Mum snored next to me, sleeping off another brutal hangover, her gray hair spread around her head. Red capillaries bloomed on her cheeks—gin blossoms. She wouldn’t wake before noon. Then, she’d try to find another place to get drunk.
Except she’d find herself bundled up, on the way to a cloister house.
She wasn’t this bad before Alice disappeared. But that broke her heart.
When I glanced at the clock on the wall, my heart started to thump. I didn’t have long before Finn was supposed to stop by.
Rising from the bed, I stretched my arms over my head. Clearly, I couldn’t go into the castle smelling of the slums. I slid a teakettle onto the stovetop.
While I waited for it to warm, I stared at the room, wondering if it really was the last time I’d see the inside of these shabby walls. Over the years, I’d tried to spruce our place up a bit. I’d once attempted to paint a garden on one of the walls, but painting over exposed brick was hard. It now looked cheerful and deranged at the same time, like a five-year-old had been put in charge of the decor.
A dingy curtain divided our side of the room from the Wentworth family on the other side. Already, the Wentworth kids were up and screaming.
There were five Wentworths, permanently sick with fevers, always coughing, hacking, yelling. Every one of them, down to the five-year-old, resented us for living on the side with the window. Well, they could have the bloody window now, because Mum and I would both be out of here.
When the teakettle started whistling, I poured the hot water into the washbasin, then filled it up the rest of the way with cooler water. I started peeling off my clothes—the gray shirt and pants I’d slept in. Fully naked, I stepped into the basin and started scrubbing myself, so hard I was practically taking the skin off. The soap smelled a bit like olives.
We didn’t have plumbing inside, just water we got from a well in the back. When we had to use the toilet, it was a shared outhouse that made me gag. Terrible as the angels might be, I would not miss this place.
As I bathed, I sang a quiet tune about falcons, soaring free over a city.
The creaking of the curtain rings made my stomach lurch, and I stared at the leering face of Mr. Wentworth. Pervert.
“Do you mind?” I hugged my knees into my chest.
He stuck out his tongue and waggled his enormous eyebrows. “Heard the kettle going. Thought you might be giving me a little show. Show us the rest, then.”
I threw the soap at him, hitting him hard right in the mustache. “Piss off, Martin. If it weren’t for your kids, I’d have killed you in your sleep ages ago.”
While he slunk away, I rose and dried myself off. Then I opened the suitcase, surveying the new tools of my trade: the ridiculously small knickers, the silky dresses, the rose-scented perfume, the makeup. The fine dagger I would keep sheathed at my thigh at all times.
I dabbed some perfume on my neck, then picked out some black lacy underwear to put on. There were ribbons and straps that connected to stockings, and the whole enterprise was infinitely more complicated than underwear needed to be. It seemed men liked as many ribbons as possible.
Once I’d managed to fasten everything, I strapped on the dagger holster. Using the reflection in the steel kettle, I applied my bright red lipstick.
Then I selected a dress—a black, silky gown with a backline that went down to my arse. It was a wildly impractical cut, but at least it was black, which was my favorite color. And when I slipped into it, the material felt amazing against my skin.
I stepped into another pair of heels, teetering as I did. I couldn’t stay in these things permanently. No, I’d pack my black leather shoes just in case. They were ragged and threadbare, but at least I could walk in them.
I zipped up my suitcase, then rose, lifting the hem of my dress to practice walking. If I shifted my hips forward a bit, I could just about move steadily. As I practiced, I grabbed an apple from the bowl and bit into it.
Martin pulled the curtain aside, grinning at me. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing. How much for a tumble then? Half a penny?”
I snatched a tin can of beans off the counter, and lobbed it at his head. The sound it made when it hit his skull echoed through the room.
“Ow! Really?”
“When will you learn, Martin?” I shouted. “I never miss. Bell-end.”
Mum groaned, rolling over in the bed. She pulled the covers up tighter around her.
The Holy Sisters would really have their work cut out, getting her healthy again.
I crossed to the counter and poured Mum a glass of water. When she woke up, her throat would be parched. I set it on the little box that served as a bedside table.
Her eyes opened a bit, and she blinked at me, smiling a little. “Lila.”
“I got you some water, Mum.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she mumbled.
I did, though. When I was a kid, I used to scream for water at night. Mum would get me a glass, then ward off the nightmares by sprinkling “holy water” on the bed. I thought it was real back then, and I’d fall asleep again, feeling safe and secure.
I hadn’t heard her laugh since Alice disappeared.
I rested my hand on her forehead. “You’ll get a new home today, Mum. I’m going to work in the castle. I’m going to look for Alice there.”
But her eyes were closing, and she was already back asleep. I felt something sharp and empty opening in my chest as I watched her snore. She just wasn’t here anymore.
But I didn’t have much time. Someone outside was calling my name—my new, fake name. Zahra.
I crossed to the window, smiling at the sight of Finn in the narrow street outside my house. The morning light shone over his blond hair, his ruddy cheeks. He was what an angel should look like. Not seven foot tall and terrifying.
I flashed him a thumbs-up, then teetered over to give Mum one last kiss on the cheek. “Wish me luck, Mum.”
With my suitcase in hand, I tottered over to the door. Gripping the railing, I carefully walked down the rickety stairs in my heels.
When I pushed open the front door, I smiled at Finn. Ludd, his crow, perched on his shoulder.
Finn’s jaw dropped as he looked at me. “Lila,” he whispered.
I arched an eyebrow at him, and he corrected himself. “Zahra. Of course. Zahra. Ernald sent me to escort you this morning, make sure everything goes smoothly. But you look amazing. Really just proper …” He stared at me. “You’re too good for this count, you know.”
“Of course I know that. He’s a murderer. But maybe I can get a proper chance to find out what happened to Alice. I could sneak in there, yes, but they’d probably just kill me. This way, they’re inviting me in.”
“What if you’re just in the dungeons there?”
Was he trying to make me more nervous? “Well, it’s too late now, Finn.”
He looked pale and a little bit nauseous. “I know. I’m sure the count would just execute you if you changed your mind.”
“Relax.” I feigned a confidence I didn’t feel. “I’ll keep my wits about me. You know I always do. And I can scale the walls if I must to escape.”
He pulled a gleaming skeleton key out of his pocket, threaded through a thin black ribbon. “Well if you do escape, this is the key to your safe deposit box. East Dovren Bank, under your real name. I didn’t take any.”