Gates of Thread and Stone(8)

“I just wanted to see her once,” he said. He spoke quietly, but I had no trouble hearing him over the hushed crowd. “Can you let her know I came? Or give her this for me?”

“Just go away,” said a man near the front. His voice trembled. Everyone around him nodded in agreement.

The man’s eyes lowered, the slip of paper crumpling in his fist. Without another word, he turned. Those behind him leaped aside to let him through, and the crowd began to break up as he marched away.

I had no sympathy for the sentinel. He’d chosen to leave us for the decadence of the White Court.

He bent his head, his hand dragging through his shoulder-length hair.

There—at the base of his neck—was a red, oblong tattoo.

My feet charged forward. Without thinking, I shouted at his back, “Hey!”

He looked over his shoulder.

“Hey,” I repeated stupidly. The tattoo was just visible, the scarred skin raised like welts beneath the red ink.

He flipped his hair back into place and yanked his collar up higher. My face grew hot. I hadn’t meant to stare.

It wasn’t any of my business, and he had a right to his secrets.

But it was still worth a shot. “What is that on your neck?”

The way his eyes narrowed was answer enough. He began to leave again.

“Wait,” I said. I gestured to the letter. “I’ll give it to her for you. What’s her name?”

He just watched me. I shifted awkwardly and rubbed my palms against my sides.

“If you want,” I added.

“Lila Sevins,” he said curtly. He handed me the crumpled note.

“Your sister?”

“My mother. Thanks.” He didn’t sound convinced that I would really do it. I didn’t blame him.

I smoothed out the note and then slid it into my pocket. For some reason, I wanted to reassure him. Reev would want me to.

“I promise I’ll get it to her.”

He went still. Then he nodded. “Thanks,” he said again, and this time, it sounded like he meant it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “that you couldn’t see her.” But if he had loved his mother enough to come back, he shouldn’t have left her in the first place.

“Won’t matter after tonight anyway.” He continued up the path toward the bridge.

I watched him go. Red flashed beneath his hair. My jaw tightened, and I looked away.

After work, I’d find Lila.



Reev was late.

I rolled onto my side and opened my eyes. I could make out the lines of the empty cot across from me in the dark. I strained my ears, listening for the telltale creak of footsteps out in the hall.

Reev was never late.

I drew a slow breath through my nose and released it through my mouth. And then again. It didn’t help the fear stirring in my gut. Reev was big enough that most people left him alone, and he could defend himself if he ran into trouble. I still didn’t feel any better.

Maybe he’d gone to Angee’s. The thought made me grimace.

Reev was entitled to a personal life, even if it made me feel . . . I didn’t know how I felt about it. Uncomfortable. Unsure. Left out. I groaned into my pillow. Could I be any more pathetic?

It wasn’t the fact that she was a prostitute that bothered me. In Ninurta, you did what you needed to survive. To be honest, I didn’t know if anyone would ever be good enough in my eyes for Reev.

For as far back as I could remember, it had been the two of us. I didn’t like having to share him, no matter how childish that was.

Few people would’ve taken responsibility for a kid picked up off the riverbank, and Reev had still been a kid himself. When he turned eighteen, he looked into officially adopting me, but simply filing the request cost more than he could afford. He continued to bring up the idea over the years, but I told him that it didn’t matter. Those were credits better spent on keeping us alive.

I buried my face in my pillow. Reev had taken care of me for long enough; he deserved his own time.

After work, I had kept my promise to the sentinel. It had taken me an hour, but I found Lila. She lived in the southernmost section of the Labyrinth in a freight container caving in on one side. When I told her who’d given me the letter, I thought she’d slam the door in my face. Instead she had taken it with a scowl and then slammed the door. But I had heard her muffled sobs through the metal walls.

That kind of pain—it was why I’d given up any real hope of finding a familiar face a long time ago. The citizen registry said I had no living relatives, and I had no reason to believe that wasn’t true. In fact, I wanted it to be true. It would mean they hadn’t chosen to leave me.

An hour later, I gave up trying to sleep and rose from my cot to light the lantern, which cast a warm glow across the metal walls. My internal clock told me it had to be about seven. The only breakfast waiting for me in the cupboard was the leftover sandwich, which I had no appetite for, so I threw off Reev’s shirt that I liked to sleep in and pulled on a pair of worn pants and a belted tunic. Then I grabbed my toiletries and made a quick visit to the washroom. I hated it in there; the smell hit you like a roiling wall of fumes, and the staff only got around to cleaning it—not very well—once every couple of weeks.

When I finished and Reev had yet to appear, I began worrying in earnest.