The Queen's Champion

Chapter 19

“Listen all ye, fuckers!” Joan sings as she rides into the main hall on Paul’s shoulders. Then there’s a thud as her forehead smacks against a metal beam.

David sidesteps the two and rolls his eyes. “We found out who Gardenia is.”

The hall delves into whoops and hollers, and some polite clapping from Thalia’s general direction. Edgar gets on top of his chair and strips his shirt off, waving it over his head. From the kitchen, Ricardo curses at him and screams to get his filthy shoes off the cushions.

“Yes, yes, let’s call a meeting,” Trimble says as he brushes David by. Galia slinks in behind him along with Jerome, who they grabbed on their way.

“Everyone’s here,” Thalia says flatly. “Aside from Zhukov, but I don’t know where he is. Per usual.”

“We don’t f*****g need him!” Edgar grabs Lydia by the waist and lifts her up, spinning her in a circle. “Whooooo! We got a name!”

“Mr. Wakefield, put me down at once!”

David ignores the chaos and walks over to the table. Behind him, Joan and Paul are still trying to figure out the logistics of getting her down. He ignores that too.

Vasco and Anthony  are moving to the main table, Vasco taking what was David’s seat. Anthony  nods to him with his lips pressed together as David approaches.

“I just wanted to say thanks for putting me to bed the other night,” he says, touching them both on the shoulder. Rose isn’t here to thank, he saw her scurrying back to the kitchen the moment the meeting was announced, but he’ll mention it to her later. “My alcohol tolerance is a lot lower than I remembered. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Eh.” Vasco flips his hand, grinning. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

No doubt he has. David, at least, didn’t maim him while he was trying to help.

Anthony  is still looking to the floor. “It’s fine,” he says, even though David can tell it’s not. “But you’re feeling better now?”

“Much.”

“Did you do anything yesterday besides stare at the ceiling?”

“I did.” He put his pistol in his mouth and weighed the pros and cons of blowing his f*****g head off. That counted as an activity. “I went outside for a bit. Just needed to be alone with my thoughts.”

Anthony  gives him a look that somehow looks both accusing and pitiful. And David knows that Anthony  understands. It’s that he doesn’t trust David to be alone.

David’s fingers find Anthony ’s hair, ruffles it. “We’re a step closer. We’ll be home soon.”

Then he steps to the side, intending on sitting in Lizzy’s seat, as she’d probably just sit in David’s lap whether there was a free chair for her or not. Galia, however, comes up behind him and pulls him towards the head of the table. “Come on, you get to present.”

“Why do I have to present?”

“You’re the one who interrogated Hypatia, so you get to present our findings.”

“I didn’t interrogate s**t, all I did was throw her a fish.” David rolls his eyes, folding his arms. Then drops them when he realizes everyone is staring at him. “So, yeah, we managed to bribe Alex with fish, idea courtesy of Vasco.” David motions while everyone takes a moment to clap. “And I’m just going to call you that because I can’t pronounce your first name.”

Vasco laughs and shakes his head. “It’s okay, nobody can.”

Anthony  turns to him with a look of horror on his face. “Oh s**t, that isn’t your name, is it?”

“No, but you can call me whatever you want.”

“This is like Eugene all over again. Crap. I’m really sorry.”

Everyone returns to looking at him again. David roots around for what he was about to say. When was the last time he ever had to give a formal speech or...any speech? Was it Sabrina’s coronation, his Protector vows? How the hell had she done this? He remembers her practicing a lot. She got better at ad-libbing as she got older, but public speaking was always one of the Empress skills that didn’t come easily to her. Still better than David was.

“Right.” He swallows. “So we have a name. Breanna Ashworth. We-” He stops to glare as Edgar and Jerome begin exchanging money. Lizzy, currently situated on Edgar’s lap, turns around and slaps him.

“Can you wait?” she hisses.

“Oi, watch the face! It’s my only asset left!”

David exhales out of his nose. “If you’re done acting like children, I’ll continue. Like I was saying.” He rolls his shoulders back. “Breanna Ashworth has been leading Delilah’s coven for at least a year. Alex says they’re currently based out of Brigmore Manor in the Mutcherhaven District. And if anyone can tell me why that name rings bells for me, I’d appreciate it.”

“David’s old man brain is starting to catch up with him,” Joan says with a grin, which is quickly wiped away with the ball of paper David throws at her head.

Anthony , meekly, raises his hand. “I don’t know how you heard about it, but, um...they were planning to take me there. Right before you came to free me from Timsh’s.”

“Oh.” David blinks. “Right. They were...going to move you.”

Anthony  just shrugs. “I didn’t know it was their base, but I probably should have mentioned it anyway. Sorry.”

“Nah, kid, if you told us everything Kald-witch said to you, you’d probably go nuts. I feel like I am every time I think about her nasty voice.”

David’s...so glad he got there when he did. If he’d just been just an hour later, Anthony  wouldn’t have been in Timsh’s attic anymore. They would have had him knocked out, bound up like a hog to move him across district lines. How the hell would David have found him at Brigmore?

He supposes he could have gotten the information from Timsh. Broke his fingers and wrung it from his lips. But how would he have infiltrated a den of witches then? Like this, he stuck out, and transversing the place his usual way would have been far too dangerous with the witches on relatively even ground, when even the most minor slip-up would result in Breanna just holding a blade to Anthony ’s throat, and then David would have no choice but to stand down. He’d probably have had to wait for this, the party, where he could blend in. David still wouldn’t have Anthony  back. Anthony  would still be locked up, waiting for his sister or David to come rescue him, biding off the wretching suspicions that they were both dead. And who knows what Delilah could have done with him as her hostage, knowing someone was out there trying to take down her regime?

David doesn’t want to think about that.

“They told you they were going to move you?” Thalia leans forward with her eyebrows raised. “I thought you weren’t told much of anything. I can’t imagine they told you it was because David had killed Luca Abele.”

“She thinks David’s dead,” Joan reminds them. “They think I killed Abele.”

Trimble raises a finger, eyes still trained on his stupid notebook. “I was going to ask you about that, Elizabeth. Why do all those posters only describe you and not David?”

“Because I’m the one who got spotted, genius. I ain’t as good with the stealth. David’s like a f*****g phantom; once he steps into the shadows, you’re not gonna see him until he wants you to.”

“I was told,” Anthony  detracts. “That David had been executed immediately, for his part in my sister’s assassination. Obviously, I didn’t believe that. There wouldn’t be a reason to keep me hidden if she weren’t hiding me from someone.”

She wasn’t hiding Anthony  from anyone. Anthony  had seen Sabrina be murdered. He knew David hadn’t killed her. If Anthony  had been allowed to take the throne right away, he could have reversed David’s execution order. That’s all there was to it.

But that makes David wonder-why didn’t Delilah kill him sooner? Having him sign the confession for Sabrina’s murder wasn’t necessary for her plans. Due to the supposed eyewitnesses in Abele and Hypatia, no trial or confession had been necessary to declare David guilty. Was it really just her desire to see him suffer? She’d be able to rule as Regent anyway until Anthony ’s eighteenth birthday, and then she’d have the rest of their lives to rule through him as his wife.

What was she waiting for?

“But no, I wasn’t told Abele had been killed.” Anthony  folds his hands together very nicely on the table. “She told me someone very dear to her had been abducted. A family member. And that she was nervous her information was compromised, so she was moving me to a more secure location.”

A what now? The only people who went missing that night were one of the Pendleton brothers, who were only very, very distantly related to the Kaldwins, and Joshua Copper, who was a literal slave of Abele’s. Unless...was she talking about Emily?

“What f*****g family member?” Joan echoes his thoughts. “Kaldwin doesn’t have any family. That’s why she’s so mighty and powerful, because she inherited the entire Kaldwin fortune.”

“Wait.” Galia holds up a finger. “Does Delilah have kids? That seems really familiar for some reason.”

“No, you’re thinking of Catriona.” Lydia says. “Her sister. Supposedly, she was pregnant when she was murdered. Terrible tragedy.”

Joan squints. “Do you, like, have proof of this?”

“Well, no-”

“Then why bring it up? Don’t spread bullshit about a dead lady, seriously. That’s bad luck.”

Rumor or not, the thought makes David’s stomach turn over. Only Attano could have been the father, in that case. Had he known? Had he knowingly butchered both his lover and his unborn child?

A monster. David will be doing the world a favor in destroying him. Emily will be better off without a father who murdered her sibling for a perceived slight of their mother’s.

No, the thought makes him feel physically ill. It’s not true, he tells himself. They are thinking about Delilah’s pregnancy-with Emily. Catriona Kaldwin was not with child when she died. The thought is just...too sickening to entertain.

“This is only what she told Anthony , remember,” Vasco says calmly. “She could very well have been lying.”

Right. She was lying. No one was missing, she was just making up excuses to avoid telling Anthony  one of her critical allies had been butchered. Nobody was kidnapped. Emily was, and is, safe at home with her father. Or at least she will be until David murders him and finds the girl a new home.

