"This one's got two cots, clean blankets. There's a water basin in the corner, and if you need anything—"
"We'll holler," I said, forcing a smile that felt like cracked plaster. "Thank you."
He hesitated, like he wanted to say something else — probably something warm and encouraging that I'd have to find a way to ruin. Then he nodded and disappeared down the hall.
Serenya was already moving toward the nearest cot, fingers working at the clasp of her cloak. "Gods, I don't think I've ever been this—"
"Let's go."
She froze. "What?"
I was already scanning the room—one entrance, no windows, a cloth door that any child with a knife could slip through. "We're not sleeping where theytoldus to sleep. It's like giving them the thumbs up to murder us."
"Amaria." She turned, exhaustion and exasperation warring on her face. "They just took us in. They're not going to—"
"Everyone's friendly until they're not." I grabbed my satchel, jerked my head toward the doorway. "Come on. I'll find us a safer spot. I'll take first watch."
"No."
Serenya crossed her arms, and I recognized that look—the one that meant I'd hit the wall of her patience and she wasn't moving. "We are both sleeping. Now. In the same place. At the same time."
"That's how you get your throat slit in your sleep."
"That's how yousurvivelonger than a week without your body giving out." She stepped closer, voice dropping. "You'reshaking, Amaria. You've been shaking for hours. Your marks almost killed you today—twice—and you haven't eaten since that damned cinnamon bun this morning."
I started to argue.
"No." Her hand closed around my wrist—gentle, but immovable. "One night. We both sleep. Tomorrow, we can take turns. Tomorrow, you can build us a fortress out of paranoia and pointed objects. But tonight, you rest, or I swear to every god who's stopped listening, I will knock you unconscious myself."
She meant it. It was there in her eyes—that quiet steel she so rarely showed.
"Fine," I bit out. "But tomorrow—"
"Tomorrow, we adapt. Tonight, we survive." She tugged me toward the far cot, the one pushed against the corner where I could at least see the entrance. A concession. She knew me too well.
I grabbed the blankets off both cots and jerked my head toward the door. "Come on. We can both sleep, but not here."
Serenya groaned but didn't argue. We slipped back into the corridor, my eyes adjusting to the dim light as I scanned for options. Three turns later, I found it: a storage alcove half-hidden behind a stack of empty crates. Barely big enough for two bodies, crammed with forgotten brooms and dust that hadn't been disturbed in months. Perfect.
I shoved the crates aside just enough for us to squeeze through, then pulled them back into place behind us. The space smelled like mildew and old wood, but no one would think to look here. No one would know.
I barely recognized myself. Out in the streets I'd been all teeth and fire—snarling, striking, refusing to go down quiet. In here I'd gone still. Not calm. The difference mattered. A cornered animal and a caged animal fight differently. I was learning which one I was.
Serenya settled against the wall with a groan, pulling the thin blanket up to her chin. "You know, some people just lock their doors."
"Some people end up dead." I wedged myself into the corner, back against the stone, eyes fixed on the gap between the crates. "Close your eyes, Serenya."
"Only if you close yours."
"I'm just going to rest them for a minute."
"Mm-hmm."
I leaned back against the wall, keeping my gaze fixed on the doorway. I'd give her an hour. Maybe two. Then I'd find us a real hiding spot, somewhere no one would think to look, somewhere I could—
I woke to the sound of chewing—and the smell of food.
My hand was on my dagger before my eyes fully opened, body lurching upright. The cot. The crate. The blanket. I was still in the alcove. Still behind the crates where anyone could have—
