Shocked that a shiv would know street cant, Ghost froze and stared at her. Even though some of the words were from the Dreyuthan streets, enough translated so she understood Ailith’s meaning.

  “There ya go. Ya can trust yer Terrowyn to puff ya, but no if’n yer skizzin wild.”

  The two women set the skelli on the ground but kept hold of both arms, just in case.

  Ghost snarled at Ailith and indicated the roof with a lifted chin, “Me sticker.”

  Ailith surprised everyone by doing exactly as Ghost had done earlier. She jumped onto the garbage can and bounced between the two buildings, jumping higher each time she pushed off until she was able to grab the edge of the roof and pull herself over. The knife had dropped near the edge, and she nabbed it and tossed it down. She leapt down as easily as Ghost did whenever she was answering Terrowyn’s three-whistle call.

  Terro was the first to recover her voice. “You were a skelli?”

  Nothing about Ailith’s past bothered her. She wasn’t ashamed that she’d been a peasant, or a skelli, or a mere soldier in the Dreyuthan army. She’d survived it all, and was proud of that fact, even if others thought her past was something to look down on. “Aye. Fer two turns before th’ army came to th’ city where I were livin’.”

  She glared down at Ghost. “Don’t ya never let no nobs or pidges tell ya yer nothin’ cuz yer a skelli. Yer survivin’, and most don’t. But ya got somethin’ else most don’t have.” Her eyes flicked from Ghost to the Senior Guardian and back again. “Ya got her. Don’t do nothin’ stupid, aye? Leavin’ that,” she indicated the cut on Ghost’s leg, “that’s stupid. Ye’ll die, ya skizzin’ skelli unless ya do what th’ Guardian tells ya to do.”

  By this time, Commander Shirin had recovered the knife. Ghost held out her hand, but Shirin tucked the blade between her belt and trews. “You’ll get it after the healer tends to that leg of yours, not before.”

  Ghost’s angry glare was deadly as Jenx and Terrowyn led her toward the Temple. When Kara, who’d squeezed past Octavia, joined them, Jenx glanced back at Ailith. “Get your tunic and meet us at the Temple.”

  The Commander answered instead of Ailith, “I’ll bring her with me. I don’t want a shiv on the streets alone at this time of the morning.

  Jenx called over her shoulder, “Aye, Commander. And thanks.”

  Ailith started for the warehouse, but the Commander stopped her with a hand on her arm. Turning so that her back was to Octavia, she whispered, “Keep your mouth shut, Ailith, no matter what she says. I’ll handle her. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, Commander.” Ailith felt she was on solid ground again now that her Commander was no longer a jovial compatriot. Friendly didn’t fit with the woman she’d come to know. At times, she’d seen the tall, muscular Commander behaving playfully around the Arch Priestess, but for the most part, she was all business when it came to dealing with Blades and shivs, and no one treated her with anything but the utmost respect.

  Octavia sneered at Ailith as they approached. “Get out of here, peasant, so Shirin and I can speak in private.”

  Shirin placed her arm on Ailith’s shoulders and maneuvered her around the woman. “Ailith is staying with me, Octavia. As much as you’d like this to be all about you, I have much more to attend to than your domestic problems.”

  “Domestic problems?” Octavia screeched the words as she fell in behind them. “I was kidnapped and brought here against my will. How dare you suggest this has anything to do with,” she sniffed loudly, “domestic problems.”

  “We found the records. I know Lord Grenlin sold you to the slavers. I can only guess the reason why.” They climbed to the third floor, where Ailith expected to find her tunic. When it wasn’t there, she turned questioning eyes on the noblewoman.

  “Don’t look at me. I threw the filthy thing on the floor.”

  Emlyn, one of the other shivs on deadnight shift, trotted down the stairs from the fourth floor holding the tunic. “Here. One of the lollies tried to take off with it.”

  Ailith grinned and pulled it on over her head.

  “Oh, that’s so disgusting.” Octavia raised her nose in the air and looked away.

  Knowing she probably shouldn’t, Ailith responded anyway. “Ya don’t smell too rosy, yerself, Milady.” That earned her a hard cuff from the Commander. “Sorry, Commander. Me mouth is closed tight, now.” She rubbed her sore ear. “Hopefully.”