“In any case, there was no way for you to have known Brigmore was their base,” David tells Anthony . “For all you knew, it was just another civilian’s home.”

“I know, but...still.”

“It’s fine.” He waves him away. “For now, we have our next mission.”

“They’re holding a fake-ass ball. The same night Boyle and her sisters are throwing theirs,” Joan snorts, then turns to Lydia. “They’re real jealous of your fancypants.”

Lydia looks nonplussed. “Breanna is aware that she can buy the same pants I wear, is she not? The Ashworths are old money. She doesn’t need to fake high society.”

“f**k if I know what goes on in those witchy heads. Probably a whole lotta nothing.”

“Joan and I will have to infiltrate the party,” David interrupts. “There’s no way around it, so I don’t want to hear any objections. And before any of you ask, no, you aren’t invited.”

“Mutcherhaven is far from here,” Anthony  says, biting his lip.

“I know. Lizzy’s skiff won’t get us there.” Well, it could if they gassed up right before leaving. They might very well find a supply of oil to refuel at Brigmore, but that wasn’t guaranteed and it left David and Joan with the possibility of being stranded. That’s not even taking into consideration how slow Melusine is in comparison to boats built for that kind of trip. “We’re still working out the details.”

“We could take my river barge. Oh, wait, we can’t because I used the engine coil to get this place’s power back up! And then Edgar lost the combination for the engine room!”

Edgar rubs his smacked knee resentfully. “Ow, Catspaw, I said I was sorry!”

“We will figure. Out. The Details. Later.” David fixes them both with a glare that straightens them up.

Anthony  raises his hand again. “That’s a good point too, but I’m just saying...you’ll be really far away. I don’t like the idea of you two being several days upriver with no backup.”

“Aw, Tommy, I’ll keep an eye on your dad. Scout’s promise.”

“I don’t like you being there either.”

“You got me. I never was a scout.”

“Anthony  has a point,” David says, holding up a finger.

“I...do?”

“Yes. If anything went wrong, one of us went down or something, we’re too far away to rely on anyone here for aid.” David doesn’t think he can Summon from that far away. He hasn’t actually tested it-but a two-day journey upriver into the heart of a witchy hornet’s nest is not the ideal place for that. “Fleet. Blanchard.” They both straighten up automatically. “How do you feel about crashing a party?”

Galia looks unamused, and still more than a little sleepy. Paul, however, begins practically dancing in his chair. “Oooh! Do we get to dress up?”

“We’ll have to.”

“f**k yeah, this is going to be tight!” He claps, then his smile slides off his face as he turns to Thalia. “I mean, I can have the night off, right? You won’t need me here. And you’re too young to go to the Boyle party, so you’ll be home anyway.”

She sniffs, tosses her stiff bob over her shoulder. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Sweet! You’re the best!”

That’ll work. Paul can’t Blink, but he still feels the pull of David’s Summon. And he assumes that Paul and Galia can Call to him like Joan can, if they run into trouble, but he wants to test that before they go. Have Joan show them how to activate it. He doesn’t want surprises, not at Brigmore.

“And that brings us to our next problem.” David points to Jerome. “We’re going to need new clothes.”

“Like,” Joan holds up her hands. “Fancy s**t, we gotta blend in, but make it murdery. Can you do that?”

Jerome raises his eyebrows. “So, couture with armor.”

“And pockets for our knives and shit.”

“Okay, yeah, I can do that.” Jerome nods to himself. “I’ll have to talk it over with the- Eugene, he’d have better ideas, but I can scrounge something up.”

“We only have ten days,” David says, hoping his tone is somewhat apologetic. “Can you do four outfits in that time?”

“Oh, totally. Might not be the finest handiwork, but it’ll pass under some dim lights.” He looks down at the table. “Wait, do I have to make it witchy? How do I do that, staple some pansies on?”

“You do whatever you need to do, Jerome.”

“Oooh, can you dress me up like a poison ivy bush?” Joan tucks one of her legs under the other.

Paul holds up his hand to stop David from turning away. “Wait, David, can I dress up as a literal witch? Like, with fake boobs and everything?”

“I don’t give a f**k what any of you do. Just don’t give us away, and don’t. Embarrass. Me.”

“Oh, you asked for it, old man.”

David wakes again with a shudder. Cold sweat at his forehead, bits of his dwindling hair sticking to his skin. He absentmindedly pushes it back.

Dreaming about him again. Just the thought of his face sends David’s stomach twisting, makes him feel like he’s going to lose his dinner. He briefly considers running downstairs to the bathroom, in case that does actually happen, but the nausea passes after sitting with his head in between his knees for a solid minute.

It’s been twenty-seven years. Twenty-seven years and David still remembers that asshole’s face, still sees it when he closes his eyes. It’s been twenty-seven years and David still isn’t free. But he accepted a long time ago that he’d never truly be free from the Actor.

But he hasn’t...the dreams stopped. Mostly. The memories of Sabrina’s death and David’s time in Coldridge, all the mockery and playing off his fears his dreams do, those have taken their place as his regular nighttime terrors. Even before that, other things dominated his nightmares. Watching his streetrats die was always a common theme. He hasn’t held a starring role in David’s dreams for years.

He banished them, all thoughts of that man from his head after moving to Dunwall. Of course it didn’t truly work, but was able to sleep at night without shaking awake and wondering for one long, horrible minute whether the past few years were all just his willful imagination and if he was still that child, and how stupid he was for thinking he could hide and f**k was he going to get it now for trying to run away again. He pushed all those down. Numbed those feelings in any way he could stand. And the nightmares abated.

They resurfaced when David took Sabrina in. Stayed for another few years, through their move to the Tower and Sabrina’s coronation. Didn’t happen that way with Anthony . David never really figured out why that was. Perhaps it was because Sabrina was the exact type of child the Actor was interested in-spirited, homeless, possessed the same set of traits and skills that made David such an attractive find. Anthony  would have been overlooked-cute, yes, but lacked those quick fingers and agile feet. Good for distractions, nothing more. The Actor wouldn’t have thought him worth it. Wouldn’t have thought him fun to break. Not like he did with David. And David knows that if he’d met Sabrina back then, under the Actor’s control, he would have been tasked with luring her in.

David wants to say that he wouldn’t stand for it-but he thinks back to those days, all the things he did then. All the people he hurt. All the times stood by silently, and watched. Helped. Even for Sabrina? That’s a question he can never quite bring himself to answer.

He knows, logically, that Sabrina and the Actor existed of two separate worlds. Sabrina hadn’t even been born yet, when David freed himself from the Actor for the final time. But dreams don’t care for logic, and they force him to watch the Actor hold her down and do what he pleases with her. Beats her. Strangles her until she passes out. Violates her with his fingers and the barrel of his pistol, joking about how funny it’d be if it went off inside her. The dreams can’t even give her the dignity of womanhood-not that being of age would make any of it okay, but f**k, it would be better than seeing the Actor kneel between her runty legs, putting his filthy hands all over her boyish, pre-pubescent body. Cooing, stroking her belly, calling her his good little girl.

And he can still hear the asshole’s voice in his ear, telling him not to be jealous. David was his. By extension, the girl was his. He was so stupid for thinking otherwise. Oh, but he was so good to him, bringing home little girls like a gift. He knew this would happen. Why is he so upset? Why would he have taken her in if he didn’t want bad things to happen to her?

He knows it’s just the dream tying him down, forcing him to watch, but it leaves David no less disgusted with himself.

David quickly shoves his boots on and stalks downstairs, cigarettes in hand. He’s already drained the last of that scotch, and really, David doesn’t want to drink right now. Not with his mind preoccupied with thoughts of him. He can’t shield himself against the memories. Not right now, not like this.

The night air bites at his exposed face, but David pays it no mind. He finds a place to sit, one of the ventilation shafts that climb the exterior of the building, and lets his legs dangle over the edge as he lights a smoke.

What now? David doesn’t want to go back to sleep tonight. He doesn’t even remember what his dream was really about-only that the Actor was present. But that’s all it took. He still feels the panic that wells up in his throat when he thinks of it.

Part of him wants to go wake Lizzy. She’d b***h about missing out on her beauty sleep, but she’d sit up with him. Talk. It’s not even so much that David doesn’t want to bother Joan with his bullshit again-he doesn’t, but he knows her and he knows that she wouldn’t really mind.

Joan just wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand how just the memory of the man’s face made David’s heart beat faster, faster, clawing out of his chest because that’s the only way to escape. How smelling her booze still made him preemptively nauseous, even though he knew he could stop at any point, that no one was forcing him to keep drinking and drinking until the room spun and he could barely formulate words, couldn’t raise his hands to push him away. How Grim Alex knocking him onto his back and sliding her hands over his chest, how that made him feel like he’s ten, twelve, thirteen years old again, laying on a rice mat and committing the ceiling pattern to memory and just waiting for it all to be done. How easily that old mantra kicks in. Yes, he wants to be good. He wants to be a good boy. He’ll be good for him.

