He reached for his sword as it sniffed her, but then its growl softened into a whine, and it turned and loped away.
“I can’t wait to be rid of those things,” the princess whispered as the creature disappeared in the direction of the garden. Rubbing her arms briskly, she turned to Sebastian. “Ready?”
“If we’re going to go into east Kosim Thalas, then we do it my way. Agreed?” He waited.
“Agreed.”
“You let me take the lead. You do what I say. And if trouble happens, I will get you free of it”—please, please let him be able to get her free of it—“and you run. You run out of east Kosim Thalas, and you don’t stop until you are as far away as you can get.”
She glanced down at her generous curves. “I’m not much of a runner.”
He leaned toward her. “You and I both know you are not to be underestimated. If I say run, you run. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
“I like your confidence.” She smiled at him. “Now, what should I wear?”
Two hours later, Sebastian’s pulse was thunder in his ears and every muscle was coiled and ready for a fight as he walked beneath the crumbling gateway to east Kosim Thalas with the princess by his side.
Granted, she no longer resembled the princess. Her hair was done in a simple peasant’s braid. Her clothing was patched and dirty—she’d had to rip and mend a dress and then drag it through the garden to achieve the look—and she’d wrapped an equally tattered and dirty scarf over her head and covered most of her face with it as if trying to avoid a sunburn.
His cudgel was a solid weight in his hand, and he slung a bag of food for his mother over his shoulder as they approached the first line of buildings. Tension hummed through his muscles, and he focused on every movement, every sound that whispered toward him.
They walked rapidly. He tore his gaze from the people sitting on their front steps or smoking on balconies long enough to check that the princess looked anything but royal. She was walking with slumped shoulders, her head bowed, and her feet shuffling as if she were too exhausted to walk properly.
Movement caught his eye, and he snapped his gaze to the runners who hovered on the street corner. They knew him, but they weren’t used to seeing him with anyone. Their eyes were locked on the princess, and he could practically hear them making calculations as she moved.
Nobility? Not with those clothes. Merchant? Too dirty. And Sebastian wouldn’t be with someone from either class. That left a servant or a peasant from the countryside. Were there signs that she worked for a family who might pay for her safe return?
There weren’t. He’d made sure of it. He’d double-checked every detail. Still, he gripped his cudgel as they walked past the runners and turned up the hill toward his mother’s place.
Dread curled through Sebastian’s stomach, oily and slick. When he’d looked at everything the princess hoped to accomplish in east Kosim Thalas, there’d only been one obvious solution.
His mother.
She used apodrasi. Thanks to his father’s line of work, she knew something about Teague’s employees and system of business. And she spent a lot of time doing favors for those employees in exchange for . . . whatever it was she wanted in exchange. Probably more drugs. He’d learned early on not to ask questions that he didn’t truly want answered.
If there was anyone in this part of the city who’d be willing to talk to him about Teague without disclosing that he’d been asking questions, it was his mother.
Unfortunately, there was also the possibility that she’d refuse to talk. That she’d scream and curse and beg for coin he wouldn’t give.
He had to force himself not to slow down as they came abreast of his mother’s building. Behind them, people had detached themselves from walls and doorsteps, just as he’d feared, but no one had attacked. Yet.
He figured they were waiting for the runners to come back with orders from the street bosses. He could only hope the fact that his father was one of Teague’s most valued collectors would give Sebastian and the princess a degree of protection.
The irony that his father might finally be protecting him by virtue of being a criminal wasn’t lost on Sebastian.
He climbed the rickety stairs, the princess following silently, and then stood outside his mother’s door, listening as always for a hint that his father had returned.
It was worse—so much worse—to listen and panic and fight to control his emotions when he had the princess depending on him. He didn’t want to show her this side of himself. The fear and poverty. The bitter, shifting moods of his mother.
Stepping across the threshold into his former home was like stripping away the bandage that hid his deepest wound.
“It’s okay,” the princess whispered. “We can ask someone else if you don’t want to go inside. I saw quite a few people on the street.”
“You saw people who are waiting to hear from the street bosses whether they should leave us alone or rob us and sell us to Balavata.”
It hurt to breathe, and the scars on his back prickled and ached. Before he could second-guess himself, he turned the doorknob and went inside. The princess followed him.
His mother was alone, sitting in a chair at her flimsy kitchen table, picking at a plum with her dirty fingernails. “Who’s there?” his mother asked.
He moved into her line of sight, and she sat up straighter.
“Come to rob me again?”
He sighed. “I never rob you.”
She spat a bit of plum onto the floor.
He held up the sack. “I brought food for the week.”
“Did you bring coin too?”
“No.”
His mother looked at him, her eyes bright with desperate need. “I’m out, Sebastian.”
Before she could say another word, he stepped aside to let her see he hadn’t come alone.
“Who’s that? A girl? Thinks she can snatch you up and take over my house?”
He gritted his teeth. “She doesn’t want your house.”
“Too good for me, is she?”
Sebastian didn’t look at the princess as he crossed the room to unload the food into the cupboard, his face burning with humiliation.
He heard the soft swish of the princess’s dress as she followed him into the kitchen, and then she was crouching beside his mother and looking up into the older woman’s face.
“Your son is a good person. A great person, actually. I’m sure you’re proud of him.”
Sebastian’s chest ached at the look of surprise on his mother’s face. “Proud of what? For leaving me here just like his father? Just like his brother?”
“Children grow up and leave, but he takes care of you. He brought you food.”
“I don’t need food.” She looked at Sebastian, and his gut twisted. “I need coin. I haven’t had any for days. Your father is supposed to send what I need. Teague is supposed to send what I need.”