“Pris?”
“I’m okay.” Neighbors turned on each other. It was how it worked. And the only reason there was no loyalty among us was because the king had stamped out that loyalty and replaced it with terror.
Tibris gave me a look that said he didn’t quite believe me, but he wasn’t going to press the subject. “We’re here.”
I examined the wooden door in front of us. Tibris reached out and knocked, and I sucked in a breath as we waited. Had the city changed Vicer? Was this a trap?
A woman answered the door. She wore an apron, her curly brown hair touched with gray. Deep frown lines had settled between her brows.
“Code,” she demanded.
Tibris rattled off a series of numbers.
Sweeping her gaze over both of us, the woman wordlessly stepped aside and allowed us in.
My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light. The air was warm, and the scent of cinnamon wound toward me.
“Tibris.” Vicer appeared out of the gloom. He’d let his dark hair grow, and it was in a low ponytail against his neck. He was wearing a clean gray overcoat that matched his eyes, and he was also clean-shaven—something I’d rarely seen from him before he left.
Tibris had gone still, but he relaxed when Vicer grinned and slapped him on the back. I pushed the hood of my cloak down, and Vicer’s grin fell as he pondered me. He flicked a glance at Tibris.
“You didn’t say you were bringing your sister.”
Tibris cleared his throat. “After Pris…after everything that happened, I was even more careful than usual with the notes I sent. I had enough contacts at my end to help me find her, but I knew we needed to come here.”
Vicer just nodded, some of the tightness leaving his expression. His eyes laughed at me. “You always did follow us around like a lost puppy.”
“This lost puppy is rabid,” I told him.
Tibris sighed. “She’s right about that. Can we sit somewhere and talk?”
The woman who’d answered the door had wandered away. But at our question, she poked her head around a door. “Come and eat,” she said.
I’d been far too nervous to break my fast this morning, and now my stomach grumbled at the thought of food. I felt…safe here. Well, as safe as we could be in the capital.
Vicer shook his head at her. “Always eavesdropping.” But it was clear from his fond expression that he didn’t blame her for it. “Margie here cooks the best chicken in the city.”
She waved that off, but her cheeks had flushed. “Wash your hands before you sit at my table,” she said. “All of you.”
The way she’d taken charge reminded me of my own mother. And of Asinia’s. My chest ached, but I followed Vicer as he led us into a small washroom.
“I didn’t think you’d have easy access to water,” Tibris said as I washed up.
“We’re based in the slums for a reason. This was once an orphanage, and no one notices when people are coming and going at all hours of the day and night,” Vicer said. “But there are enough of us living here and contributing that we can enjoy some comforts.”
Tibris washed his hands, and Vicer led us into a large kitchen. Margie had already set three plates of chicken on the table, along with hunks of fresh bread.
“Thank you,” I told her. “You’re not hungry?”
She looked at me, and her expression softened slightly. “I’ve already eaten. And you’re welcome.”
“Sit with us, Margie,” Vicer said.
She brought over three cups of water, and Vicer took them from her.
“You can speak freely in front of Margie,” he said softly.
I’d become more than a little suspicious and paranoid myself since leaving our village. But for some reason, Margie had immediately put me at ease. That was likely a good reason not to trust her.
“I lost my daughter to the king’s lies,” Margie said softly, interrupting my thoughts. “They tore her from my arms and took her to the castle. She was burned last year on Gods Day.”
Margie opened the top of her dress, revealing a gnarled scar that wound from one side of her throat down her chest. “Then they tried to kill me. But I survived.”
I stared at the scar. Was that how my mother had been killed? Tibris still refused to tell me, and I’d stopped asking.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
I’d heard what Margie hadn’t said. Everything she did was in her daughter’s name.
“I was told King Sabium has been lying all this time,” I said. “Our magic doesn’t go to the gods at all.”