He doesn’t want her to understand. No one should understand what this feels like.

But on top of that all, really, David still finds himself embarrassed. It’s been nearly three goddamn decades. It wasn’t like they cut off his limbs or anything. Compared to the things he experienced afterwards, to everything that was done to him in Coldridge, really, the Actor and his troupe did very little to him. Some of the other kids had it worse. Most of the marks they left on his skin didn’t scar. They usually allowed him to eat every day. Sometimes he wasn’t allowed to sleep, but so what? He can now.

He can’t.

David lights another cigarette when he’s finished smoking down the first. Pathetic. There’s nothing stopping him, no ropes around his neck that’ll choke him if he nods off or tries to sit down. He has a bed that’s only about half lumps, someplace warm and dry to sleep. His belly’s full and there are no whip marks to keep him awake with their stinging. But he still can’t give himself over to it.

He doesn’t have it in him to face the Actor again tonight. To see his face, hear him laugh. To watch him torment Sabrina just to torment David. Watch him wrap his belt around her neck, choking her until her face goes purple. Watch her try to muffle her sobs so David doesn’t have to hear them. Watch him methodically break her toes when he sees her tears, telling her only to cry when he tells her to, to be a good girl for him.

It’s so... clear. Like he can just reach out and pull him back, but he doesn’t. He could. His hands are free. But he’s paralyzed, his entire body stiff as he

Feels the Actor’s breath on his neck. His hand on David’s shoulder, gripping it tightly enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Hears his whispered voice in his ear, praising him for being so good, for bringing him another prize. A good little girl, brought home to his master.

Sees him hold her down, laughing at her struggles. Pulling on her braids just because it hurts her. Straddling her waist, running his little butterfly knife over her ribs and her flat, flat chest, leaving raised, angry red lines inside of blood. Holds the blade over her face, presses the tip into her cheekbone just enough for him to see the indented flesh. Turns to David and, laughing, asks if he should give her a scar to match his.

And he can’t get up, can’t get on his knees and beg because he’ll just hurt her more if he knows how much David doesn’t want him to, but he tries to pry the man away with words. Apologies and promises. He’ll be good from now on. He’s sorry for whatever he did, he didn’t mean it, didn’t want to make him mad. He’ll make it up to him. Don’t hurt her, he doesn’t need her, David will be his good boy. He’s being so good, he’ll try harder from now on, he’s sorry, stop, no, he wants to be choked, he wants to be hurt, he likes it and loves being his good boy just stop-

David can’t see. He knows he’s still in the courtyard, still sitting thirty feet in the air, but he has to remind himself of it. He can’t see it. Can’t feel the winter air chapping his face, only knows it’s there because it burns like lead in his lungs when he inhales. His eyes don’t work and he only sees what his mind conjures up for him.

This isn’t even a memory. It never happened, was never remotely possible. But it’s so real that David can’t escape it. He can see, hear, feel nothing else, he’s there in his fifteen-year-old body and absolutely helpless, begging to be hurt, he pleads for her, he tells her to be good, he watches and waits and

Presses the end of his cigarette to his wrist. The sudden, sharp pain allows him to blink, lets him dip back into reality, but the ash cools in a moment and there’s only the afterburn. The vision encroaches again, leaving David fumbling for his lighter. Flicks it open and holds the flame to that same spot. Lets it dance over his flesh and focuses on that until the images leave him. Until he can feel the cold in his fingers, sees his foggy breath against the night. Until he can’t hear Sabrina cry anymore.

When he’s sure it’s over, he closes the lighter and looks down at himself. His scars are there under his clothes, the damage to his skin and his muscles over the years, the wrinkles he’s begun to collect on his hands and the sides of his eyes. His hairline receding, the wind nipping at those bits of flesh that are bare where he once had hair. He’s an old man.

With a pretty nasty burn on his wrist.

David sighs and presses his back against the bricks. He should go run that under some water, but he stays and relishes in the pain instead. He’ll probably regret it later. It’s not in a place that can be easily covered by his sleeve-people are used to him wrapping his hands, but they’ll notice if he starts wrapping down to his wrist. Anthony  will see it. He’ll have to think up some story.

‘I am here.’

Sabrina forms in his hand and-no, he’s not imagining it. His wrist actually feels cooler. She can’t heal him, that’s beyond her power. But she’s still here. Still trying to make him feel better.

“I don’t deserve you,” he tells her, closing his eyes.

Despite himself, despite the fact that Sabrina is dead and this prison of hers is only making her suffer, feeling her presence instills within him a sense of security. Like she’s here and not with him. Like she’s close and David can keep her safe.

Couldn’t. Never could.

...Maybe he does need a drink.

Joan grins, twirls and-by the Void-f*****g giggles.

“I like this shit.” She slaps at her thighs, covered in a shimmering green material. “This is classy as fuck.”

David resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I never pegged you as a skirt person.”

“I’m not, but this really imagines my dragons!” She twirls again. “I feel like a princess!”

Jerome just sits there with his tape measurer, watching her boredly. “Lizzy, you know that skirt doesn’t fan out, right?”

“Oh, f**k off, let me have my spinny dress moment.”

It looks nice on her, David has to admit. The skirt is straight-cut, falls to her knees, and Lizzy’s petite enough that she can pull that off. The upper half of the dress clings to her body a bit too much-she looks deathly skinny, and it draws attention to her complete lack of a chest. But that’s the part that’ll receive some extra padding, when Jerome sews in some armored weave into the bodice. Her arms are a little too muscular to look normal and her tattoos will show through the sleeve netting, but David already told her she has to either cover those up or wear a coat.

Her legs are on full display, full of scars and pale as f**k from never seeing the sun. “You’ll have to wear stockings with that,” he tells her.

“Eh? Socks?”

“No, just...you know what, you’ll see.”

She’ll complain plenty, when the time comes. Hosiery was always the bane of Sabrina’s existence. She didn’t like dresses and skirts, but usually wasn’t too uncomfortable as long as they weren’t restrictive or cumbersome. But stockings? She hated wearing those. David put on a pair once, just to see if her bitching had any merit. He had that red imprint around his belly for literal hours.

Stupid too. Women wore them to make their legs look darker-Sabrina needed no such help there. And wearing them for her often had the opposite effect. Stockings were very clearly not made with women with her skin color in mind.

She didn’t miss that part, when dresses fell out of style. David really didn’t either-it took f*****g ages for her to get that s**t on, and he always felt pervy standing there watching her do it. But he did sort of miss the dresses. Maybe he’s biased because his mother always wore skirts, but he always thought Sabrina looked exceptionally beautiful in a formal gown.

“The one thing I don’t like,” Joan says, biting her lip. “Can you make it so I can, like, spread my legs more than two inches?”

“I’d suggest you take the dress off if you’re going to be f*****g anyone, Lizzy.”

“Not for that. But like, if I need to fight or run somewhere. Also I’m going to hide some knives up there, I need room for that.”

“I really hope you’re planning to wear shorts underneath,” David says dryly.

Over her shoulder, he sees Jerome rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I can do that. And you can take that off now.”

Without waiting for Jerome to so much as turn around, Joan grabs the hem and pulls the dress over her head. She stands there in nothing but her knickers and unabashedly hands the dress over, while Jerome blushes and looks everywhere but her as he takes the dress.

“David doesn’t have a costume yet,” Joan remarks, turning to grab her pants. “Couldn’t find anything he liked.”

“I said I didn’t care what I wore. You’re the one who rejected everything I picked.”

“I’m not letting you show up to this thing looking like an i***t. We’re gonna look like the royalty we are.”

David huffs and turns away as she puts her bra back on.

“Well, find something soon, David,” Jerome says. “You can probably get away with wearing armor under your coat, but I want to be sure everything looks okay.”

“We’re meeting Galia and Paul after this to look through some shops, so I’ll let you know what we find.”

Jerome nods to himself. “Cool, cool. Just come show me when you’ve picked something out. And send Eugene back if you see him, I’m getting sick of him flaking out on me to play babysitter.”

“So.” Joan does a little hop as they walk along the mall. “Can we talk?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“I meant, like, seriously. I haven’t gotten you alone in a few days.” She pokes him in the arm. “Since we got wasted?”

“For the last f*****g time, I don’t have a drinking problem.” David rubs his face. Like she’s one to talk.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Joan looks forward, her eyes uncharacteristically focused. “I dunno how much you really remember-”

“Enough.”

“But you said some things that kind of raised my ‘what the f**k’ alarms?” She quirks her eyebrows. “Care to share?”

He swats her away. “I don’t, incidentally.”

“I have questions, old man.”

“I’m not stopping you from asking. But I maintain the fact that I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He twists and slips inside the clothing store before she can respond.

Paul is already flipping through dress coats, waving when he sees them enter. “Hey. Don’t know where Gails is, but I found some s**t you guys might like.”

