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“Explanations. Secrets. Yes, this all sounds very safe already.”
She got that motherly touch of snark in before whipping back into her bedroom, gathering the necessities for travel. Ren obeyed her mother’s instructions, sliding into the bright red cloak she’d set out. As she did, a gnawing discomfort began to grow in her stomach. She had the same feeling she’d had when she first landed in that dark forest. She’d rolled over on her side and found Timmons sprawled impossibly beside her. Even though she’d only intended to bring Theo and Clyde into the wilderness, her friend had been drawn in by the same spell. It was an accident, but it was Ren’s fault. And that moment had wound inevitably to Timmons’s death.
Most of the time, Ren could compartmentalize. Carefully set emotions aside in order to complete the task at hand. It was one of her strengths. But that did not mean the emotions weren’t there. She felt them, pooling in the darkest corner of her mind. All of the grief and pain and shame over what happened last year. For now, her barriers were holding. She knew they would break, however, if she ended up drawing her mother into a similar danger. She’d have to move quickly in Ravinia, find out if the rumors were true, and return home before the Broods took note of her absence. She just hoped she’d chosen the right trail to follow. Her plans depended on it.
6 REN MONROE
Her mother’s instructions were strange, but she knew the docks better than Ren. The two of them parted ways. Ren aimed for the larger market down in the Lower Quarter. She walked slowly, allowing any Brood spies in the vicinity an opportunity to collect themselves and follow her trail. Perhaps she was guilty of thinking too highly of herself, imagining that the Broods cared enough to waste such resources on her. But with Theo leaving for Nostra, she suspected that she’d be watched even more closely until her new work began. The Broods did not suffer lapses in concentration. She’d need to turn their focus against them.
Ren found the store her mother had noted. A simple apothecary shop. She paused by the windowfront, pretending to admire something, and then entered. Heavy-handed scents pressed forward against her senses. A wall of candles stood directly in front of her, all earthen, natural colors. Plants coiled down from the ceilings. The rest of the space was dominated by great cabinets that Ren knew were full of the powdered substances that guided different types of magic.
Before she could even step fully inside, the clerk gave a hand signal. Ren followed the directions, moving to her right, deeper into the store. In the very back corner, she found a girl waiting. She was a similar height and build to Ren. Her hair was the same color. Only her skin tone was slightly darker—as Ren had paled some during her time at Balmerick. The girl didn’t bother speaking. She simply unlatched her cloak and held it out. Ren offered her bright red one in return.
The girl studied Ren for a moment. She turned to a hanging mirror and began adjusting her hair to match. She fastened the cloak, turned back, and nodded.
“Your mother said you should wait a few minutes. I’ll lead them up toward Beckers Street.”
“Understood. Thank you for your help.”
“No need to thank me. I’d do anything for Old Agnes.”
Ren nearly laughed. “I wouldn’t let her catch you calling her old.”
The girl frowned. “Everyone calls her that.”
Before Ren could say more, the girl slid past her. She gathered up a prepared satchel, cumbersome and distracting, before backing through the entrance and rushing up the nearest street. If all went to plan, the spies would trail her for a while before they realized she wasn’t Ren. Which left the real Ren waiting in that dark corner of the apothecary, alone with her thoughts.
Everyone calls her that.
She wondered when her mother had picked up a nickname: Old Agnes. It felt strange. The idea that her mother might have carved some new identity in the world Ren had abandoned. Another reminder that while Ren maneuvered in the clouds—another world labored on below. She knew she would do well not to forget that. After all, her father had died for this place and these people.
A few customers came and went. Ren slipped quietly back outside. The market was churning to life. Ren had no idea if their ploy had worked, but she felt the slightest burden lift from her shoulders. It was nice to think that Landwin Brood didn’t see everything that happened in this city. It breathed hope into what she planned to do next.
She aimed for the docks. The market spaces were welcoming. There were natural paths for customers, intentionally carved out to lure a person deeper into their chaos. Not the docks. This was not the place for a casual stroll. A misstep here would be punished. The bustle existed not as a show—but by design. Pure efficiency. Unwelcome guests earned cold stares or lowered shoulders. As a child, she’d seen more than a handful of people knocked into the water simply for standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Ren had learned the dance back then. She sidestepped a pair of haulers heaving massive crates onto an open barge. Around a trio of strong-armed deckhands who were executing timed pulls to bring a boat closer to the docks. Ren noticed a boy, no older than seven, sitting cross-legged on one of the thick pilings, fingers performing nimble work on a fishing net. Ren had sat there, once, though she’d always had her nose buried in a book. Her mother waited at the far end of the docks.
“We’ll be aboard the Transient,” she whispered. “Their captain owes me a favor. He’s agreed to let us stow away. The crew knows to keep their mouths shut. No listing on the official manifest, but the cost is our comfort. There aren’t any… suites on these ships.”
Ren rolled her eyes. “Very subtle, Mother. Thank you for preparing me for dire conditions.”
Her mother feigned looking around. “Oh. Dear. Did you forget to invite your butler?”
“I don’t have a butler. Gods, Mother. You act like I want to live up there. As if…”
She trailed off. Her mother didn’t know Ren’s true goal. She’d never been brave enough to breathe it aloud to anyone else. The point of all this was not gold and luxury. It was about fire and blood. She was not simply advancing through the ranks of their society to secure some vain comfort for herself. The intention was to destroy the people who’d destroyed their family. Without that knowledge, Ren knew it might look as if she’d simply been lured in by the royal houses of Kathor, as if she simply wanted a pampered life.
“You forget whose daughter I am.”
Those words drew a more serious look from her mother. “I could never forget that, but I am glad to know that you haven’t forgotten. Come. Let’s board.”
The Transient was unremarkable. A single bright sail above a deck of long-faded wood. The crew had finished stuffing crates into the hold and now set to the task of unlashing the bone-thick ropes from the docks. The captain—short and round and talkative—greeted them in one breath and berated a lazy deckhand with the next. Ren found herself smiling. He was a lot like her father’s friends. The men who’d come over to play cards and laughed long into the night. They were led with little ceremony to a closet. Someone had stuffed a single pillow and a set of tattered blankets inside.
“Oh,” her mother said. “Well… this is…”
“What?” Ren asked, goading. “Something wrong, Mother? Is the suite not to your liking?”
That earned a withering look. Ever stubborn, her mother reached down and began fluffing the nearly featherless pillow. She spread out the blanket and sat, reclining as if they were on the verge of enjoying the finest picnic in the world.
“It looks comfortable enough to me. You wanted a ship. I got you a ship.”
