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And I almost succeed.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
REMY
It’s taken me three nights of visits to the Drunken Pumpkin to finally run into a slaver here.
This isn’t their preferred place of business, but it’s the place whereRemyis the most well-known. So I’ve been dragging Lawrence down here every night, much to his immense discomfort, waiting for my chance to get the information we need.
The slaver’s neck tattoo is peeking out of the top of his cloak, his eyes wary as he takes in the room. It’s not the guards at the bar that make him nervous, or even the threat of Madame’s people.
No.If I’ve come to understand nothing else the last few days, it’s that the only thing these men are remotely afraid of is the vigilante.
Aika.
Though I believed I would one day learn to accept the things she’s done, it never occurred to me that I might approve of them.
As I buy another round for the disgusting man who kidnaps children off the streets in his spare time and watch the guards who I suspect are in Madame’s pocket turn a blind eye to his presence, I find myself far less sickened by her methods.
At the very least, I can’t argue her results.
My own efforts pay off, as well. As I suspected, the man is a talkative drunk, especially when he’s winning. I throw a few more hands and buy a few more drinks, and soon, I know exactly where his crew has set up shop since they went underground to hide from my terrifying wife.
When he finally stumbles out, I make my way to the bar, passing several more unsavory characters along the way.
Madame might not be responsible for all of the crime in the city, but her protection sure as hell allows it to run unchecked. I shudder to think what the streets might look like if the slavers andhul gilpushers hadn’t been cowed into at least a semblance of hiding.
Worse still, I can’t deny that it’s my father’s grief and subsequent withdrawal that has allowed her to sink her talons into every facet of Corentin’s underbelly.
Aika called the crownimpotentthat day in the dungeons. And she wasn’t entirely wrong, though my mother has made some effort to make up for my father’s absence.
It’s not enough.
I let out a slow breath as I sink onto a barstool next to Lawrence, reminding myself that this is why I’m here. To fix these things.
We sit in silence, listening to the chatter around us, until the crowd thins out enough that the bartender strikes up a conversation.
“Have you seen Gemma ‘round?” he asks.
I’ve seen the ghost of her in every single corner of this bar, where we met. Where I fell in love with her mischievous smirk. Where I watched from the window as she played her fiddle in the square, shiny black locks whipping around her head with abandon.
Of course, I don’t say any of that out loud. I only shake my head regretfully. “Can’t say that I have.”
Sitting here in this space, it’s impossible to ignore that Lady Aika and Gemma are not two distinct entities, they’re just pieces of the greater puzzle that is my wife. I still don’t like to think about the things she did when she was working for Madame. It certainly wasn’t all terrible people who were caught in her crossfire or found their way on her list.
But it no longer feels entirely separate from who she is now.
I’m just not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“It’s a shame,” the bartender says, pulling me from my thoughts. “She usually tells me before she goes. She left a few things in the room upstairs, and I’m not sure what to do with ‘em.”
My first thought is that she couldn’t possibly need anything that’s here when she’s in the palace. Then I realize that’s part of the issue, the way she had to walk away from every bit of her life, even the things she loved. Like her music.
And now she’s getting ready to do it again.
Maybe that’s why I slide a few coins across the bar and give the man my most disarming smile.
“I’ll take a look at it,” I offer.
