After two and a half weeks of open warfare, Razia couldn’t help but feel a little useless. While Quentin and his Shades fought almost every day, attacking targets she picked out, there was always the little voice in the back of her head whispering about how safe she was. Her life wouldn’t be at risk for any of it, unless they failed. Razia had a nice cushy position waiting safely at the Garden and managing the girls and security, handling money, and keeping everything running.

Boring.

Sure she was good at it, better than Quentin at the management aspects of the business for sure, but what about the thrills? What about the danger, the excitement, the risk? Being safe while others fought for her left a bad taste in Razia’s mouth, but she couldn’t think of any way around it. At a hair under five feet tall, she doubted she could intimidate children, and in a time of war like this, her ability to tempt and convince people didn’t have much use. Razia could talk people into things, but rarely out of them.

As bad as things were, not all news was bad news.

“Hey there,” said Razia, taking Samantha’s hand. “Welcome back, Sam.”

Samantha blinked weakly up at her. Two weeks of being unconscious, clinging to life hadn’t been kind to her. Her face and throat especially remained reddish in color. She lost a lot of weight and looked like a husk of her former self. Just the same, she tried to smile weakly. She opened her mouth, but only a rasp came out.

“Hey, don’t try to talk just yet,” said Razia, squeezing her hand. “The physician said there’s likely to be some damage, but it could heal on its own. And if not, then we’ll take you down to the temple for healing if we can.”

Tears filled Samantha’s eyes. She tried to speak once more, but the rasp worsened. One shaking, thin hand reached for her throat, tenderly touching it before jerking away as if her skin burned. Samantha closed her eyes, nodding briefly. The tears trailed down her cheeks. She made a motion with her hands and moved her lips. It took Razia a second, but she understood.

“Your family is okay, Sam. We’ve been looking after them, and we’d never let anything happen to them. Quentin and I have been sending money and Jackie’s doing a great job looking after everyone else. You’ll be so proud of him when you see how well he’s doing.”

From behind her, Isa sighed. Razia knew as harsh and irritable as the dusk-girl could be, she loved Sam as much as the rest of them. She stepped forward so Samantha could see her and said, “We know what happened to you Sam, and we know who did it. And they’re not going to get away with it. I promise you that.”

Sam looked at Isa, opening her mouth once more. She thought better of it and just nodded. Then her eyelids fluttered closed, and her breathing evened out. Samantha was out again, but this time it seemed like proper sleep and not barely clinging to life after being poisoned. They took every victory they could.

Outside the room, Isa said to Razia, “Where’s Quentin? I haven’t seen him around today. Is he hiding?”

Razia winced. “Kind of. After the past few days he’s taking a rest day. Gods know he needs it after all the attacks.”

Just as they expected, once news of Cicero’s death spread, the gangs sprang into motion. Most of them focused on each other, going after old grudges now reopened with the release of so much blackmail material. Some, of course, came to the Garden to try to capitalize on the bounty on Razia’s head. Between Quentin, some of the more loyal Shades, and the Argonza Villas security team, they were turned away with only a few broken bones and one dead body.

A storm took over Isa’s face. “He better not be crapping out again like after Maria. We absolutely cannot survive a week of him drinking and hating himself in a swamp of his own filth.”

“I know,” said Razia. “It’s not like that this time. He just needs a break.”

Some of the storm passed, but not all of it. “We don’t have the luxury of breaks right now. Not when we’ve got a plan.”

“I know. He’s just resting up for the next time someone comes here looking for a fight. He’s not hiding, just resting.”

Isa’s eyes darted over to Quentin’s room. “I better remind him. Just in case.” Without hesitation, Isa went right into the bedroom, Razia trailing close behind.

Quentin was in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Like usual he wasn’t wearing much, and when Isa stormed in he jumped in place, grabbing his blanket.

“Save it,” Isa said. “Everyone’s already seen you naked, and I don’t care.” Razia bit back laughter at the lie.

