in the red suit zipped past her in a blur of light. His passage blew her back, jarring the breath from her lungs. It almost felt as if he'd physically slapped her backward. But at that speed, if he'd actually done that, she'd be a smear on the other wall by now.

She doubled over, choking and gasping for breath. Flashes of light exploded around the room, and she blinked. The stars didn't clear, and something slammed into her from the side as she was trying to reorient herself.

Valeia grappled for a hold on whoever had bowled into her. Her fingers dug into a crevice of a smooth, hard surface. The guy in the white mask. She tore at the mask. It ripped up over his head, allowing her to see the young man beneath.

He stared down at her, anger in his dark eyes. "You really think that was gonna keep me down? You're stupider than I thought." His eyes narrowed. "What was that trick anyway? Some sort of new tech?"

Tech? Why would it be that? "Magic."

"Seriously? You expect me to believe that?"

She stared back up at him.

He didn't really seem like a bad kid. Just on the wrong side of the fight. She bit her lip. Did they really have to hurt these people? All they wanted was Star City and their team member. Couldn't an agreement be reached?

But one look into his deep brown eyes told her the answer. No. These people would die to defend their city from the likes of her. From those who only wanted to harm it. Who didn't love it.

Her heart twisted. She might not be able to avoid killing him. Her fingers tightened on the mask she'd torn off him.

"You zone out or something?"

She didn't answer. His question wasn't important. It wouldn't decide his life or death. Her choice would. Could she do it? Take another innocent life?

The guy shook his head with a sigh. "Fine. Keep your secrets, lady. Not that they're gonna be secrets much—"

She had to. It was him or her. She slammed her forehead up into his nose. Bone gave way with a wet crunch. She winced, shoving him off her as he screamed and clutched his face. Straddling him, she wrapped both hands around his head and slammed it back against the floor. He batted at her hands, but she held on.

The second smack did it. He went limp.

He was still breathing though. Her shoulders slumped. She hadn't killed him.

Standing, she turned to see who else needed help. And that list was much, much longer than she'd anticipated.

***

Once Deira freed him, Leo Stepped. He emerged from the shadows behind Barry. The man was fighting with Valeia. With a glance to his left, Leo found the rest of the group. They'd taken out the three supporting the Arrow, but Ezra seemed to be the only one dealing with the Arrow. Kaladin was tending to Wit, and it looked like Nimewe was tied up dealing with the blond who had entered with the Arrow.

Ezra didn't seem to need help. In fact, the Arrow's face was a mask of frustration and concentration. Leo narrowed his eyes and watched for a moment while Barry was occupied. The Arrow struck out with a knife. It bounced off Ezra's skin. Didn't even leave a scratch.

Leo cocked his head to the side. Strange. Did anything else do damage to the man?

The Arrow seemed to be wondering the same thing. He retreated and drew his bow. Leo pursed his lips. Ezra couldn't move quicker than the bow, could he? Even Leo wasn't sure he'd be able to Step fast enough to evade a projectile like that.

Ezra just stared at the Arrow, a lukewarm smile on his lips, his eyes ice-cold. He crossed his arms and waited.

This was unexpected. Leo frowned and crossed his own arms. Ezra didn't have a death wish. He must have something up his sleeve, right?

The Arrow released the string. His arrow leapt from the bow and streaked through the air. Ezra just watched it speed toward his heart.

The arrow struck and clattered to the floor.

"What the—"

Ezra darted forward, swinging his staff. "Are you done with your toys, Oliver Queen?"

The Arrow stiffened for a second. Then he lunged out of the staff's strike zone. "Those ones at least."

Leo turned away, located Valeia and Barry. The two were a blur. Valeia seemed to be keeping up with him, moving so quickly Leo couldn't even see the two of them. He'd have to slow them down or catch up. If he could just manage to—

The sparks and light trails ended with a crash. The red-suited man landed on the ground, the racks behind him toppling over. Valeia must have landed a hit. Leo Stepped and came out right in front of Barry, who was shoving the racks off his body. He succeeded in lifting one away and wiggling out from under the other.

Leo let him for a moment before he slammed his boot down on Barry's back. Barry's face smacked into the floor, and the other man grunted. "Why are you doing this?"