“No thanks,” Joan says as she steps inside. “Already found me a dress. Looks sexy as hell.”

“Wait, where the hell did you find a dress?!”

She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “In that weird little vintage store. They don’t have a ton, but I think they were the last place in Dunwall to sell skirts.”

“Nice.” Paul stares down at the bright purple coat he’s holding, as if reevaluating his choices. “You’ll have to show me later. So I guess we’re just dressing David?” He shrugs. “Unless you found a dress too, that is.”

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

“I mean, you have one of those body types that could totally rock one. Just saying.”

“And it might help us blend in better,” Joan adds.

“Nobody is going to be fooled into thinking I’m a woman.”

“They will once I’m through with you!” Paul says brightly. “No, seriously, you have the legs for it. And your t**s are bigger than Lizzy’s.”

“Ooooh.” Joan shakes her head. “I’d be mad if that wasn’t so true. Plus he’s got a great ass. Makes up for his face.”

David rubs at his eyes. “Can you just...show me the coats you’ve picked out for me? And Galia?” He drops his hands to his side. “She’ll want to wear pants too, believe me.”

“Shame. But I can work with that.” He holds up a coat, squinting. “David, you’re obviously a winter, so the reds and blacks are already working great for you. We can keep with that theme or we can branch out to some blues and greens, but you’ll look best in strong colors.”

“I...have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh!” Joan raises her hand. “Do me! What season am I?”

“You? Oh, you’re a winter too.”

“What is happening?”

“Galia, though, she’s totally a summer.” Paul bites his lip. “So lighter colors? Wait, are we wearing masks for this thing?”

David grits his teeth. “No, we’re just going to stroll in there and everyone will ignore the man who’s wanted for killing the most important person in the world.”

“You don’t need to get snippy with me.”

“Jerome’s going to find us some masks,” Joan pipes up. “I’m not allowed to wear my whaler mask, which is a damn travesty.”

“That mask is on more posters than my face.”

“I can say I’m wearing it ironically.”

“No one is going to be stupid enough to believe that!”

“Just means my color selection was pointless.” Paul sticks his lower lip out, but pulls it back in without further ado. “Well, I’ll know you’re color-coordinated as f**k, and that’s what matters. David, come look at the s**t I picked out for you.”

David is beginning to shuck his coat, resigning himself to a few hours of basically being a dress-up doll, when the door slams open again.

“Move.”

“Galia, stop, I’m following-”

“I said move!”

“What the f**k?” Joan raises herself on her tiptoes to see over the clothing racks. “Fleet, quit hurting her!”

Galia turns to them with fire in her eyes, her fingers dug into the roots of Rose’s ponytail. “You haven’t heard what-”

“I said I was sorry!”

“You’re going to f*****g be!” She jerks her hand, using Rose’s hair like a handle. “When David’s through with you, you’re going to be real sorry!”

“I’m not doing anything to her.” David waves his arms as he steps towards the girls. “Fleet, what is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?!” She whips her head in David’s direction. “You know what I overheard her telling Vasco?!”

“I can tell them-”

“Shut up!”

Joan reaches them first, though Galia smacks her with her free arm when she tries to pry her fingers from Rose’s hair. Paul has to step in behind her and pull Galia’s arms back before Joan can separate them. Rose immediately runs behind David, hugging herself.

There are still tears falling from her eyes.

“Oh yeah, run to David! David’s the one you should be afraid of!”

“What the f**k, Fleet?” Paul knocks her upside the head. “Don’t be manhandling the pregnant chick! We’re not animals, for Outsider’s sake.”

Rose just wipes at her eyes, looking down to the floor. David steps between them, so she doesn’t have to look at Galia.

“I’m going to give you thirty seconds to explain yourself before I...what’s the word you used?” He clears his throat. “Ground you. I’ll do that.”

It feels weird on his tongue. He’s never actually grounded anybody, for real or the magical way. Never had a reason to, for Anthony , and as if Sabrina could be thwarted so easily.

Galia pinches her face up and leans away. “We’ll want to do this somewhere more private. Because David is probably going to kill her.”

At that, Rose just cries harder.

“I’m not going to do anything to her, what the f**k?” Even if she wasn’t Anthony ’s friend, even if David wasn’t as fond of her as he is, she’s with child. What kind of monster did they take him for? Attano? “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because she’s one of them!” Galia jabs her finger. “A Brigmore witch! She f*****g lied to us!”

David blinks. Slides his vision over to Rose, and then back to Galia again.

“Maybe...we do need to move somewhere more private.”

A few minutes later, they’re all sequestered away in one of the back offices of the store. They sit Rose on a chair, her hands clutching each other hard enough to leave streaks of red and white across the skin and her eyes trained on them like they’re the only things left in the room to look at. Paul stands half in front of Galia, who still looks like she’ll rip Rose’s throat out at any moment. Joan hovers by the window.

Sunlight streaming in through the panes. Doesn’t seem right, somehow. David’s mood isn’t exactly rainy, not quite thunder and lightning storms, but he feels some clouds gathering over his head. Maybe a bit of harsh wind.

“Okay.” David pulls the door closed behind him. “Talk.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“We-” David presses his lips together, frowning. He wants to say they’re not going to, and they’re really not. Not today. But he doesn’t know anything yet. Doesn’t know if he’ll have to, eventually.

And the thought of having to kill Rose makes David’s stomach churn, but at the same time he has to dig his fingernails into his arm to keep from beating the answers he wants out of her. He can’t even look at her directly because he just doesn’t know what to feel.

Why does it have to be her?

“We aren’t gonna kill you unless you give us a reason to kill you,” Joan says harshly, folding her arms. “But I’ll be honest, the only reason I haven’t started breaking your fingers is because you’re knocked up and your kid doesn’t deserve that.”

“Kid won’t feel it,” Galia snorts. Paul smacks her arm.

“We’re not going to do anything to you today,” Paul says, turning back around. “But this is going to decide if you spend the rest of your life in Coldridge.”

Fuck, he’s not sending her to Coldridge. David would rather kill her. Be kinder. And he couldn’t live with himself, sending someone to go through what he had to.

Rose hides her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Oh, f**k off with the waterworks!” Galia screams. “Nobody’s fooled, you manipulative b***h!”

“Fleet.” Paul twists around, staring at her. “We don’t need this. Chill.”

“She lied to us!”

“I didn’t, actually.” Rose crosses her legs, hands in her lap. Her tears completely gone, turned off like a lightswitch. Her eyes are still puffy and her face still blotched red, but her expression is blank. “I didn’t lie to anyone. David knows I was a witch. I never said I didn’t belong to a coven.”

David grits his teeth. “You deceived us.”

“I’ll own up to that.”

He closes his eyes and counts as he breathes out. His mind is flying faster than whaling trawler at full speed-scenarios and theories thrown around in his skull.

Has Delilah known where she is this whole time? No, Grim Alex was given orders to kill her...but she could have been in on it. Could have given her that leg wound to hide their tracks. Lydia was hurt too but, f**k, who says Lydia hasn’t betrayed them as well?

No, he can’t think like this. Can’t trust anyone, but can’t so vehemently distrust everyone. He’ll go mad.

David thinks on the Cardinal’s informant, Woodpecker. He assumed they were watching from afar, following him as he worked or...turning into birds, however the f**k they got their information. He didn’t think there was a spy in their midst. It didn’t make sense for anyone to be, couldn’t think of any good candidate in particular. He didn’t want to believe there was.

He knew something was missing from Rose’s story. And really, looking back, all the details pointed to this. But David didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to believe that Rose and her family were unaffiliated witches, that they only knew the Brigmore witches in passing, that Delilah only kidnapped her brother and wanted her dead because they had the potential to rival her in power. That was a nicer story. Easier.

Fuck, he trusted her with Anthony . Trusted he was safe around her. He already made that mistake before. Paid dearly. And now he’s doing it again.

He can’t. He can’t.

“Does-” David stares at her, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Trying to condense his questions and get the answers he wants-no, get the truth from her lips.

Is he going to need to kill her?

“Why?”

“Why was I part of them?” Rose tugs on one of the dreadlocks Galia pulled out of her ponytail.

“Why are you here and not at Brigmore?”

“Because I’m not with them anymore.”

He stares at her. She stares back, her eyes flicking back and forth in discomfort, but she doesn’t look away. David squeezes Sabrina in his hand.

‘She is not lying to you.’

He keeps his muscles tensed, his heart steeled. But David feels the relief working through his veins.

Somewhere behind him, Galia scoffs. “You expect us to-”

“I believe you,” David interrupts. “I believe her. You don’t have to, but you don’t make the decisions.”

“David, she’s going to plant a knife in your back the moment it’s turned.”

“Anyone here could,” Joan says, holding up a finger. “Lemme say, I don’t believe you, sprout. But if David does, then I’ll try to.”

Rose is still staring at him, her fingers still feeling the tips of her hair.

David pulls over another chair and sits on it backwards, draping his arms over the backrest. “When did you leave?”

