Chapter 3
Ihalt, and the women I rescued pause, glancing at me.
The closest furrows her brow. “What’s wrong?”
An oil lamppost flickers to life, reflecting off a blade strapped to the stranger’s waist, her features veiled by a hood pulled over her eyes.
I swallow and gauge the distance to the safe house. If I didn’t have the others, I could outrun her, or at least throw her off my trail. But with them, I risk exposing the location.
“Take the next left,” I whisper, wrapping a hand around my dagger. “Five doors down, there’s a house with an orange awning. Knock three times and ask for Rita.”
“But—”
“Go.” I grit my teeth and push her forward, tilting my chin at the other three to follow. “Run.”
They take off, darting down the adjacent alley. The woman stalking closer doesn’t slow, nor does she chase after them. She lifts her head, enough for me to catch the smirk on her lips as tendrils of black hair come untucked from her collar.
“Don’t split up on my accord,” she says, an amused lilt to her voice.
I narrow my eyes, tightening my grip on the blade. “Can I help you?”
Her steps are silent as the distance between us shrinks. She scoffs. “How strange, offering help while your fingers dance on a weapon. I saw you with that pirate.”
I stiffen.
She circles me like a beast would prey. “You wouldn’t happen to be the reason why the castle is up in arms about stolen jewelry, would you?”
My chest tightens. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So you didn’t just trade a handful of jewels for those women?”
I trace her movements, searching for a weakness, a single misstep, but she shifts into the light, far enough that I catch a glimpse of her eyes. A deep, honey-brown.
I shake my head. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“Couldn’t possibly forget a face like yours.” There’s a dare in her voice, and she comes to a stop, scanning me. “I’m sure they’d offer a handsome reward for you, wouldn’t they?”
I lunge, shoving her against the alley wall, and pin my forearm against her throat. She brings an arm up, but I flick my dagger up and angle it against the artery in her neck. Those honey eyes widen, and I relish in it, waiting for her surprise to morph into fear.
But they relax, challenge me, and the fiery thrill racing through me fades.
I shove my arm against her windpipe, earning a wince. “If you so much as speak a word of this, you won’t be alive long enough to see how much they’d pay.”
She clicks her tongue. “Such harsh words from such a pretty mouth.”
My grip falters.
She slams a fist into my side and knocks me off balance. I stumble, throwing an arm out, but before I regain my footing, she twists and slams my back against the wall.
Forcing in a breath, I adjust the dagger in my grip, aim it toward her ribs, and—
She captures my wrist with a hand and squeezes until my dagger drops, clattering to the stone.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, love,” she whispers, breath hot against my throat. “I never said I would turn you in, just that I could. But…”
Her words trail off as a breeze floats down the alley and parts my cloak, exposing the beading on my silk, castle-issued gown.
“A courtesan?” That tilted smirk returns, and her eyes meet mine. “It appears you’re much more valuable than I thought.”
I bare my teeth, and she drags a finger over my jaw.
“No need for that.” Keeping me pinned to the wall, she inches back, far enough to slide her sword from its sheathe. I writhe, but she jerks the tip of the blade to the space over my heart.
“What do you want from me?” I say, pinning my gaze to her rather than the sword threatening to plunge into my chest. My breaths are too shallow, but if I pull in more air, the blade will pierce skin.
“You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.” Without lowering her blade, she sinks down and plucks my dagger from the ground. Straightening, she holds my eyes as she parts my cloak and finds the sheathe strapped to my thigh.
My chest tightens as she slides my blade into its holster.
She steps back. “I’ll be seeing you again.”
Before I can form a response, she strides down the alley. I push off the wall and train my gaze to the space between her shoulders, but stop short.
It wouldn’t take much to catch her—weaving through the alleys until I intercept her path. But I’m losing time, and I need to get the jewels to Rita before she comes looking for me.
I grind my teeth together and watch the woman’s shadow disappear around the corner, my wrist aching from where she held it against the wall.
Blowing out a breath, I turn and follow the worn, familiar steps to the safe house. I climb the short staircase, and before I have a chance to knock, the door swings open.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Rita breathes, throwing her arms around me. “I was so worried.”
She pulls back and frames my face with her hands, scanning me over a pair of thick glasses.
Warmth blooms in my chest, and I smile as I gently pry her hands from my face. “I’m always fine. You know that.” I glance over her shoulder, into the warm light of the kitchen. “Are they?”
“Come see for yourself.” Her eyes soften. “I have tea waiting for you.”
I follow her through the doorway and into the kitchen where the four women sit around the large driftwood table. My heart aches for them—the sunken eyes, nails worn to jagged stubs, skin pale as they take careful bites of food Rita laid out for them.
“They’re doing better than the last ones,” Rita whispers. She sweeps across the threshold and removes the steaming kettle from the stovetop.
I watch as she pours the water into a mug, her frail hands sure and steady. She found me crying into the sand on one of those first blurry, drunken days and took me in. Just like she has for hundreds of others.
But it’s been a decade since then, and time has worn on her. It has pressed wrinkles into the corners of her eyes and grey into her hair, and suddenly the woman who was like a mother to me is now a grandmother.
One of the women sets down her fork and stares at the wall behind me, tilting her head.
I lean against it and drag my fingertips over the painted mural. “Everyone who comes through here adds to it, each painting something new.” A field of flowers. A brick house. A pair of clasped hands. “Dreams, if you will.”
“They’re beautiful,” she breathes.
I pause over my own—waves cresting against the hull of a ship—and my throat thickens. Dropping my hand, I step away. “Feel free to add your own.”
Something in my chest thaws at the smile that ghosts her lips. I don’t know her name, and I never will. And she’ll never know mine—not my real one anyway. It’s safer that way.
I motion for Rita to follow me into the hallway. She nods, wiping her hands down the front of her apron.
Laughter floats down from the bedrooms upstairs, and I lower my voice as she joins me. “I need to get going.”
Her eyes widen. “But you just got here.”
“I know, but Caelus has something big he’s announcing at dinner.” I dig the remaining jewels out of my pocket and offer them to her. “This should be enough to last until I’m back.”
She pockets them in her apron and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “This could last us years, and you know that. Keep yourself safe.”
I glance over her shoulder into the kitchen where there’s no noise but the clinking of silverware. I should teach them how to fight, how to protect themselves, but—
“We’ll be fine,” Rita says, pulling my gaze back to her.
I chew on my lip and nod. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I know.”
She kisses my cheek and returns to the kitchen. I watch her go, memorizing her gait and the bounce of her coiled hair, just in case it’s the last time. A swallow makes its way down my throat.
I should mention the woman I ran into and the threats she spewed. But that will only worry Rita.
I push myself outside, where rainfall pours from the sky, splashing onto rooftops and rolling down copper gutters. Sunset has long faded—flickering lanterns the only light spilling over the path.
Dinner will start any moment.
A vise seizes my heart. I’ve been gone too long.