Aziza said, “Partly, yes. But not mostly. Baz, we need to talk.” She pointed at me with her chin. “In private. Without her.”
“Rude,” I said.
“So?”
I held up the arm that dangled with the Rillis rope.
“She’s right,” Baz said. “We’re bound. She’s not leaving my side.”
“She has to,” Aziza said.
“She doesn’t.”
“Are you going to let her shadow your every step?”
“I don’t ‘shadow’ anyone,” I grunted, though it seemed lately that I, in fact, did.
Aziza looked only at Baz. “You’re going to sleep with her? In your bed?”
“That’s the logical thing to do.”
“None of this is logical. You can’t sleep with your would-be assassin an arm’s length from you. Tell him, guys.”
“She’s right,” Night said. “Too dangerous.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Baz said, sounding unconcerned, when even I was. How would we sleep together? That sounded dangerous, indeed.
“You need to tell me what happened to me, and she’s not going anywhere,” Baz said. “So. What happened?”
Aziza sighed like she was marching toward the gallows. “The, ah, phantom was about to pop out of you, and Mauldrene wouldn’t let us out of the sitting room. So I illusioned the nobles into thinking they were at a decadent party with plenty of olandule and olvidian—the blats are fun entertainment—and then we got the doors open, and Night and Ed carried you here.” She glanced at me. “With your little shadow trailing alongside us, of course.”
“I’m no one’s ‘little shadow.’ I couldn’t but run alongside him.”
Aziza smiled a touché that was no fucking touché. “Exactly.”
“No, not ‘exactly.’”
“The doors opened finally, then?” Baz asked.
“Um…” Aziza glanced to the others then back. “Not exactly.”
“So what, then?”
I rubbed at my neck, scratching under the collar. The puncture wounds were already nearly closed, the skin itchy around them. “I had a little chat with Mauldrene”—and by little chat I really meant that I’d begged her—“and she opened the doors for me.”
Baz’s brows jerked upward, though he’d been the one to suggest that Mauldrene favored me long before I’d suspected it. “For you?”
“Yeah, for me.” I peered into the gloom of the room’s farthest corners. “And for her. Who is she?”
“We’ll get to that. First.” He glanced at the others. “Lev and Moncho?”
“Likely in urgent need of our intervention,” Felix said.
“Then let’s go.” Baz stood and was steady as ever.
I tugged at the rope. “I need to know about the phantom.”
“The phantom is long dead.” He glanced at her with a sad, apologetic smile. “My friends are not. She will wait. You will wait.”