I turned, yanking my hands free from the boy who now stood beside me, abandoning the fruit to him in my anger.
Long, dark, wavy hair—fighting to escape from a tie—brushed against his tan skin. A strong jaw was hidden behind a short beard on his chin, and a neck that was too long offset a nose that was too large. Maybe not so much a boy, actually.
“What they don’t tell you”—he leaned closer to me—“is that Acacius is also a god of debts, and taking the fruit is an act of worship. You will owe them a debt.”
The woman smiled tightly. “Lending to someone and having them give back what was given to them are all ways to show Acacius our devotion. He rewards us with this bounty.” She held the basket out to me, but I kept my hands away from the fruit.
“The devout of Acacius always collect on their debts,” the boy said quietly, “because collecting the debt is also an act of worship.”
“I follow a darker god,” I said to the woman.
She frowned, and the boy replaced the fruit into her basket. She turned her back on us, and just like that, I was forgotten.
My hands were sticky from the fruit, and it took almost all my willpower not to lick my fingers.
The boy placed a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to lead me from the Acacius women. I jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I meant no disrespect.”
Whatever else he might have said remained unspoken as he looked over my head. He narrowed his eyes. I turned.
There, in the center of the street market, walked the lawman from the other night—Lefevre. He scanned the crowd, examining each person as he passed. He was searching for someone. Me, maybe. Or perhaps the serial murderer.
The crowd gave Lefevre a wide berth. It was a warning to me that the people he was supposed to protect did their utmost to stay away from him.
Lefevre’s eyes swept over the women of Acacius and then me. He couldn’t have recognized me without a mask, but his gaze lingered. I dropped my eyes. Let him think me demure, weak. If he thought I was just a poor girl on the streets, he wouldn’t pay me any mind.
Lefevre continued on his way.
I exhaled and turned to the boy, but he had vanished.
I frowned. He’d moved surprisingly quietly for someone so tall. He’d both appeared and disappeared without my notice.
Hunger must have driven me to slip. I would need to get myself under control.
It wasn’t until I’d left the street market that I discovered the three pieces of fruit hidden in my bag with my dress. The juices had stained the fabric.
I headed to the north corner of the city where most of the bodies had been found. Not that I expected to discover anything during the day, but if I familiarized myself with this part of the city now, it would be easier to search for my uncle once the sun set.
I ate the fruit as I went. It was as sweet as I’d imagined.
To my left a woman sold flowers. “Roses for love,” she called. “Pennyblooms to keep the ghosts away!”
She had a bundle of Tullie blossoms, and their sharp fragrance caused me to gasp, fruit forgotten in my hand. My mother had worn a Tullie blossom perfume. I stood in the middle of the street and inhaled deeply until I became inured to the scent of them. My eyes burned with tears. I didn’t know if I wanted to purchase the flowers and bring them back to my dusty, hidden space, or if I wanted to hack and slash at them until they were nothing but scattered petals on the cobblestones.
I walked away, finishing the last piece of fruit.
A shadow flitted across the wall of the building to my left. Then again, a moment later. Someone was following me. He wasn’t being sly about it either. I glanced over my shoulder. A tall man casually strolled behind me, hands in his pockets, face hidden in the shadows.
I chose a side street. He turned as well.
I scanned my surroundings. I could lose him on the rooftops, but it would draw attention. The wrong kind of attention.
I traveled deeper into the maze of buildings stacked on top of one another. The cramped streets were filled with cascading flowers in window boxes, as if the Yvanese couldn’t have enough flowers in their lives.
I could kill the man. It was within my skills as a clipper. But the lawmen were already searching for me for a murder I didn’t commit.
Another turn. A canal stretched before me, the road ending at its murky waters.
I needed to get out of this dead end before I was trapped.
The man turned the corner, blocking me in.
Too late.
I faced him, my back straight, chin held high. He didn’t frighten me. If he saw this, he would think twice about whatever he had planned.
I let a dagger pocketed in my sleeve slide into my palm. I tucked it behind me, waiting for the man to step from the shadows.
He paused, then continued his casual walk in my direction, whistling an unfamiliar tune.
He stepped into a shaft of light. I released my breath. It was the lawman, Lefevre.
“Lawman.” I nodded in greeting. “I seem to have lost my way.”
“It’s Captain, actually. And I suppose our ways can be rather confusing for a foreigner.”