The Orphan Queen by Jodi Meadows

that anyone with the skill—and who didn’t mind heights—could use the roofs as a second and secret road. People almost never looked up, but we had to be careful in daylight; the mirrors scattered across the western faces of buildings could give us away.
    In one of those mirrors, a shadow darted across the reflection of the slender crescent moon.
    Someone was behind me.
    Maybe someone from another gang. Soon, they’d go somewhere else and be out of sight, so I didn’t turn around and alert them to my knowledge of their presence. They probably hadn’t seen me.
    Still, I checked my stealth as I continued after Melanie. She headed into less crowded areas of the market district, where being noticed wasn’t such a danger, but I kept lower to the rooftops and wished the darkness were a palpable thing I could gather around me like a cloak.
    It could be.
    No. Fantasies were one thing, but actually using the magic would always remain a last resort.
    Minutes later, the shadow appeared in a mirror once more, gone so quickly it might have been my imagination.
    Someone was following me.
    I stuffed down my indignation. I was following Melanie, after all. Still, I didn’t want to lead this person to wherever she was going. Not when I didn’t know. It could be something Patrick had asked her to do.
    But why wouldn’t he have told me, too? Unless he knew it was something I wouldn’t like.
    With one last glance at Melanie’s vanishing figure, I slipped behind a chimney, its bricks warm with smoke and fire from below, and I waited.
    My pursuer would slow, would watch for me in the direction I’d been heading, wondering if he’d missed seeing my leap onto the roof of the next building. He’d be curious whether I’d somehow spotted him. Because he’d been careful. Quiet. Only chance had let me see him.
    I steadied my breathing and strained my hearing beyond the pounding of my heart and the wind that kicked up dirt and trash. Paper scraped the side of the building, and a door slammed down the street. Wind moaned around corners. Chimes clattered.
    The chimney seemed to blur as a darkness moved forward.
    Without hesitation, I grabbed my pursuer’s wrist, yanked him forward and around, and slammed him back against the chimney where I’d been hiding. My hand was splayed out across his chest, pinning him, and my dagger gleamed against the black skin of his throat.
    No, not skin. Silk. It covered his entire face, save his eyes.
    â€œBlack Knife.” My blade stayed steady at his throat.
    â€œYou won’t look, but I hope you’ll believe me when I say there’s a dagger at your stomach.” Darkness obscured what little of his face was visible, but his eyes remained on mine.
    â€œI believe you.” Neither of us moved, maybe both of us thinking about how we’d react if the other attacked. Or how we could attack first, without getting killed. For either of us, it would take only a quick flick of the wrist to make the other bleed to death. Even if I cut his throat, he could gut me in his last moments of life. And the other way around, too.
    â€œSo what do we do?”
    â€œWhy were you following me?”
    â€œYou were sneaking around on rooftops. Only dangerous people do that.” His arm shifted and the point of his dagger caught my clothes and scraped my skin. I adjusted the angle of my blade on his throat, and neither of us moved. “We both know how a fight would end.” His voice was low and menacing.
    A fair fight, perhaps. But I could bring our weapons to life.I could bring this roof to life. I could make them fight for me.
    â€œI suppose.” My eyes watered with the need to blink against the cold wind, but I couldn’t look away from Black Knife. Now that we were practically nose to nose, my perception of him shifted: he was young, not a grown man like I’d thought.
    â€œYou’re a very interesting thief. I’ve