“No, forget it. They’ll be looking for me by then. And they know you’re my only friend. They’ll be watching you. It was a stupid idea. I need to go face this.”
A knock on the door. “Miss?” a man’s voice called out.
Vena opened the door and four men in slaves’ clothes came in and picked up the trunks. Vena picked up her own bag. “Walk me to the docks?” she asked Liv, putting on a brave face.
Still horrified, disbelieving, Liv nodded.
They walked slowly, as if they could postpone the inevitable forever.
“This really is a great place,” Vena said, as they crossed the bridge for the last time together. “It’s a marvel. And I was here. For a while. My father was a servant; my mother was a servant. There’s nothing wrong with going home and serving. I’m not better than they are. And you know what? I met the Prism!” Her eyes were gleaming. “He called me marvelous! He complimented my dress. Me. He noticed me, Liv, with all those beautiful girls there. No one can take that away from me. How many people—how many drafters never get that much in their whole lives? The Prism himself!”
Her bravery made Liv tear up. She studiously avoided looking at Vena, sure she’d lose control if she did.
But all too soon, they were at the docks. They said their goodbyes tearfully, promising to write, Liv promising that she would use any connections she could make to get Vena reinstated. Vena smiled sadly, resigned.
“Come on, ladies,” the captain said. “Time and the tide wait for no man, nor for blubbering girls, neither.”
Liv hugged Vena one more time and left. She’d barely stepped off the wood of the dock when she saw a familiar figure lurking in the shadows like a spider. Aglaia Crassos.
“You!” Liv said. “This is your work!”
Aglaia smiled. “I wonder, Liv, do you think we owe a debt to our friends? A debt of love, or duty?”
“Of course we do.”
“But apparently your duty to your friend isn’t as important as your need to defy me.”
“You bitch,” Liv said, quivering.
“I’m not the one who’s letting her friend pay for my pride. It can stop, Liv, or it can get worse.”
“You still want me to spy on the Prism.”
“Vena’s not going home, just so you know. I own her contract already. And I’ve got a deal with a rather… dubious Ilytian. He’s willing to give me a good price for Vena. Most people have scruples about selling drafters. Of course, she’s not a full drafter, so she won’t be entitled to any of a drafter’s normal privileges. But, hey, Vena loves sailing, right? Not many women on the galleys. They don’t usually last very long, nor do the other slaves treat them well, so owners usually put women to other work. But I can arrange it.”
Not just a slave. A galley slave. The worst of the worst. Liv wanted to vomit. She wanted to murder Aglaia. Orholam save her.
“Or…” Aglaia said, “you give me the word.” She nodded toward a messenger standing across the street. “And he runs to the captain with a message, saying it’s all a mistake, Vena’s been reinstated, and so forth. Wonder of wonders. You are my own special project, Liv. You have my full attention.”
Liv looked at the boat, despairing. It was true. She had no friends, no options, no choices. How could she fight Aglaia Crassos, with all her wealth and power? If she asked the Prism for help, he’d ask questions. He’d think she’d been spying all along. Every part of the Chromeria and the satrapies was corrupt; they were all turned against her.
“Hurry, Liv, the tide’s turning,” Aglaia said.
There was no way out, no time to try to come up with a third way. Maybe her father would have said no and spat in Aglaia’s ugly face and held on to his honor. Liv wasn’t that strong. The sharks and sea demons had her. “Fine,” she said, her heart failing within her. “You win. What do I have to do?”
Chapter 49
Gavin hadn’t even gotten fully out of his father’s apartments when he saw trouble coming. His mother’s apartments were right beside his father’s, and there was no way he could leave without passing in front of her doors—and her doors were open.
Every time. Every burning time. If his father’s windows hadn’t all been bolted shut and covered with layers of fabric, Gavin would have jumped out of a window. In fact, it was just