Page 115 of City of Stone and Silence

“Of course I’m serious!” I grab the collar of his robe. “You’re about five minutes from getting torn to pieces here. I rotting warned you!”

“But—”

“Please. Just get out of here. Go back to your father.”

“What about you?”

I knew he was going to ask that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “I’m not leaving.”

“They’ll kill you.”

I don’t know which they he means, the rebels or the government. Either seems likely. I shrug.

“No,” he says. “I won’t let that happen—”

“You don’t get a choice,” I tell him. “I have to find Isoka. I’m not going to get a better chance.”

“My father can help, if you come with me.”

He believes it, I can tell that much without my Kindre senses. But Lord Marka isn’t going to have any reason to help me, not if it means going up against Kuon Naga. I shake my head.

“Just go,” I tell him. “Before it’s too late.”

“Tori,” he says. “I love you.”

I shove him out the window.

An hour later, the safe house is almost empty.

Hasaka was finally pushed aside, and a gang of angry rebels rushed into the barracks, only to find Garo gone. They didn’t pay me much attention, just ran back out again to spread the news. I heard the shouting rise to a new pitch.

I hope Garo didn’t hurt himself in the fall. I didn’t see him on the street outside, at least.

After that, nobody seemed to know what to do next. Some people tried to find Garo. Others fled, assuming the rebellion was finished. The majority, though, looked to the rest of their leaders for guidance, and bit by bit Hasaka, Hotara, and Jakibsa reasserted their authority. The red sashes remembered they were supposed to obey their officers, and went back to preparing for an assault from the Imperial authorities.

Hasaka keeps coming in to ask me what he should do. When I finally manage to rouse myself to go back into the common room—filthy now with tracked mud and debris—Hotara gives me a nod, and Giniva asks if I have any messages that need to be delivered.

Is it Kindre? Some side effect, so subtle I don’t even notice? Or is it just habit, left over from when I delivered orders in Grandma’s name?

I’ve been fourteen for less than a month. Why in the Blessed’s name are they expecting me to know anything?

I want to laugh, or to cry.

If I’d stayed in the Second Ward, like Isoka wanted, none of this would have happened. Or else I’d be cowering there with the other nobles, waiting to see if the rebels are going to kill us all.

Not that there was ever any chance of that. I’m not who my sister thought I was. Not who I pretended to be.

Monster. It’s a mocking chant in my ear. Monster, monster, monster.

Downstairs, in the basement, the Immortal captain is waiting for me. The two red-sashed guards have stuck nervously to their posts through all the excitement. When I dismiss them, they hurry away eagerly, and I let myself into the cell. No warnings about the danger this time.

The captain looks at me with a strange expression, almost thoughtful. She seems aged, as though her time in captivity has added years to her features. There are angry red welts at her wrists and ankles where the chains have chafed.

“Hello, little sister,” she says. Her tone is still defiant. “How is the revolution going?”

“I want to know what happened to Isoka,” I say.

“I want to get out of here and see you all hanged,” she says. “Tell you what. Come with me back to Kuon Naga, and maybe we can both get what we’re looking for. He wants you badly, you know.”