The words came out garbled against the hard floor, but Leo grasped the gist. "Because I have people I care about on the line if I fail."

"Do you have something to do with the attack on Central City?"

"No. I don't even know where that is."

"But you somehow found Star City. Even though you're not from here."

Not from here. No, he wasn't. He wasn't from any place even close to this. "We were sent here. I didn't have any say."

"You could pretend—"

Leo kneeled on top of Barry and grabbed his hair. "I'm not going to pretend anything. What are you people, anyway? You know something I don't?"

"Probably. But I'm guessing you have information I need. And I need to go back to Central City. Now."

"And that's my problem because?" Leo glanced at the rest of the fighting.

The Arrow and Ezra seemed evenly matched. Ezra had been holding out on them. He was more than a fair fighter. Perhaps there'd been more to his wandering lifestyle than he'd mentioned. As Leo watched, the man blinked out of existence and reappeared behind the Arrow.

"Your friend's some fighter to keep up with that."

Why was Barry starting a conversation? Leo had a feeling his opponent would have no trouble breaking free if he was inclined to do so. What held him back? He stayed quiet.

"Oliver's one of the strongest and fastest naturals I've seen."

Leo bit his lip. Was Barry trying to bait him into talking? He yanked Barry's head back further and unsheathed his obsidian dagger.

Thank Albrith for her mercy when Jellal gave it back.

"I'm not interested in chatting."

"Yeah..." Barry grunted. "I noticed."

"We both know my hold on you is nothing more than a formality. So let me give you a reason not to run off on me." He pressed the blade to Barry's pale neck.

"Look. I have people relying on me. A wife. A kid. Just let me go. I'll leave Oliver to deal with the problem. Fair and square?"

"There's nothing fair and square about it. Your friend is outnumbered. He is going to lose against Ezra."

"Probably not."

"Say that again with a bit more conviction." Leo snorted. "I might consider believing it."

"Your friend hasn't honed his reflexes like Oliver has."

"You don't have a clue."

"Why don't you give me one? Tell me what you're hoping to gain from this. We can figure this out."

Why were people always trying to talk him down? They always assumed he hadn't thought through what he was doing. Hadn't made the difficult moral decision after struggling with it for long, silent hours. "Let me put this a way even you should be able to understand." He tightened his grip on Barry's hair and yanked a little more than necessary. "I finally found something I care about more than justice. And while I'd willingly die in the line of duty for justice, I would gladly die a thousand times over for the two women who mean the world to me."

"I understand. I have a wife and a daughter who mean more than anything to me."

Leo's grip on the knife tightened. What did he think he was doing?

"And I'd protect them with my life too. I've let villains get away because it was too much of a threat to them if I pursued those men and women. You don't have to sacrifice justice to protect them. And you don't—"

Leo pressed the knife against Barry's neck until it nicked his throat. "Shut up. You don't know a thing about me. But you should know I've done this before," he said, "and won't hesitate to do it again."

Barry stopped talking. He shifted, and Leo nicked him again with a warning growl. "Try that flash trick again, and I'll flay you alive before you have a chance to scream. I move just as fast as you do."

A laugh vibrated through Barry. "That," he said, "I doubt. Unless you can run fast enough to reverse time itself."

Leo blinked. That was possible? "I don't like liars."

"I'm not lying."

"If I were you, I'd stop while I was ahead."

"Good thing you're not." Barry chuckled. "Look, why are we fighting? We could help you free your loved ones from whoever has them if you just let us. And I think your friend might need medical attention after our collision. You might—"

"I'll kill that spawn of Rith myself when it's time. I don't need help. And she can take care of herself."

"But—"

"Don't make me shut you up, you misbegotten shade of Rith."

"Look, I'm not sure insults—"

"What did I say?" Leo huffed. Enough was enough. Besides, he couldn't have Barry escaping and flashing off to the gods only knew where. Having an enemy on the loose would only make this harder. Besides, Ezra was beginning to look like he might need some help with the Arrow.

He locked his arm around Barry's neck in a stranglehold. "I won't kill you. But I need you to stay where you are. Sorry."

