A sea of rooftops stretched out before Tabby—three and four story apartment flats. She surveyed the sprawling expanse of Chroma, already charting a path as her eyes flicked back and forth. "Roofs only," Midnight said. "Touch the ground and you're done." He didn't need to elaborate over what he meant by done. "How many prisms are you carrying? What colors?"

She listed them off. Two blues, an indigo, and a violet.

"And they're full?" She nodded. "Good. I'll give you a head start. Twenty seconds. Beat me to safehouse two and earn no roofs for two weeks. Lose, and we'll be doing this again next week."

She didn't groan, but she wanted to. "How about two months."

"No." His jaw flexed.

"Oh come on! I'm not sixteen anymore." These training exercises were growing more and more unnecessary.

"Four weeks. Final offer. And you know I don't like bartering. Don't test me."

"Someone's in a mood," she muttered. He didn't respond. "Fine. Four weeks. I'll do it—I can beat you."

"That so?" He crossed his arms, but there was no humor in his expression. There usually wasn't. She rarely beat him at roofs, and for some reason, today he'd picked the worst possible path. Punishment for her behavior two days ago, for not getting enough sleep. Well, she'd come prepared, fresh after a full night.

"I'm feeling confident." She shrugged. "After all, you're getting old."

"You know what?" he decided, "I changed my mind. Ten second head start instead of twenty. Try another comment like that and I'll make it five."

"Light," she muttered, scowling. Whatever had him in a sour mood wasn't doing her any favors. "Fine. Tell me when."

"Now," he answered immediately.

There wasn't time to balk, to question. She shot forward, racing across the roof. The alley between buildings loomed up. She took her first jump without the assistance of light. She needed to save her prisms for the taller roofs and her tiring muscles, or there'd be no hope of winning.

The soles of her rubber boots slammed onto the next roof and she rolled, minimizing the impact. Pain laced through her shoulder, but she ignored it—a task she'd gotten better at over the years. She was up again, sprinting for the next. Seconds later, Midnight made his first jump. She didn't need to turn to see him racing after her.

Keeping her breath even, she made two more jumps before a four story flat loomed ahead. This time, she summoned blue, her weakest option first, using her hand to push the light, to propel her up and forward. She slammed into the wall, grunting. Her gloved hands gripped the edge of the roof. She wanted to hang, to catch her breath, but she couldn't stop. Stoping was death.

Moments later, she was sprinting across the roof and jumping to the next. This one was a three story flat. She had to use more blue to slow her descent—more than she should have, to avoid rolling and save time. Midnight was closing in. He was nearly silent behind her. That was part of the exercise, after all. What good was a Spect if you heard them coming?

At the next building, she picked up her pace, pushing her legs harder, sprinting across its expanse. She took the jump at full speed, kicking as she sailed over the alley. Her feet slammed onto the rooftop and sent her rolling and upright in a flourish of trained movement.

She continued like this from roof to roof, always just ahead of Midnight. Her breathing came heavier. His did too. She could hear him now, laboring behind her. It brought a smile to her face, knowing this wasn't easy for him. His own damned fault for assigning it in the first place. She hoped he suffered as much as she did. At least she had youth on her side. But he was strong, and blessed with a male physique that left her envious. Plus, he had twelve years of physical stamina to use against her.

Nit kept a safe distance, flying high above where even she couldn't spot their mechanimal form. They offered bits of encouragement each time she felt her strength faltering. Each time her gloved hand slipped. Soon her fingers ached, and the muscles in her forearms screamed from hauling her body up one too many times. But she pushed on, through the brutality of it, even when she wanted to give up, to let go and plummet three stories to the ground below. A fall that would shatter her legs.

When she spotted the rooftop of Safehouse Two in the distance, she almost cried in relief. So close. She could do this. Ten roofs away. Then six. Then four.

She sprinted across a four story flat, readying herself for the jump. Footsteps sounded right behind her, closing in. She stalled as Midnight's hand shot out and snatched the hem of her corset, ripping her back.

"Argh!" She cried out and stumbled, falling behind. Fury rippled through her. Midnight said nothing as he shot by, using aid from a blue prism to slow his fall when he bounded to the next roof.

There was no time to be angry. No time to scream at him—to insult him. She shot forward, caring little for her loss of momentum. She would have missed the roof without violet to propel her to the same place he had landed. She sprinted past him. "Asshole," she hissed.

They raced across the remaining two roofs, nearly side by side. In a last ditch effort, she summoned the last vestiges of violet, using it it to push her forward. Her feet slammed down onto the roof of Safehouse Two mere seconds before his. She rolled, absorbing the impact, but didn't get up. She didn't have the strength to. Instead, she lay there wheezing, dripping with sweat that stung her eyes, staring up at the sky...happy to be alive.

