With every day, the realization had grown louder and louder in Ana’s head: That could have been me.
“We will,” Ana replied. “We’ll find your ma-ma even if I have to knock on every single door of this empire.”
May’s smile stretched, and she threw her arms around Ana, burying her face against Ana’s shirt. “You won’t leave again, right?” Her voice came out muffled, and when Ana looked down, she caught a pair of bright ocean eyes peering up at her shyly. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”
A knot formed in Ana’s throat. She knew the ache of having lost a mother at such a young age. The feeling that you had done something wrong, that you could be abandoned by those you loved all over again, never went away.
So Ana squeezed May tight in her arms and whispered, “I’m always here.”
The sound of splashing water drew both of their attention to the wash closet.
May’s eyes narrowed. “That strange man brought you home, and because he sort of saved your life, I told him he could have a warm bath before leaving,” she said.
Ana felt her lips curling despite herself. “Smart girl,” she said conspiratorially.
“He was smelly. And dirty.”
“I know,” Ana said. “He’s disgusting and stupid and ugly.” It was immature, but it felt good to say anyway.
The wash closet door flew open.
In a flash, Ana heaved herself from the bed and shoved May behind her. Her injured arm throbbed at the sudden motion, but all of her attention was focused on Ramson Quicktongue.
He had shaved and cleaned the grime from his face. Now she could see that he was much younger than she had guessed—perhaps only a few years older than she. His tousled sandy hair curled on his forehead, droplets of water carving a path down his chiseled cheeks. The contrast from his filthy, unkempt state earlier made him appear startlingly handsome—the type of roguish good-looking face more befitting a Bregonian marine or Cyrilian Imperial Patrol than a shady underground crook.
Quicktongue shot a smile at May. Ana imagined it had fangs. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Ana snarled. She turned and said quickly, “May, please go and take a bath.”
The child grabbed the pail of snow and slipped into the wash closet. She turned and, glaring at Ramson, drew a finger across her neck before slamming the door shut. A satisfying click sounded as the door closed, and Ana’s heart settled.
She rounded on Quicktongue.
He was bruising; on his wrists where the sleeves of his tunic ended, angry red patches bloomed from where she had broken blood vessels. Guilt churned in her stomach, but she pushed it down. He hadn’t hesitated to use and betray her. Guilt was an emotion wasted on this kind of a man.
Quicktongue’s mouth quirked into a smile that was both devious and charming at once. “Well, Ana, love,” he said, and her insides turned cold. “Here we are. You asked for my aid, and I asked for a way out of Ghost Falls. If only wishes came true every day.”
Ana bit back a sharp retort. This wasn’t some argument she was having with Luka or Yuri. This was a calculated stance against an enemy. There was no telling what he was planning and what he was hiding from her—even his accent, she noticed, had shifted slightly from last night. She had to tread very carefully.
“I’ve delivered my end of the bargain,” she said instead. “Now it’s your turn.” She clamped down on the urge to remind him of her Affinity, just to prove that she could hurt him if she wanted to. That she still held some shred of power over him. That her plan hadn’t all gone to…nothing. “I don’t care if you don’t have a clue who he is or where he is. You’re going to help me find the alchemist, and you’re going to do it in two weeks. I’ve heard enough of your reputation, and I know you’re capable of it.”
He had to be. All other searches, paid bounty hunters or trackers, had led to dead ends. Ramson Quicktongue was her last chance.
Ana didn’t say that.
Quicktongue raised his brows. “You’ve heard enough of my reputation,” he repeated, as though savoring the words on his tongue. He almost looked pleased, but then his eyes narrowed. “And what makes you think I’ll help you, now that I’m free as a bird?”
Conniving, backstabbing con man. If he wanted to play dirty, so be it.