He Stepped with Barry and came out near the wall.

Barry sucked in a breath. "W-what was that? Ugh. I'm going to be sick."

"Not now you aren't." Leo slammed his head into the wall.

Just hard enough to knock him out. Not enough to kill him. Assuming he didn't end up concussed. He hoped the man survived. After all, he had the distinct feeling the man had been holding back, and he wanted a rematch someday. Fair and square, as Barry had said. "Sorry. You didn't seem like a bad sort, really. Just annoying." He turned to watch Ezra fight.

He and the Arrow were well-matched. Until Ezra wavered out of sight. Leo waited with bated breath. Then the Arrow struck, his bow ramming into something solid. Ezra flashed back into view with a pained groan. The blow might have broken ribs. Who knew?

But the look on Ezra's face was sheer rage. If Leo didn't act, Ezra would do something he'd regret.

***

Ezra met Oliver's eyes and saw there a broken man much like himself. But that broken man had something to fight for. He did not. Catching another of Oliver's kicks with a block, he sighed. How long had it been since he'd had something worth fighting for? Never, really. "You know," he said, "I envy you."

"Envy me?" Oliver snorted.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Ezra ducked a punch and rammed his elbow into Oliver's hip.

"If you knew me, you wouldn't say that." Another punch toward Ezra's face.

Ezra dropped and rolled. He kicked out and swept Oliver's feet out from under him. The man recovered quickly. He sprang back to his feet and fell into a fighting stance, waited for Ezra. Ezra tapped his Talent with a smile and shut his eyes. The familiar tingling, wet rush washed over him.

Oliver hissed.

He opened his eyes.

Oliver thought he could win this fight? He was sorely mistaken. Ezra was in a league far above a regular mortal. Even one with such sensitive instincts. Oliver might have been trained, might have gone through more than anyone should, but so had Ezra. And Ezra had the ka'kari. Oliver didn't.

A razor-sharp heat rose inside Ezra. He would win this. Doing so would mean going home sooner. Freedom. The price was high, but Ezra would pay it. He was always paying dearly for his freedom, wasn't he?

He swept forward on silent feet, his Talent muffling the sound until not even the barest swish of his shoe on the floor could be heard.

Oliver spun and dashed for his bow.

By dumb luck, or perhaps some sixth sense, he evaded Ezra's first blow, ducking under it and moving forward before Ezra could follow up with a kick. He scooped up his bow and pivoted to face the direction where he'd last seen Ezra.

Ezra rolled his eyes. Did the man really think he'd still be there? He stepped forward.

And was met by the hard strike of the bow's tip against his cheek as Oliver lashed out.

He sprang back, narrowed his eyes. How had Oliver known he was there?

"I'm not giving you Star City." Oliver stared in his general direction.

Had the man really known he was there? Or had he simply acted on instinct and gotten lucky? Ezra remained silent and glided to a new spot. He would wait to see what Oliver did. He always did that. Rushing into a fight got you killed. Waiting and striking at the opportune time won you the battle.

"How long can you keep this up? I've got the police on the way already."

Ezra smirked. Liar. Why would he risk exposing his alter ego for this? He'd assumed that he and his band could take on everyone coming. Arrogance. It was truly the downfall of the proud. And Oliver had more than his fair share.

He slid closer, the ka'kari still channeling his Talent and masking his movements.

Oliver spun in a slow circle, his eyes running over the room. Ezra looked too. He was the only one left to fight Oliver for now. Leo was finishing out a fight with the red-suited man, and Valeia lay in a heap off in the opposite corner. Looked like Kaladin was busy stitching up one of Nimewe's arms. That cut was nasty. Wit hadn't lasted long against the rookies, but they hadn't killed him. Just knocked him senseless. Served the obnoxious man right.

The snap of wood whistling through air caught his attention seconds before the side of Oliver's bow slammed into his side. He grunted and stumbled back, absorbing the blow as much as he could.

"Found you." Oliver smirked, his blue eyes cold. "You didn't really think you could hide forever, did you?"

Ezra released his Talent. "Of course not."

"Then why waste time on it at all?"

