She curled up under the flimsy blanket and burrowed as deep as she could into the thin mattress. Stuffed with dried grass, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it beat sleeping on the floor.
I reclined against the stones, knitting my fingers behind my head as I gazed at the brass bell suspended several feet above. It swayed in a steady, slow rhythm, still easing from its morning call. Its rope extended down through the hole in the center of the floor. We made this place our home, a refuge where the incessant noise deterred other street rats. Up here, only the outer flooring remained from the tower’s construction. It lacked weatherproofing. It was deteriorating and noisy—but it was safe.
That much-needed sense of safety was one of the many reasons I’d yet to try spirits. Too often, I watched strangers, kind people, turn into monsters. I witnessed the exploitation of dozens due to their altered states of mind, leading to regrets and lifelong consequences. Booze wrecked too many lives for me to consider drinking for pleasure.
Ethyan coughed and rested his head against the sun-warmed stone. “If only El loosened up and had some fun.”
I scoffed, shrugging off the jab. “Someone has to watch out for you two.”
“Thank the gods you did! Did you see Degor? He was as mad as a dock cat, spitting and hissing like that!” He laughed, then pressed the heels of his palms to his temples, most likely an attempt to ward off a winning headache.
“Which gods would you be thanking?” Lyana mused. “Niena of Luck? We’re not close enough to El’s birthday for that. Perhaps Fiera of Greed?”
“Rumen of Fun.”
He snapped a glare at his sister, who cackled in response.
“Careful with that one,” I said. “He takes what he wants at the end of the story.”
“But his patrons have the best time!”
“Until the end.”
After a half-hearted sigh, I pushed myself off the floor and adjusted my trousers. They were far too short and my shirt wasn’t much better—tied together with a rope I salvaged from the docks. It wasn’t fancy, but it kept me covered. I found my boots and pulled them on, wiggling my toes past the holes.
“Well, thank you for saving our hides, El,” Lyana said as she wormed her way to the side of the mattress.
I straightened, lifting a single brow. “You were too far gone to notice.” Despite my abstinence from spirits, I found it amusing to watch these two partake, even if their drunken antics might eventually land us all in the slammer. “I’m off to relieve myself and perhaps relieve a few traders of their coin. I’ll meet you–”
“Ghehent, Elspeth.”
I froze.
Thatvoice—it pulled me a million miles away. Dizzy and lightheaded, a strange, conflicting sensation of ice and fire surged through my veins. Ethyan cursed, his movements frantic as he scurried into the rafters. His sister shouted something, yet it all seemed distant, like an ocean’s murmur against the shore.
Slowly, I faced my mattress, where Lyana scrambled back on her hands and arse, brandishing a blade. Beyond our mat, a muscular figure clothed in darkness crouched on the wall’s ledge, one leg dangling toward the uneven wood planks.
When I met his calm blue gaze, my heart leapt into my throat. “It’s not my birthday.”
Smooth, Elspeth. Real smooth.
His mouth curved in a subtle smile, reigniting all my long-buried teenage emotions. He was as fit as ever. The only way up required scaling the tower or climbing the rope. He discarded parts of his dark leather armor, presumably for the climb, yet it didn’t diminish his bulk. He hadn’t aged a day since I last saw him.
Whereas I had changed quite a bit.
“You know him?!” Lyana’s disbelief and shock were evident in her strangled tone.
She edged against my shins, holding her blade at the ready. I had no doubt she could, and would, use it if necessary.
“Sainte.” His name was a breathy whisper on my lips.
He made no effort to move. Our gazes locked, assessing one another after years of absence. The world around me faded, like distant hills shrouded in mist.
“Scumbag!” Lyana shrieked, struggling to her feet. “You shriveled chunk of gutter dung! You’re worse than the entrails of a crab! The pox on your–”
“She knows of me?” Sainte asked, one dark brow rising in amusement.
Lyana aimed the blade at his crotch, ready to throw. “What did that heap of sea scum say?!”