“...Okay,” Quentin grunted, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. Even sitting he was taller than Razia, but eye level with Isa. “What’s going on? Is there another attack?” He looked over to his dresser, where his armor and sword waited for him.

“Not at the moment,” said Razia, sitting down next to him. “We’ve got good news. We’ve come up with most of a plan, if it’s not a bad time.”

Quentin let out a world weary sigh. “And if it’s a bad time?”

Isa grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head up to look at her. “Then you’re going to deal with it and listen anyway. Then you can go back to taking a nap or feeling bad for yourself or whatever it is you’re doing right now.”

“Isa!” Razia shot her a look, but it did nothing.

“I’m just waiting,” said Quentin, icy blue eyes darkening. “Omar’s supposed to come by today with news for me. Is that alright Isa, or do I need to perform on command for you? I feel like shit and just want a godsdamned bit of quiet before the next disaster needs my attention.”

Isa’s eyebrows raised. It was the first time either of them could remember Quentin snapping back at her. Razia sat back and let it happen. To her surprise, Isa softened. “Things are hard for you. They’re hard for us all. As much as it pains me to admit it, we can’t do this without you and we need you to be strong. Everyone’s tired and scared, but they’re less scared if you seem confident. What exactly is bothering you?”

Razia wrapped her arms around Quentin’s side and stayed quiet, for the most part. This was something new, something unexpected. Isa caught her eyes and sneered at her. She may have well admitted her weakness.

“I like fighting,” said Quentin with a shrug, “but this has been…When I was an executioner, I killed everyone they sent my way with minimal complaints. I never liked the killing but I was good at it. It was simple. Now, everything I do is my choice. I have nothing and no one to hide behind. Every day I lead my men into a fight or raid, I’m actively making a choice to kill people. Everything people have always said about it, it’s true now. I’m not a good man.”

It was enough to break Razia’s heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up. He remained strong most of the time, but the switch…She knew whose fault it was, and it wasn’t Quentin’s. All those bodies, all that blood, they were all on her hands. Maybe it was better Razia stayed in the Garden. It kept her out of trouble.

“Do you think Cicero was a good man?” Isa demanded in that no nonsense tone of hers. “Do you think he was loved by all and respected for his kindness?”

“No, of course not,” Quentin scoffed.

“Look around you. Things are worse without him. He kept worse people in check. Who cares if you’re not a good person? In Orchrisus, good people are hard to come by and I don’t value them in the slightest. Good people get killed or used. You might not be able to be good, but you know what you could be, Quentin?”

“What’s that?” he asked, all of his attention on her.

Isa bared her teeth in a fierce almost-smile. “Necessary. You could be necessary the same way Cicero was. We can worry about being better people after the danger is over and the Warlords are all dead or gone. After we’re done cleaning up Razia’s mess we can take a good hard look at ourselves and be whatever we want to be.”

While the jab at Razia may have been unnecessary, it got the point across in a way Razia wasn’t sure she could. She would’ve focused on trying to uplift him instead of verbally slapping him and telling him to get over it. Surprisingly, it worked. Quentin almost smiled.

“I don’t want to be another Cicero,” Quentin whispered. “I don’t want to take control of the city. I just want to take control of our area and keep it safe.”

“Quentin, you’re a big, scary, mean looking cunt,” Isa said. “And I mean that as a compliment. You want to keep us safe? Use your image and stay looking like a big, scary, mean looking cunt. You can’t afford to falter or look weak among the rest of the world. It’s bad enough I have to see you like this.” But Isa smiled, and so did Quentin and Razia.

“She’s right,” said Razia. “She’s a bitch about it, but she’s right. We know what kind of person you are. So does Jonas and the gladiators. We took a major blow and we’re bouncing back. We can do this. Especially with the plan we’ve got. It’s simple but it should work.”

