The thought of Father showing up at the Queen’s Prison to bargain for my release makes me choke.
“Jessamy!”
I almost leap out of my skin.
Lord Kalliarkos rushes up, wearing the same rich clothing he wore on the balcony. The gold scarf flapping at his neck marks his grandmother’s royal lineage, so naturally the soldiers give way at once. He hauls me over to the spider captain.
“My lord,” says the captain wearily, as if he already knows what is going to happen.
Kalliarkos is so highborn he does not even identify himself. “You may release this young person into my custody.”
Soldiers avert their faces, knowing better than to smirk. I wish a trap would open and swallow me. Coriander’s brother’s look of disgust is like hot ash blown in my face.
The captain’s words fall with rigid politeness. “Then if you will be so kind, my lord, and move out of the way of our operation, I would be all gratitude.”
Oblivious to the man’s contempt, Kalliarkos tugs me past the spider scouts. The dead child is gone, having left behind a puddle of blood and a forgotten little sandal with one broken strap.
“Why are you here?” I demand as I trot along beside him. I’m too breathless and too horrified by what I’ve just seen to be in awe of a rich young lord sweeping out of nowhere to rescue me.
“You never told me where you train.”
“You followed me to find out where I train? You must be desperate, my lord.”
His smile has an edge. “You should be very glad right now that I am that desperate.”
My father’s words dog me: You will never speak to him again. But I need answers. “How did you know I was here?”
“After your father took you off the balcony I made my way around to the servants’ area. I just meant to find out where you live but when I saw you leaving I followed. Good fortune for me that you got yourself into trouble. Now we can talk.”
“Good fortune? There’s a dead child, and people getting arrested!”
His bitter smile curls into frowning displeasure. Without a word he leads us to a long straight stair set off with tall railings and guarded by silent soldiers. They bow to Kalliarkos and let us pass. We climb forty steps in silence. No one else uses these stairs; they must be reserved for highborn Patrons. At a landing he pauses, setting a foot on a bench.
“My lord, I beg your pardon for my disrespect.” The placating words stick in my throat because I am still angry, but no lord will let the likes of me scold him. He can destroy my father’s career. “I have no right to speak to you that way.”
“No, you are right to speak. It is easy for me to make light of a situation that does not threaten me. Honesty isn’t disrespect.”
He gazes thoughtfully over the roofs and awnings of the Ribbon Market. The many lanes and stalls take up almost all of the crater. A thread of smoke marks the place where I was captured. Spider scouts moving through the narrow alleys flash as the sun hits their polished carapaces at just the right angle. It reminds me of how a good adversary can use the sun’s light to gauge where traps are concealed. There are a lot of clues and cues an astute player picks up on. Kalliarkos’s tense posture tells me something. I just have no idea what.
I can’t help but notice the things Amaya would. His profile has the classic beauty of the Patrons in the slope of his cheekbones, the curve of his eyebrows, the cut of his eyes. His black hair is so short it stands straight up, and with a restless gesture he combs a hand through its stiff strands.
“I didn’t mean to force the secret of you running the Fives from you like that,” he goes on. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He looks so serious that I nod like I’m tendering a payment even though I feel all at sea, unable to gain my footing. “My thanks, my lord.”
He looks relieved that I am not angry at him, as if a lord would ever care about my feelings. “You can thank me by telling me where you train. If I don’t master Rings I can’t win ten Novice trials and become a Challenger. If I don’t get good enough to run as a Challenger, my family will send me into the army. That’s the last thing I want.”
“Every Patron man wants to distinguish himself in the army.”
“I don’t.”
“How can you not want to serve in the army? The army is the glory of Efea. Soldiers are the truest servants of King Kliatemnos and Queen Serenissima. It is the army that keeps Efea’s people safe!”
“You’re a captain’s daughter. That’s all you’ve ever heard. It’s not why we fight.”