She’s the first to step onto the wooden porch, turning the worn brass knob to open the door on its squeaky hinges, standing aside so I can enter—there are at least a dozen people visiting. Stepping into a place that smells entirely of herbs and metal, it’s immediately darker and taller than the outside appears, with a high,sloping ceiling that extends to a second story. Narrow windows grant in what little light the storm conceals. If it were sunnier, light beams would shine down below.
I’m a little sad to see they aren’t hanging stained glass that the sun used to catch. Skull’s Row is so gloomy and dangerous, and I used to love seeing the rare display of colors.
The weight of Soren creating deeperthudson the floor tells me he’s inside, and that he stopsjustbehind me.
The present. Not the past.
As much as I want to explore every ingredient, I need to grab what’s required and get out of here. I snag one of the wicker baskets in the front and immediately look for the first thing I can find. If I can avoid askinganyonefor help, it’s for the best. We don’t want eyes on us right now, and Soren’s size and visible sword are already making it impossible to blend in.
I untuck the hair behind my ears to cover the ruby earrings—I’ve been wearing them every day to feel closer to Mom—and pinch my earlobes to double-check they’re both there.
No need to draw attention to those, either.
When I glance over my shoulder, Soren’s body blocks the view,but I can see Anya standing outside through the window. My heart races a little faster, reminded that we need to be swift.
“What are you getting?” Soren asks, his gravelly rumble always penetrating my anxiety.
Facing forward, I drag my finger on a shelf in an invisible line to ground my search for dragon root. “Things I require to create a tonic my mother taught me. It helps rejuvenate your blood. It’s not a miracle cure, but it helps rejuvenate the ability to be back on your feet in a week, maybe less, versus a few weeks to over a month. Especially if I can make a large batch that you can nurse over the coming days.”
When I set my eyes on the stringy, dried brown strands of dragon root, I swiftly grab three bundles to put in the basket, now peering around for crushed siren’s whelk.
“And how are you paying, exactly?”
A smile spreads on my face as I scan the area for oceanic objects. “I figured you’d take care of that.” My gaze stops on a pestle that an older woman examines in her hands, extending her arms as if the distance makes it clearer.
Oh, apestleis a good idea. Should I buy one, or hope Rosmertta has one of her own? Surely they have tools, if not the ingredients.
Get the consumable bits first. In and out. People are staring.
Soren huffs out a laugh behind me. “Have you ever even earned your own gold? Or just always take it?”
“Oh, I know how to earn my own.” I glance back at him with a smirk. “But I also enjoy a good five-finger discount. Not my fault if things aren’t well-guarded.Exceptfor somewhere like this. Caraham deserves to be paid. He works very hard.”
There’s a slight play in Soren’s eyes when they connect with mine. “Don’t know why I expected anything else.” He picks up a vial of very green liquid, and I catch the wordessenceon the side.
“Don’t be so beat up I stole your coin. I used to be anexpertpick pocket.”
“Ateleven? Or were you stealing from people at Talon’s Perch, too?”
I scan the area for the familiar captain’s wheel—which will indicate the section I need—with a giant smile. “Fine, I was aprodigywho retired at eleven. Never took much when we did. Just enough for us all to buy sweetened cream.”
“There was more than one of you?” I catch the way he sounds genuinely intrigued.
“A little gang of us kids. We tried to defend those that were taken advantage of… and then steal from others that were right assholes. Or from people that just wouldn’t notice it.”
Saying that out loud and breathing life into an identity I’ve kept locked under key for so long feels like touching the wisp of a ghost.
Finally, I spot the captain’s wheel on the floor, leaning against the wall—when it should be hanging—and quickly enter through the small doorway to peek around the corner. There’s a decent-sized room in the back with a window and alternate door for entry, leading to another narrow street on the backside.
“Shade?” I ask before I can even process what comes out of my mouth.
The fighter from when Kathleen and I met at Rosmertta’s is already watching the spot right where I stand, and I don’t like the look in his eyes. There’s a greed that shouldn’t be directed at me, and the five men in the back all seem to be the same—the only items in their hands are all of the stabbing kind.
An immediate sense of this encounter beingentirelyabove my ability is all I process, especially when one of them is within arm’s reach. One man stands beside an active hearth, grabbing a boiling cauldron hanging over the fire, as if waiting for this; he even has gloves on. In the same instance, every single pair of eyes moves over my head.
My body reacts instinctively as I step in front of the threshold—even anounceof their hesitation will give Soren an edge.
The man nearly drops the cauldron to try and stop his throw of what’s in the pail, but it’s all for nothing as boiling water soaks my body.
