Fabine twists free, panic on her face. “Who areyou?”
And belatedly I remember: She doesn’t know me from a stranger. The only time she saw me, I was wearing the pearls.
“Now, don’t carry on like this,” I say a little frantically, sneaking her a wink. “We don’t have time for games. We need to get back to— to—”Scheit-scheiter-scheiten.What in the Blessed Empire is Gisele calling herself again? “To our friends,” I try.
Fabine gapes at me. Then she opens her mouth and lets out a positively operatic shriek. “STRANGER! KIDNAPPING! HELP!”
Good instinct, butsounhelpful right now. “No—Fabine—please—”
“Hey.” The Wolfhunder steps closer. “Didn’t I see you earlier?”
This can’t get any worse.
“Is there a problem here?” The voice cuts across the Madschplatt, cold and hard and horribly familiar.
Emeric Conrad is marching toward us. And from the look on his face, he knowsexactlywhom he’s addressing.
I decide it may just be easiest to walk myself over to the slaughterhouse and have them deal with me. Maybe they’ll make a nice bag out of my hide.
Rudi puts up his hands and shakes his head. “The wench might be a child-snatcher, but you’ll find no problems with me, Prefect.”
“Then be about your business.” Emeric wraps a hand around my upper arm before I can make a run for it. “And Miss Schmidt. I’d like a word.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ringer
“PASS,” I say, trying to yank free of Emeric’s grip. He’s not giving an inch. “That wasn’t a request. Fabine, I’m sure Hilde needs your help more than these people need a card game.” Hilde. That’s right, that’s what Gisele is calling herself. “How did you even find her?” I grouse as Fabine runs back up the lane.
“Amazing who you run into when you’re being dragged out of the Yssar,” he answers under his breath. “She was apparently on her way to speak to you. Is there anyone in Minkja youhaven’trobbed, swindled, or backstabbed?”
My mouth twists. “I mean, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t funding the extravagance of the nobility through the blood of the commoners therealswindle— ”
Emeric makes a noise of utter disgust and pushes me into the cramped alley behind the streetwitch guildhall.
His frumpy-bumbling-boy shtick is retired for the moment. I suppose it’s a harder sell without Klemens’s hand-me-downs anyway, though I have to admit I’m marginally impressed his new black uniform’s immaculate as ever, considering we’re leaving a plaza literally named for its mud.
“You can run,” Emeric grits between his teeth, “and when you do, I will cheerfully escort the real Gisele von Falbirg up to the margrave, and you will hope you can make it out of Bóern with what you have in that bag.”
Interesting. It’s just like breakfast yesterday: If he wanted to arrest me then and there, he could have. Instead he’s threatening me.
In my experience, that means I have something he wants.
The strange thing is, I don’t know what. The prefects don’t need to worry about profit, there iscertainlyno power I can give him, and no one looks to a girl as plain as me for pleasure.
For the moment, I play along. “You’re just mad I tossed you in the river.”
“I think it’s reasonable to take issue with you nearly drowning me.”
“Sure, but you’re not mad because you nearly drowned. You’re mad because you went to all that trouble to set a trap and stage your big triumphant reveal, and Istilltossed you in the river.”
Emeric doesn’t dignify that with an answer, but a muscle jumps in his jaw.Ha.I’m right.
We come to a stop between a puddle of—well, I don’t care to speculate—and a scattering of rusted round witch-bells, not surprising this close to the guildhall. I guess it’s far enough down the alley for Emeric’s tastes.
The moment he lets go of my arm, Ragne swoops between us as a raven, then abruptly shifts to human. “Hello again!”
Emeric’s chin snaps up as he diverts his gaze skyward, ears burning pink. “Er—hello?”
