I slipped through the streets, passing through shadows cast by lamplight until it grew dark enough to travel by rooftop. It was quicker to travel above, especially early in the night when the streets were crowded with people. I stopped at every safe house, collecting all my spare money and anything else I might need, and then I headed southeast, toward the border of the city of Ravenna. The closer I drew, the sparser the buildings. Finally I had to climb down to the street level and make my way between shadows and trash-filled alleys. The streets weren’t safe.
Around the corner a group of revelers blocked my way. Their raucous laughter echoed off the snug walls of the garden I slipped inside to hide. A wrought-iron bench further blocked me from their view. I pulled my cloak tight as they traveled past the gate. The women wore luxurious dresses, made from the finest velvet and lace, their collars reaching to the tops of their heads and their hair wrapped intricately with ribbons, beads, and gems.
I’d never wear anything like that now. Not that I’d ever had an opportunity to own something so fine, even for the balls at the palace where we were often invited. There would be no more balls for me. No more beautiful things.
I glanced out from my hiding spot. At the rear of their group I caught a quick flash of a man in a cylindrical hat, staff at his side. I looked again.
Nothing. Only my tired eyes playing tricks.
When the group turned a corner, I escaped my hiding place, staring in the direction they’d gone. Echoes of their revelry reached me in staccato bursts. It must’ve been easy, to be a commoner. To know if they were murdered at the hands of a clipper, they would be reborn as an infant into a better life. To know there was someone who would seek vengeance on their behalf or take their life if their sadness was too great. To not worry about gods and their demands and Family ranks.
This far south I could smell the brininess of the sea on the air. I inhaled deeply and pictured throwing myself into its depths, letting myself sink to the bottom and the peace and quiet found there.
I shook my head. A common life wasn’t for me. It never had been. I just needed some sleep. Things always looked different when I was well rested.
Before me stood an inn tucked away in a corner of the city. I hid my mask in my cloak, but it would be clear to the inn owner I was a clipper. I didn’t have any common clothing. I’d have to be gone as soon as possible in the morning before the owner had a chance to wag his tongue.
I used part of my money to rent a room for a night and asked that a hot bath be drawn. I smelled of smoke and fire; this was obvious even before the innkeeper wrinkled his nose. It was on my hair, my skin, inside of me. Maybe I’d never be clean of it.
My room was small, but the mattress was free of bugs and lice. The innkeeper offered me a key to the bathing room, and after I stashed my belongings, I went straight there.
The tub was dented and rusted in spots, but hot steam rolled over its edges. I climbed in and sank up to my chin, letting the water soak away my aches and pains. I scrubbed my skin with rough soap, concentrating on my hair, which stank the most.
Once out of the bath I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.
I still looked the same. Everything had changed. Everything. And yet my face stared back at me the way it always had. My eyes were still brown, my hair was still long and blond.
I ran my fingers through the strands, pulling apart any tangles. It wasn’t fair. I was different on the inside. I should look different on the outside.
I dug through my leathers until I found what I was searching for.
The knife sliced my hair easily and the chunks fell across my bare feet, piling to my ankles before I was finally done.
I left it long enough to pull back to keep out of my face when I wore my mask, but barely.
There. Now the girl who looked back was someone different. Just like the girl on the inside.
In my room I crawled under the blankets, pulling my knees up against my chest. My muscles still ached, weary from everything, but my mind wouldn’t be still.
All I could picture was Val in the alley, dangling my key from his fingers before I’d snatched it back. He had taken it from me at the beginning of dinner, at a restaurant his Family owned. Anyone could have made an imprint of it while we dined, while he stroked my fingers. And then we’d fled to the alley and he’d kissed me, all while his Family plotted to destroy mine.
My fault. All my fault.
Tears soaked into the pillow beneath my head. I wept steadily. My grief stretched on and on, endless. When I’d manage to regain control of myself, my body, I’d remember someone I had lost: my father, my mother, Matteo, or Jesep. Emile. Rafeo. Then the tears would start again.
I’d left Rafeo in the tunnel, and I’d left my mother in our burning home. I was alone now. The only Saldana remaining, and I’d gotten my Family killed because I’d loved a boy in secret who used that love to destroy me.
I cried until my cheeks burned from the salt, until my skin chapped and my head pounded. Then, finally, my body empty, I slept.
seven
STALL OWNERS CLOSED UP SHOP BELOW MY OPEN window. I’d slept through the rest of the night and the day. My eyes were sticky and sore with dried tears. My muscles begged me not to move.