“I’ll look into Muller and Davies,” Lila said. “Quietly.”
“I hired you to help me, Lila, on behalf of every poor workborn in Saxony. I didn’t hire you to protect whatever highborn secrets crawled up your—”
“I’m not protecting highborn secrets, you impulsive nitwit. I’m trying to protect yours. If you go anywhere near Rossi’s Pub, someone will spot the scar on your neck. They’ll do a DNA sti
ck faster than you can blink, and you’ll be off to the mines within the week. Is that what you want?”
“I’ve been inside Rossi’s before.”
“Well, it was a dumb move then, and it’s an even dumber move now. You don’t need to go. I’ll dig into Davies and Muller’s backgrounds, see what I can find, and contact you later.”
“Fine,” he muttered.
“You have a lead now, Tristan. A lead that came with zero risk to you and your people. You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you? For more scraps? The boy’s militia lead is a poor substitute for hard evidence, evidence that’s sitting in Liberté right now. I’m left wondering why we’re not hitting that bank. All I have is the word of a scared boy who’s too loyal to his mother to save himself from slavery.”
“You really can’t understand it, can you? Can’t understand someone protecting their mother?”
“What I can’t understand is that my two biggest leads are those dirty militiamen, and you don’t want me to go after them. Are you trying to save Bullstow’s reputation?”
Lila turned in her seat. “After all our jobs together, you’d ask me that?”
“I’m asking you that because of all our jobs together. So many secrets. It’s what I hate most about the highborn.”
“Like you don’t have secrets of your own. Every day you hate something new about us. It must be so tiring.”
Once again, Lila realized that she was fighting with the former slave. She rolled down her window and breathed in the fresh air. “What more do you want from me, Tristan? I’ve already promised to investigate them. I’m trying to keep you away from trouble. If I come up with anything, I’ll share. I promise.”
“Thank you very much, chief. Can I do anything else for you, chief? Fluff your pillows, perhaps? Shine your boots?”
Lila smacked the door of the truck and whipped her head around. “What is wrong with you today? You’re even worse than usual. I’m sorry I called you out on your bullshit back at the shop, but at the risk of sounding like a child, you started it. Just like you’re starting it now. If it’ll make the ride back smoother, then fine, I’ll go back to pretending that I don’t know who your parents are. Is that better?”
“You can’t even apologize well. I guess they don’t teach the highborn that at Bokington. Why would they? It’s not something you’ll ever need.”
“Why should I apologize? Because your panties are in a twist?”
Tristan pressed down the accelerator, and the truck sped up. “That’s rich.”
“Slow down and talk to me like a grown man. I don’t want to end up in a ditch.”
“Yes, because you always talk to me like a grown woman,” he said, rubbing the edge of the steering wheel with his thumb. Hard.
For a moment, Lila merely stared at him, not sure how things had spiraled into an argument yet again. Had she started it? Had he?
Was it even a different argument, or was it the same one, a marathon of bruised feelings and frustrations?
Lila couldn’t tell anymore.
She wasn’t even sure that she cared.
“I have my own spy network, you know,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Every single highborn family in New Bristol has at least one of my people sneaking information. The Massons, the Holguíns, the Weberlys, even the Randolphs. The highborn talk in front of the help all the time, forgetting that we’re there, but we’re always listening.”
“That’s not a secret to the highborn. We use it all the time to our advantage, planting false—”
“Did you know that Senator Dubois is planning a lavish party a few weeks before the season begins? I didn’t, not until I read the report this morning. He’s hoping that one of his kin will win the hand of a certain unnamed heir this season. Yammered on about it through an entire dinner with his mother on Sunday night. He wouldn’t tell her the identity of this eligible mystery woman, but it was obvious to anyone paying attention.”
“Slow down,” Lila said again, eyeing the speedometer as it crept higher and higher. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”