Quentin grunted his acknowledgement. “What’s the plan, then? You’ve got me right where you want me.” He turned and planted a kiss on Razia’s forehead. She smiled, getting even wider when she saw the sneer on Isa’s face.

“The essence of it is that we’re going to trick Christophe into trying to ambush you, and then we’re going to ambush him!” Razia exclaimed.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Quentin scoffed. “He’s a little far away and the city’s not safe to travel right now.”

“No,” said Isa, “but in a little bit it will be. What’s going to happen is that Kelli will find out that people paying enough shards for one of our services will get your personal attention. We’ll use that traitorous bitch to plant the idea of Christophe luring you to your death and we’ll turn it around on him like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Quentin thought about it, expression turning from doubt to begrudging acceptance. “That could work. It sounds a little simple though.”

Isa chuckled. “We dumbed it down for you. You’re welcome. The little details we’ll handle, you just need to worry about looking focused and oblivious to her. It’s on us to work Kelli over.”

“I’ll handle that,” said Razia, standing up. “I’ll pay her a personal visit and ask her about what she plans to do now that Cicero is dead. I’ll steer her where I want her, and then we’ll use Jenna to deliver the actual information to her. I’m going to call in a favor with a rich merchant to enjoy Jenna’s services for free, so long as he plays along like he’s a big spender who wants to spoil her.”

There was so much that could go wrong with the plan, but that could be dealt with later. For now, all the plan had to do was exist so they could refine it and iron out all the details. More likely than not, it would work. Kelli wasn’t particularly bright, but after all the violence she was bound to be afraid. Terrified, even. Maybe that could be used against her too. Razia found herself grinning at the idea. Isa saw her and smiled as well. If nothing else, hate of Kelli and affection for Quentin united them, even if Isa could be insufferable.

“Sounds good,” said Quentin, visibly relaxing. “All of it. You two make a good team. We all do. What do you think I should do in the meantime? Other than fight anyone who tries to hurt us. And make sure the Shades are all okay. Gods, the memorial is tomorrow. I’m terrified they’ll all leave and we’ll be doomed. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk with most of them, and some seemed shaken.”

“So don’t let them,” Isa said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re in charge and they follow you. Even more so after you decided to get your ass up from your extended nap. That nonsense about being the Darkstar’s favored child convinced a lot of them, I think. You want to do something now? Make the rounds and make it clear that you’re confident we’re safe and we’ll win this. No one can do it better than you.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Quentin shook his head. “But you’re right. I’ll make the rounds and see how everyone was doing instead of napping or getting drunk and feeling like shit. Thank you. Both of you.”

Razia smiled, but Isa waved him off, looking away and distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. Just strategy and survival. If you fuck off again we’re all dead.”

“It’s a good start,” said Razia, tugging on Quentin’s hand to pull him to his feet. “And you’ll feel better for it too, I promise.”

Maybe Razia couldn’t directly fight, and maybe it was Isa who Quentin needed right now to pierce his introspection and tendency to get lost in his head and mope. But if there was anything Razia could do, connecting people and knowing the right tool for the job were right at the top. Maybe it would be better this way, working behind the scenes and causing less trouble. At least until things died down and got boring again.

A knock at the door shook them all from their thoughts. Lucy popped her head in a second later. “Someone here to see you, Mr. Q,” she said. Her eyes flickered between the three of them standing there, Quentin in his underwear. A bit of color went to her cheeks and Razia had to bite back laughter. She winked at Lucy, throwing an arm around Quentin’s waist and Isa’s shoulders.

“Thanks Lucy,” he said. “I’m going to, uh, get dressed first.”

“Right!” She closed the door.

“She’s got a crush on you, you know,” Razia teased.

Quentin grunted and pulled away from her. He got dressed right in front of the two of them, pulling on a tunic. Razia caught Isa looking at his muscular back and elbowed her in the side. She pointed at Quentin’s ass and made a pinching motion. Isa glared at her and pulled away, storming out of the room. Razia did burst out laughing, then.

