But now I stood outside another tiny home, in the shadows of the narrow, dirt-packed alley, listening to another tragedy. The moment I’d shared with Vikter what Marlowe had told me, we’d gone straight for the father’s house since it was closer than the dorms. I was beyond glad I couldn’t see the man because I could hear the heartbreak in his voice as he told Vikter what had happened, and the ache in my head was now throbbing. If I saw the poor father, I would’ve wanted to somehow ease his pain. The old man knew precisely why Vikter was there when he asked if he’d seen his son.
Ridley hadn’t been able to take care of himself.
However, his father had.
He’d shown Vikter where he’d buried Ridley in the backyard, under a pear tree. He’d ended his son’s life the day before.
I was still thinking about that as Vikter and I left the Lower Ward, using the heavily wooded area outside the Citadel to avoid any City Guards. Many years ago, animals such as deer and wild boar had been plentiful in Wisher’s Grove, but only the smallest critters and large, predatory birds remained after years of hunting. The Grove now served more or less as a border between the haves and have-nots, the thick tree line all but erasing the cramped living arrangements for the vast majority of Masadonia from those who lived in homes triple the size of the one Agnes now mourned in. A part of the Grove, closer to the center of the city, had been cleared, creating a park where fairs and celebrations were held, people often rode their horses, sold goods, and picnicked on warmer days. The Grove ran right into the inner walls of Castle Teerman. Literally.
Very few traveled the Grove, believing it to be haunted by any who’d died there. Or were they haunted by the spirits of guards? Or was it the spirits of hunted animals that roamed between the trees? I wasn’t sure. There were so many different versions. Either way, it worked for us because we could easily slip out of the Queen’s Gardens and into the Grove without being seen as long as we kept an eye on the patrolling guards. From the Grove, one could go anywhere.
“We need to discuss what happened in that house,” Vikter announced as we navigated the forest floor with only a sliver of moonlight to guide us. “People have been talking about you.”
I knew this was coming.
“And you using your gift back there didn’t help matters,” he added, keeping his voice low even though it was unlikely we’d be overheard by anything other than a raccoon or an opossum. “You all but confirmed who you were.”
“If people are talking, they haven’t said anything,” I replied. “And I had to do something. That woman’s pain was…it was unbearable for her. She needed a break.”
“And it became unbearable for you, too?” he surmised. When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Your head hurts now?”
“It’s nothing,” I dismissed.
“Nothing,” he growled. “I understand why you want to help. I respect that. But it’s a risk, Poppy. No one has said anything yet. Maybe they feel indebted to you, but that could change, and you need to be more careful.”
“I am careful,” I said. Even though I couldn’t see his expression as he too had lifted his hood to cover his face, I knew he sent me a look of disbelief. I grinned, but it quickly faded. “I know what the risks are—”
“And you’re prepared to face the consequences if the Duke ever discovers what you’re doing?” he challenged.
My stomach dipped as I toyed with a loose thread from my cloak. “I am.”
Vikter cursed under his breath. In any other situation, I would’ve giggled. “You’re as brave as any guard on the Rise.”
Taking that as a huge compliment, I smiled. “Well, thank you.”
“And just as foolish as any new recruit.”
My smile turned upside down. “I take my thank you back.”
“I never should’ve allowed you to begin doing this.” He caught a low-hanging branch, moving it aside. “You going out among the people poses too much of a risk of discovery.”
Dipping under the branch, I looked back at him. “You didn’t allow me,” I reminded him. “You just couldn’t stop me.”
He stopped, catching my arm and turning me so I faced him. “I understand why you want to help. You couldn’t when your mother and father lay dying.”
I flinched. “It has nothing to do with them.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. You’re trying to make up for what you were unable to do as a child.” His voice dropped so low, I could barely hear him over the breeze stirring the leaves above us. “But it’s more than that.”