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He called Phaidros a coward and Alexis a worse one; the only difference was that Phaidros had the honesty to be a coward, while Alexis always wrapped his cowardice in false nobility.

Zo, he said, would never speak to Alexis again after learning what he had done, and Aelia would sing a curse that would make him claw his own ears off.

Alexis still didn't move.

Con changed languages one last time. He dropped into the Atlantean Alexis had taught him over the centuries, using it in every way he could to make the language's beauty cut straight into Alexis's soul and shred it to pieces.

Phaidros snarled and tried to step forward, his magic flaring around him, about to do something to Con's emotions that Alexis couldn't allow. Alexis caught his wrist and tugged him back, his power snuffing out whatever Phaidros was getting ready to do.

Con finally stopped. He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't paced. He had stood three paces back from the iron door, his hands loose at his sides, and his eyes directly on Alexis so he would know he meant every word.

"I will never forgive you for this," Con said, his voice cracking just a little. "Not in this life. Not in any life that follows."

"I know," Alexis whispered.

"Get out," Con said between his clenched teeth. "I can't stand the sight of you anymore."

Alexis bit his tongue to stop saying, I'm sorry. I loved you too much to let you die.

Instead, he took one last look at the hurt in Con's eyes, letting it do more damage than his words ever could, before finally walking away.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Alexis went back into the city, his head roaring and magic searing in his fingertips. Arslan coordinated his Order members, sending them to locations to gather people and supernaturals from both the light and dark sides and get them to safety.

Alexis had gotten Constantine to safety without fighting, but now he couldn't stay inside. He had to help where he could, or his guilt would eat him alive.

Across the water, the city glowed with a red haze and heavy smoke. Galata's taverns and shops were shut up, and no one was foolish enough to be out on the streets.

Mehmed had told the Genoese they would be spared if they didn't interfere, and most were smart enough to listen. Some couldn't help themselves and went out in small groups, looking for Ottomans to fight and old scores to settle.

Steel sang against steel. Alexis paused and unsheathed his yataghan in one hand and Lyca's dagger in the other. Both had been forged with hammer and magic and could slice through armor like butter.

He came around a corner into a narrow lane behind a wine shop and found four men in Janissary green holding a fifth man against a wall.

He wore the colors of Genoa under a coat of mail that had been split at the shoulder and was bleeding badly down his right arm. Behind him in a doorway, three civilians, two women and a girl no older than ten, were pressed back against a wooden door that wouldn't open. The man held a sword in his good hand and was holding it level. He wasn't going to last another minute.

"They are innocents, and your sultan promised!" the man snarled at the Janissaries.

"Our sultan is not here."

"No, but I am," Alexis said and let all of his rage free.

Two rushed him, their armor clanking. Alexis moved at the last moment, ducking between them, his sword and dagger slicing in the gaps between the plates. He whirled before they could turn and drove the tips of his blades into the gap between their helmets and neck.

His magic whipped out and grabbed the other two Janissaries, hauling them into the air and slamming them hard against the side of the building opposite them before dropping them into a heap on the street.

The civilians in the doorway stood frozen and pale. Alexis's magic struck the door behind them, and the jammed locks came loose.

"Get inside, all of you, before more come," he said. The women hurried in and slammed the door behind them.

The man with the sword was still on his feet, one hand clutching his wounded side. His gambeson was black with blood, and there was more blood at his hip where his belt had been cut through.

Something strange shimmered around him like magic, making Alexis study him more closely.

He sheathed his weapons and said in Ligurian, "Easy. I'm a friend."

The man's eyes went between Alexis and the four men on the cobbles, and the point of the sword came down a fraction.