A beach on the east side of the city.
Gazda, Erydia.
The first night.

When Jaxon returned, he had with him a dimly lit lantern and a young man I automatically recognized. Birk. He grinned at me and nodded towards the way they'd come. "Long time no see, Benson. Ready to light this shit on fire?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"That's what I like to hear." Birk offered me a small smile as he led us down the beach and into what appeared to have once been a fish market but was now little more than an abandoned metal shack. The structure was massive, with broken windows and large iron pillars. For a moment, I thought this might be the safe house, but then Birk stopped a few yards away and bent down.

I watched as he, Jax, and Dellacov worked to peel back a large metal grate in the floor. Birk held it open to us and gestured with a dramatic flourish to the black hole in the ground. Humor danced in his eyes, bouncing off the light of the far too dim lantern.

Heidi blinked at him. "You want us to go down there?"

Jax nodded. "If you don't want to be caught roaming through the city, then yes. The tunnels are the best way."

She shook her head. "I don't get paid enough for this."

Nadia laughed and hooked her arm through Heidi's. "We don't get paid at all."

The tailor smiled wickedly as he said, "Nobody ever said being a rebel was fun, now did they?" 

I watched, unnerved, as our soldiers began climbing through the metal hatch and down the rusty rungs of a ladder. I was one of the last the go down, my fear of that darkness enough to keep me standing a good distance away. By the time I'd worked up the courage to step closer, I was one of only three people left. I stepped up to the edge of that darkness.

"It really is nice to see you, Benson," Birk said, his tone quiet.

I nodded; my eyes still locked on the ladder. "Yes..."

He reached out and took hold of the rabbit pendant nestled between my collarbones, rolling it between dirt coated fingers. "About damn time you decided to be useful. I was beginning to wonder if you'd given up."

I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears.

There was no way I could go down there.

I'd rather get back in those stupid boats and face the sea.

But Kai lay at the other end—far at the other end. Days away at the other end. But he was there nonetheless. Waiting.

I thought of the tunnels leading from Vayelle to Erydia through the Demarti Mountains and how he'd clutched my hand as we passed back through them. He was worth this. Whatever fear I felt looking into that darkness was nothing compared to the fear I felt for him.

I needed to get to him.

When Birk spoke again, the teasing was gone from his voice. "There ain't nothing down there that can hurt you." I glanced up at him and he shot me a wink. "Us Varos trash, we aren't scared of the dark. Starvation and hangings, sure. Magistrates, priestesses, and decrees from the Crown, certainly. But not the dark. The dark can't kill you. The dark...The dark is what keeps you safe."

"Yes," I said again.

He stepped back and offered me a hand.

After a moment, I took hold of his fingers and let him help me onto the ladder. It creaked beneath my weight and rusk flaked against my palms, but I didn't fall and I didn't hesitate to climb down. I didn't give myself time to think about the lack of fresh air, the unending darkness. I only prayed that this was not the safehouse. A few minutes here, I could manage.

But any length of time beyond that...

Goddess, please let this not be the place we're staying.

My boots squelched as I found the ground and let go of the ladder. I felt the flicker of the lantern before my eyes had adjusted enough to see the dancing of it against the wet bricks. I took a step back and slipped against something slimy.

I heard Jaxon call out a warning as I started to fall, but it wasn't his hands that rose to steady me—instead it was Dellacov's strong arms that encircled my waist. As soon as I was on my feet fully, we stepped back from each other. Neither of us comfortable touching.

He muttered something under his breath about me needing to watch my step and then was gone, off to stand in the shadows with the waiting soldiers. Heidi climbed down the ladder after me, the splash of her boots the only sound in the cavernous tunnels around us.

The darkness was a living thing. It breathed hot, stale air into my face. It filled my nose with the smell of decay and rot and feces.

Heidi's eyes seemed to glow against the lantern's fire as she glanced my way. "Welcome to your personal hell, Benson. Didn't think we'd both end up here."

I shuddered in response.

"Be nice," Nadia chided, her voice echoing around us as the Birk pulled the hatch closed and began climbing down the ladder. The soldiers, Dellacov, and Jax to explore the tunnels further.

We followed after them, our feet sinking in the sludge and water around us.

Even though these tunnels were decades old and no longer actively working to aid the city, the smell was abhorrent. We had only Birk's lifted lantern and his knowledge to guide us, and I had to trust that it was enough.

Everything echoed down here—the skitter of rocks on brick, the drip of water, the soft scrape of our boots as we worked our way out of the water and onto a bricked ledge. I stayed close to Cohen. He kept a tight hold on Nadia's hand as we walked, and after I jumped twice, he took hold of my hand too.

