“Come closer and find out.”

   That brought a smile. Not a trusting one, by any means. But it was appreciative. “Her scores will get her into places you can’t go.”

   “I don’t need good scores to get into places,” I said, looking around the cabin meaningfully. “I’ve got skills no other girl here has.”

   “And you’ve also got a Sirminican name. None of the others belong to a group that most Osfridians see as deceitful, dark-skinned heretics that are filling the capital’s streets and stealing everything they can get their dirty hands on.”

   The breath seemed to leave my body, and I took a threatening step forward. “You don’t know anything about us!”

   “Don’t hit me again,” he said, and I realized I’d started to raise my hand. “I didn’t say I see it that way. But I’m telling you how others will. And don’t act like you haven’t already felt it.”

   A little of my rage faded. “Yes.”

   “You’ll see it again. It’s how a lot of them are—especially anyone in Cape Triumph who was born in Osfrid. Trust me, I know firsthand how this works.” He studied me even more intently this time. “But you are scrappy. And maybe you could make headway with some of the longtime colonials. They aren’t always so small-minded, not after surviving there that long.”

   Now I studied him, trying to read his intentions. “Does that mean . . . are you giving me the asset job?”

   “I’m considering it. And that’s mostly because I’m tired, and you’ve worn me down.” Grudgingly, he added, “And . . . it might be useful if you could pick a few locks at those parties you’ll be at.”

   Excitement surged in me—and not just for the money. There was an allure to being part of the fabled McGraw Agency. Not part of it, I supposed. More like . . . a hired contractor. But still. I’d be doing something greater than dressing up for parties. I’d be continuing the family legacy of fighting injustice—but it’d be on my terms, not my father’s.

   And Lonzo . . . if I could earn some gold of my own, I wouldn’t have to stress about my husband paying the bond. And if I could earn a lot of gold, I could pay off my own contract. I wouldn’t need a husband at all. The thought made me giddy.

   But those were big “ifs.” And I didn’t have any gold yet.

   “I can do more than spy,” I said. “All my accents are good. You can teach me to disguise myself, and you’ve seen how I fight. I’ve used a sword and—”

   “Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands. “Slow down, buccaneer. I don’t need to teach you any of that. I do that. Well, not the sword part. I need you to observe. I need you to distract men so that they say stupid things and give in to what you want. Can you do that?”

   A little of my enthusiasm dimmed, and suddenly, it was like working for my father again. Fighting injustice by being a pretty face. By distracting. By offering myself.

   But, Lonzo . . .

   “If that’s what you want? Yes. But I’m serious—don’t underestimate the rest of what I can do. I got in here by learning your habits. And then I broke through your letter’s protection. Sounds a lot like what you need an asset to do.”

   “Protection? Hardly. Lemon juice is a rookie’s trick. But Aspen didn’t know what reagents Silas was using these days.”

   I didn’t know what a reagent was, so I pushed what I did know. “My father used ciphers and codes and masks and—”

   “Yes, yes, I get that. What I don’t get is why he did all that if he wasn’t a spy.”

   Grant looked at me expectantly, and I realized this was the last thing that stood between me and the job. No one in this new life of mine, except Cedric, knew about my father’s past. How would Grant take that knowledge? Deny me? Share it with others? I might not be an Alanzan, but no one would believe it. On the other hand, my gut told me that if I lied to Grant, he’d know.

   “My father was a crusader of sorts. He was known best for smuggling Alanzans out of Sirminica. Before the war . . . well, the king and the church did horrible things to them. My father couldn’t stand aside and let that happen, even if we didn’t share their faith. He used every resource he had to help them—and that included his family.”

   “Where is he now?”

   “Dead.”

   Grant’s expression didn’t change. “Okay, Mirabel,” he said at last. “I’ll sign on to this plan, fool that I am. What is there to lose? Aside from the entirety of Osfrid’s colonial holdings. And my future. But don’t trouble yourself over that.”

   “You know, you make it a little hard for people to like you.”

   “You don’t have to like me, Mirabel. You just have to work with me.”

   “Most people call me Mira.”

   “And I call you Mirabel. Now get out of here before someone finds you. I have enough to worry about without the Thorns coming after me.” He began replacing the trunk’s contents.

   “Not yet. We haven’t talked about money. You said assets get paid.”

   “You’re not getting two hundred. I’ll give you . . . twenty.”

   “Fifty.”

   “Thirty.”

   “Fifty.”

   He threw up his hands. “That’s not how negotiation works. You’re supposed to come back with forty, and then we settle on thirty-five.”

   “Fifty,” I repeated.

   “You’re a little short of your contract price, you know.”

   I let him think that paying my Glittering Court contract was my primary goal. “I’ll worry about that other one hundred fifty.”