“I...well, we left a little over a month before we rescued you. But I stopped working for them a while before that. Willingly, at least.”

“You were a prisoner.” It’s not a question. David’s mouth feels like sawdust.

Rose’s eyes don’t leave the floor. “Yes.”

“Did-” He gestures to her belly. “Did this happen during that time?”

“No, but it was one of the things that factored into our decision to leave the coven. I’d prefer not to talk about it, honestly.”

Joan leans forward. “Kid, you’ve lost your right to keep your secrets.”

“Delilah needed support from the court to take over as Regent,” she says, staring at Joan dully. “He had votes she needed. He wanted me to have his child. He paid Delilah a lot of money for it. She took his money and let him do as he pleased. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

“Oh. He…” Joan looks down at her feet. “He actually wanted to knock you up?”

“The rich and powerful need heirs. He didn’t want to bother with a wife.” She’s still staring at the opposite wall, blankly. “He would hire a wet nurse and a nanny and everything-I was just an incubator. I wasn’t to be in their life. I don’t think they would have allowed me to hold my own child.”

David can understand the first part. Growing up, he looked forward to the day he became a father. He always wanted lots of kids. The idea of marrying a woman to get there, that was the part he got stuck on.

But he didn’t...fucking buy one. Not even if he had the money, no. There were always streetrats to sweep up, existing kids who needed parents. And in absence of that, David was better than nothing.

Though he can’t call Sabrina and Anthony  replacements. They were so much more-and never really his.

“Why you,” Paul says, rubbing his chin. “Specifically?”

“You’d have to ask him. Best do it quickly, because the next time I see him I’m going to carve out his tongue and make him swallow it.”

“That’s fine. We’re done talking about that.” David holds up his hand. It was probably power, he thinks. Her sheer magical talent that her child might inherit. Or maybe it had nothing to with with power-maybe that slug of a man just liked gingers. Or, most likely, Rose was just the youngest girl available.

It should not be possible to hate someone as much as David already hates Delilah, but somehow, his hatred gets a little deeper.

“Why were you part of them in the first place?”

“Because my mother was.” She blinks at him. “I was young and stupid. Didn’t understand what she was getting me into.”

“And she was okay with Delilah selling you off like a prized pig?”

“Believe me, she was happy I could serve her.” Rose scoffs and shakes her head. “I’d prefer not to talk about my mother.”

“You don’t get to-” Galia begins to sputter, but Rose cuts her off.

“What do you want me to say?! She’s a wicked woman with not a drop of love in her heart! Her kids are nothing but bargaining tokens to her, and that’s if she bothers to think about us! I will sing when she falls to David’s blade, I’ll dance on her grave, because the world will be better off without her!”

David’s dry throat catches as he tries to swallow. “I don’t have to kill your mother,” he says. Rose scoffs and folds her arms.

“You’re making the mistake of thinking I still care about her.”

“You may not like her, but she’s your mother.” David closes his eyes. “Delilah’s coven will fall apart once she’s dead. I can spare her.”

Maybe then the woman will come to her senses. Sees the mistakes she made. See what she’s throwing away.

Rose deserves better. Her brothers deserve better. David doesn’t enjoy tearing apart families. The way he’s going to have to when he kills Emily’s parents.

The way the Actor did to him.

“David, you’ll kill her.” Rose leans back in her chair, staring at him intensely. She doesn’t say it like an order. It’s merely a statement. “When you meet her, you won’t have a choice.”

She doesn’t break his gaze. David finally has to look away, clearing his throat.

“So you left three months ago?”

“A little more than that.”

“From Brigmore, or were you held somewhere else?”

“No, we were being kept at Brigmore.” She pushes her hair off her shoulders, keeping one dreadlock wound around her fingers. “Me, both my brothers, and our...coven called her our sister, but I guess our cousin. The daughter of one of my mother’s sisters. Lela.”

“Oh, so she wasn’t really your cousin,” Paul remarks, as if thinking out loud. “Not like, by blood. Just one of the witch’s daughters.”

“We don’t think of it like that.” Rose raises her hand. “Your old family bonds, those fall away when you join. The coven is your only family. In a way, it’s...comforting. I had dozens of aunts and uncles built in, so even though my mother...didn’t care to be a mother, there was always someone else willing to paint your nails or let you cry on their shoulder. Especially for the members who came from families who didn’t accept them...joining the coven must have felt like coming home.”

“The coven did horrible things,” David says through gritted teeth. “They worship a psychopath blindly and kill for fun.”

“I’m not saying they’re all good people. No, even the good ones, most of them have been corrupted.” She shakes her head. “But they weren’t all bad. Not at the beginning. They came because they sought refuge from a world that’s failed them. I can’t blame them for that. It’s just that, for most of them, the coven was the only place they could go and be themselves. But one bad apple spoils the bunch, and all that. A few were cruel. The others had to learn to be if they didn’t want to become the next victim.”

‘The sweet, the deadly, and the poisonous,’ Sabrina interjects. ‘Like the riverman, they spread their nets wide and pull them up, all in one catch.’

David doesn’t want to hear this. Sabrina’s jabbering about the witches is bad enough, reminding him that they weren’t simply the tools of Delilah’s will, that they were all people. This honestly feels even worse. But he knows he has to hear it. He should.

“I’m not making excuses for them,” Rose continues. “Their deeds are done. But many of them were only there because your Empire failed them, over and over again. If someone had spoken for them sooner, they wouldn’t have had to seek the coven out. They wouldn’t have been there.”

Sabrina had spoken for them. Not the witches specifically, but women like that. The odd ones. Those who didn’t fall in line with society’s strict expectations. She spoke against the bigotry, tried to keep people like that in mind. She tried to protect them.

It wasn’t enough. She did her best and it wasn’t enough. She just didn’t have enough time.

So, out of all this bullshit,” Paul says, breaking the silence. “What was the tipping point? What made you decide you had to leave?”

“I mean, we’d already decided to leave. It was a bunch of things, the needless brutality and killing, arranging to have the Empress murdered, this-” She motions to her belly. “It eased up the fog, let us see the coven for what it truly was, and Joshua and I decided we wanted no part in it. But Delilah figured it out. Had us locked up.” She shrugs. “We escaped when we were able to.”

“How did your brother get caught?” David asks.

“I...don’t actually know.” Her eyes are far away, dark and worried. “Our jailer that night, Heather, she’d fallen asleep. Reed cracked the lock on the door and we snuck past her. Managed to get out of the manor without being seen, slipped past the gates...then there was a ruckus behind us. We split up, because we figured it’d be harder to find two people hiding than four, and even if they did, well, at least the other two got away.” She presses her lips together. “Joshua grabbed Lela’s hand and they broke for the tree line. Reed and I went for the river. We swam.”

“This was the Month of Wind,” Paul says quietly.

“Yeah,” she responds bitterly. “In the middle of the night. It was cold. We were submerged for hours and I still don’t know how neither of us got sick from that. I thought at least I wouldn’t be pregnant when we got out, but…” She blows a piece of hair away from her face, then her hands go to her stomach. “I’m so sorry. I was stupid then. I’m glad you’re still here. You’re a tough b***h and I’m already so proud of you.”

David just watches her for a moment. And briefly, he hates the world. Hates everything that led to this happening, everything that made her feel scared and everything that made her feel guilty about being scared. He hates that a world exists where this s**t happens. He hates that it turned them both into this, and now they were here and there was no going back.

“So anyway.” Rose drops her hands. “We got to the place where we agreed to meet up and waited, but they never showed. I know some of the other witches must have caught up to them somehow. I guess they figured Reed and I drowned. We made it to Draper’s Ward, ended up crashing with Jerome and Eugene for a bit, then they joined up with this and got me a job. And that’s it. The whole sordid story.”

“You asked me to free your brother from Abele. How did you know where he was?”

“I could sense him.” She holds her hands up. “Just like I mask everyone’s energy here and keep Delilah from feeling us out, I can feel him out.” She leans back in her chair. “Also, you know, Delilah said she was going to give him to Luca. So when I felt him in the Distillery District, it wasn’t a difficult puzzle to put together. I can feel Lela out there too, just not...where she is. I know that she’s okay. But I’m just not as attuned to her energy.” She stares at the floorboards intently. “I mean, we had a bond, but Joshua is my twin. We’ve never even been apart for more than a few days before this. He drives me crazy sometimes, but there’s no bond deeper than that. Our spirits are intertwined.”

David thinks of Sabrina, and he can’t find the words to express how deeply he understands.

“So wait, let me get this straight.” Paul raises his hands. “You got suckered into this when you were too young to choose for yourself and got out when you figured out s**t was f****d. Fleet, she’s not the bad guy here. She’s a victim.”