"It's fine," he whispered. "You aren't alone here."

I leaned into him, gripping his upper arm with my free hand and tightening my grip on his fingers with my other. "I won't be here forever," I said, more for myself than anything else.

"Only a few more moments."

Rats scuttled in the far edges of the darkness, just hidden from sight. The sound of them like nails on a chalkboard. After something slithered across my boot more than once, I lit a ball of flame and held it in my hand. A few of the soldiers gasped in surprise, but most everyone had seen me work my ability over the last few weeks—so it was a short lived novelty.

We walked for what felt like forever, but couldn't have been more than half an hour or so. Just when I'd believed I would fall into the bottomless depths of the cold and darkness, Birk brought us to a stop. There was the soft jingle of keys and then he was feeling along a wall, his hands scraping brick until he found a well-hidden door. He interested the key and said, "It's just two more blocks on the surface." He unlocked the door with a loud click and then turned to look at our group. "The guards shouldn't be patrolling this area right now, but if they are—keep your head down. Let me handle it."

Cohen moved to walk at the front, with Dellacov, Birk, Jaxon, and Tavin. As he left, some else took hold of my hand and I turned to see Nadia standing there. She offered me a small smile. I watched the gun at Cohen's hip glisten against the moonlight as he stepped out onto the cobblestone street.

Jaxon passed the lantern back to Birk who made a move to extinguish it—but I beat him too it, relieved to have an excuse to siphon some of my ability away. The tailor's eyes widened in surprise and he glanced around, as if he was worried he'd imagined it. Then his gaze landed on me and he let out a small breath. "Damn, Benson."

I just offered him a small smile as I slipped through the door and into the alleyway.

Nadia's palm was slick against mine as we inched down the street. I vaguely recognized it as being one of the districts of the Deca Market, but I didn't know enough to be able to tell which one. Maybe the craftsmen district or something to do with art. The shops were all dark, but a few people still milled around, couples strolled down the cobblestone paths on their way somewhere, and the occasional transport drove by—but it was empty of commerce, the hour far too late for anything to be open.

The only light came from tall metal street lamps, each spaced a few feet away from one another. They called to me, each orange tongue of flame pulling at the fire that dwelled in my blood. I wanted to reach out and play with the light flickering there, but I knew better. We weren't safe here, not yet, and I wouldn't risk drawing any unnecessary attention to us.

"I've been thinking about things and—and I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," Nadia whispered, her voice almost so quiet I missed it.

"Sorry for what?"

She swallowed, her shoulders dropping a little as she explained, "I've been rude to you. I...I haven't been a very good friend recently. With everything that happened with Cohen being hurt and then things with Kai. I blamed him for the attack and that turned into me being mad at you for continuing to care for him. And...And I made assumptions that weren't fair." She pursed her lips and tugged at the front of her hood. "I'm sorry if anything I've said it done has hurt you or...or made you second guess our friendship."

I hesitated, prepared to tell her that it was fine. But then I remembered what Uri had said during one of our first conversations. She'd told me that I shouldn't dismiss apologies because it could give someone permission to wrong me again.

And so instead I asked, "I've felt so alone recently." My voice broke over the words. "And I needed...I need my friends now more than I ever have before."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"What made you change your mind?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Did he hurt you while we were locked in the prisons? You were fine and then when I saw you a month later you were pale and thin and...Goddess, Monroe. Were any of those bruises or scars caused by Kai?"

I almost tripped over my own feet. "What?" The word came out too loud and the soldiers at our backs hissed in annoyance. I lowered my voice again. "He's never hurt me. Not ever. That...All of that was Caine. Kai would never do anything like that to me. Or to anyone."

"You swear?"

"I swear. Kai loves me."

"I wasn't sure. When I found out that he's bargained with Darragh to get you out, I thought maybe he was...I didn't believe it. And then when I heard about the deal he'd made about keeping you in Eryida—I started to suspect that maybe it wasn't how I thought it was. Maybe...Maybe Kai wasn't all to blame. It's just..." She shrugged. "You didn't ever really talk about what happened to you while we were imprisoned. I assumed... I don't know what I thought. He can be sort of rough around the edges. And I don't know him the way you do. I guess I just worried that he was hurting you and you just loved him too much to—to leave him. That happens sometimes. My sister let her first husband do terrible things. It took years for her to leave. And I guess I should have asked you about it, but we've always sort of worked through the trauma of the Culling separately. I thought that this might be something you didn't want to discuss."

"Kai hasn't ever hurt me. Not ever."

She nodded, as if that cleared up one of her reservations. Then she asked, "If he lives, will you attempt to take the throne?"

