“The Rite’s tomorrow.”
She froze. “Aelie.”
“The infirmary’s still empty. More people will volunteer.”
“They do that every year, Aelie.”
“But we promised.”
“We promised to help.” Her voice cracked. “We can’t anymore. Henrik was seconds from finding out.”
That sat like lead in my stomach. All those mouths we’d fed with stolen bread. The fevers we’d broken with pilfered herbs. Tomorrow, some of them would kneel on the sacrifice rune, choosing death over another winter of slow starvation.
Rheya crouched in front of me. “We gave this city everything. Our childhood. Years of our lives.” Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “When is it enough?”
“You’re right…I keep trying to save everyone, but I’m drowning. We both are.”
“And if we stay, the Runecloaks won’t stop looking. They’ll go to the foundlings hall. Interrogate Brisa. Question the children. If they decide any of them helped us?—”
My stomach turned. “They’ll force them into the Rite.”
“Exactly. If we stay, we’ll only make it worse for them.”
She yanked me into a tight hug. I held on just as hard, breathing her lemon and thyme scent.
Gods, she was right. We’d bled for this city until we had nothing left to give and the Rite would take its volunteers. With or without us. At least we’d face what came nexttogether. And maybe we’d keep the people we cared about safe.
“I’m sorry.” The words were muffled against her shoulder. “For making you wait.”
She pulled back, her eyes shining. “Shut up.”
“No, I mean it. You needed me alive and I kept risking our necks.”
“We’re leaving.” She shook me gently. “That’s all that matters.”
A shaky breath escaped me.
Rheya disengaged from me and rummaged through the boxes stacked in the corner, and then she dropped the satchel at my feet.
I took out the jewelry box. Brushed silver, compact. A pattern of interwoven branches curled around the edges, framing an inlaid bloodstone.
Her grin widened. “This is it. No more fae. No more this.” She gestured to the attic, her bracelet rattling.
“No more Taryn and Henrik.”
Rheya beamed. “We should sell this first.”
I nodded. “Agree.”
“What will you buy?” she asked. “When we get out of here.”
“Bread. With salted butter.”
Rheya sank to the floor. “Gods, yes, and jam. Peach, not the weird one with seeds.”
“You mean raspberries?”
“Whatever.”
