What in the Lord of Pain’s deep hell?
The rage began to abate, giving way to surprise and a touch of reason. Who would this man be willing to die for, to protect? If Ratter had a boyfriend—the thought made me want to vomit—she’d kept it very quiet.
Could it be one of the crew she ran with? That older boy, Robert, or Rubs, whatever she called him? Or Trevor, who’d inexplicably been known as Tracks. Even their names made me want to kill someone. Such ridiculous names.
Almost as ridiculous as the one she’d taken.
The jeweler whimpered in my grip again. Somehow, I managed not to kill him. I dropped him, then stalked away, slow at first, then speeding up until I reached the river at a dead run.I didn’t pause. I simply threw myself in, clothing and all, and swam as hard as I could toward the north, against the current, only stopping once the rage had dissipated. Then I floated back downstream, staring at the stars.
At the southernmost edge of the city, I pulled myself out of the water and rolled onto the stone pier in a part of Turino I’d never visited, exhausted, freezing, and angry at myself for losing control.The long, cold walk back to the castle would give me time to make a plan for recovering the dagger.
Or so I thought.
I was less than a hundred paces from the pier when I heard her, though her voice was muffled. “Right, I’ve given you a fair offer to clear out of the street, and you’ve refused it. So I find myself with a quandary.”
I blinked. Ratter stood, in her unmistakable gray cloak, at the corner of the next street up, beside what looked like an abandoned factory of some kind. A man stood before her, peering down at her. She had a cloth mask over her lower face, whether for warmth or as a disguise, I wasn’t sure.
“Ye’ll find yourself with my cock in your mouth if ya don’ shut up and leave me the fuck alone, girl,” the man slurred. I slid against the stone wall closest to me, hiding in the deep shadow. The man was an Alpha, from the sheer size of him, and a fisherman, from the stink that wafted my way on the cold breeze. He smelled slightly feral, and more than slightly drunk. “Maybe you’d like a taste anyway, hm? Get over here; I’ll show you what a girl like you’s good fer.” He stumbled toward her, reaching out with one open hand. She danced away, tsking.
“What I’m good for? See, that’s the thing. I’m really only good for one thing. But my boss has forbidden me to kill any more men, even Alpha arserags like you, until after the Solstice. Normally, I would cut your tongue out for that sort of comment, as a start, and move on to other parts of your anatomy until you learned your lesson. I’m trying to keep my promise to him, though.” She scratched her chin through the mask, like she was mulling possibilities. “No time for school. I’m meeting someone.” Her cloak swirled around her, up and out, and hid whatever she did.
When she stepped back, the Alpha was on his side in the street, and she was racing toward a door. I held my breath, listening, as she knocked, waited a moment, then said, “They always want us in cages.”
Was she meeting the boyfriend here? I sucked in a breath, then realized my error as Ratter’s head tilted, and her hand moved to her waist. She waited, and I thought she would come toward me, but the door opened a crack, and someone whispered, “That’s why we learned to pick locks. Thank the Goddess you’re here.”
A woman. Not a man.
Ratter slid past the woman, squeezing her narrow shoulder in friendship. The woman kept her head outside, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “I smell… Ah.” She spied the fallen Alpha, then went back inside.
I stayed put. Within minutes, a group of seven women and girls wearing cloaks and masks like Ratter’s slid silently into the dark street, carrying something that looked like a rolled-up fishing net. No one spoke. They only moved to the fallen Alpha, laid the net on the street, then rolled him up in it. When Ratter gave a short series of clicks with her tongue, the women vanished back into the factory, leaving the Alpha.
From nowhere, two men appeared, each one picking up an end of the rolled-up net. Ratter handed one of them something. “At least to the border of Rimholt, hear me? I don’t want him finding his way back.”
They nodded. “He ain’t dead?” one of them asked as they passed by, neither one noticing me there. “That ain’t like her. Least not as I’ve heard.”
His friend tsked. “Don’t listen to gossip. That girl’s got a heart as big as this city. If she’s killed somebody, it was somebody who needed it. That lass may be a murderer a thousand times over, but she’s on the side of the Goddess.” They paused, putting their burden down and tying the ends of the net tighter as they spoke.
“The story’s true then?”
“I was there, lad, in the Swill and Spill, the night King Rigol was targeted. Our girl Ratter was naught more’n a babe herself, but she took on a Guild assassin who was after the king. He was stabbed, ya know. But the wound healed in a flash of gold fire, and our lass… I can’t remember the words, but I still remember her voice. It was like hearin’ a lullaby from yer mam, and the song of a nightingale, and the summer wind over the wheatfields back home.” He sniffled. “I fall asleep thinking about it some nights, even now. It was the Goddess, and our Ratter’s Her hands.”
“Bloody little hands the Goddess has,” the other agreed before they turned the corner.
I waited a moment, then moved closer. Broken glass had been plastered into the tops of the walls that flanked the entrance, marked with a faded wooden sign that readRiverside Glassworks. She’d made it almost impossible to enter the factory, but one of the windows was open, and I heard movement inside as I approached. Voices.
Hers. “Is this place all right, Winna? I mean, now that I’ve got rid of that arserag Alpha. The Betas who took him will be back. They look rough, but I’ve known ‘em since I was practically Gertie’s age. You can trust those two.”
“You mean you’ve paid them a fortune to guard us, and they know you’ll kill them if they betray you.”
“Well, yeah. That’s what I said.” Laughter spilled out into the night.
Curiosity ate at me. What was Ratter doing, and what were these women hiding? I leaned closer until I could see into the blacked-out window. In the center of the room stood the seven women I’d seen before, as well as another one, and just as many children, mostly girls. They were arranging furniture, and hanging sheets and tablecloths to make part of the factory into rooms. On the far side of the vast space, I noted an enormous pile of pillows and blankets, which only one of the women was touching.
She was moving them into a large closet, arranging them carefully on her own, before a red-haired, statuesque woman came to help. “Can you believe we’ll finally get a nest of our own?” The first woman embraced the redhead, the pillows and blankets forgotten as they kissed passionately.
“Zara? May I enter your nest, Omega?” the redhead asked quietly. In answer, the smaller woman led her into the closet, closing the door behind them both.The sounds that emerged from the room were unmistakable.
The laughter from the women outside the door quieted when Ratter said, loud enough to carry, “No teasing them. It’s a good sign that they feel safe here.”