"No."

"Not ever?"

"Not ever."

"Will your children try to take the throne? They'd have a claim to it. The best claim, really."

"These are all hypotheticals, Nadia."

"Yes, but they are hypotheticals that affect my life too. If Kai lives things might be forever altered. We have no idea what will happen once the Culling is fully disbanded and we survive it. Goddess-touched girls have never had children with anyone other than a Warwick heir. We don't know what will happen. We don't know if we can even all remain living. Or if we will keep our abilities. The goddess gave us these powers, what if she takes them away?"

I gave her hand a tight squeeze. "I'm not saying that your concerns aren't valid. They are. I think about all of that too, but...maybe we should slow it down. Why not let today's worries be today's worries."

"What do you mean?"

"We'll cross each bridge when it comes and not worry over the crossing until it's necessary."

She hesitated. "Let's make a deal."

"Okay."

"You say that Cohen has the same ability to produce an heir that Kai does."

I nodded.

"We'll take it one day at a time. But...But if the day ever comes when you decide to have a child with Kai or you get pregnant...Will you tell me? Just a warning. I—It's stupid, but I have this anxiety about it. I don't know why. It's just a big unknown."

I opened my mouth to respond but she cut me off.

"Of course, Cohen and I would tell you if we were going to have a baby. Or if I had a baby with anyone, I'd tell you. You're like a sister to me. I'd tell you right away."

"You'd be one of the first to know, Nadia. Hell, you'd probably sense it before I did."

She smiled. "That's true, I guess."

"Can we be on the same side again?"

"I've always been on your side, Monroe. I just haven't always been on Kai's side."

"Right now, being on my side means being on his side. We're a pair. He's got my heart."

"Then I guess we will have to protect him at all costs."

I resisted the urge to hug her. "Thank you."

"It isn't just you, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Heidi having a child worries me too. We—We just don't know what will happen or what sort of...things might come from our blood. Once Caine is gone and Britta is on the throne... well, it will be all new territory. The world will be totally different."

"But better," I said.

She nodded. "Yes, different but better."

We passed a large wooden sign that held street names—Hamrick Lane, Banicket Street, Kraig Avenue—all places I'd never heard of. Jaxon kept his pace light, unhurried and we followed suit. As we walked, Nadia kept a hold of my hand, her attention darting from Cohen's back to the city around us. Things had calmed between us, I could sense it. And I was relieved to feel the weight of that tension lifting.

As we rounded a corner and stepped onto Banicket Street, Birk fell into step with me. I kept my voice down, no more than a breath against the cold wind as I said, "Jaxon made it sound like you'd send a transport to get us. Why are we going on foot?"

He seemed to weigh my question. "The transport is...otherwise occupied tonight."

I wanted to ask more about that, but I kept my mouth shut as Jaxon separated from our group, jogging a few feet away and ducking into a doorway at the end of the block of shops. The sign above it read: The Needle's Edge.

There was soft sound of knuckles against wood and then door opened and light flooded onto the street, silhouetting him. The rest of our party came to a stop, waiting. After a moment, Jax stepped back from the open doorway and gestured for us to approach.

I expected code words or whispers. The only time I'd stayed at a rebel safehouse, it had been in Varos with Kai. We'd stayed one night in some random cellar and then we'd been gone. The keepers of that house hadn't asked any questions and we hadn't offered up any information. I'd expected this to be similarly cold and dark and unnerving.

What I found was the complete opposite.

Warm air pressed against my face as I was ushered into a small store front filled with rows and rows of dark wood shelves—each overflowing with fabrics and spools of thread. A large counter sat towards the middle of the room, a roaring fire danced in the fireplace behind it.

A door behind the counter stood partially open, revealing a large storage room filled with more bolts of fabric and brightly colored thread. To one side of the shop sat an ornate staircase that seemed to lead upstairs to some sort of living quarters.

The entire room smelled of fresh bread and coffee.

It was so normal and unassuming, that I nearly collapsed within the doorframe.

A plump older woman with silver hair and kind eyes ushered us further into the room, her hands were gentle but firm as she guided me further into the space. She clucked and tsked and scolded Birk, telling him that he should have brought us coats or umbrellas.

He rolled his eyes at that, already peeling off his wet boots. "Yeah. Sure, Mim, a troop of umbrella's heading down the street wouldn't have drawn anyone's notice."

She shook her head and shooed him away, making him stumble back, one boot half off, the other already discarded on the cream-colored rug. "Ah! Boy! You'll have Leroux after my head if you stain this carpet."

