“I’m not positive when we’ll next see each other,” he said.
“Vianca said she wanted to talk to me again in the morning,” she said, grimacing. “She said she has ‘plans.’ I’ll want to—I mean, we should talk afterward.” She flushed and looked away from him.
“I’ll find us a place in Olde Town to meet.”
That was how all their meetings would have to be from now on—secret. This was the life he had ahead of him, and he already knew the most dangerous thing he could do was fall for someone like Enne. Levi had flirted with disaster for over a year now, and everything in his life had crumbled for it. It was time he focused on the empire he was always meant to build. It was time he played his cards safe.
Even if he didn’t want to.
“It’s late,” they both said at the same time.
“Get some rest,” she said, smiling weakly.
“You, too.”
Levi walked back to the sitting room with his stomach in knots. He’d made his decision. But—so help him—if Enne had called his name. If she’d turned him around. Asked him to come back.
He would’ve surrendered to his desire without a second thought.
Lola and Jac were whispering conspiratorially on the couch.
“You can stop gossiping,” Levi said flatly. “Let’s all go to sleep.” He shooed them away, lay down and closed his eyes, making it clear he didn’t want to talk.
“We had bets,” Jac said.
“Good night, Jac.”
“I owe Lola three volts now.”
Sirens blared from outside the window, which didn’t make for the best lullaby. Levi listened to his pulse beat against the throw pillow. It reminded him of the timer ticking down during the Shadow Game and those ten seconds when he’d thought for sure he was a dead man.
But he wasn’t dead yet.
The City of Sin was a game, but not everyone was a player. Before tonight, Levi hadn’t just wanted to play—he’d wanted to win. He’d thought all that separated the players from the observers was desire.
That had been his first mistake. He hadn’t understood the rules. The game wasn’t about empires and legends and legacies. It was about power, and it was about death.
It was too late to fold—the city had brutally marked him a player tonight. But if he wanted to survive, he needed to change his strategy. Desire would undoubtedly be his downfall. As Semper had remarked before the Shadow Game...
People don’t play this Game to win, my dear. They play this game not to lose.
Nevertheless, when the sirens finally lulled Levi to sleep, he didn’t dream of caution or escape.
He dreamed of being king.
EPILOGUE
In a city several hours south of New Reynes, one less merciless and despicable, a telephone rang in the hour before sunrise.
A man slid out of bed, careful not to wake the woman beside him. He reached for three things: an eyepatch, a robe and a gun. The eyepatch because his left eye was gone, cleaved out many years ago on the night New Reynes caught fire. The robe because he was naked. The gun because he knew better than to be without it.
He slipped silently into the hall, where the phone was ringing. He picked up the receiver, but didn’t speak.
“You told me never to call,” a woman said, “unless I had an opportunity.” It’d been many years, but her monotone, lifeless voice was still recognizable, still made the man shiver. They weren’t friends, but they shared a common enemy.
He considered hanging up. It’d been eighteen years since he stepped foot in the City of Sin, and, at some point during his travels, he’d promised himself to never return. Unlike the city where he lived now, the man was both merciless and despicable—but not entirely so. And New Reynes had a way of corrupting whatever remained of a pure soul.
As he moved to end the call, the woman spoke louder, “You’ll be delighted to hear who has died.”
He quickly pulled the phone back to his ear. “Was it my mother?”
“No.”
Wishful thinking, he thought. His mother was too stubborn to die.
“It was Semper...and Sedric Torren,” the woman said.
The man’s eye widened. Eighteen years of peace, and New Reynes might just catch fire again. “Tell me what happened. And what you’re offering.”
The woman recounted the story of what had occurred only hours before, of two street lords named Séance and Levi Glaisyer.
“I accept,” he said.
“There’s a train leaving at six. A man will be waiting for you there, and he’ll escort you to the House of Shadows.” She hung up.
The man lowered the receiver to its cradle and returned to his room.
It’d been a useless promise, he knew. One born out of frustration, waiting for that phone call, waiting for his chance. No matter how many cities he visited or how many people he met—it didn’t matter. His destiny had always been in the City of Sin.
To burn his mother’s empire down.
Within minutes, Harrison Augustine had dressed, packed his belongings, and walked to the station. Even hours away, he sensed the rising smoke of New Reynes.
It tasted sweet.
*
Keep reading for an excerpt from DAUGHTER OF THE BURNING CITY by Amanda Foody.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This story has seen me through three graduations, through first romances and first griefs, through world-traveling adventures and questionable basement dormitories and cramped apartments. I have thrown all of my dreams into this book, and, in return, this book taught me how to write. But this has been far from a solo endeavor. Over the course of the many years spent on this story, I have whisked some thrill-seeking readers away to the City of Sin, and I have countless to thank.
First, to my own gang. To my editor, Lauren Smulski: this story found its happily-ever-after thanks to you, and I could not ask for a more passionate advocate for this book. To my agent, Brianne Johnson, who found this series the perfect home at Harlequin TEEN, and whose editorial insight changed the entire way I looked at these characters. To my publicist, Siena Koncsol, who gives the best pep talks and has worked tirelessly to put my words into the hands of readers. To Bryn Collier and the rest of my marketing team, thank you for your enthusiasm in championing this book and all my books.
To Christine Lynn Herman, my partner in crime, thank you for reading every snippet as soon as I write it, for crying over all my milestones with me, for editing this book with such patience and fervor. You know this story better than anyone and still haven’t grown tired of it. That’s good—I have a lot more books I need you to read for me, for I trust no one more. Thank you for being my first reader, my last reader, my idea springboard, my fellow trash lord, my first mate of many ships, my gossip buddy and my best friend.
To Meg Kohlman, Melody Simpson, Joan He, Akshaya Raman, Kat Cho, Katy Pool, Claribel Ortega, Janella Angeles, Amanda Haas, Mara Fitzgerald, Axie Oh, Maddy Colis, Ashley Burdin and Ella Dyson...I could not ask for a savvier critique group or writer cult. Your support means the world to me.
To Molly Jaffa, whose editorial feedback remains all over this story: thank you for your energy and your patience with me as I hunted for my true vision for these characters.
This story has seen an army of readers and supporters over its journey. In no particular order, many, many thanks to Jena DeBois, Deeba Zargarpur, Kristy Shen, Audrey Dion, Emmy Neal, Kelly Ferraro, Kate Maffey, Marieke Nijkamp, Lindsay Smith, Brenda Drake, Jadzia Brandli, Tamara Felsinger, Stephanie Diaz, Hafsah Fazial, Michael Waters, Courtney Washburn, Nikhita Prabhakar, Jessica Harvey, Steph Stessa, Raven Ashley, Kay Cox and Kelia Ingraham. You are all honorary Sinners.
To my parents, who have been with me every step of the way in producing this book. To Ben, who has listened patiently to my ramblings about these characters since the day I met him.
To my Pikachu pillow—you saw a lot of tears over the course of this journey.