“What?” Quentin asked, tying his belt on.

Razia shook her head. Together they went out to the atrium. The Supreme Arbiter waited for them patiently, inclining his head when he saw them. He looked about as tired and worn down as Quentin. If they had problems, Omar must’ve been carrying half the city on his shoulders.

“Good evening,” he said. “Have you been safe?”

“Safe enough,” said Razia. “Quentin’s been handling it.”

“How bad has it been?” Quentin asked.

Omar’s expression dropped. “The Emperor is considering issuing a curfew and bringing in the military to help keep order. So far I’ve been able to convince him otherwise, but it’s a near thing. The outright war needs to end soon or all of Orchrisus will be squeezed in his grasp until it submits. And I think we all know Orchrisus is not the kind of city to submit to a tyrant if it means their lives are inconvenienced in any way.”

Quentin couldn’t help but smile at that, and Razia did as well. Back home in the Dell Archipelago it wasn’t much different. People ran in crews and families, with no real central leadership so much as a loose array of aligned and fighting houses who controlled the seas. A war would only make the people more insistent on keeping things as normal as possible. Smart? No. But sometimes being smart wasn’t the best choice.

“I bring you news,” said Omar. “The Skulls and the Steelsong have been wiped out entirely. They were Cicero loyalists, which is some bad news. Half of Cicero’s advisors and spies are at each other’s throats trying to grab as much of his influence and territory as they can. Some might try to pay you a visit.”

“They already have,” said Razia. “Quentin sent them home with a bloody nose.”

Omar nodded. “It’s only going to get worse. You might consider making a show of force or reaching out to some of the other smaller gangs for mutual aid. But it’s not all bad news. Thanks to the murder of Geoffrey Brixton, head of the Gold Scarab Bank, his replacements are eager for revenge. They were willing to do us a favor. I’ve managed to siphon away some of Cicero’s shards and transfer them to you. Four thousand aquilos, or about a quarter of his account. That account, at least.”

Razia’s legs wobbled. “Excuse me?” Beside her, Quentin was nearly as shocked. He still hadn’t told her how much he had, but she could guess it was less than four thousand. “Why are you helping us like this? This is Orchrisus, and you have so many reasons to be pissed at us.”

“Not both of you,” he said, eyeing her pointedly. “The way I see it, our best chance for peace and stability is empowering those who don’t want to exploit others. You two are far from perfect but I know Quentin’s character and I know he will not make a mess of the city if he has control of part of it. I’ve given money to others who I believe will do the same.

“More than anything I care about stability and harm reduction. I fully expect you to gain control of this area and some of the scattered gangs and do something about it. Am I wrong in expecting that?”

Quentin’s face darkened. This was exactly what he didn’t want, but even he could see it as the necessity it was. Isa’s words echoed in Razia’s head, and she’d put money on Quentin remembering it too. He grunted and shook his head.

“No. It might take me some time, but I want peace and prosperity for us all. I want things to be boring again and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it that way.”

“Good. Then my faith is not misplaced. This and the Watch are all the help I can give you. The rest? You’re on your own. I suggest you get moving and don’t let others act before you do. Do you understand?”

After Omar left, Razia turned to Quentin, a cheeky grin on her face.

“What?” Quentin asked, side-eyeing her.

“The Immortal Mr. Q, King of the Northside,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Has a ring to it.”

He made a face but didn’t disagree. That had to count for something. So much of it was on him, but Razia wouldn’t let him carry that burden alone. If she could do anything, she could make it easier on him and manage the girls while he worried about keeping them safe. Her and Isa, Razia reminded herself. Two had become three and they were better for it. But they could bring Isa in fully later. For now…

“Hey,” she said. “Why don’t we go back to resting for a bit, while it’s safe? Together.” She grinned, and he smiled back. Yes, she couldn’t fight, but she could keep people happy and content. It would have to be enough.