The boy held up two grubby hands. “If you say so.”
She pushed past him, heading in the direction of one of the main roads, which held many of the city’s inns.
“What you going to spend it on?” the boy asked, skipping along after her.
“I need to get to Serlania.”
He laughed. “You and everyone else.”
“I’ll make it happen,” she muttered. “I have to. For now, I’m going to find something to eat and a place to stay.”
“Bit late for either.” The boy squinted up at the sky. “Won’t be naught left but stinking fish at the harbor market, and you’ll be paying a fortune for a bowl of rat soup at any common room. And you clearly aren’t a talented negotiator, so it’s going to cost you all you have for a space in an inn.”
“I’ll manage.” She threw as much confidence into her voice as she could.
“No you won’t.” He jumped up on a low wall, walking nimbly along it as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“What do you know?” she snapped, hating that he seemed so unconcerned while all she felt was fear eating at her gut.
“It’s my business to know all the comings and goings-on,” he said. “It’s my job.”
And then create wild stories that have nothing to do with the truth, she thought. He’d been playing with the crowd—who was to say he wasn’t playing with her now?
“I can help you find a place to stay. I know people.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Finn, by the way. You?”
She didn’t want to give her name. Killian was still looking for her. He had likely reported her, and they would know her name. “Nothing I care to share.”
Finn shrugged. “Have it your way, girl-with-no-name. But trust me, no one’s going to find you a better place to stay than I am.” He held up a handful of shiny coins. “I can tell already that you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
Lydia’s eyes fixed on the silver. Then she shoved her hand in the pocket of her dress, finding it empty. “You little thief!” She grabbed his wrist and scraped her coins off his palm. “Is this what you’re up to? Getting me alone so you can steal everything I have?”
He gaped at her. “That isn’t what I meant!”
Lydia wasn’t listening. Shoving him hard, she snatched up her skirts and ran, ignoring people’s curses as she pushed them aside. When she was far away and out of breath, she stopped, pressing her cheek against the stone of a building while she waited for her racing heart to slow.
It was true that she was alone and could trust no one, but that didn’t mean her situation was hopeless. If she started looking for a room to rent now, she was certain something could be found before dark. Food could wait. A day of hunger wouldn’t kill her, but a night on the streets with the deimos would.
23
KILLIAN
Killian took the steps two at a time, his boots thudding against the plush carpet of the staircase, his father’s parting words echoing through his thoughts.
The god of war gave you the gifts needed to defend Mudamora, but what have you done but squander them?
The servants moved out of his way as he passed, dropping into deep curtsies.
This one time you had a chance to use your mark toward its intended purpose and you failed.
Helene’s poodle bolted down the hallway, stopping to piss on a potted plant before continuing in his escape.
Tremon chose poorly when he chose you.
Killian had believed him. And he’d believed the King when he’d said that Killian’s failure was a result of the gods turning their backs on him.
But Lydia had been telling the truth. The truth about where she came from. The truth about being marked last night to save his life. Which meant the gods hadn’t turned their backs on him just yet.
And he wouldn’t turn his back on her.
Even now, he had Finn and his friends searching the streets for Lydia, trusting that they’d move faster than Quindor’s lackeys, who’d only have the description the guards at the gate had provided. He also had them telling a false tale, hoping that the promise of a reward would have the populace of Mudaire dragging in every old woman in the city for the healers to test. For now, there wasn’t much else he could do.