Nolan followed her to the cells, where Gacco stood guard. How long had it been? Did Gacco know anything beyond “keep the cursed girl alive at all costs”? If Nolan told the guards about Cilla, that could be another way to distract Nadi.
Those thoughts faded once Nolan saw Cilla in her cell. She sat on her mattress, reading a thin book. Her face looked slimmer, her normally round cheeks sunken closer to the bone. Her eyes looked deeper and darker. Her arms had thinned, too, traces of knobs visible around her wrist and elbows.
Nadi had said Cilla was eating. It couldn’t be much.
Nolan lost control for another second. It wouldn’t be long now.
“You brought her back,” Cilla said. The book slid from her hands. Next to Amara, Nadi shot forward, but the book landed safely next to Cilla’s feet. “You made a promise.” Cilla’s voice was weaker than before, but no less accusatory. “You said you wouldn’t—”
“Things change.” The words nauseated him, but he needed to stall. Jorn always took too long to notice his wards when he was in the inns, drinking his beer and cheering at long-legged dancers, so maybe if Nolan kept Nadi busy enough, she wouldn’t notice the mages intruding, either.
“Happy?” Nadi said.
Nolan spun. “You threatened my sister,” he said, flat and quick. He didn’t say it just for the sake of a distraction. He needed Cilla to see he’d had no choice. He shouldn’t care what she thought of him, but he couldn’t spend a lifetime in Amara’s body and not share her love and hate and more. “Of course I’m not happy. But I’ll do what I need to.”
“Wonderful.” Nadi seemed ready to leave.
“After I saw you that night, I kept reading my journals. I discovered something.” He took a deep breath, filling Amara’s lungs. “Your family is running out of money. They can’t keep up with the medical bills to keep you on life support.”
Nadi took a moment to let that sink in. “Nicely played. So you think I’ll go back to Earth to try to keep myself alive longer, and then you can—”
“No, no, no.” Nolan’s hands flapped at the air. “I talked to your family.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Nadia Trudeau.” It took a long time to spell the name, but Nolan finished it, down to the closest Dit version of the e-a-u letters that’d trip up every last person in this palace. He kept his eyes on Nadi.
“There’s no way for you to—”
“I talked to your son,” Nolan lied. “Jermaine misses you. It’s been over a decade since you left.”
Expressions flitted over Nadi’s face, too faint for Nolan to pin down. Nadi had said this world was worth leaving her family for, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss them—or her life. She’d renamed her palace for a reason.
“He lives in Cape Town.” A guess. The article never mentioned it. But it meant more to talk about, more names to spell, and every second counted. “He has a daughter. Simona.”
“My sister.” Nadi still couldn’t settle on an expression. She stared at the ground, jaw set, eyes blank. “They were always close. He named her after my sister.”
“Simona’s two now. She likes”—what did two-year-olds like? The website gave him only so much to work with. Nolan thought back to seeing Pat grow up—“playing with plastic planes.” There was no word for planes in servant signs or Dit. P-L-EE-N-S, he tried, using the phonetic spelling, and said it out loud as best he could.
Gacco watched, confused and trying not to show it. Nolan glimpsed a key ring on his belt. Once Ilanne arrived, they could make a grab for it.
“Planes,” Nadi repeated. The word sounded odd from her mouth. Then, clipped: “Are you threatening them? I swear, if you’re threatening them—”
“I’m not!” Nolan stepped back. “I’m not. I just thought you might want to know.”
At least Nolan was used to lying through his teeth. Years of I’m not hallucinating anymore and No, this is different from the pain I used to have, these are just seizures and Yes, Dad, I’m feeling much better and Of course I don’t mind, do whatever makes you happy paid off.
“I wanted to remind you of your original offer.” Nolan tried to smile. He was used to that, too. “It’s not a threat. It’s a bribe. You’ve seen my life. I couldn’t get to South Africa even if I wanted. I just … if you could time Amara’s sleep so I can get some rest back home, make life a little easier for us …”
He felt his control torn away again, felt Amara’s body slump. The metal bars of Cilla’s cell pressed hard into her back. Amara was hesitantly settling back into her own limbs and mind, her thoughts creeping in at the edges of Nolan’s, but he pushed past them, snatched control again, and tried not to flinch at Nadi’s scrutiny. She stood, unmoving. Had he made things worse? If he’d screwed up—if he’d endangered Pat even more—but Nolan couldn’t grasp the thought. It shattered in his mind the moment he tried to contain it.
“If you have questions, I could talk to your family. Then you can visit Pat, and I’ll tell you what they said.” He was reaching now, the signs like filth on his hands. If Nadi wanted to talk to her family, she’d do it as herself or as Pat; she didn’t need Nolan as a go-between. But it didn’t matter. He needed to keep talking. “I’ll be your messenger. A trade. OK? Lorres said you made good deals. You’re reasonable.”
He didn’t think she saw his last words. Nadi’s head snapped up, and she stared past Nolan at a blank wall.
He recognized the look from Jorn’s face. Nadi had detected the mages.
Nolan had bought them a few minutes. But if Nadi figured out he’d been stalling, there was no place for Pat to hide. Nadi could possess her anytime, anywhere. He watched her with burning eyes. Please, please …
“Gacco. Cell keys.” Nadi extended her hand.
Gacco didn’t get up from his bench fast enough.
“The keys!” she shouted. Gacco tossed them, and Nolan watched them flicker and spin in the gaslight. Nadi snatched them from the air. “Whatever happens, stay here,” she said, already backing away. “Get the servant back to the guest room. And guard the girl!” She pointed the keys at Cilla.
“What’s going on?” Cilla said with a voice so flat Nolan doubted she expected to be acknowledged, let alone answered.
Nadi was already running down the hall, her boots smacking hard stone, her gemstones clanging together. She’d detected the mages too soon. The cell keys were out of reach. No sign of Ilanne.
Already, things were going wrong.
42
They needed those keys. Ilanne didn’t care about freeing Cilla—she could detect the spell-caster’s identity with or without bars in the way—but the way Cilla lay there, without her scarf, with bandages extending past her wear, turned Amara’s stomach. They had to get her out.
The moment Nadi turned the corner, Nolan let go of Amara’s body. Out of choice? Because of the pills? Amara faced Cilla to block her signs from Gacco. “It’s a distraction. Pretend—”
Gacco spun her by her shoulder. “Move away from those bars,” he warned, as though she could bend the metal with only her hands. For all she knew, he thought she could. He still thought she was a mage. The days when Amara had believed the same thing seemed so far away, she could almost laugh.