“I did a lot of things for the coven,” Rose says, brushing her hair out of her face. “Things that I’m not proud of. Spells and charms, potions. Things that hurt people. Some of which I know Delilah used on the Empress.” She tugs on her hair, not meeting David’s eye. “It would have happened anyway if I hadn’t, because if I didn’t do it then one of the other witches would have learned how. That’s what I told myself. But I guess that’s the fallacy. If we all walked away, there’d be no one left to take our spot.”

“You got you and your brother out alive,” David says. “Paul’s right.”

“I’m no innocent.”

“Nobody is innocent.”

David can’t f*****g talk. And he’s not just saying that because he doesn’t want to hate her. With all the things he’s done, just to survive and to protect Sabrina and Anthony , he absolutely cannot talk.

He clutches Sabrina in his hand. Stares at Rose and squeezes, praying she understands what he’s asking her to tell him.

‘She will not give the whole truth, but she will speak nothing but it.’

No. He can’t let her hide s**t. Look at what trusting people has cost him. Her secrets are bombs strapped to stores of whale oil, and they’ll detonate when Anthony  is most vulnerable, whether she intends for them to or not.

‘Perhaps her feet have not always walked the straightest path. But she truly cares for the boy. I can feel it.’

He never said her destruction had to be intentional. In fact, those were the most dangerous of weapons. Ones that couldn’t reveal their true purpose because they weren’t aware of it themselves. Until it came time for the kill.

She’s too dangerous. David has to know what makes her dangerous.

‘She has secrets I will not reveal,’ Sabrina practically scolds. ‘She only hides them for fear of you.’

That makes David stop in his tracks.

Sabrina wouldn’t...leave him out to dry. He knows that. If there was something rooting around in Rose’s brain that posed a danger, Sabrina would alert him to it. At least things that she doesn’t think he’ll be able to figure out on his own. She’s basically telling him to back off. And David could never disobey his Empress.

And really, hasn’t David done far worse things than what Rose is guilty of? If he’s entitled to his secrets, he’d be a hypocrite for wringing hers from her lips. He’s not happy about it, but he’ll just have to live with it.

It just means he’s going to have to phrase his next few questions very carefully.

“Rose,” he says quietly. “You haven’t had any contact with anyone from the coven since, correct?”

“Of course not.” She blinks with wide eyes. “Unless you count Grim Alex.”

“Have you spoken with any other witches?”

“Just the ones in here. Granny, Zhukov. Jerome, if you stretch the definition a bit.”

David wets his lip. “So you haven’t worked with the Black Cardinal at all?”

It’s like the pressure in the room suddenly intensifies, and Rose just stares at him for a moment before remembering how to blink. “No!” She shakes her head. “No, David, I never-I work for you guys now.” She presses her fingers to her chest. “Anthony  is my friend. I’m loyal to him. I’m loyal to this. Why would I work against people who want to take down Delilah?”

She’s telling the truth. Sabrina knows, and she’d tell him if she were lying. Rose is no traitor.

“You must have seen them, though.” David leans forward, lowering his voice. “Her and the Rat King.”

“I-yes.” She glances to her lap. “She reported back to Delilah after the...business with the Empress.”

“Do you know them?”

******

“David?” She stares. “I haven’t...I never worked with them.”

“Have you seen them with their masks off?”

“...No. They don’t remove the masks in the company of others.”

“David,” Paul says quietly.

The sound of his name brings him jerking back into his bones. He’s suddenly hyper aware of how far he’s looming over Rose, the way his back stoops and arches forward. How he’s on his feet now, bent over the chair like a predator drooling over a piece of meat.

And he recognizes the look in Rose’s eyes as she stares up at him. The fear.

He doesn’t trust her. He can’t.

But he trusts Sabrina.

David counts as he breathes, stepping back. “Not wanting to talk about your childhood isn’t illegal,” he says, turning to the others. “She hasn’t betrayed us.”

“That’s not my problem.” It’s Joan talking now, alternating between looking at the window and stealing short, firey glances at them. “You didn’t tell us any of this.”

“When would I have-”

“When we were looking for Gardenia!” Joan throws her arms out. “You knew who we were looking for!”

“I didn’t-”

“We could have known a month ago!” Joan rants. “We wouldn’t have had to kidnap Hypatia, and we wouldn’t have nearly gotten captured by those f*****g corvids!”

“You never-”

“David almost died looking for that name.”

Lizzy’s voice shakes, her hands in fists at her side. Her face is as furious as David’s ever seen it, but it doesn’t hide the wavering in her eyes.

Rose looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry? Is that what you’d say if I hadn’t gotten to David before he drowned? If I hadn’t been able to find his corpse and couldn’t even bring anything back to bury?” She points to him angrily. “Or if we weren’t able to beat Hypatia and we were still in her lab, getting pieces of us chopped off for her f*****g amusement? Or if the damn Crow Queen had taken us captive? What would you have told Anthony  then, that you’re sorry that his dad got abducted and was probably getting tortured to death by the same people who murdered his sister?! If you had just told us the f*****g name, we wouldn’t have had to even be there!”

David watches her as she huffs and glares daggers at Rose. But she reels herself in a little bit, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. Not by much. But enough that she doesn’t look ready to explode like a literal grenade.

“Rose,” he says quietly. “There’s no way you knew any of these things would happen. But I do need to know why you never told us Breanna Ashworth’s name.”

“I didn’t know you were looking for her,” she says to her lap.

David breathes out. Folds his arms and leans back on his heels, counting. Breathes in. Counts. “You had to know. It’s all we’ve been talking about for the past month.”

“You never told me you were looking for an Ashworth.”

She blinks up at him. David blinks back, and realizes she’s right. She hadn’t known the name until a few days ago. At which point Hypatia was already in that cage and the danger had come and passed.

“But you knew about Gardenia,” Paul says. “You knew we were looking for Delilah’s second.”

“...Yes.”

“You must have had some idea who it was.”

“I was pretty sure, yeah.” Rose continues to tug on her hair. “But I wasn’t certain.  I didn’t want to lead you all in circles. And if I tried to pry, you’d all ask questions.”

“I mean, we would have, but if you had helped us find Gardenia-”

“You’d do what?” She stares him down. “You’d be so grateful you’d immediately forgive me for not disclosing where I came from?”

“Well-”

“Would you have even accepted my help, or would you have assumed I was a spy?” She holds her arm out. “Thalia didn’t even want to accept my brother’s help on the basis that we never received formal education, would she have been more open to it knowing he’s spent half his life in the coven? Would any of you have trusted us to tell the truth? Would you have assumed I was lying and discredited everything I said? Or would you have just killed me to eliminate any possible threat I may pose?” She shakes her head. “If my brothers were safe and I wasn’t pregnant, I might have risked it. But like this, I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk them. You can hate me for it. I’ll live with that.”

They’re all silent. One long minute stretches into two, and David stares at her face.

He’s still angry with her. Angry about the scars on his back and the blood on his hands, the grating memories of the Rat King choking Joan out, of her being held captive by Overseers bearing music boxes and the persistent thoughts of Grim Alex could have killed her, but they’re held at bay. He’s angry about the trust he placed in her, how stupid he was for doing so when he knew so little about her, angry that he stayed so willfully ignorant of her origins because he wanted to like and trust her.

But if the situation were reversed, wouldn’t he have lied? David doesn’t like lying, but he can. And if it was for Sabrina and Anthony , if telling the truth would have put them in jeopardy, David would have lied about anything. f**k the consequences.

“So now what?” She asks, looking up to him with a face devoid of emotion. “Are you going to kill me now?”

“No.”

“Throw me in prison?”

“Not unless you do something to show me I need to.”

“So what are you going to do with me?”

“Nothing.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Galia’s mouth drop open, but Paul silences any protests she has with a quick smack. “But you’re going to do some things for us.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “I shouldn’t have expected you to be, but I honestly thought you were different, David.” She sighs, and then her hands go to the buttons on her vest. “Just now, or are we going to keep-”

“Keep your f*****g clothes on, girl!” Joan practically screeches, pointing at her. “No. No no no, we don’t do that s**t. David, what the f**k?”

“Eh.” Galia shrugs. “She’s getting out of this with all her fingers, so I’d say she owes us.”

“Fleet.” Paul’s face is bloodless, staring at her in repugnance.

“What? It’s not rape if she’s offering-”

“What is wrong with you?!” He whirls around. “And you? David, I didn’t think you were like this!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly, tripping over his tongue as his brain reboots from the complete shutdown that occurred the moment Rose started undoing her buttons. “I didn’t. I meant...I meant she needed to give us information.”

“...Oh.” Rose removes her hands from her vest, her face turning considerably pinker as she examines the floorboards.

“Fuck.” Joan is still breathing hard. “I thought I was going to have to cut your d**k off, old man. s**t. We may be assholes, but we have standards.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he breathes. “Rose, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Sorry.” She doesn’t meet his eye. “I just assumed...sorry.”

Of course she did. What else would she have thought, how else have these situations worked out for her in the past? David should have realized how that would sound to her.

“Don’t. I should have phrased it better.” He clears his throat. “We need you to help with the Brigmore job, that’s what I meant to say.”

