I closed my eyes and pictured slipping my knives into their hearts, cutting them down with my sword, forcing them to drink my most painful poisons. They deserved it and worse for what they’d done to the Saldanas.
I took a nap, using the robe I’d worn to escape the monastery as a pillow. I slipped off my mask, tucking it safely beneath the robe, my fingers tracing the crack along its surface. My injured shoulder pulsed with the beat of my heart, lulling me to sleep.
I dreamed of Val. His lips on my skin, his calloused hands on my flesh, and when I woke, my body burned, missing him. But my heart burned more with missing my Family.
My muscles creaked, still stiff and sore, but the nap had helped to clear the last bit of cobwebs from my head.
I tightened my cloak around my shoulders and loaded up my weapons. The empty room had grown even darker with the setting sun. It couldn’t be that hard to find one old clipper in a city that abhorred death.
I slipped out the window. It was time to hunt.
Nothing.
I found nothing in my night of hunting.
I’d traveled along the rooftops, searching the dark alleys and streets for signs of my uncle, for bodies or sounds of death or any clue, really, that somewhere in the city a clipper conducted business. But all I found were ghosts, lazily traveling the streets, doubling back when they came to a canal or crooked bridge.
I clutched my hands into fists. My burned palm ached.
As sunrise approached, I headed back to my safe space, dejected that my plan of find my uncle wasn’t as simple as I’d initially hoped. He could have easily been out and our paths could never have crossed. I needed to know where to search.
Secure inside my empty room, I changed from my leathers into the only other clothing I had: the robe given to me by Brother Faraday. I would draw attention, but I had no other choice.
When the sun rose, I slipped outside again. The brown robe tangled in my feet, and I stumbled in my secluded alley. I brushed my hair out of my face and strode down the street like I was of noble birth, instead of a dirty girl in an ill-fitting robe.
People were about their business early in Yvain. I garnered a few strange looks, but I just concentrated on blending in with the crowd, searching the shops and wares. Many of the clothing shops looked too expensive. I clutched my purse in my hand. Val had so easily lifted things off me, I couldn’t risk an actual pickpocket stealing my remaining funds.
I discovered a store with simple dresses and stepped inside. It didn’t take long to find something I could afford—a plain purple dress, with no real shape—and though the shop owner offered to tailor it so it fit better, I couldn’t justify the cost.
It didn’t matter anyway. So Lea Saldana was walking around the streets of Yvain in an ill-fitting dress barely adequate for the common—who was left to care? All my beautiful things were gone with my home, with my Family. I didn’t deserve anything more.
While I paid, the shopkeeper and her assistant gossiped steadily about the city and people they knew. At a break in their conversation, I made my move.
“I heard some lawmen say they found a body the night before last.”
The shopkeeper clucked her tongue. “It’s been terrible lately, I swear.”
Her assistant shook her head. “It must be that serial murderer everyone’s talking about.”
“Serial murderer?” I prodded.
The shopkeeper rolled her eyes. “Nothing but rumors, my dear. No need to worry your pretty head.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” her assistant said. “There have been a lot of bodies found in the north corner, and not all of them are ghosts or robberies. My brother said people have been sliced open. I don’t know of any street thug who carries a sword.”
She was right—that didn’t sound like a robbery gone wrong. It certainly didn’t match the robbery and murder I’d seen.
“It’s a shame. Even if we didn’t have the ghosts, good people still wouldn’t be safe at night.”
The shopkeeper shrugged. “The solution is the same as always: stay inside after dark.”
Her assistant hummed an agreement.
I collected my change and bag and thanked the women.
Outside, I bumped into a plump woman in a yellow robe. She faced me and smiled brightly, her cheeks rosy, her brown eyes practically sparkling in the sunlight. “Hello, child! Have you come to hear the word of Acacius?”
To the right stood two other women in the same robe, holding baskets filled with fruit.
“No, thank you. I follow a different god.” I clutched my bag and tried to step around.
She turned with me. “At least take some food.” She forced three pieces of fruit into my hands, their thin lilac skins bruising and splitting with her verve.
The fruits were heavy in my hand, probably filled with sweet flesh and juices. My stomach groaned. “You’re just giving away this food? To anyone?”
“Acacius loves his children, and his love provides us with food to fill our stomachs and our souls.” Her smile could have scared away the night.
A pair of large hands clasped over my fingers and the fruit.