  Shirin growled at the noblewoman. “Can we dispense with insulting my shiv?” She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor with Octavia hard on her heels.

  Emlyn and Ailith decided to wait downstairs. That lasted until the Commander realized it was her fellow Tuvistian following her and not her shiv. “Ailith!”

  “Aye, Commander?”

  “Did I tell you to wait down there?”

  “No, Commander.”

  When Ailith didn’t immediately run upstairs, Shirin stepped down three steps and glared at her. “Do you need an invitation?”

  “Well….” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Do ya remember how well I do around assholes?”

  Emlyn sighed and went to stand next to her handler. It was always best to stand far away from Ailith whenever she was the focus of the Commander’s attention.

  Shirin came the rest of the way down and stood in front of Ailith. She rested her hands on her hips, and since she was at least a head taller than the shiv, she leaned down and growled, “I remember what happened to you the last time you didn’t hold your tongue and do as you were told around an asshole.” She was referring, of course, to the time the Arch Priestess had whipped her for disobeying her when the Dreyuthan prince had come looking for Ailith.

  Sighing, Ailith bowed her head.

  Shirin glared a while longer to make her point crystal clear and then turned and made her way back up the stairs.

  Ailith glanced sideways and grinned at Emlyn, who merely rolled her eyes. The two were polar opposites, and Ailith’s antics often grated on Emlyn’s nerves. Although Emlyn couldn’t say she enjoyed Ailith’s mischievous side, she was very glad to see it had returned in all of its aggravating glory.

  When Ailith reached the top of the stairs, the Commander had already disappeared into the room the healers had taken over as their main base of operation. Ailith heard Octavia ordering people about, and she scratched her head. “Fowk.” She moved to the door and peered around the corner, hoping that would satisfy the Commander. It didn’t.

  Shirin glanced over her shoulder, snapped her fingers, and pointed to the floor next to her.

  Ailith obediently walked to where the Commander had pointed and stood with her hands clasped behind her back.

  Octavia’s shrill screeching grated on her nerves. “Who is the Master Healer here? I need to be seen by the Master Healer immediately. And if there is none in this squalid backwater of a town, I need the senior healer. Who is the senior healer here?”

  A woman brushed a strand of curly black hair out of her eyes and sighed. She wore the distinctive healer’s maroon and grey checked tunic, and she swiveled around, keeping hold of the bandage she was winding around a lolli’s arm. The lolli’s wrists were bloodied and scabbed over. She must have been shackled for quite a long time for them to have been rubbed raw and then partially healed,

  Assuming that the healer’s movement meant she was in charge, Octavia pulled herself to her full height and crossed her arms. “I demand you see to me, now.”

  Sinda looked to the Commander, who calmly said, “Healer Sinda will finish treating that woman first, Octavia, and if there are no others who are critical enough to be seen right away, she’ll see to you.”

  Giving the Commander a grateful look, Sinda returned to wrapping the lolli’s wrist.

  Octavia rounded on Shirin. “How dare you prioritize that filthy gutter rat over a noble of the Tuvistian aristocracy?”

  Ailith lowered her chin and scratched her forehead. She heard someone mutter, “Fowk,” but it wasn’t until the Commander slowly turned her head in her direction that Ailith realized the word had come from her own mouth. She flinched, expecting a cuff on the head. “Sorry, Commander. It just slipped out like bad gas, ya know? I didn’t know it was comin’.”

  Octavia marched over and poked Ailith in the chest. “You keep your mouth shut, you filthy —”

  “Enough, Octavia! I’ve had enough of you throwing your weight around. You’re in my city, and you’ll be a guest in my Temple, but you will not abuse my Blades or my trainee shivs.”

  Octavia sniffed and looked down her aristocratic nose at Ailith. “Shivs? Shivs? What kind of a stupid name is that? What’s a shiv, anyway?

  Not wanting any part of this battle, Ailith rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting for the Commander’s response.

  The Commander narrowed her eyes and glared at the woman. She turned and called over her shoulder, “Killian.”

