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After two bells of spying on Lana, without a sign of royal guards, von Lemerch, or any other danger, she finally left the house.
Time to break in. Time to finally let go.
I shattered the kitchen window with a coat-wrapped fist. Normally, I would never have been so bold—Lumi and I had been better thieves than this—but I lacked lock picks and time. And if my stepfather had claimed me as family in anything but name, a third of everything here would have been mine. Lumi and I had certainly worked hard enough to earn it.
Inside, the house was as dead as its owner.
Still, I stepped lightly. For too long, Kirill’s house had been a place to not be seen.
After filling half my bag with food from the kitchen, I snuck up the central stairs, skipping the creaking step automatically. Last time I was here, Lumi lay beaten on the carpet and von Lemerch cursed me to silence while making her offer. Somehow, I had dared to hope despite her unnaturally burning eyes.
My muscles tensed, ready to flee.
This place was no longer my home.
I closed my eyes, reminding myself there was a chance, no matter how small, that Lumi was here. My magic sang of an empty house, except for a mouse or two in the pantry, but perhaps she could hide from it like she had hid so much else.
Either way, I was safe. Tense, I continued.
There were three rooms on the second floor—Svetlana’s, Kirill’s, and a sitting room used for rare guests. At the end of the hallway stood a ladder leading into the attic. Lumi and I had shared it since the debt sigils appeared on our thighs and Kirill claimed us. Now the dark mark was gone, and a strapped-on leather bag carrying a letter I should never have stolen sat in its place—obligation replacing debt. Not to a moneylender, but to Dimitri, or perhaps Tal, because the letter inside held truths about the plague that belonged to all.
I climbed into a room barely high enough to stand in, the black sloped ceiling childishly painted with imaginary constellations and mountains. Two mattresses lay side by side. Dresses and coats hung in the back on a string. A small shelf completed our paltry furniture.
There were no obvious answers. Even our hideaway under the loose board was emptied—either by my stepsister or Lumi. The eternal hope in my chest deflated. Eyes burning, a clump that had nothing to do with von Lemerch’s silencing curse lodged in my throat. The heat made the air heavy to breathe. That was it. I just needed air.
Unlatching and opening a window barely large enough for me to escape through, I leaned outside. My sister was out there. I would find her, scream at her for all her secrecy, and embrace her and never let go.
I longed to just climb out and escape.
Foryears, the evening breeze had been my only luxury. Usually in Tal, the higher up you slept the more privileged you were, but the attic had been too small for Kirill and Lana. Before dawn, I used to climb onto the roof and let the wind wrap around me, lifting my hair to feel it against my neck, and dream of the sea. The image of Dimitri moving in the dilapidated courtyard, the wind twisting with him, squeezed my heart further. Even my old pleasures and places where he’d never go, were no longer mine.
I had no time for this.
After tearing through Lumi’s possessions and pocketing the few things of meaning—a book on Talian history, a silver-plated bird that had been our mother’s, two strange contraptions of cogs and wire—I faced my own things. Time was running out.
I still wore theborrowedservant coat and pants—I was determined to return them, for I was no longer the thief I’d been forced to become.
Lana could return at any moment and notice the broken window. But I needed other clothes if I was to blend in, and this was the only place I would not need to steal them.
I changed into threadbare gray pants that fit just right, boots worn thin and molded to my feet, and a once-black coat cut at my waist and decorated with red embroidery for luck—only keeping the new shirt on.
Before I left, I had longed for the fine dresses of the nobility and hid my jealousy of Lana’s things from my sister. Never would I have thought I would find such comfort in my worn possessions. In clothing made for a boy, patched before it reached my hands. The only thing that did not fit was the leather bag Flora gave me. The fine workmanship and shiny buckles would stand out without a skirt tocover it, but it was a reminder that I had returned the crown—proof that I had been a princess, had a prince, fallen, and been caught. And secured around my thigh, the letter safe inside the satchel could not be stolen.
While stuffing a change of clothes into my bag, the step I had avoided creaked below. I froze, fear at being caught in this house instilled in me through slaps and added debts.
The magic sped out with the pounding of my heart.
Anger and frustration.
Loneliness.
It took me longer to recognize Lana’s meandering steps than it should have. Perhaps, because the emotions were not what I usually saw on her face.
I stuffed the servant’s clothes into the bag, unwilling to leave any traces behind, and crept to the window. As I unlatched it with an unavoidable snap, the steps stopped.
She could not overpower me, having not completed a day of physical labor in her life. That did not mean this was a confrontation I wanted to have if I could avoid it.
I slipped out the window as I heard a foot on the ladder.
