Page 18 of The City Of Fractured Memory

Like he could command me to do anything.

He’s not my damn keeper. I restrain myself and keep my mouth shut, though, since he’s at least trying to help me, even if it is a little back-handed.

“I truly believe Corvus could be linked to both this case and Detective Wren’s last case before her dismissal, and as such, she would be a valuable asset in this investigation. She’s the only detective who managed to solve that impossible case we had last year, and she has aided me with countless others since, finding patterns that almost everyone else overlooks. So I am formally requesting to bring her into this case to offer her insight moving forward. Despite all of that, though, if this Corvus is so interested in her, it could work to our advantage after all,” Xavier barrels on, not letting Starling get a word in.

Wait, did he just suggest using me as bait? Bastard.

But though I hate to admit it, it’s an angle that could potentially win the Chief over. I turn my gaze to the man, his features still scrunched in anger, though I can tell he’s listening carefully to Xavier’s every word. I can’t help, but wonder whether if I’d also been born with an appendage between my thighs, maybe he would occasionally offer me the same courtesy. But alas, I had the audacity to be born female.

A moment of silence passes while Starling contemplates the situation. I sit back in my chair, tapping my fingers together as my Shadow looms, becoming unavoidable again in the quiet. Finally, Starling’s shoulders drop and he bends over to retrieve his chair before falling into it heavily. His fingers drum against the scarred wood of his desk as he lets the silence stretch a little longer.

He exhales, the motion heavy with irritation. “Against my better judgment, I’ve been…persuaded.” His gaze flicks up to where Xavier stands with his arms now crossed, his expression smug with the satisfaction of someone who’s won a wager.

Subtle, Xavier.

The Chief continues, voice gravelly with disdain. “I will admit that Corvus could be a potential lead, and considering your history with him, you could prove useful. You’ll have this one and only chance, Wren. You may work this case, but not alone. Never alone.” His eyes narrow. “Xavier will remain by your side at all times. Consider him your…chaperone.”

The word drips with contempt, as though I’m a reckless child in need of a minder. Heat surges through me, humiliation curdling into fury, but I force my jaw tight, nails digging crescents into my palms. If I don’t bite my tongue, I might end up in the cells after all, and that could put Stryx in grave danger.

Xavier strides forward with that infuriating ease of his. “Thank you, Chief. We won’t let you down.”

I try to encourage a smile to my face, but all I manage is a grimace.

“Don’t look so sour, Octavia,” Starling simpers. “You’re lucky to escape the cells. If you want to remain out of them, then consider Xavier your leash. Or–” His smirk curves, knife-sharp. “–your shield, if you’re feeling generous.”

I want to snap that I don’t need either, least of all from my friend, but I feel my Shadow watching, goading me on and drinking in my anger like fine wine. So I swallow it down, tasting ash instead.

A chaperone. An insult disguised as a lifeline. But if it buys me freedom and some access to the truth, then I’ll wear the chain. For now.

I meet Xavier’s eyes, challenging. “Try not to get in my way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks, and the pressure in my chest eases. Just a little.

Eleven

Ifollow Xavier down to the cells, close on his heels as I ignore the vicious stares of the wardens that pass us. I tap my fingers together repeatedly, my anxiety increasing the closer we get to Stryx. I pray to all the Gods that she’s okay. If they’ve hurt her, I don’t think even Xavier could save me from the consequences of my wrath.

The cells are damp, reeking of rust and mildew, the air heavy with a sour tang that lies uncomfortably on the tongue. Torches gutter along the walls, throwing long, crooked shadows across the barred doors.

I hear Stryx whimper up ahead and I pick up my speed as we approach the last door and find her tucked into the far corner of her cell with her knees to her chest, her glamour fraying at the edges, eyes bright in the dim light. A warden lounges in front of her cell, oblivious to our approach as he jingles his keys and sneers at her, prodding her with the blunt end of a stick he's got from Gods-know-where. His laughter is cruel, the kind that makes bile rise in my throat.

“Come into the light so I can see that pretty face better,” he snarls, sporting a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Stryx shrinks back against the stone wall, her illusion thankfully still intact, but her pride bristling all the same.

Before I can move, Xavier is already striding forward, voice oiled in diplomacy. “That’s enough, warden,” he says smoothly. “She’s under my custody now. Step aside.”

The warden smirks, rolling the keys across his knuckles. “Funny. I don’t see the paperwork. Orders are orders. And I don’t take mine from–”

I’ve had enough.

I shove past and my knee comes up sharp and fast between the warden’s legs before Xavier can unfurl another self-important word. The guard collapses with a strangled wheeze, keys clattering to the floor as he clutches himself in agony.

“Paperwork?” I hiss, stooping to snatch them up. “There’s your paperwork, you Gods damned Voyder.”

Xavier’s sharp intake of breath sounds behind me. Indignation, disapproval, maybe even admiration, though I don’t care which. I shove the key into the lock, ignoring the guard’s groans on the ground, and swing the cell door wide.

Stryx stumbles to her feet and I catch her, pulling her close like I can shield her from the stares of the other prisoners watching through the bars.

“Come on,” I murmur, softer now. “You’re free now.”