Birk offered her an apologetic smile and stooped to grab his boot from where he'd dropped it. He set it down on the ledge of one of the shelves, the mud crusted toe of it sitting dangerously close to a bolt of expensive looking silk.

Mim continued to scowl as she turned to survey the rest of us. "You all look half drowned."

"They are completely drowned. We all are," Birk said, that arrogant smile pulling at his lips as he said, "I think a change of clothes and a cup of tea will help—"

"Birk?" I recognized Emilie's voice before I even saw her.

She stood towards the top of the stairs; a thick woolen sweater wrapped around her thin shoulders. Emilie peered down at us, her expression confused, but unalarmed. She'd been asleep, I realized, noting the thin nightgown she wore and the way her auburn hair was coming loose from its braid.

"Who is this—?" She froze as her eyes found me—a familiar face. She blanched and her voice turned high-pitched. Her grip on the railing tightened as she back up a step. "Birk?"

The smile fell from Birk's face and he glanced to Mim, who seemed as surprised as he was to find the girl here.

"Deal with them," he muttered to her before he took off in the direction of the stair, his one boot still on. Mim crossed the length of the store floor and lifted part of the counter back, the squeak of the hinges nearly loud enough to drown out Birk's voice as he said, "Em, I thought you were out tonight. I didn't realize... I—Let me explain."

The sleep had faded from her voice and now she was fully panicked. "That—That's Monroe Benson. She's—Birk, she's a criminal. She's—And the others. Who—They're in my house, Birk!"

To his credit, Birk stayed calm, his voice even and his ton light as he said, "I can explain. Just—Please, Em. Let me try to explain things. Let's get you a warm cup of tea and..." Their voices faded as he guided her up the stair and into one of the rooms. The door shut loud enough to show just how worried Birk actually was.

Once we were all past the counter, Mim led us past two small rooms lined with more shelves of sewing supplies and patterns, and into the brightly lit work room. There were tables and counters brimming with supplies and half-finished dresses and suits. The display windows at the front of the store had been filled with mannequins draped in thick, winter coats and lovely embroidered gowns—half-finished pieces of similar items lined the walls of this space.

Sewing machines, some electric and others hand-cranked, dotted the work tables. It seemed like the sort of room that would be hot and loud during the work week, but just then, it was empty and silent.

Mim stopped by a small woodstove and prodded the flames there. The wood hissed as it fell deeper into the fire and I was transported back home, to my mother's kitchen and all the times I'd stuck my hand directly into that heat. I wished I could do that now.

I longed to get out of my own skin—my power paces and ached and wanted to lay siege. But I held back. I forced myself to settle.

Once the fire was high again, Mim shuffled across the workroom and disappeared behind a small shelf. When she emerged again, she held a stack of blankets and a large canvas bag. She handed the blankets to three of the soldiers, dividing the tall stack between them and then turned and passed the bag to Jaxon.

She offered him a small smile and patted his cheek. "Nice to see you in one piece, Jax. Harper's been by every day for the last week, always with a new excuse as to why she needed to stop in. This needs hemming, that needs a new button. She acts as if I don't know why she's actually here. Waiting for word of you." She sighed and shook her head. "That girl is really something else. And she's smitten. Absolutely smitten with you. No idea why."

He returned her smile. "I don't understand it either, Mim."

She bustled past him and walked towards one of the work tables. "The goddess has a sense of humor, I'd wager."

"How have things been here?"

She hummed in response, her brow furrowing with annoyance. "Strange, especially with that new king on the throne. Orders are near constant and I barely have time to think. Between Birk's antics and Leroux's shortening temper, I'm too busy to do much else other than tend to them and keep the shop running."

She knelt down and pulled back the edge of a worn rug, revealing a wooden trap door underneath. When she struggled to get it open, Jax set his bag down and helped her. The ladder beyond it was less frightening than the one leading into the sewer, but it was still dark down there and my heart dropped at the sight.

Mim offered him her thanks and then pointed down at the ladder. "We didn't have a ton of warning about you coming, so it's cold down there. I'll send Birk down with some kindling and you can get a fire started in the heater. I've got coffee going and a pot of tea can be arranged if that is more appealing. I've also got stew I can heat up." She surveyed us, her golden-brown eyes warm and motherly in a way I hadn't realized I'd missed. Her brow furrowed slightly, making the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced. "There's a tub down there too, the water might be cold at first, but it'll warm up. I think Birk is right—for once. A good cup of tea and a bath would do all of you good."

She nodded to the ladder and then patted one of the soldiers on the shoulder. He gave her a tentative smile before he stepped forward and began climbing down. The rest of our small group followed after him.

