Page 58 of Between Smoke and Shadow

I don’t know when he pulls out the parchment, but by the time I’ve looked, it’s already settled in my palm. The paper feels hot on my skin, and I’m terrified the guards have noticed. A quick glance their way ensures they haven’t.

“Just take it one step at a time, all right?” Alven says. “Once you get?—”

“I can’t read,” I say. My embarrassment lodges in my throat until it feels like I’m choking on it. “Vale—Vale should have told you. I can’t. I don’t know how to read.”

“Fuck.” Alven snatches the paper back, once again moving before I’ve realized it. He’s quick and sharp, a stealthy spy in ways I’ve never been.Andhe can read. Not to mention write.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Clearing my throat, I force myself to stay focused. “You’ll have to explain it. I’ll remember it.”

I hope, anyway.

“Fuck,” Alven says again. He shuffles the food forcefully on the counter, and I scrub the already cleaned sink. There’s a fewbeats of silence between us before he speaks in the same, quiet rush. “I’ll go with you. I can get you there, but you’re meeting him alone. I’m not getting in too deep—and if anything happens, I’m leaving your ass behind. Understood?”

“Understood,” I echo.

“We’ve got to go now,” he says. “Keep cleaning. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

He’s gone before I can respond. By the time he’s returned, with a full bag of laundry tucked beneath his arm, my entire body vibrates with nerves.

“We are going to walk out the front door,” he whispers. “If anyone asks, we’re taking laundry to the wash. But we’re really, really going to hope no one asks.”

I nod, trying to bury my fear deep inside me.

“Good,” he says. “Now grab a side. Let’s go.”

I take the opposite handle, and without allowing myself to look back at the guards, I follow Alven out of the room.

NINETEEN

RUNE

After abandoning the laundry in the stairwell, we move quickly through the Chapter Building. Though its exterior is identical to the Tower, the interior is far less extravagant. The walls are gray and decorated with simple paintings, and the floors are solid black. There’s less activity too. Rather than swarms of gossiping elites and patrolling guards, there are only occasional servants slipping from one doorway to the next.

I hold my breath once we near the exit. If anyone sees us now, especially anyone who recognizes us as Harrick’s, this mission will be over before it starts. We’ll be dragged back upstairs and one of the guards might filet us before Harrick has the chance to intervene.

Alven shoves through the final door, leading us outside and into the steady rain. It’s colder today than it was yesterday, and wetter. Rain slashes from the sky, drenching the streets and forming puddles on walkways. We remain beneath a red-painted canopy while Alven checks his instructions.

“This way first,” he says.

And then, we’re off. Rain slices against my skin, bitterly cold, and soaks through my clothes. I don’t allow myself to feel the sting or to worry about how we’ll explain ourselves later. InsteadI listen carefully to Alven’s instructions. We go east, west, east again. All the while, I scan for signs of danger, forhunters. We’re alone though, our sloshing footsteps the only ones to be heard.

The buildings become more and more dilapidated as we move through the City. Some were likely destroyed during this last Earthquake Season. The rest have probably been like this for cycles, rusting and warping and half-collapsed.

Alven’s breaths come quick but even. Mine, on the other hand, are erratic and painful. My body isn’t familiar with exercise. Every time Alven pauses to consult his instructions, I take heavy breaths and remind myself that Ihaveto do this, not just for myself but for all of the rebels back at the Tower.

Farther and farther we move, and with increasing distance from the Chapter Building, the City comes alive. The streets gradually become more populated, with white-clothed commoners going about their daily business. If the rain bothers them, they don’t show it. A mother walks with her young child in one hand and a bag of fabric in the other. Two men stand outside an apparent storefront, having a heated debate.And farthest yet, a group of older children kick an empty can in the street.

Nobody acknowledges us, but their eyes all flicker over us, silently deciding whether we’re threats, I imagine. They might be out of the dangerous part of the City, but they’re not foolish enough to feel safe.

Finally, when my lungs feel ready to burst and my legs are shaking, we reach a decrepit neighborhood. It doesn’t look entirely different from the others, but it’s noticeably more abandoned. The only sound comes from hurried footsteps and wheezing coughs. Alven slows as we navigate the ruins, pausing to consult his parchment. It’s soggy now, almost unreadable.

“This is it,” he says.

My body is relieved, but my mind spikes with anxiety.

Trap. This could be a trap. Alven might be a traitor. I might be moments from death.

“That building,” he says, oblivious to my internal panic. He juts his chin toward a short structure with only half a roof. “Berg will be there soon, if he’s not already.”

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