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“If she wants to interfere,” he says, “then she will share the same punishment.”
I take a step back, chest rising and falling too fast. Crawly points at Gerald.
“Grab her.”
Arlo’s head shoots up as Gerald moves in closer to me. “Gerald, stop. Look at me,” he pleads.
Gerald sighs and finally meets Arlo’s broken stare. “You think I want this? You fucking knew better, Arlo. I’ve fucking told you about her. I told you she’d get you killed.” He grips my arm and drags me forward.
Arlo’s eyes are wild, his breathing heavy, wrists already swelling beneath the rope burn. “This isn’t even about her. Should I have just let Angie go? Not bring her home? Should I have kept my head down while my sister died in a cage?”
Angie’s cries are louder now, and she’s watching her brother with the kind of grief and guilt no child should ever have to feel.
Gerald drags me toward Crawly, and I try to pull back and dig my feet into the earth to stop him. Each step I take in the slush grows hotter and hotter until I can feel the earth scorching beneath my feet.
Containing my magic feels like trying to stop an avalanche.
“If you lay one fucking hand on her.” Arlo’s voice shakes with rage. “I will cut your throat in your fucking sleep, and you know it.”
Gerald goes still.
Gerald is bigger than Arlo. Older. A man who’s survived this farm with his bones intact. But for the first time, he looks at Arlo with fear.
Mr. Crawly’s smile is thin, cruel. “Oh?” he says, stepping closer. “Turning on your own, huh? That noble act was wearing thin, anyway. Go ahead and show ’em who you really are, kid.”
Arlo’s jaw flexes and he spits on the ground.
Mr. Crawly turns back to Gerald, voice sharp. “Just big talk from a boy. String her up.”
Gerald swallows, glancing between Mr. Crawly and Arlo like he’s stuck.
“Gerald!” Crawly snarls, moving toward me.
“I swear to the gods,” Arlo growls, voice low and deadly. “You want to sleep with one eye open, old man?”
Mr. Crawly pauses.
Slowly, he turns his head toward Arlo, expression darkening.
“Are you threatening me?” he asks in disbelief.
Gerald steps in, shoving himself between them.
“He’s not!” Gerald’s voice is strained. “He’s just panicking, sir. That’s all.” Gerald rounds on Arlo. “Shut your mouth. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Arlo doesn’t take his gaze off Mr. Crawly. He lifts his chin, eyes locked on him like he’s got nothing left to lose.
“If you touch her,” Arlo says, “I will tell the King’s Guard where to find Councilor Soren.”
The moment the words leave his lips, everything stops. Even the wind seems to freeze.
I remember that man. Councilor Soren. He had gotten into a bidding war with Claudia the day she bought our contracts at the flesh markets. And judging by the way Marian’s head whips around, she knows the name as well.
Gerald pales, and Mr. Crawly stares at Arlo dumbfounded. “Excuse me?” he says slowly.
Gerald tries to step in front of Arlo, but Crawly pushes around him.
“What did you say?” he demands.