"You have callouses on your trigger finger, Hana," Lisette whispered, her voice devoid of fear. "And you check the door every thirty seconds. My father’s enemies are getting sloppy with their casting."

Hana wasn't there for the silver or the gossip. She was there to collect a debt of blood.

"I’ve been waiting for a professional," Lisette sighed, leaning back. "The others tried poison, which is so dreadfully tacky. Tell me, assassin—if I give you the ledgers and a chest of gold, will you help me fake my death? I’d rather be a ghost in the city than a doll in this room."

Hana froze, her hand hovering over the concealed blade. "You knew?"

Hana looked at the girl who was supposed to be her target and saw a reflection of her own stolen youth. She didn't pull the knife. Instead, she reached for a fresh silk ribbon.