If I survive long enough, I could die here of old age, but if someone from Belrosa’s army finds me here tonight, death may come sooner.
With a sigh, I realize that I wish Esther was here. I wish Hat and Glenquartz were here too. I even wish Devil was here.
I stand tentatively at the side of the bed, and I think about pulling the blankets down onto the floor as I did on my first night in the guest sleeping quarters.
Instead I crawl into the bed. There’s a faint smell of body oil and perfume, and I feel my eyes burn as I realize that this is what my father smelled like. This was the man who sentenced me to a life on the streets, but also the man who spoke my name in the moments before his death. I never learned what his laugh sounded like or had the chance to memorize his smile.
I never met my father, but somehow—impossibly—I miss him.
* * *
Someone opens the door. In an instant, I’ve rolled off the opposite side of the bed, shifted my knife to an offensive grip, and gotten a lock on the person coming inside. When I see the dark ringlets of hair and tan skin, I relax.
Esther’s startled gaze fixes on the blade in my hand, and I quickly slide it into my pocket.
“Glenquartz said you were missing,” Esther says. “We’ve been searching for you all morning. We didn’t know if someone killed you, or took you, or if you ran off. In any case, it’s only us that know. We didn’t want to alarm the council. Is everything…Are you okay?”
I rise to my feet, and I summon the blade to my fingertips at a moment’s notice again as heat and anger flood me. I slam the blade sideways, burying an inch of steel into the canopy bedpost.
Esther gasps, and I know on some level that I’ve damaged something I shouldn’t have. I wrench the blade free and stalk past her toward the door.
“I’m not talking about it,” I say angrily. Then, a second later, as I reach the door, I turn around and say, just as angrily, “Fine. I’ll talk about it. But bring Glenquartz. I’m not going through it more than once.”
When she leaves to fetch him, I pace the room.
The fear and hurt I felt last night have morphed entirely into anger. What would I do if I was already queen? I wonder if I would have Belrosa executed on the spot, or if I’d have her arrested and taken before the judiciary. I might even go to the Royal Council for support.
I grip the handle of my knife tighter and tighter. None of that would help me, because I’m Nameless. It doesn’t matter that I have a crown tattoo. I don’t have rights.
“I could do this alone,” I say quietly to the empty room, testing the lie to see how it feels. I could find Devil, leave Seriden. All it would take is for me to walk through that door, past the black curtain, and out of the palace.
But for the first time, I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to face every pain the world has offered me by myself. So I sit on the edge of the bed, and I wait.
Esther returns fifteen minutes later, and she has both Glenquartz and Hat.
“I couldn’t convince her to stay behind,” Glenquartz says apologetically. “Has…something happened?”
Hat pushes past Glenquartz and stands in front of me. She studies my face for a minute, and I feel my cheeks burn red. I take a deep breath and tilt my head down, running through what I want to say.
Hat puts a hand on my shoulder, and I flinch. She bends down to meet my downcast gaze.
“Eyes up,” she says consolingly. “Remember?”
I try to take a stand before them, but I have too much energy, and I begin pacing.
“I was alone,” I start. “For a very long time. I grew up in a crew of as many as twenty children underneath the leadership of a Nameless man called Marcher.”
Hat cringes and sits on the bed, pulling a pillow to her stomach.
“It wasn’t like this for everyone,” I say, “but there were no friendships for me. There were no companions or mentors. There was just Marcher and the insane, competitive, challenging, impossible world he raised me in. And then I did make a friend. Another kid in our group called Echo. And Marcher got her killed. I was so angry that I…” I pause to roll my shoulders and get my head on straight. “I tried to kill Marcher, and I failed. I failed because you showed up.” I gesture at Hat, and her eyes are shining.
“I almost did it,” I say. “But I didn’t. And it occurred to me in that moment that even if Marcher got someone else killed, he was looking after the rest of the kids in a way that no one else could, and in a way that the city never would. So I compromised, and I just left. Over the next few years, I struck out alone and made a name for myself. I became a grifter and a survivor, no matter what else that meant.”
Glenquartz eases down into a chair by the wardrobe, and Esther remains standing.
“Every time I saw you, Hat,” I say, “I knew there were more like you. And I couldn’t look after all of them or any of them. Somehow, that meant I couldn’t look after just you. I don’t know if I was wrong to think like that, but I’m sorry for everything it meant for you. And…this is the first time in my entire life that I haven’t felt like I have to do everything alone.” A weak smile flickers on my face.
“Something happened,” I confirm. “Something is happening. And I don’t want to deal with it alone. I want to tell you what happened, and then I want to ask for your help.”
All three of them stand firm. All of them are ready.
I tell them about the army. About Marcher. About Belrosa’s visit, how fears I’d never imagined and angers I’d never considered burned through my body like ice. I tell Esther that Belrosa implied that she’d practiced her abilities on Fallow, subjecting him to her cruel thoughts and fears the same way she did me.
Esther’s eyes shift from troubled and pained to something darker. Her shoulders tighten, and her lip twitches in disgust. Her expression grows fierce and desperate as her fists curl tightly, her arms trembling.
I recognize what she’s thinking. Her aura is cold yet distant, like the freezing of ice behind a sheet of glass.
I step closer. “Don’t,” I say, gentle but firm.
“Don’t what,” Esther says, but she doesn’t even say it like a question. She grits her teeth. Her eyes flit to the knife in my hand.
“I know that look,” I say. “I know what it means.” She wants to kill Belrosa.
“Do you?” Esther challenges, her hands balled into fists. “Because I just realized my father probably spent my entire life suffering at the hand of the person who was supposed to protect him. No wonder he kept me at a distance! He was protecting me from her. Tell me: What Belrosa did to you, was it the worst pain you’d ever felt?”