"Because," Ezra said, "it got me the upper hand." He pivoted and swept his foot back behind Oliver's. Hooking it behind Oliver's legs, he yanked. Oliver lost his balance and went down, Ezra following him in a more controlled descent. He straddled his opponent and unleashed a flurry of punches. Oliver protected his face well, but Ezra made sure the punches landed in places that he couldn't protect.

"How long—" Oliver spat a mouthful of blood out after one of Ezra's punches landed. "Do you think you can continue this?"

"As long as I need to. Make things easy on yourself and yield. I'd rather not kill you."

"And I'd rather die than give Star City into the hands of scum like you."

Ezra gritted his teeth. Scum. Why did everyone think that about him? Why was that the only thing they could say about him? Weren't there any redeeming traits to him? His fists clenched tighter. "Too bad, then. I guess you'll be getting your wish." He raised his arm.

Oliver was no different than the rest of them. He'd thought he might have found a kindred spirit. But he hadn't. He'd just found someone who hated him only because he was himself. He swallowed back a lump in his throat. Why was it that no one seemed to see him? This was why he preferred the quiet of his solitude. Curse the gods for bringing him here.

He slammed his fist into Oliver's nose. It crunched, and blood spurted from it. His target's head lolled to the side. But it wasn't enough. When had it ever been enough to stop before his opponent couldn't ever fight back again? Ezra reared back to hit his ribs.

Someone caught his hand in a steely grip. "Stop."

Ezra looked up to see the assassin behind him. Leo, was it? He scowled, some of the bloodlust fading. "He won't let us have the city without killing him."

"He's already unconscious. You hit him hard enough to give him a head injury."

"He'll wake up and fight back."

"So, you'd kill a defenseless man on the grounds of what he might do later?" Leo hauled him off Oliver. "That doesn't sound like justice. Sounds like revenge. We don't do that sort of thing around here."

"I suppose you just decided that."

"The others would say the same."

"I doubt it. That bridgeboy has murder in his eyes every time he sees Jellal. Or Wit for that matter."

"Doesn't matter. He doesn't act on it. And Jellal deserves to die."

"Who decides that?" Why was he being petulant? Ezra bit his lip to keep more angry, mulish words from flooding out.

"Me. You. The rest of us. More importantly, his actions." Leo pushed him toward the rest of the group. "I've done my part to help you. You do yours."

"Help?" Ezra frowned. "What part?"

"Yes, help. You would've regretted killing him later. He isn't like those who have afflicted you." Leo turned away and crossed his arms. "And your part is to stay here. Stay away from the Arrow."

Ezra hung his head and found a quiet, dark corner to sit in. Who had told Leo about his past? Or had he guessed? Did it matter? The other man was right. He regretted those he'd killed when he first found the ka'kari, regretted many things, in fact. Adding Oliver to the list wouldn't do him any good.

He buried his face in his knees with a heavy sigh.

When did things get so complicated?

***

Jellal had been right about one thing. The police had no idea how to deal with them. Taking out the Arrow and his cohorts had left the city defenseless when Jellal showed up with a tall, dark stranger to finish off the job. Not that there had been much to finish off. Valeia pressed her fingers to her head. The dull ache throbbed there, but otherwise she was in good shape all things considered.

Wit eyed her from his place on the podium behind Jellal. "Does he know those pants make him look bloated?"

She eyed the baggy pants Jellal wore. Why did Wit have to be right? Now she couldn't look at him without wanting to laugh. She groaned.

Jellal hesitated for a second before continuing his long, boring speech about the new rules for Star City. She sighed. These people had put up a good fight for their city. Why did it have to be wrenched away from them? The Arrow had only been doing what he could to protect a people he loved from the darkness he hated. Hadn't she wanted to do the same once upon a time? Before Jellal had ruined her, hadn't she also dreamed of a better future?

Yes.

But now those dreams were crushed just like the man kneeling in chains on the platform beside Jellal. They'd beaten the Arrow and his team. She should feel joy, shouldn't she? Instead, a yawning chasm stretched where that emotion should've been. A strange sadness wafted up from the pits of that chasm and yanked her down from the dubious middle ground behind earth and heaven.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Wit was still staring at her. Her cheeks heated, and she traced the pattern of the platform's wood planking with her eyes. "Yeah. Sure, he does. Jellal probably just doesn't care."

