Next evening, Dimmon Plank called a rare halt to “band activities” so we could “commiserate Layson’s loss.” In actuality, it was so the gang could buy liquor with the stolen coins Jeffrith had found, and so the Diplomats could celebrate the haul.
Turned out the man Baylen had killed was wealthy and rather important in this district of Nuhav. Word circled the street of the man’s death all through the day—we had left him right there on the cobbles, after all, so it wasn’t like he was hard to find.
Fendrus Havvacam had been a man who sold clothes. More than a tailor, he was a shopowner with six locations and factories across Nuhav. He’d been finishing up early-morning banking between one of his shops before the day got started, and before he unfortunately ran into us.
“Unlucky son of a bitch,” Baylen told me while upending a bottle of wine to his lips that night.
Unlucky? That’s what you say after killing a man, Brother?
All mention of Layson and the bloodsucker had ended. Dimmon was making sure to ply his people with enough boozeto keep us numb and quiet—I could see his tricks even if no one else could.
We had the fires going, dotting the dumping ground that was partly hidden off the street. Diplomat boys and girls were huddled around them.
A minstrel—or one of the boys who called himself a minstrel and happened to own a lute, which attracted many girls to his fire—was busy plucking away at one of them. At another fire, boys played cards and gambled, and then broke out into wrestling matches that spilled into the streets when things didn’t go well.
At our fire, Baylen became exceptionally drunker. I started to worry about him. He had reclined, humming to himself, his eyes red and beady. He looked relaxed and drowned in liquor, blinking as if ready to pass out.
When Bay glanced over at me, he found me staring at him. Anger came to his cheeks in a flare of embarrassment. “You better not be lookin’ ‘cause you pity me, Seph.”
“Baylen . . .” I shook my head. I hadn’t had a drop of booze—I didn’t trust anyone here except my former Brother of the House of the Broken. “. . . I’m sorry that happened. I know it can’t be easy—”
“I saidstop!” he yelled, and then swigged the rest of the bottle and tossed it behind him. It clanked and rolled down the cobbles.
I nodded, falling silent, knowing it was best to stay quiet. Couldn’t talk when he was like this. Any words from me would be seen as provocation right now.
About an hour later, his head popped up. He had dozed off, thankfully, but now he had a delirious look in his eyes when he glanced over.
He smiled in an ugly way, still drunk, and scooted next to me. The fire was dying. He smelled awful. Truehearts be true, we all fucking did.
“Y’know, Seph . . .” He trailed off and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Abruptly, he was much too close to me, making me increasingly uncomfortable. “You’ve gotten so pretty, huh? Anyone told you that?”
I gulped, trying to stave off my growing disgust.Please don’t make me hate you, Baylen. I’m begging you.
This was not the Brother I knew, grossly throwing himself over me. If I was being honest with myself, he hadn’t been the Brother I knew since he’d left the House of the Broken. That protective, roguish boy was gone, replaced by a hardened person on the cusp of adulthood.
He squeezed my body against his, our thighs touching. His eyes dropped to my chest, down the collar of my tunic.
I clenched my jaw. “Baylen . . .”
Bay’s hand wrapped around my side, landing on my hip. His stale, boozy breath washed over my face. He leered at me, eyes drooping like he was in a daze.
Yes. A daze. That’s it. Can’t hold it against him if he’s not in control of his faculties and—
Baylen squeezed my breast through my shirt.
I jolted, shoving him off me. Jumped to my feet and shouted, “Baylen, fuck off!”
He toppled over to his side with a cackle. From other fires, boys and girls chuckled at the sight of me spurning his drunken advances.
Baylen’s cheeks were red and looked as warm as the fire felt. I had embarrassed him. There was a dangerous look in his eyes now as he glared up at me.
“I’m going to bed,” I said flatly. “And you’d do well to do the same, Bay.”
My heart sank as I walked away.
Because I knew I could no longer trust Baylen Sallow after that night.
Chapter 7