“If you’ll accept my help, I’ll give it,” she says, meeting his eye at last. “But I need you to promise that you won’t go after my brothers. And if you do anything to me, that you’ll wait until after my baby’s born.”

“I don’t plan to do anything to you.”

“Give me your word, David.” She stares at him. “Please. I know you’re good for it.”

He ignores Galia’s obvious scoff and her proclamation of ‘kiss-up’. “I promise.”

She closes her eyes. “Okay,” she breathes out. “What do you need from me?”

“Everything you know about Brigmore. The individual witches, the manor itself. Everything we can expect when we get there.”

“I know you’re probably not gonna like this idea, David,” Joan interjects. “But we might want to bring her along. You know, in case s**t comes up we need her to explain. Not-” She whips her head in Galia’s direction. “To be f*****g perverted.”

Galia rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, you’re the only one spazzed out about it. David knew was he was implying, and Paul’s just jealous because he’s not into women. If we brought in Vasco he’d be all over this.”

“Uh. No.” Paul blinks. “I mean, he’s cute and of bangable age, but I don’t do that s**t with people who don’t offer it up.”

“She offered!” Galia motions.

Judging by how tightly Rose is clutching her legs together, David would say the offer’s been rescinded.

“That’s just how s**t is sometimes-Catspaw, you’ve let girls pay you in ‘favors’ before! How is that any different?!”

“It’s...you know, it just f*****g is, Fleet.” Joan shakes her head. “Shut up.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Enough.” David glares at them both. “We’re done talking about the matter. About the party-” He settles his eyes on Lizzy. “I don’t like the idea. We’ll be surrounded by enemies and she’s...not in a state to fight.”

Paul raises his hand. “She’s supposed to accompany Lady Lydia to the Boyle party too. Same night.”

“I’d be fine with not going,” Rose says to the floor. “I don’t think we’d be safe there, honestly.”

David sits back down and leans in. “What do you mean by that?”

“If Alex told Delilah who I was with the night she attacked us, then she’d know Lydia knows where I am.” She shrugs. “Not much of a stretch to say I might still be with her that night. I would just tell her I don’t want to go, but I...worry for her safety as well.”

“We’ll figure something out,” David tells her. “If we can’t find some way to keep you both safe, then neither of you are going anywhere.”

“She has to go to this party.”

“No, she has to do what I tell her.” David could really use a smoke about now. And a drink.

Joan leans forward. “David, your Dad Mode is showing.”

“f**k off, Lizzy.” He swats at her. “So let’s assume you stay in and the four of us go to Brigmore alone.”

“It’s a lot to explain. I can draw you maps, but transversing the place isn’t always so straightforward.”

David raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“Brigmore is huge and is falling apart,” she states. “I’m talking holes in the walls, collapsing ceilings, magical doors-it’s a b***h to navigate. I can draw out how I remember it being the last time I was allowed to roam, but they’ve probably repaired some stuff by now, other s**t’s fallen apart...I can’t guarantee it’ll be accurate.” She leans back in her chair. “And I couldn’t freely move through the mansion for most of my time there.”

“I thought you were only a prisoner for the last few months.”

“It’s not just that. There was a very…” She holds up her hand, pressing her middle finger to her thumb. “Narrow window of time where my brother and I were trusted with Delilah’s power.”

She had been given the Bond. Delilah’s Bond.

David presses his lips together. He knew Delilah had the power to give out some of her powers to her witches, just like the Crow Queen and-as much as he’s loathe to admit their similarities-David. It’s not a surprise, but the knowledge that Rose had been Bonded once before makes him...uneasy.

“Soooo you need magic to get around the manor.” Joan looks at David with big, knowing eyes.

“Yes.” Rose folds her hands in her lap. “You don’t have to play dumb with me. I know David has the Mark.”

At that, David leaps to his feet. He grips the back of his chair, feeling the Mark burn like a brand under his wrappings.

Beside him, Paul laughs nervously. “Whaaat? Rosie, have you been smoking my good stuff?”

“Seriously, don’t bother. I know, and I know he’s given all three of you the Gift.”

“Okay, we don’t call it that, and somehow that sounds really creepy.” Joan holds up her hands.

David is still holding the chair back so tightly it’s impressive it hasn’t splintered off in his grip yet. His mind is reeling. Any point he Blinked where she could have seen. Any time where the Mark was left on display. Had he whispered about it in his sleep? Had Vasco told her?

Did Anthony  know?

“How?” is all he can get out.

Rose glances down to her lap. “I can see it,” she replies. “I can see the pull of the Void around you, how it’s stronger around them. I can see Galia’s bonecharms-” Galia’s hands fly to her pockets. “-burning down from the inside out. I can see Granny’s spells all over the walls and the floors of this place. And I can see the energy surrounding the heart charm that David is always holding, like...he’s…” She stops, her face going white as she stares up at him. “I’m...not supposed to be able to see it, am I?”

David just stares. “No.”

She just looks down. And David lurches forward.

He grabs her by the shoulders, shaking them. “How can you see it?” He breathes, so fast his lips barely have time to form the words. “How?!”

Her hands at his wrists, but they don’t try to push him away. “I just can!” She blinks, her eyes wide.

“Nobody else can, how are you doing it?!”

“What is she talking about?”

“David, get off her, what the hell?!”

He leans in, so close their foreheads nearly touch, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. “Can you hear her too?”

“What?” She stares back, her eyes wide and confused. “Hear who?”

He lets Joan drag him back, stands there as she smacks him across the face.

“What the f**k was that, old man?”

David steps back, his knees feeling like they’re about to crumble under his weight.

“What...charm is she talking about?” Paul looks between the two.

“Forget it.” Rose stares at her lap. “Forget I said anything.”

David doubles over, gripping the back of his chair intensely. His chest feels tight, and it’s hard to get enough breath.

He doesn’t know how to feel now. Maybe happy at the prospect, that he’s not alone. That there’s proof that the last vestige of Sabrina’s spirit isn’t simply a product of his overactive imagination, his own f****d-up mind. But that’s not what wells up in the back of his throat.

He wants to strangle her, for having the audacity to be able to see Sabrina. Just like he wanted to push Deirdre off the side of Sokolov’s safehouse, watch her pretty head crack open on the pavement for daring to hear the last echoes of her voice. They shouldn’t be able to. He doesn’t trust them to. Sabrina isn’t theirs.

“Okay, so whoever’s heart David’s carrying around…” Joan gestures to David with a pitiful expression on her face that suggests she knows exactly whose heart it would be.

“It’s not a real heart, just...it’s wood, carved to look like one…” Rose stares at her lap some more. “I’ll shut up about it now.”

David’s fingers curl under the backrest, and he dwells on the discomfort in his hands. “How do you know all this?”

“I told you, I can just...see it.” she says, waving her hand. “See it all around you. I knew you were Marked immediately, just like I knew with Granny.”

“Granny Rags has the Mark?” Joan mutters, then shakes her head. “I have to admit, I never thought it, but I am not in the least bit surprised.”

David leans in, but doesn’t relax his grip on the chair. “What do you mean you can ‘see it’?”

Rose bites her lip, eyes sweeping the floor. “Do you...remember when I told you about my wards? About what I said about people’s energy?”

“Yeah, you said something about auras and s**t,” Joan says.

“I didn’t say auras, I said it was like auras. I’ve read about those. They’re totally different, I just...didn’t have a better word to use.” She pulls some of her hair over her shoulder, running her fingers along. “I said that everyone carries around certain energies, and some people are able to see them unaided. I’m...one of those people.”

Joan snaps her fingers. “So you’re psychic!”

“I mean, I guess? I can’t predict the future or anything.”

“How does this work?” David finds himself asking. Rose just shrugs.

“I have no idea. I’ve just always been able to. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been able to see and hear and feel things I really shouldn’t be able to. Delilah called me a sensitive. I think that’s why she didn’t just cut her losses and kill me right away. I’ve never met anyone who can sense things to the degree I can.”

“But how can…” David waves his hand, pressing his lips together when the words don’t come how he wants them.

She looks up. “That might get a little complicated to explain...you guys know that the Void isn’t really a...place, right?”

“Yes,” Galia and Paul reply in unison, just as Joan answers “No.”

“It isn’t.” She smoothes out her skirt, fingering the hem. “It permeates our reality. There are places where they rub up against each other, where the fabric separating them becomes warped or thin, but it’s always there. We’re not really in the Void, but we’re part of it.” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I know that probably didn’t make sense.”

“You’re doing pretty well, explaining something as impossible as the Void,” David says.

“I know, I’m doing my best, but there’s just not words.” She presses her lips together. “I’ve looked for them, read everything I could get my hands on, even studied some of the old Pandyssian languages to find some words I can use to make people understand. But I haven’t found them yet.” She stares at a corner of the room, perturbed. “And I’ve never had to explain it to anyone before. The only person I talk about it with is Joshua, and he’s had to put up with me my whole life. He just gets it.”

