Chapter 1

Dane's open palm came down flat on the polish-station counter, and every tin jumped. The brass lids clattered, a brush rolled off the edge and hit the tan pavilion floor with a soft thud, and the wooden lip of the counter caught Priya's right wrist as she flinched back. A thin red line opened on her skin, beading almost instantly.

She didn't cry out. Two years of running this booth had taught her that the first sound you make in a courtyard full of vendors is the one they remember. So she held it in, her breath catching in her throat like a sob she had swallowed whole, and her fingers tightened around the white polishing cloth in her hands until her knuckles went pale.

"Kneel, girl, in front of everyone," Dane said.

His voice was a big-booth baritone, the kind that filled rooms because the rooms had never once told him to quiet down. He was broad through the chest, thirty years old with a shaved head and a thick chestnut beard, and the bright red leather vest over his black t-shirt might as well have been a flag. He wore a gold chain that caught the midday rigging light every time he leaned forward, which was often.

The courtyard laughed. Priya felt it more than heard it — the ripple of sound from the vendors' tables, the capo table on the far side where the old leatherworkers sat with their printed vendor lists, the clusters of buyers who had wandered in from the main convention hall. The padded motorcycle display barrier stood centre-right, helmet stands full of glossy chrome and black composite, and beyond it the leather merchandise racks sagged under jackets on hangers. Somewhere near the side gate, two security men in uniform stood at their posts.

Kieran moved before Priya could answer.

He was sixteen, tall for his age and narrow-shouldered, with short black curls and a clean dark-green zip hoodie that hung a size too big on him. He stepped past his sister, putting himself between her and Dane, and his face was completely calm. That was the part that made the courtyard go a little quieter. The boy's arms hung loose at his sides, and he didn't raise his voice.

"She's working," Kieran said.

Dane's grin widened. "Working? She's the boot-shine girl. She kneels. That's the job."

The second man came in from the right — Solene's man, though nobody had called it that yet. He was wiry and fast, and he swung at Kieran's head with a closed fist while the courtyard was still laughing. Kieran didn't duck. He stepped inside the swing, caught the man's wrist with one hand, and threw him sideways into the padded display barrier.

The barrier folded like wet cardboard.