“What did that old bat used to say?” Rami hatedalltheir neighbors.
She threw him an irritated look. “She used to say that it was bad luck for the old to bury the young.”
His mouth twisted. “It’s all superstition, Leena. He would’ve killed you and not suffered your death as you are suffering his.”
She let out a shaky breath, still feeling overwhelmed.
Rami frowned as he pulled a piece of loose thread from his coverlet. “You shouldn’t have been there.”
“Did you think no one was coming for you?” She watched his profile carefully.
The thread snapped in his hand.
After a long moment, he said, “I knew you’d come. That’s the only constant.”
They had very few constants in their lives. They had both been forced to learn how to rebuild too early and too often.
“Why did you refuse to throw the fight?” The question had been beating Leena’s chest throughout the long nights spent watching over his sickbed.
His tone dripped with wrath. “Because devil take them, that’s why.”
She stood up in a huff. “I could throttle you!”
“Get in line, then,” he snapped.
“You’re a fool, Rami. And your foolish ways will kill us.” She crossed her arms. “What will you do if Mr. Martin tries again? If the Black Coats try again?”
The bruises on Rami’s face made him look like a ghastly, twisted reflection of himself. “I’ll make them pay.”
Leena turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door in the process.
—
Leena’s mind was a chaotic swirl as she left Rami’s room. What she needed was a semblance of her routine, repugnant to her though it was. For that, she would have to find St. Silas.
She’d only seen him in passing during the week since Rami’s kidnapping. He had left a short note informing her that she would be excused from the duties of the shop while she tended to her brother. That was a courtesy any factory Warden would rather drink poison than give to their workers. For that, at least, Leena respected him. While the Saint was demanding, she had come to find he was also fair-minded with all his employees.
Now that Rami was very much on the mend, she could no longercontinue to take time off from both her contract and the hunt. So it was with deep reluctance that Leena knocked on the door of the Saint’s study.
“Enter,” St. Silas commanded. He was sitting behind his desk in his usual fashion, piles of ledgers stacked on one side, accounts and papers filled with scribbles on the other.
He didn’t look up. “You may leave the tray and go, Mrs. Van.”
“I’ve not brought food, I’m afraid. You ought to keep a tin of biscuits in here somewhere.”
At her voice, his head jerked up, and she was startled to see dark-gray shadows underneath his eyes. Otherwise, he was as immaculate as ever as he stood to bow to her.
“Miss Al-Sayer.” He assessed her wordlessly. His gaze lingered on her neck a moment too long.
“It does not pain me any longer,” Leena offered quietly.
“I didn’t ask.” And yet his sharp glance returned to her fading bruises once again.
Leena nodded, averting her gaze momentarily, fixing on the desk’s curved edges. “I only came by to say I am ready to begin our search again. Rami is almost out of his sickbed and no longer needs to be nursed around the clock.”
“Good. If that is all?”
She didn’t leave. “I also wanted to thank you for giving me time away from my duties to care for him. That was very generous of you.” She paused, tugging at a button on her dress. “The Black Coats will be looking for my brother, but they cannot touch himifhe is to be under your protection.”
