“I know, Flick,” said Kyra. “Can we talk about something else?”
They were getting close to the beggars’ sector, and Flick fell silent. Much of this neighborhood had burned down in the recent fire, though some of Kyra’s old haunts had survived. The courtyard where Kyra had met Idalee and Lettie was untouched, the same dusty dirt square surrounded by run-down buildings, though it was crowded with more beggars since residents of the burned-out southwest quadrant had moved in. The entire area felt more dangerous these days, but Kyra still spied children climbing out of makeshift lean-tos, preparing themselves for a day of wandering the market. Idalee and Lettie were already talking with a street girl who’d been a friend of theirs.
It was a strange feeling, coming back these days. Kyra used to fret constantly over food and money—those worries had made up the bulk of her early existence. Now her material needs were no issue at all, thanks to the Palace. And though she had no desire to go back to the way things were, she couldn’t help feeling a bit of guilt.
One of the boys spotted Kyra and ran to her.
“Ho, Kyra. Ho, Flick.” Ollie was a few years older than Idalee and growing a little taller each time Kyra saw him. He’d been on the streets for years now, ever since his parents were thrown in prison for unpaid debts.
“Ollie, where’d you get that hat?” asked Kyra. It was a floppy, round style that Kyra often saw at the Palace, bright blue silk with a tassel hanging off the edge.
The boy grinned. “I found it.”
“Found it?” asked Flick, one eyebrow raised.
Ollie’s smile faded slightly.
“Nipped it off a fatpurse, did you?” Kyra asked.
Ollie shifted uncomfortably. “It was just in fun,” he said.
Kyra couldn’t believe the boy’s stupidity. “You know better than that,” she said. The lecture would have been more impressive if she’d been able to talk down at him, but Ollie was as tall as she was these days. “You want to nip something, you go for coin, food, or something you can sell. Fetching a useless trinket like that and parading it around will get you nothing but a beating.”
The boy avoided her eyes. A crowd of children had gathered to watch, and he glared at them, daring anyone to make a comment.
Ollie straightened. “I see your clothes are mighty nice these days, Kyra. How do you get them? By kissing the wallhuggers’ feet?”
There were a couple of gasps from around the circle, and Kyra herself drew back. She hadn’t expected that. Out of the corner of her eye, Kyra saw Idalee stop talking and glance in her direction.
“What did you say?” Kyra said.
“It’s what you’re good at now, in’t it?” said the boy. “Must be nice to eat off the Palace tables.”
She had an urge to box the boy’s ears. Except, again, he weighed more than she did, and his words rang a little too close to the truth. Flick squeezed her shoulder, the usual voice of restraint. She took a deep breath and told herself that the boy was just trying to salvage his pride. She stepped back from him and addressed the crowd.
“I brought coin this morning for folk who need it. If any of you want my help, you look me in the eye and you take the coin from my hand. If you don’t like what I do with the Palace, you’re free to stay back.” She opened her bag. “Anyone?”
It didn’t take them long to start coming. One by one, the children stepped around Ollie and took a copper from her. When almost all the children had received a coin, Kyra looked at Ollie again. He approached her grudgingly—not too proud to refuse money, though he’d stubbornly refused to take off his hat.
“Just be careful,” she said as she pressed a coin into his hand. He mumbled something and left.
Kyra rubbed the bridge of her nose as Idalee and Lettie rejoined them. Idalee folded her coin pouch with studied care, and Lettie looked back and forth at everyone’s faces, eyes wide.