Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(2)

“If you’re not Weston Lark,” she says, “what’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Your mask is red, anyway,” she chatters on, heedless. I was thinking she might be fourteen or fifteen, but now I’m thinking she’s even younger. “The red makes you look like a fox. I heard Weston’s mask was black.”

“Go home.”

It doesn’t work. “Some people think your coins are a trap,” she says, striding along beside me. “My uncle calls you—”

“A trap!” I swing around to study her. “How could coins left in the middle of the night be a trap?”

“Well, some of the rumors said that Prince Corrick was pretending to be Weston Lark so he could trick people into revealing the smugglers.” Her eyes are wide and guileless. “So he could execute them.”

I snort and keep walking. “That feels like a lot of effort for a man who can execute anyone he likes.”

“So you don’t think that’s true?”

“I have a hard time imagining the brother to the king was secretly dressing as an outlaw to catch smugglers.”

“Well, he’s called Cruel Corrick for a reason. Or do you think the king is the vicious—ouch!” She stumbles, then grabs my arm for balance, hopping on one foot.

She’s making so much noise that I have half a mind to jerk free and leave her here. But I’m not heartless. I swallow a sigh and look down.

She’s barefoot, holding one foot high off the ground. A streak of blood glistens along the pale stretch of her heel, black in the moonlight.

“Is it bad?” she’s saying, and there’s a hint of a tremor in her voice.

“I can’t tell. Sit.”

She sits, folding her leg over her opposite knee. Blood drips into the grass below. Something gleams in the wound, either a sharp rock or a bit of steel.

She grimaces. “Ma will kill me.”

“You made so much noise, the night patrol might beat her to it.” I drop my pack in the grass, then crouch to study her injury. “You should’ve gone home.”

“I wanted to know who you are. My cousin won’t believe I caught you.”

“You didn’t catch me. Hold still.” I pull the muslin-wrapped biscuits out of my pack and unwind the fabric. I hold out the food to her. “Here.”

She frowns, but takes it. I move to pull the debris free, but then think better of it. I give her a level look. “This might hurt. You need to stay quiet.”

She clenches her teeth and nods fiercely.

I close my fingers on the offending item and tug it free. She squeals and nearly yanks her ankle out of my grasp, but I keep a tight grip and give her a warning glare. She sucks in a breath and goes still.

Blood is flowing freely down her foot now, but I put a fold of muslin against the wound, then swiftly wrap up her foot, tearing the ends so I can knot it in place.

She blinks tears out of her eyes, but none fall. “What was it? A rock?”

I shake my head. “An arrowhead.”

“From the night patrol?”

I shrug. “From someone wearing shoes, most likely.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“You’ll have to flush that when you get home,” I say. I straighten, then sling the pack over my shoulder. I’ll have to find a new route after this. I don’t need people sitting in the dark, waiting for me—not even a girl who’s barely more than a child. “Be safe,” I say. “I have to go.”

She scrambles to her feet, limping on her injured one. “But I still don’t know your name!”

“Call me whatever you want,” I say. “I won’t come this way again.”

“No!” she calls. “Wait. Please. This is my fault—you don’t—” Her voice breaks like she’s going to cry. “You don’t know how much we all need—”

I turn back and slap a hand over her mouth. “Do you truly want to draw the night patrol?”

She shakes her head quickly, mollified. “But your food,” she murmurs behind my hand, holding out the biscuits I’d given her.

You don’t know how much we all need …

I do know how much they all need. The outlaws Wes and Tessa once provided a lot to these people. I’ve heard so many stories that it makes my head spin. I can’t make up for their disappearance with a few coins left here and there. I’m not entirely sure why I keep trying.

“Keep the food.” I drop my hand, then fish in my pouch for more coins. “And keep your silence.” I hold them out.

She looks at the coins in my palm, then nods quickly and swipes them.

An alarm bell begins ringing in the Royal Sector, and she jumps. I sigh. “Go home.”

“You’ll come back?” she says.

I give her a stern look. “As long as no one is waiting in the shadows next time.”

She beams, and it lights up her face. “I promise.”

“What’s your name?” I say.

“Violet.”

“Take care of that foot, Violet.”

She nods. “Thank you, Fox.”

That makes me smile. I touch the brim of my hat to her, then sprint into the darkness.