In reality, he probably hadn't noticed.

Just like he hadn't noticed the bloody gash in Nimewe's arm, the haunted look in Kaladin's eyes, or the devastated one in Ezra's. Just like he hadn't noticed her hesitancy and anger or Wit's subtler-than-usual quips. He was so smart, but he missed so much.

He'd sat back and watched while they fought, letting them prove themselves without risking anything himself. He'd manipulated the pieces on the chessboard, but he'd forgotten he was playing with real people, real lives.

Because of his cruelty, they'd already lost Aeri and Nesh. Not that Nesh had been any real loss. And she'd barely known Aeri. True, they'd brought it on themselves by turning in Kaladin and Nimewe during their escape attempt. But he'd turned a blind eye, and Kaladin and Nimewe had taken their retribution. Was it well-deserved?

Yes.

Should it have happened?

Never.

She stared off across the crowd while Jellal droned on. The tattered lot shifted and muttered. None of them were paying much attention either. They were more focused on the Arrow, on Oliver Queen, who knelt in chains before Jellal.

They'd won his city for him. But what was the cost? Thousands of lives ruined? The blond that had been manning the computers when they'd entered the Arrow's lair hadn't made it. Jellal had executed everyone on the Arrow's team besides the Arrow himself. The Arrow was facing a fate that—in her opinion—was worse than death.

She hunched her shoulders. Why couldn't she disappear like Ezra had? She knew he hadn't left, couldn't leave because of Jellal's force fields. But at least no one could look at him in disgust and hatred. No one could see the object of their anger, the one who had ruined their lives.

What had she done? What had any of them done? She'd forgotten her entire purpose was to stop Jellal and doing so had cost her conscience dearly. She couldn't afford to make the same mistake. People were dead now because she hadn't done anything to stop it.

She was guilty as Jellal was.

***

Wit sighed. Jellal would ruin this realm. He would use the people as pawns just as he did with everyone else, and he'd suck them dry. But Wit wasn't here for that. And right now, he wasn't even interested in the man's ridiculous speech. Let him say things that would incite rebellion. It would only be his downfall later on.

No, Wit had better things to do. Like dealing with Arcannen Rai, the newest addition to Jellal's nefarious crew. The man in the cart and Arcannen Rai both presented a problem. That was, they presented a singular problem. The same person could only be the problem, not multiple problems, after all.

His gaze swept out over the crowd. He had a tough job ahead. Inciting an uprising from a former slave branded with the shash brand and getting a mule-headed assassin to go along with it wasn't exactly his idea of a picnic. Particularly since neither wanted to work with him.

Ah, well. He'd dealt with many painful or irritating situations. This wasn't any different. It just presented its own unique challenges.

Arcannen Rai glanced back at him and met Wit's eyes, a knowing gleam there. Well, Jellal and Arcannen weren't the only ones who could manipulate, were they? The only difference was, they only knew to manipulate for their own gain. Wit had less selfish motives. Still selfish. But less so. He wanted the hostages to work together for their own good. And for that of the rest of the worlds that had collided.

He hadn't said it was entirely altruistic, had he? Because it wasn't, and however much he liked riddles, he liked the truth just as well, even if he didn't always tell it in a clear way. After all, why not have the best of both worlds? Riddles and truth. And stories. If there was time.

He watched the uneasy crowd.

Now wasn't the time for any of those. Later, it would be. For now, he would watch and wait as Jellal ruled this city with an iron fist. After all, how else did the petulant brat know how to rule? Wit popped into Shadesmar, leaving behind the boring speech and even duller platform. Let them have their discussion alone. He preferred the solitude of his cell to Jellal's stringent voice. Too much dissonance in the chords. Storming man couldn't hold pitch.

Wit leaned his head back into the straw-stuffed pillow with a smile. When it was time, the trap would be sprung, and the plan executed. It was already in motion. It just needed a nudge in the right direction. And that was where he came in. Wasn't it always? Well, no matter. This was necessary, and so he'd manage it.