Oliver sipped his own coffee, giving her a nettled look over the rim. “Feeling prickly, are we?”

Siobhan grimaced. “Sorry, that came out slightly harsher than I intended.”

“Only slightly?” Before she could respond, he said, “I do have a plan. And a rather good one. It includes a whole flock of solicitors who will make the coppers bleed for every unwarranted arrest, and a heaping dollop of blackmail on top. Those who are corrupt will soon see that my territory isn’t worth it, and those who genuinely care about their jobs will realize their efforts are better spent elsewhere, in the places that need them. This whole thing, believe it or not, is a lot more reserved than I originally intended. I wanted to do public executions for the worst of the Morrows, if you remember, but Katerin and some of the others talked me out of it. I’ll still make sure they get what they deserve, but it won’t be directly by our hand, and thus won’t make the Crowns look like they’ve lost control.”

“How are you going to handle them instead?”

“They’ll be handling it—the coppers, that is. I’m just going to make sure everyone involved has extra incentive to follow the law, no matter how influential the accused men once were.” He grinned like a child with a stolen cookie. “In fact, I’ve got quite a few things in the works. I think you’ll be impressed.”

Siobhan hummed and raised one of her eyebrows, but couldn’t help the corners of her lips twitching up, his enthusiasm spreading infectious energy to her.

They were both silent for a moment, drinking their coffee at the perfect almost-scalding temperature. Finally, Oliver said, “You seem tired.”

“I’m sleeping more than I have been for the past five or six years,” she said wryly.

“And hating every second, no doubt.”

She let out a short, surprised laugh. “Well, yes.” That was the main reason she was here, but since she had Oliver at her disposal, she brought up another issue. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time since you’re so busy, but I wonder if I might get some of your particular brand of insight on a possible problem?”

He tensed a little but nodded. “Titan’s balls, let it be a problem I can actually fix.”

“Damien Westbay is going to become a problem, and perhaps even more so now that it’s not safe to spy on Tanya Canelo anymore. He’s too curious, too eager for action. I’ve been trying to shut him down, but he doesn’t stay down for long. You’re the one who’s good with the social things, getting people to do what you want.”

Oliver settled back in his chair with his booted feet closer to the fire. “Tell me more. And give details. I need to understand how his mind works.”

Siobhan spoke while Oliver asked probing questions, almost all of which she answered in detail. She knew Damien well, even better than she’d realized.

Finally, Oliver seemed satisfied, steepling his fingers together in front of his chest like some kind of stereotypical evil genius. “You need a little more carrot to go along with your stick. Don’t keep trying to shut him down. When Westbay wants more, give him more, but dangle that carrot in the direction that’s most convenient to have him run. Ideally, away from anything you’re hoping to keep secret. Once he’s busy enough, even he won’t have time to indulge his curiosity.”

“So I need to come up with some project for him to throw himself into? Ideally something that won’t require me to put in even more work.”

“Yes. You can take some time to consider what you might like him pointed toward, or you can even see if he has any ideas for a ‘mission’ that you wouldn’t mind allowing. That might be dangerous, if he’s the type to become fixated on ideas once he has them, but it would give you an idea where the danger lies.”

“I understand. I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

“When you get time, feel free to stop by the manor and do some more brewing for the Verdant Stag. With all the new territory, we’re running through concoctions faster than we can stock them. Particularly healing concoctions, and some little fireplace-in-a-bottle things that one of our other alchemists has been supplying.”

“You have a lot of homeless and injured people, then?” she guessed.

“Too many. But let’s not talk about that.”

“How about the people downstairs?” She laughed as another set of cheers and stomping rattled the entire building, only mostly muffled by the two floors between them. “They love the free coin, especially when it’s paired with ‘justice.’ How much are you earning off all this?”

Oliver’s grin looked more than a little evil. “Oh, a lot.”

They chatted for a while longer, until a check of her pocket watch revealed that it would get dark soon. She didn’t want to be trudging around the city in the frigid night, so took her leave.

Oliver sounded disappointed to have to get back to work, and his dramatic sigh followed her out the door as she left.

With her cloak back up, Siobhan’s peripheral vision was impaired, and she bumped into someone at the edge of the narrow back stairway that led to Oliver’s office.

She’d knocked a small cartridge out of his grip, and as he fumbled to catch it, he tilted precariously backward. Just as he regained control of the cartridge, his foot slipped off the top step, and if not for her grabbing him by the waistcoat and yanking with all her strength, he would have tumbled down the stairs.

He fell to one knee beside her, but seemed rather unscathed by the whole thing, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, thank you. Bit clumsy of me, are you alright?”

“I should be asking you that,” Siobhan said. “I apologize, I didn’t see you.”

“To be honest, it’s probably not your fault. My luck has been atrocious today!” the boy said, laughing as if at some inside joke as he rose to his feet. He was about her height, with skin much darker than hers, but the deep purple bruise around his swollen eye, shielded by the shattered lens of his glasses, was still conspicuous.

“If you need a bruise salve, they sell them here,” she said, grimacing. “There’s a little apothecary on the other side of the building, to the left of the main staircase. They’re quite a bit cheaper than what you can find elsewhere, and good quality.”

“Can just anyone buy from them? I don’t work for—well, I’m trying to sell something to Lord Stag, but I don’t work for them, and I’m pretty sure I live outside the gang’s territory.”

Siobhan shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a problem, but I can’t be sure. Are you going up to see, er, Lord Stag? You could ask him.”

The boy’s grip tightened noticeably. “Oh, umm, do you really think I should? He’s so… Isn’t there someone else I could ask?”

Siobhan let out a quiet laugh. “I know the mask can be intimidating, but Lord Stag really isn’t that frightening. He’s quite friendly, and he actually enjoys helping people.”

“Is that so?” the boy asked, looking extremely skeptical.

“It is,” Siobhan asserted.

“Well…thank you.” The boy reached out to shake her hand. “Percival, but you can call me Percy. Do you work around here?”

“Well met, Percy.” She hesitated only a moment before introducing herself as Silvia. “I do some contract work when it’s necessary.”

“Do you have any advice for me? I’m trying to sell him something a little…sensitive. I’m pretty nervous about it.” Percy shuffled his feet, seeming not to notice how close to the edge of the stairs he still was.

Siobhan raised an eyebrow, reaching out to nudge him away from danger. “Well…don’t take his first offer, I suppose. And don’t be too nervous. The worst he can do is say no.”