A shadow fell over her. Midnight looked down at her, hands on his knees, panting. "You're lucky," he said at last. "Had we been equally matched with prisms, you'd have lost."

She blinked up at him, struggling to find her voice. "How...how many did you use?"

"Two blues."

Pure envy left her nostrils flaring, which quickly transformed back into anger. "You let me win," she snarled.

He shrugged and stood, gazing at the flat, gray sky. "I wasn't keen to do this again in two weeks." With that, he disappeared through the hatch and into her safehouse.

She wanted to scream at him, to curse him, or throw a dagger at his receding back. She wanted to hate him for taking away the elation of her win, but the truth was, she hadn't really won. Not fairly. He'd simply let her, as if using this as another reminder. Another lesson that she wasn't ready for a three quarter mask. Which made it sting all the more. She wasn't good enough, powerful enough, to outmatch him. He should have just let her lose.

It was another ten minutes before she had the strength to follow after him.

He sat at the kitchen table, his hair dripping. He'd shoved his head under the water pump. Beads of moisture coagulated on his temples and slid down his cheekbones. She looked away before he noticed the dangerous creep of her blush.

Stalling for time, she downed two cups of boiled water and took a seat across from him. His steely eyes found hers. "What?"

"When were you planning to tell me about your assignment?" His words were clipped. She gazed at him, momentarily unprepared. "I see. Judging by your expression, I take it you weren't. Who's the target?"

"I..." She swallowed, clenching her jaw.

"The Spectrum has given you its highest profile target, and you thought to keep it from me." Voicing his discovery. His mouth flattened into a hard line and he calmly stood.

"How did you find out?"

"It doesn't matter." He walked across the room, turning to face her. "What does, is that you thought I wouldn't. You know me better than that—I should hope. Why did they select you?"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm a heptacrome."

With deadly calm, he said, "Superior Lighter abilities do not make you a superior assassin."

Heat rose to her skin. "Thanks for the show of faith, Midnight. Glad my own master expectes me to fail."

"Of course I do. When you refuse to share information? When you refuse to seek my guidance? You have no business taking on a high profile target like this, despite your kill count. You're an apprentice."

She jumped to her feet, failing miserably to leash her temper. "Oh. I get it now. You're angry that they chose me over you." She picked these words because they were the likeliest to annoy him. And she wanted nothing more than to anger him.

"Who is the mark?" he commanded. He stalked over to tower above her, his face inches from hers.

"You know, I think I'll keep that to myself," she decided.

There. His eyes flashed. Finally, something. For a moment, she thought he might strike her. He'd never lifted a finger against her unless it was part of their training, but he looked like he wanted to. She dared him to try it, glaring up at him. Instead, he turned and grabbed his coat and stalked out.

She followed after him. "That's it? You're just going to leave? Not even going to relieve me of my frustration after subjecting me to roofs?"

He rounded on her, radiating more fury that she'd seen from him in a long time...if ever. Light! She didn't realize she'd get this kind of rise from him. "If you are going to act like a child, then yes. Find someone else to satisfy your needs." He let out a dark laugh. "It's not going to be me."

The front door slammed behind him. She sighed, taking a deep breath. Soon, a wicked smile pulled at her lips. Oh yes, she'd definitely gotten deep under his skin. Although, he was right. She was going to have to find someone else to rescue her from her mood.

She ran her hands through her hair. Perhaps she should have handled it better. She had been looking forward to a bit of relief after the grueling exercise. She kicked the baseboard and headed upstairs. The important thing was, he didn't know her target. It was better that way.

It hadn't always been like this. He'd only ever been a mentor. She'd shared every mark with him, and he had gone to greater lengths than most Spect masters would. Sometimes it felt like he wanted her to succeed. A direct opposite to Reaper, who'd been out for Clora's blood ever since Clora's first assignment.

She knew this instance was no different. It wasn't that Midnight was jealous, much as she accused him of it. She knew him better than that—far better. He wanted her to succeed. Besides, he was right, she had no business taking on the Spectrum's highest profile mark. Certainly not a mark like Prince Albert. Which meant that the Spectrum was up to something.

***

Tabby's eyes adjusted to the darkness as she entered Willow Lodge. Of all the pleasure houses in Silver Hill, she preferred this one. Claude manned the front desk. "Ahh. You." He looked her up and down before gazing down at his roster. "Our males are already booked this evening."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes and said, "You don't look busy." If only to watch him squirm and blush. She was almost certain he was still a virgin, ripe for the taking. He couldn't have been older than fifteen—too young for her. Pleasure houses had a law that required workers to be sixteen, though she was certain that some of the ones in lower districts lied about ages.

"Clarabel is upstairs in her room," said Claude, distracting her.

