This place is nothing more than a gilded cage. The freedoms inside these walls are carefully crafted illusions most people cling to because the alternative is harder to swallow.
Every breath you take is permitted by someone else’s grace.
You live by their whims, not your own.
Never your own.
The caffeine buzz sours in my veins, and I keep my head down the rest of the way, shoulders hunched against the weight of it all.
It’s still too early for dinner, so once I’m back at the inn, I head straight for the stairs and up to my room. It’s become a makeshift war room, with scraps of paper, scribbled notes, and pencil marks pinned across a city map.
I tear off another scrap and jot a reminder to check back with Eliza at the café in a few days. A sharp knock rattles the door as I’m pinning it in place, and I freeze.
“It’s me,” Leif grunts from the hall.
I fold the notes and slide them under the bed, then open the door to find him with another man I recognize from the pub. Auburn hair is wild around his head, and his expression is as guarded as my own.
“Mind if we come in?” Leif asks.
I search his face for a second, then step aside to let them enter. Leif closes the door, though the privacy feels unnecessary considering I’m the only inhabitant on this floor. The room is cramped with all three of us inside, and the quiet stretches until it’s bordering on uncomfortable.
Leif finally breaks it, but his eyes flicker between us like he’s anticipating trouble, which tells me everything I need to know.
“This is Gideon,” he says, gesturing at the redhead. “He has information about the man you’re searching for.”
My attention locks on Gideon, and I don't waste time on pleasantries. “What do you know?” I ask.
His smirk unfurls in a deliberate twist of his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes, all sharp edges and no warmth.
“I know enough,” he responds as he learns in a fraction, “and if he’s who I think he is, he runs with a group of rebels. Might even lead them, if my source is to be trusted.”
My brows flick up in surprise. Bash certainly had the smarts to be a leader, but he was always endearingly awkward when too many eyes were on him.
Still, I can’t dismiss the intel.
“How do I find them?” I ask.
Gideon exhales through his nose, arms folding across his chest. “Information isn’t free, friend.”
The last word drips with disdain, but I let it slide. I don’t give a fuck if he likes me, I just need what he’s got in his head.
“And what’s the going rate for secondhand gossip these days?” I ask, just as catty.
“It’s solid intel,” Leif cuts in as he shoots a pointed glance at Gideon's annoyed face. “You can trust me on that, even if you don’t trust him.”
“Can you blame me for being careful?” I ask.
“No,” Leif responds immediately, “I suppose not. But like Gideon said, there’s a price for information in this city, especially with your… circumstances.”
I purse my lips and let my gaze drift to the window. Part of me itches to reach in and pull the answers straight from Gideon’s mind.
It’d be easy.
Quick.
But he’s glued to Leif’s side, and the risk of Leif seeing what I can do is too high. Too many eyes are already on me, and I’m not exactly one to blend in, even in the city.
Tempting as it is, I bite back the idea of a brute-force attack on his mind. It could get me what I need, but not without burning bridges I might still have to cross.
