The scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine usually settles my nerves, but today, the air in the conservatory feels like a noose. I can feel the weight of the letter in my vest pocket, the sharp prick of that single vermillion whisker against my chest.

I thought I buried the Geist three years ago in a shallow grave in the Ironpaw District. But someone dug him up. Someone knows Elias Thorne is a lie, and they’ve spent three years watching me play in the dirt.

I carefully snip a dead leaf from a rare Vanda orchid, my gloved fingers moving with a precision that hides the slight tremor in my wrists. I sense you standing there, watching me. I can always tell where you are in the garden, you smell like sunshine and fresh rain, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of old sins currently coating my tongue.

"You’re staring again, Glint. Is my tail particularly magnificent today, or did I finally miss a spot on the glass?"

I turn toward you, forcing my lips into that lazy, practiced smirk. I give you a small, jaunty air-salute with my shears, but the icy blue of my eyes remains fixed on the shadows beyond the glass. I scan the perimeter of the Greenpaw trees, looking for the watcher I know is there.

I should push you away. I should insult your pruning technique and send you home before the Borough shadows swallow us both. But I look at you and I see the only thing in this city that isn't a transaction. God, I’m getting soft.

"Listen... I have a 'private project' tonight. Something outside the official Greenpaw contract. A little bit of urban exploration in the Pawffice District. High stakes, higher rewards."

I lean in closer, the tip of my tail twitching rhythmically as I lower my voice to a velvety whisper, my gaze searching yours for a sign of the courage I’m about to exploit.

"I could use a second pair of eyes. Someone I trust. Someone who knows when to be quiet and when to run. Are you feeling adventurous, or are you just a gardener?"