  The sound of Killian, Emlyn’s handler, jogging up the stairs reached Ailith moments before she saw the woman’s wavy black hair framing a full, friendly face. Her warm hazel eyes searched the room, and when they came to rest on the Commander, she pulled herself upright and asked, “Aye?”

  “Find Prime Geller and ask her to report to me immediately.”

  Killian brought her fist to her chest and hurried back down the stairs.

  Shirin grabbed Octavia’s arms and dragged her from the room.

  Not sure whether she should follow, Ailith hesitantly stepped to the door and saw Shirin push Octavia against the wall. She didn’t use nearly as much force as she would with one of her Blades, but the sentiment was definitely the same. Leaning in until their faces nearly touched, Shirin growled, “Octavia, this is your last warning. Keep your opinions and your nobility to yourself.” She must have sensed Ailith standing in the doorway because she glanced her way and hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “Inside.”

  Ailith muttered to herself, “I wish ya’d make up yer fowkin’ mind.” She stepped back into the room and heard, “What was that?”

  Ailith stuck her head back around the corner. “Nothin’ at all, Commander.” She retreated back into the room and took up a post next to the door.

  Sinda smiled over at her. “I’ve never seen anyone push the Commander quite as far as you do, Ailith. I’m surprised your back isn’t raw from the flat of her sword.”

  Ailith squeezed her shoulders together and realized that with the exception of Geller’s painful reminder during their search, she hadn’t received the flat of anyone’s blade across any part of her body in quite a while. “Aye, well, I think I must be comin’ due. I hope not, but that poxy, noblewoman might just prove my undoin’.”

  “I think while the Commander is dealing with Lady Octavia, you should keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  The Commander came through the doorway alone this time. “Some very good advice, Ailith. I suggest you follow it.”

  At least, Ailith had thought the Commander was alone, but when Shirin came further into the room, she could see that she was holding onto Octavia’s arm in a none-too-gentle grip. Even though Octavia’s petulant look and pouty mouth amused Ailith, she pursed her lips and looked down at the ground, trying very hard not to smile.

  Pulling Octavia to a short box inside the room, Shirin unceremoniously pushed her down onto it.

  Octavia’s eyes narrowed, and she snarled, “How dare you treat me like a commoner. Just wait until King Aloric hears how you treated a Tuvistian noble.”

  That caught Ailith’s attention. She wondered if Octavia was friends with the portly Emperor. It was more probable that she was just using his name to get Shirin to treat her better. Ailith parked herself next to the door and stood at rest, her legs shoulder width apart with her hands clasped behind her back.

  When Geller arrived, Shirin pointed to the remaining captives and healers. “You’re in charge. I have to return to the Temple. I’m taking Ailith with me since Jenx is there with Ghost and Terrowyn.”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  The Commander pointed to Octavia. “You. With me.”

  Octavia’s brows rose on her eggshell-white face like two broken branches jutting up from a snow-covered canopy. “Don’t you speak to me as though I’m one of your people, Shirin Dorin Burchard. I grew up playing in the same castle as you, and you will not—”

  By that point, Shirin had made it to the door, and Ailith jumped when the Commander’s fist slammed into the hardwood, sending a loud bang echoing throughout the building.

  Ailith leaned back to peek behind the door to see if the knob had put a hole in the wall. Seeing that it had, she studied the Commander’s fist and made a mental note never to get her angry enough to use it on her. She whispered, “Okay, then.”

  The Commander’s face had turned a mid-range burgundy, and her jaw muscles were jumping as she stared at the door, trying to get her temper under control.

  Octavia must have realized she’d gone a step too far because she very primly stood and flounced out.

  Shirin pulled in a long breath and glared at Ailith, who immediately averted her eyes. The Commander spoke in a dangerous, quiet growl. “Okay, then, what?”

  Swallowing hard, Ailith shrugged. “Okay, then, Ailith, don’t get th’ Commander mad enough to punch ya in th’ face with those fists.”

  Shirin dropped her forehead onto her fingers and rubbed her temple. Before long, one side of her mouth lifted slightly. “More good advice.” She caught and held Ailith’s gaze. “But remember, Ailith. The only reason I’d ever punch you or any other Blade is if they’re attacking the Arch Priestess or one of my people.” She waited for Ailith to acknowledge her words, which she did with a nod. “Follow me, and remember, keep your mouth shut.”