"She is?" Her insides heated at the suggestion. She passed him a tip and went upstairs.

Men were scarce in Chroma's pleasure houses, but she'd never been particularly picky. Women were plenty capable of pleasing her—better at it, usually, since they had more in common. Besides, Clara had been the closest thing to a friend for many years, more than a friend if she allowed herself to be careless enough. At the end of the third floor hall, she knocked on Clara's door and waited.

"Oh. Tabby." Clara looked at her up and down, opening the door wide. "Haven't seen you in a few weeks."

"I've been busy," she muttered, taking the barb in stride. "You know how it is." That was a lie. But she cared about Clara, and knew that if she admitted to enjoying Midnight's pleasures above all else, it might hurt her feelings. Empty as his pleasures were. Besides, if Midnight saw her visiting Clara too often, it would put her at risk. Just the mere thought kept Tabby away as much as possible.

She plopped down on Clara's bed while Clara seated herself at the vanity. "Elias getting a lot of commissions these days?"

Tabby nodded, watching Clara fix her hair, noticing the Willow tattoo on the inside of her wrist that peeped out beneath her sleeve. A mark of indenture. Clara's chemise was cut low, with capped sleeves and ribbons woven into the neckline. Its feminine style suited her perfectly.

She was rather pretty, with generous curves, and a sparkling gray gaze that thawed hearts. This made her a favorite among the Willow's male and female patrons alike. Tabby liked her gold hair the most, and enjoyed running her fingers through it. Especially when Clara wore it in loose curls, pulled over one shoulder.

"I'm surprised you're not...occupied," she said, the words tumbling out.

"Yes, I took the night off."

"Oh. I...Why didn't Claude say something? I wouldn't have bothered you."

Clara gave a soft laugh. "He knows I like you."

"Oh," she said again, glancing around Clara's room, taking in the lacy drapes and nicknacks she'd collected over the years. Clara usually saw Willow's guests in the suites on the second floor. Never in her private accommodations. Unless that guest was Tabby. "You got a new rug."

"Yeah, you like it?"

"I do." She smiled at Clara. "It suits you."

Clara hesitated, watching her in the mirror's reflection. "The males were already occupied, weren't they?"

She hesitated, then nodded. Every encounter with Clara was dangerous. If Midnight found out...would he be lenient again? As lenient as he'd been with Peter?

Clara smiled, not riffled whatsoever. "Well, good for me then. I prefer you to other men anyway. Even if you prefer men to me."

"That's hardly true!" Heat flooded her face, frustration. "You make it sound like you're a last resort."

"But, aren't I?"

"Hardly! It's...It's nothing like that." She clenched her jaw, failing miserably at what she wished she could say. She liked Clara enough for it to be dangerous between them.

"Stop worrying about offending me. It's just business. I'm a whore."

Tabby flinched. "You know I don't like that word."

"Like or dislike, makes it no less true." Clara stood and walked over, sitting next to her, so close their thighs touched. "Something's got you in a tizzy today. Spill."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right about these things," Clara teased.

She focused on relaxing her eyebrows. "Sorry. It's just been a long day. Nothing important."

While she had easily healed her bruises from Midnight's insistence of roofs, it was a shame she couldn't heal her mood just as easily. It wasn't just the way Midnight had irked her. It was everything else, too. Everything she wished she could tell Clara but couldn't.

"Well, you're in luck," Clara purred, nudging her with a shoulder. "Long days are my forte."

With surprising speed, Clara plopped down on her lap before Tabby could stop her, putting her arms around Tabby's neck and kissing her. She wrapped her arms around Clara's waist, hugging her close. Clara's lips were soft, but not entirely gentle as she tugged at Tabby's underlip. She sighed, taking in the comfort of Clara's curves. Squeezing her waist. When Clara pulled away, it was with a knowing smile. "There now, better?"

"A little," she managed, heart floundering.

"Good." Clara winked and stood, and Tabby immediately missed her presence. Even if physical contact always felt slightly awkward for her, regardless of who it was. She walked a fine line, and Midnight would kill Clara if she ever crossed it. She couldn't run that risk. Clara deserved better. They both did.

In that, they weren't so different. Both forced into circumstances entirely out of their control. Both all but powerless to do anything to fight back. But...not anymore. Not for her. And not for Clara if she could help it.

Clara wasted no time in pushing her back against the bed, straddling her. Tabby gazed up at her, watching the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder, studying her delicate movements. "Now, I think I know exactly what you need," Clara said. She bent and kissed the skin of her exposed chest, just above her corset, caressing her with her lips before fussing with the ties on her pants. Tabby let her. It was what she paid her for, after all. Even though Clara always refused payment afterward.

