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Chapter Eight
Aika
The rest of my time in the slums is even less pleasant than what I learned from Jessa. By the time I’m done collecting money from Madame’sbusiness associates,I make my way to the mid-sector in an attempt to leave the slithering feel of the slavers and drug pushers behind.
It doesn’t help, so I decide to take solace in a basket of sweet fried dough instead.
Irritably, I wait in line behind other customers and even pay the man like I’m some sort of upstanding citizen. When he hands me the makeshift basket made from newspapers, full of sugar crusted puffs of dough and a sweet berry dipping sauce, I can almost forget what it is I do for a living.
As I walk down the street, I inhale the heady scent of the food, my mouth watering before I can pull out my chopsticks to take my first bite. Dipping one of them into the sauce, I pop it into my mouth and practically groan with pleasure. The berries and crusted sugar practically explode across my tongue, and my eyes roll to the back of my head in response.
I’m just reaching the second one to my lips when a familiar chuckle reaches me from the shadows.
“Really, Gemma, a whole basket? Someone’s in a mood today.”
My eyes narrow and my body bristles.
“Stalking now, Remy? I would say that’s low, even for you, but it wouldn’t quite be true, given your day job,” I say bitterly, taking my next bite.
“Says the thief?” His eyes spark with genuine offense.
“At least I don’t parade around pretending to be doing something noble.” I gesture to his pristine uniform, evidence that he hasn’t set foot in the dirty alleys of the slums today where most of the actual crime happens.
“At least I try to reduce the crime in this city instead of adding to it,” he bites back.
“That kind of moral high ground really only works for people who don’t actually have to live in the reality of the world theyaren’timproving.” I sigh, losing whatever energy I had for an ethical debate as quickly as it came.
He takes in my expression, his own softening. I scowl, but he just reaches for one of the fried balls of dough in my basket.
So, I stab his hand with the pointier end of my chopstick.
“Ow.” He pulls back dramatically. “You just make thieving sound so appealing, I thought I’d give it a try.”
I roll my eyes. “I think it’s safe to say pickpocketing is not among your repertoire of skills. You’re lucky I didn’t go for my dagger.”
“I should have remembered you don’t like to share your food, I suppose.”
“Altruism really isn’t my strong suit,” I say, shoving another bite into my mouth.
“Then why do you leave money for the orphanage?” He raises his eyebrows, a bit of genuine curiosity peeking through.
I knew I hadn’t lost him quickly enough last night. Hopefully he was the only one who noticed. Being charitable is a weakness that others can use against you, but giving to the orphanage isn’t something I’m willing to give up.
I’ll just have to be more cautious going forward.
“Careful, Gemma.” He leans forward, his tone a blend of seriousness and teasing that he has perfected. “Your mask is slipping.”
“Did you need something?” I shove him away, deliberately changing the subject. “Or did you have nothing better to do than track me down for the purpose of irritating me today?”
“I’m so glad you asked. I could use your help.” His eyes focus on something behind me toward King’s Square, and I turn to see Lawrence striding down the walkway. The man’s ebony face is like a thundercloud, and Remy holds up a hand to stave him off.
“Why would I help you do anything?” I turn back to Remy.
He hesitates for a second before answering. “For old time’s sake?”
“Old time’s sake would have me stabbing you through the eye.” I have every intention of dismissing him outright, but curiosity gets the better of me. “But just for fun, let’s say I’m willing to help. What do you want?”
“I need information on the vigilante. Or better yet, on a woman named Madame.”
