The rooftops of the Royal Court are neat and orderly. I swivel and lie down on the cool bricks, staring up at the sky. The world is too much to handle. I study the dark clouds.
“I think someone recognized me,” I say.
“Recognized you as Coin, the thief and grifter? Or recognized you as the impossible sovereign of Seriden, or whatever it is they’ve been calling you?”
“When the riot started, it’s because one of the Royals recognized me from the palace. I think he recognized me as queen.” I press my hands down against the cold brick. “This is not good.”
“Are you returning to the palace?” she asks.
“Unless you know a better way to get Hat out of prison and get this bloody tattoo off my arm,” I say.
“I can ask around and see what kind of rumors are out there,” Devil says. “I do have a plan. Not for breaking someone else out of prison, but for getting me out of prison. I have a standing plan to escape if I ever get arrested.”
“Will it work for Hat?” I ask. A chilly breeze rushes past us, and the ocean horizon turns to ash, and I know that sunrise isn’t far off. I should have come to Devil first. I’ve wasted my time in the palace, waiting for General Belrosa to hold up her end of the deal.
“It might,” she says. “I’ll talk to some people. That Legal who brought me the poisoned food? I’ll send a message with him tomorrow if I can work things out.”
“Just let me know what you need,” I say to her. “Any money or anything I can steal for you from the palace, tell me.”
Devil is tempted, but then her shoulder twitches. “Nah. That little redheaded scamp used to visit me every morning…and I miss seeing her. She smiled. Not a lot of people do anymore. I’ll see what I can do.”
I imagine Hat’s face—her frizzy red hair and freckled cheeks, and her dizzying array of hats. I spin up into a seated position.
“Do you have a lot of friends?” I ask Devil after a long silence.
She stares sideways at me. “I wouldn’t say that you and I are friends, exactly.”
“I don’t mean me,” I say. “Not really. Anyone. Do you find it easy…or impossible to make actual friends?” I kick my heel against the wall, and dirt flakes off and falls to the ground. “I don’t think I ever have. Except with Hat…I’m so worried about her, and I can’t tell if it’s guilt or responsibility or friendship. I’m not even sure if there’s a difference.”
Devil kicks out her feet. “Well, you’re coming to the wrong person if you’re asking about friends. I’m a smuggler, which means anyone is my friend if they’re useful to me.”
I shrug. “Did you ever think that we could be…?”
“More than friends?” Devil proposes, nudging me with a shoulder.
I laugh, and my cheeks heat up. “Just friends at all.”
“Well,” Devil says, surveying me, “you’re certainly smart and resourceful. More than that, even. You’re”—she wrinkles her nose at me—“kind. I think that’s more than I’ll ever be. They call me Devil for a reason. Do friends need to be kind? Is it enough to be loyal or present when the moment calls for it? I see what you’re trying to do for the city, Coin. I see things that you don’t see. I see what it’s doing on the streets.”
“What? Getting people killed?” I jerk a thumb behind us, where the distant shouts of the riot can still be heard.
“It’s definitely having that effect,” Devil says, “but it’s also making people pay more attention to each other. The Nameless have spent generations on the streets without rights. That’s not something that gets fixed overnight. But for the first time in a long time—ever, maybe—people are starting to think it can get fixed at all. They don’t want something immediate. They just want…”
“Hope?” I offer.
Devil nods slowly. “They have hope. They are clinging to it with everything they have. But hope is a kind of fear, and that’s what makes it dangerous. That’s all this city is right now—a place of reckless hope and fear, and it’s killing people. Gaiza, I’m going to miss Gear. He was good. Good good. Like Hat.”
I put a hesitant hand on her shoulder, and I’m relieved to feel nothing but smooth warm skin—no aura, no memories.
Devil looks at my hand, and I withdraw it, worried I’ve overstepped.
“If you’re walking back into that Royal nightmare,” she says, “it’s the least I can do to try to help Hat. We’ll get her out of prison one way or another.”
I say goodbye to Devil. She climbs down the wall into the Inner Ring, and I make good time returning to the palace. I think about everything she said. The only thing I’ve ever wanted was for the Nameless to have a place within the city. I’ve been so consumed with escaping the death sentence of this Royal tattoo and rescuing Hat that I haven’t really considered if I should fight for the throne. I have power, and most people I’ve come across have told me that I’m not suited for it. They’ve told me I’m unprepared, unqualified, and simply impossible.
Maybe I’ve been making the mistake of believing them. Maybe I don’t belong on the streets in the same way I don’t belong at the palace. Everything that was mine about the streets is gone: the quiet anonymity of being a Nameless pickpocket, the smile of a girl called Hat, and the idea that I could leave Seriden any day I chose.
As I make my way along the roof to the skylight of my sleeping quarters, I realize that going out to the streets and returning to the palace—neither really feels like coming home.
CHAPTER 10
Dominic knocks sharply on the door, startling me awake. Without waiting, he opens the door and leans into the room.
“Can I help you?” I ask in a monotone.
Judging from the sun coming through the skylight at a sideways slant, I’ve gotten maybe two hours of sleep. Not nearly enough.
“I’m escorting you to breakfast this morning,” he says.
I groan and bury my head under a pillow. “I’m skipping breakfast today.” Need more sleep.
“You really ought to come,” he says, and he makes a small effort to phrase it as a request when it really isn’t a request. “The general will be present. Something about a riot out in the city last night.”
I groan again.
“Shouldn’t you, as the sovereign, care about a thing like that?” he asks impatiently. Then after a beat, he adds, “Ma’am.”