Her head rears back. “You think I can be bribed?”
I wait, losing additional precious seconds as she wars with herself. “Please—Johan is waiting for me.”
Her tanned skin ashes over. “He’s here?”
My heart sinks at the panic in her expression. She darts forward, and I suck in a breath as she kneels in the pool of blood alongside me.
“He doesn’t keep it on the hook.” She doesn’t look at me as her hand shoves into the silk, feeling her way with a grimace. “I saw it, years ago. He keeps it –here.”
She yanks out a gleaming, copper key. Our eyes meet above it.
And then she’s gone, into my bedchamber as I shove the key into the lock on my ankle with shaking hands, ignoring the sting of my fingers as I twist it.
It opens easily enough. The cuff falls to the floor, and I take in the sight of my bare ankle for the first time in years. The pale skin is ripped and distorted, scarred beyond any healer’s abilities.
“Selene,” Tieren hisses. She has the money pouch in her hands, shoving her hand inside to touch the coins. “Hurry.”
My heart thunders as I rise, my feet unsteady beneath me as I force them into movement. “The blood—”
“Leave it.” Her brows are furrowed as she pulls out a fistful of coins, shoving them into the pocket of her flowing lilac trousers. They clink as she brushes past me, darting back into her own rooms. “Get dressed, quickly!”
I’d forgotten about my state of undress. Hurrying into the bedchamber with my still-wet hair sticking to my skin, I yank clothes from the closet and curse Boralas for refusing to clothe me in anything other than gauze and silk.
But at least I have a cloak. One left behind last year, a man rushing from my rooms as if an Asterian lupus was nipping at his heels with sharp, lethal teeth.
The merchant had never returned, never asked for his cloak back. As if it was tainted by the hours he had spent working himself against me, grunting and groaning as I lay with my face pressed into the bedding while he indulged his imagination.
It’s too short for me, the dark brown, thick folds lingering at my ankle. I take a quick glance around the room before backing out.
There’s nothing here I would take.
Darting back into the bathing chamber, I seize a cloth and some lemon soap, shoving them into the deep pockets of thecloak as Tieren returns, a woven bag tossed over her shoulder and her own cloak fitting her perfectly.
She meets my surprised stare with a steady look. “I have a home, you know. In the Eastern territory. I have a family. A wife.”
We have never spoken of our pasts. Not once.
She tosses me something, and I catch it in my hands. The bag still feels full.
“I took only what I needed.” She doesn’t look at me as she moves to the window. “Nothing more. We need to leave.”
I join her, staring down at the distance to the empty, cobbled street beneath it. “We’ll have to climb.”
It’s not a small jump. But the brickwork is pitted from years of neglect, crumbling away to leave small holes in its place.
The banging at the door makes us both jump. Yesta, Boralas’s seedy right-hand man, shouts through the wood. “Is Boralas in there? Johan wants him.”
Fear fills Tieren’s eyes.
“Go,” I hiss. “Now.”
She doesn’t hesitate, even as her hands shake. Tieren crawls onto the large wooden sill, pushing herself out into the cool air with stumbling breaths.
“He was here.” My voice is steady as I call out. Cold, even as it rises to meet the demand on the other side of the door. “He left. I don’t know where. I’m bathing, Yesta. Johan is waiting for me.”
A mumbled curse, and heavy footprints stomp away.
When I turn back, there’s no sign of Tieren. She’s halfway down the wall when I look over, her hands and feet agile against the stone. She glances up at me but says nothing as she moves silently.