  Ailith fell in behind the Commander. “Mouth shut. Got it.” She trudged through the back streets and alleys after them, tired from a long night’s work and hungry because she hadn’t had time to eat. Her stomach growled when they neared Market Square, where the smells of the bakeries assaulted her senses.

  Shirin must have heard the gurgling because she pulled a copper out of her pocket and flipped it back to her. “Get yourself a meat pasty. You earned it.”

  Octavia turned and snarled at her fellow Tuvistian. “You’d feed the peasant before you’d feed an old friend?”

  Ailith glared at the woman and growled a low sigh. “Look. A copper’s enough fer three pasties, Milady. Do ya want one?”

  “From these filthy bakeries? Not if my life depended on it.”

  Shirin held up two fingers, letting Ailith know she’d like one even if her poxy noble friend didn’t.

  Ailith left to find Master Oline, who made the best pasties in Sarlogne. She returned in time to see Octavia veering off down a side street. Shirin followed, but it was obvious to Ailith she was reluctant to do so.

  “Commander.”

  Shirin paused long enough for Ailith to jog up and hand her a pasty. When Octavia and Shirin ducked inside a dressmaker’s shop, Ailith stopped, turned, and leaned against the wall next to the shop’s only window. The sill extended past the actual opening, and she hiked her foot up and hooked her heel over its edge. The window was slightly open, and she overheard the two women arguing over who was going to pay for the most expensive dress in the shop.

  “I can’t present myself to the King or the Arch Priestess in rags, Shirin, and I obviously don’t have any coin. You’ll pay for it until Lord Grenlin comes for me. He’ll repay you handsomely.”

  “Step back into reality, Octavia. Lord Grenlin isn’t coming for you, and you don’t need the most expensive dress in the shop.”

  “I am a countess, and you’d do well to remember that. A countess wears a certain quality of dress, and I’ll accept no less than what I deserve.”

  “You’re a refugee now, and you’ll wear what I give you.”

  Glancing through the window, Ailith saw Shirin pull a very plain, off-white dress from a hanger and shove it into Octavia’s chest.

  With a pouty lift of her chin, Octavia handed a fancy pink gown back to the seamstress, angrily grabbed the dress from Shirin, and disappeared into a back room.

  When Shirin looked out the window to see where Ailith had gotten to, Ailith quickly looked away and popped the last of the pasty into her mouth. Pulling out her knife, she began cleaning her fingernails, hoping the Commander wasn’t going to ask her to come inside. Ailith had never worn a dress in her life and hated going into places where the women took one look at her and knew she was beneath their notice. That was just fine with her because she had very little time for them as well.

  Before long, Octavia came flouncing out the door in the new dress, and since she could see the Temple tower from where they were standing, she made a beeline toward it.

  When Shirin stepped into the doorway, she was stuffing her coin purse back into her belt pouch. She ignored Ailith, and when she started after Octavia, Ailith obediently fell in behind.

  Instead of turning into the Temple gates, Octavia headed straight for the castle.

  Shirin stopped and watched her go. Without looking at Ailith, she said, “You go in and get some rest.”

  Not needing to be told twice, Ailith hurried inside to grab some more breakfast before heading for her bed.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ghost had just fallen asleep from Kara’s potion when the bell in the city’s clock tower sounded eight times. As she stared down at the sleeping skelli, Terrowyn cocked her head, trying to remember why that time of day should mean something to her. Usually, that was her time to unwind in the dining hall with some good reading. Other Blades knew that a book in her hands was her signal that she wasn’t interested in their company, and, for the most part, they left her alone.

  It had been a long night, and she hadn’t gotten a single moment to grab a bite to eat. Unfortunately, they’d determined there was no way Ghost would allow a healer anywhere near the gash on her leg with a needle and thread, so she’d given the little skelli her first taste of extremely watered-down raspberry juice with caneleid powder mixed in. It wasn’t until she’d drunk it down that Terro had explained she’d start to feel sleepy, and in fact, the child had fallen asleep before she’d finished the explanation.