Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,39

toward the light.

Toward the stories that had been hidden from her for far too long.

Toward the truth of who she was.

But the moment she stepped off the bateau and into the icy night air, something shifted inside of her. All her resolve seemed to shrivel up at once.

The dock of Montfer was a bustling cesspool of noise and activity, even though the Sols had set hours ago. Rain drizzled softly from the dark sky, and the wind from the Secana Sea behind her was both biting and refreshing, offering a momentary reprieve from the foul smell that seemed to hang over the darkened city like a layer of fog. Disembarking passengers mixed chaotically with passengers trying to board the bateau that would soon head out into the night, making its return trip to Vallonay. Alouette quickly became lost and dizzy in the confusion. She wedged herself into an empty space on the dock and struggled to catch her breath.

It seemed like ever since she’d left the safety of the Refuge, it had been one overwhelming situation after the next: navigating the Marsh; negotiating with stall owners for new clothes and passage to Montfer; endless days at sea enduring violent storms, towering waves, and grueling seasickness. And now this. A strange world that felt galaxies away from the world she grew up in. The sisters may have taught her to read and write, but what good did that do now? Alouette had never felt less certain and more ill prepared than she did at this moment.

“First time on the east coast, chéri?”

The voice seemed to float out of nowhere. Alouette turned to see a frail older woman standing nearby, her wispy white hair matted with rain and clinging to her face. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Alouette pressed her lips together, wondering whether or not she should reply. She’d learned from her time aboard the bateau that people couldn’t always be trusted. But there was something in the woman’s hungry, hooded eyes that found Alouette murmuring, “First time in a long time.”

The woman chuckled. “I suspected as much. You look terrified.”

Admonishing herself, Alouette tried to loosen her face. She wasn’t going to get anywhere if everyone could see the fear written all over her.

“Let me help you out,” the woman said with a smile, revealing yellowed, rotting teeth. “I know this city backward and forward. What are you looking for?”

Alouette hesitated, wondering how much she should reveal to this woman. But the thought of venturing out there, into that chaos, alone, made her want to turn right back around and reboard the bateau. “I’m looking for …”—she lowered her voice—“the blood bordel?” She pronounced the words like a question. Like she wasn’t sure they actually existed.

Something flickered in the woman’s eyes. It looked like comprehension and sympathy and pity all wrapped up in one blink. “Of course. I see girls like you arriving every day. Desperate. Hungry. Craving something just out of reach.”

“No, I—” Alouette started to correct the woman. She had her all wrong. But she stopped herself when she realized that perhaps that was the perfect description of Alouette right now. Desperate and craving something that was just out of reach.

The truth was, she had a sinking feeling that she was chasing dust, hunting down infinitesimal particles of matter that were thrown on the wind long ago.

But that dust was all Alouette had.

“I can take you there,” the woman said before curling her lips into a sneer. “For a price.”

Alouette nodded. She was starting to learn that this was how things worked in places like this. Nothing was free. Everything was for sale. Alouette rummaged through her sac, pulled out her last slice of chou bread, and offered it to the woman. She clearly deemed it worthy, because she devoured the bread and then, in a gruff voice, muttered, “Follow me,” before wading into the crowd.

Clutching her elbow tight against her bag, Alouette followed behind. They wove through the docks and up a winding street lined with dilapidated and shuttered stalls. In the morning, the vendors would probably sell fish heads and sea snails that, according to the Chronicles, were food staples in Montfer.

The farther away from the docks they got, the more Alouette felt she could breathe again. Soon the stalls gave way to much larger buildings. Fabriques, Alouette guessed, because of the discarded crates littering the muddy streets. They made their way through an alley between two of these industrial buildings whose corrugated walls loomed