I hung back again, unwilling to cast myself into that pit until it was absolutely necessary.

I watched as Jax stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Mim's cheek. She swatted him away, but he only grinned. "You're a saint, Mim."

"No such thing," she said. "Only priestesses and videras and dead girls. Of which I'd like to be none." She wrung her hands in her apron, her gaze finding mine as I lingered near one of the shelves. A small smile tugged at her lips. "And the living goddess-touched girls, I suppose. What a rare sight to see."

Jaxon stepped around the bag he'd abandoned and reached out a hand to me. I stepped forward, reluctant, but his tone was easy-going as he explained, "Mim, this is Monroe Benson."

"I know very well who she is," Mim said. "Although I can't imagine why she'd be here. Are you eager to die in the Culling, girl?" The words were sharp, but her tone wasn't mean, simply matter-of-fact.

"The Culling is over," I said.

She pursed her lips. "Aye. Suppose that's true. Now that the king's got a bride, I'd imagine you're safe."

My blood turned cold. "A—A bride?"

Mim nodded, her attention on the open doorway. Birk and Emilie had moved back to the stop of the stairs, their conversation was hushed, but clearly heated. The woman didn't cast a glance in my direction as she said, "Yes, yes, yes. The girl. The new queen." She waved a hand, distractedly. "You know, the one in the papers."

I looked to Jaxon. "What girl?"

Jaxon's brow was furrowed in confusion.

My throat burned. "What girl, Jax?"

But I knew.

He looked to Mim. "What'd you mean, has the bastard king married?"

The bastard king.

Kai.

Had Kai married.

Oh goddess.

She nodded and turned to look at him, her expression still a little distracted, as if she'd rather be cleaning up the mess Birk had clearly caused with Emilie. "Yes. The one with the mark on her face."

"Kinsley," her name came from my lips in one broken exhale.

She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Yes. That's the one. Birk's been killing himself for weeks preparing. The deadline was rushed for the gown and then, after he'd nearly killed himself trying to get it finished on time, they postponed the ceremony. It was a big fuss. But the wedding is done. They're married now and the Culling is over. Good news for girls like you, I suppose." She shook her head. "Anyway, you'll have to ask Harper about it. You know she's the one who knows everything about everyone."

Jaxon glanced to me, but I was too busy trying not to pass out. My lungs had seized up and I couldn't seem to get myself to breathe. This—This was bad. Terrible. But it couldn't be real. There was a mistake. This woman, she had to be wrong.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I looked to Jax, waiting for him to unveil the prank. This was joke. A cruel, wicked joke. But there was nothing hidden behind his eyes. No smile. He only looked at me with surprise and...and pity.

Goddess.

Mim seemed unconcerned with any of it. She gave Jaxon's shoulder a squeeze. "You go get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death. I'll see about that stew."

And then she was gone, leaving the two of us standing there alone.

He chewed his bottom lip and then said, "Let me talk to Harp. It might not be true. And even if it is...Even if it is..." Jaxon sighed and ran a hand over the top of his head. "Just let me talk to Harper and see what she's got to say."

I nodded, unsure what else to do.

On the inside, I was screaming. My entire body was shaking and I couldn't get my pulse to calm. He couldn't have married her. I didn't—He wouldn't have done that. Kai wouldn't have married Kinsley. And if he did...

Don't come back.

The words echoed in my head—a chant I couldn't escape. No. No, he wouldn't willing marry Kinsley. And even if he did, it meant nothing. It was damn piece of paper.

Except that it meant that she was queen.

It meant that they were—

I remembered my words to Justinian. Every Culling account had a prince and every single one of them took their prize to bed as soon as she was won. I couldn't think about it. And yet, I couldn't not think about it.

He wouldn't do that.

He wouldn't sleep with her—not willingly. Or, at least, I didn't think he would. But Kinsley...Kinsley would want to solidify her reign and that was no better way to that then to have an heir. The faster, the better.

The room was spinning.

Jaxon's hands found my shoulders. "Take a deep breath."

I tried and failed.

"In, out."

This time, I managed it.

"Do it again," he said.

In. out.

Once, twice. Over and over and over again. Until my vision had cleared and I was looking at him, wishing that it was a different brown-eyed boy standing before me. My chest ached and I wished for that cliff's edge again. I wished I was stronger. I wished I could stop caring.

Jaxon's hands fell back to his sides. "Let's get you cleaned up. The morning will be brighter. In the morning, things will look different."

I wished for him to be right.

I knew he would be wrong.

***

Kinsley. If you enjoyed this chapter, leave this emoji 🤬 and a comment telling me how Monroe should kill her.