"Light," Clara swore, looking up, eyes stern. She held up a dagger before tossing it away, and then another, and another, as she found them hidden in every possible place. "You're really aren't so different from the others when they come waltzing in, armed to the teeth. Least you could do is leave your weapons at the door."

Tabby laughed, getting onto her elbows to better see Clara's fussing.

Clara removed Tabby's pants, tossing them away. "You're still tense. Loosen up a bit, huh?" Clara kneeled between her legs, watching. "Here. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath, in and then out. Like this." Clara shut her eyes and demonstrated, inhaling deeply before she let out a long ommm. Tabby followed orders, well aware of how to do breathing exercises. Still, she shut her own eyes and repeated the process. "Again," Clara said, leading her through another set. It did very little to release the tension in her muscles.

"Ah, well. Worth a try." Clara shrugged. Her smile stretched wider across her lips. "I think I know what will work better." She disappeared between Tabby's legs. Tabby watched a moment longer before collapsing onto her back, a sigh on her lips. As soon as Clara's tongue was out, fingers inside her, Tabby's hands curled into fists and her back arched against the bed. Her breathing came faster, but her muscles forgot what they were angry about. So did her mind. Clara was right, it worked much better than breathing exercises. When Clara finished, she left Willow Lodge a lot more relaxed than she had before coming.

***

Edwin stepped out of the carriage, surveying the dormant factory and its surrounding grounds. A tall fence with barbed wire had been erected around the facility. The sounds of industry could be heard within.

"Just this way, Your Highness." An attended rushed forward and motioned him to follow. He glanced at Hubert and they moved forward together. "You will be pleased with our progress, Your Highness. More recruits arrive each day, and we've had some fantastic success."

He knew exactly what the attendant meant by recruits. He'd long since given permission to utilize Chroma's vast resources to fill the gaps. The city had rats in excess.

They entered the building and his eyes adjusted. Even with the high windows and skylights, it was darker from the overcast sky. The old brick building smelled of musk, metal, and charcoal. The sounds of mechanical clicking pervaded every nook and cranny like a constant tick-tick-tick. He was led through the vast space, moving from the hospital, operating rooms, and workshops, spending longer to examine some of the more crucial areas. He watched the Lumineers busy at work with the mechanical body parts they worked on. Hands, arms, legs, each blessed with a prism.

A silent, ominous weight pressed over them, each with goggles fixed, heads bent, mouths pulled into tight frowns. All possessed absolute focus over their tasks. Candela's Lumineers—those caught operating without permission from the crown. Most had been rounded up in Chroma. But they'd found a number of them throughout the country, too. They'd been offered this or a traitor's death. It was no surprise they loved their work enough to choose the former. He saw mostly hobs. It was easier for humans to get the correct permitting.

"Magnificent," he muttered more than once, eying the efforts of industry. Hubert remained silent beside him.

"Wait until you see the army, Your Highness."

"Yes, let's. I must be back in the city by nightfall."

The attendant led them through to the back of the building. A training grounds and barracks transformed what was once the largest part of the old factory floor. He halted, staggered by what he saw. People were scattered, practicing with weapons and sparring. But that wasn't what captivated him. They weren't humans, exactly, but some new form of hybrid.

"So, it's possible then. I didn't want to believe it when you wrote to me. But this...this proves our success."

"Indeed, Your Highness. Allen! Come here," the attendant snapped. A young man rushed over. He didn't look quite twenty.

"Your—Your Highness." Allen's voice was flat, his eyes glassy. He gave a clumsy bow. While the rest of Allen was human, he sported a mechanical arm that moved no differently than a human arm.

"Show your prince that thing you can do with your arm."

Allen's gazed off into the distance. He gave a curt nod and turned, walking over to a wall of cement in the middle of the room. It looked as if a cannon had gotten the better of it, leaving pockmarks and cracks across the surface. But it took only a single demonstration from Allen to know the truth. Allen punched the cement, burying his fist several inches deep. The wall shuddered as his fist came away. Cement crumbled and fell to the floor.

"Superior human strength," the attendent announced. "Among other things. I can have a list ready by tomorrow detailing each new ability we've managed."

"And their...loyalty? Will that be an issue?"

"Not, anymore, Your Highness. The new tonic we've trialed has been successful. They're hungry enough to keep food down. They follow orders."

"Perfect. How long until these are ready for the front lines? I'd like our armies marching before the year is out." Tensions within Candela and on the borders were rising. The uprisings within the country would be easy enough to squash, especially with inventions like this. But the impending war...these would make the difference.

"That...might be a problem, Your Highness. We need more...support."

"Then find it. You've got an entire city at your disposal."

"Of course. Consider it done, Your Highness."

He nodded, pleased. "Good. I'll take that list when you have it. Hubert?" He motioned with his head and they strode back through the building and out to his awaiting carriage.