David turns his chair around so he can sit in it normally, facing her. “Is your brother like you?”

“No. Neither of them. Just me, somehow.”

“Just try your best. We’ll get it figured out.”

Rose gives him a smile then, slight and without teeth, and it’s gone in a moment. She straightens out her skirt. “So, say the fabric here is the Void. And every stitch-” She points to the embroidery. “-Is a person. You’re your own stitch, but the Void is still part of you. Wait, no, that metaphor probably works better in reverse. Fuck.”

“You’re doing fine,” David says.

“Everyone has part of the Void within them,” she continues. “You’ve heard that you go there in your dreams. I don’t think you go anywhere, really-you’re just in the grip of the Void already inside you.”

“This is the stuff of nightmares,” Joan mutters.

Rose is unruffled. “What I can do is...see the part of the Void you carry. That manifests itself in this sort of energy, and this Void energy is the lifeblood of your being. Through it, I can see a...lot of things. Your moods, sometimes get a sense of the things you’re dwelling on. I can’t exactly read your mind, but it’s not too far off.”

“Ohhhhh.” Paul shifts rapidly from foot to foot, shaking out his hands. “That gives me the heebie-jeebies, man, I’m sorry! That’s creepy!”

“I don’t do it intentionally.”

“I know! I’m not saying you’re creepy, just...fuck!”

“So like, what all can you tell from this?” Joan asks. “Like, if you look in my head, can you figure out where I lost my keys the other night?”

“Ricardo has them.”

“Oh, sweet!”

“That’s not a psychic thing, he found them outside and keeps forgetting to give them back to you.” She shrugs. “I know that after you brought David back from the slaughterhouse, you locked yourself in a closet and cried for over an hour. And Paul, you came damn close to breaking Thalia’s arm last week.”

“More like everyday.” Paul folds his arms, curling up his lip as he stares at the floor. “f*****g b***h. Can’t wait until I don’t need this job anymore.”

“And David,” she turns to him. “I know how you were really doing on the Empress’s birthday.”

His stomach drops.

“He got drunk and depressed,” Paul says. “Anyone would have, come on.”

She shrugs. “I told Anthony  just to leave you alone, but...you shouldn’t have been alone. That’s all I’m saying.”

“We’re not talking about me right now,” he says dryly, then swallows. “Actually, we are, but you’re going to tell us how you can look at me-” he points. “And tell that I’m Marked.”

“Well, I said everybody’s like a stitch on the fabric of the Void, right?” she says, gripping some of her skirt between two fingers. “You’re more like a pin pushed through the material. Mark bearers...pull on things a little more.” She twists, catching the pinch of fabric and the dozen or so stitches around it, twisting it up into a spiral. “I wouldn’t say you’re affecting the fabric of reality, but you...wrinkle it. The air is different in here, around you. The Void within everyone else, within the very air, its border with our reality gets suckered up in what your Mark draws from the Void. You affect all of that. All of us.”

David swallows. “Are you saying that I’m a danger to everyone here?”

“No.” She smoothes out her skirt. “I’m saying be careful.”

He just stares at her for a long minute, finally drumming his fingers against the chair to ground him back in the moment.

“Does Anthony  know?”

She shakes her head, her dreadlocks hitting her in the face. “f**k no, I wouldn’t tell him.”

“You’d keep secrets from you best friend?” Joan stares down at her with her arms folded.

“Why would I tell him? If I were Anthony  I’d be devastated. The Marked don’t lead happy, long lives. He wouldn’t want David to have to deal with that.” She presses her lips together. “Can’t hurt him if he doesn’t know about it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” David says.

“He’ll be mad if he ever finds out-or if you tell him, which I don’t think you should ever do, by the way. But I’ll deal with that then. I know he thinks you’re hiding things because you don’t think he’s strong enough, but...he is. There’s just no reason to make him suffer if he doesn’t need to.”

She’s right, David does agree. Anthony  would be upset if he found out, but there’s no doubt in David’s mind that he’d handle it. He’d just be happier not knowing.

And if David has his way, Anthony  will never know. Unless there’s some catastrophic event that forces him to use his powers to save Anthony ’s life, he’ll never reveal them. Better yet, if a danger does present itself, one of David’s Bonded will be his first defense-even if Anthony  doesn’t appoint Joan his Royal Protector, David will give the Bond to whomever he chooses. The idea of throwing Joan under the bus doesn’t sit well with him, but there was no harm in letting Anthony  believe she bore the Mark-he wouldn’t let Overseers drag her away for it. But hopefully they won’t need to use their magic in front of Anthony . And when David dies, he’ll make sure they know to dispose of his body without letting Anthony  unwrap his hand. Probably just burn him. That’d be best.

“So great, only about half the conspiracy team knows,” Joan snorts. “And we’re all keeping it from Anthony , but both his friends have to lie to him. Oh, Vasco knows too, by the way.”

“I kind of figured he did. Didn’t want to say anything, though, in case I was wrong.” She kicks her feet. “I’ll talk to him. Anthony  gets, like, weirdly interrogative when David’s brought up, so we’ll get on the same page about playing dumb.”

“Aw.” Joan shakes her head. “He’s just worried about his old man.”

“I just don’t want him to feel like he’s being kept out of the loop.” She huffs. “Even though that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“He’ll get over it.” David stares at the wall for a moment, then turns around. “Galia, can you go get everyone and have them gather in the hall? Maybe in a half hour or so?”

“Wait, why do we have to have a meeting about this?” Rose clutches the legs of her chair.

“We’ve changed our plans about the parties, we need to go over it all.” David holds his hands up. “We’ll talk about what you’re comfortable with everyone knowing, you don’t need to tell them everything.”

“Why the f**k not?” Galia spits. “If she’s so damn innocent, what’s the harm in letting everyone know?”

“Because I f*****g said so, Fleet.”

“I just want to say,” Paul says after Galia’s left the room. “I don’t know what the f**k’s her problem.”

“She has every right to be mad at me.”

“I mean, yeah, we’re all a little mad, but Fleet went f*****g ham.”

“She didn’t give me time to explain,” Rose says quietly as she strokes one of her dreadlocks. “And I only told Vasco that I’d lived at Brigmore, asked him if he thought I was in the wrong for not telling you all who Breanna was. That’s all she heard. I can see where she’d make some bad assumptions.”

Assumptions or not, Galia’s outburst made David feel physically uneasy. It wasn’t...she was never sweet and innocent, not like her sister, just stubborn. Maybe a little hot-headed. This, this sort of anger, the hostility and apparent acceptance of them coercing a literal f*****g child, this was not like her.

But she bears the imprint of his power in her being. His-how had Rose phrased it? His influence over everything she feels. She was basing her own actions and reactions off of what she thought David thought.

He thinks of that. He thinks of Anthony ’s quick bouts of anger when he was so gentle before. The fighting between Joan and Edgar, who are supposed to be the best of friends. Reed’s uncharacteristic, age-inappropriate aggression. How Sabrina will sometimes spit fire and lose herself in her own rage.

And David feels, he knows, that it’s all his fault. He’s turned them into this.

“I’ll talk to her,” David says, rubbing his temples. “But now that she’s gone, can I ask you something weird?”

He turns back, sees Rose nod.

“Have you...how does Zhukov look to you?”

“Like nothing.” She stares, her eyes unfrightened but ostentatiously perturbed. “Like...not even like a corpse, but like my power is just gone when I look at him.” She holds out her hands. “So you get it too?”

“Yeah.” His thumb runs over Sabrina in his pocket. “I can’t hear anything from him either.”

She folds her arms. “I guess I just see him how you guys see everything, huh? Thought It’d be more...peaceful, not to have all that jumping out at you. It’s just weird.” She stares at the corner of the room. “I know it doesn’t make up for lying to you, but in the interest of being completely transparent, I have a bit of a workshop set up in the engine room. My bonecharm stuff, all my spells...poisons.” She shrugs. “Don’t want you to think I’m hiding anything else.”

“You got into the engine room?” Paul asks. “Edgar locked us out.”

“And I broke back in. Then I locked you out. Just wanted a place my brother and I could be safe, if everything went to s**t…” She looks upset for a moment, then shakes her head. “The new passcode is 659. You can help yourself to my potions and whatever, I can always make more. Just...leave the books. I need those.”

“Well-” Joan just stares at him from across the room. “I hope whatever voices you have in your head have a lie detector built in, David, because none of us can see that s**t. Witch-b***h might of just played us like a fiddle.”

“She’s not.”

“You can be angry with me-” Rose gets to her feet, and Lizzy’s neck snaps in her direction.

“Oh, I am. Not ‘ravage you and dishonor on your family’ mad, but I’m still pissed. We trusted you, Roses. I thought you trusted us.”

Rose stares back, blankly. “I trust you about as much as I’ve trusted anyone else in my life.”

“You know.” Joan pulls her bottom lip from her teeth as she nods. “That’s fair.”