Page 6 of The Deadliest Game

She regarded me with suspicion, as she should. Guardias were unpredictable, and impersonating a Guardia would get me arrested, which would end in the ugly fate I was so desperately trying to outrun. Even so, I would rather wear this than dart through this cold in a backless red ball gown. One stained with the blood of two people.

The thought of blood made my skin crawl, and the deep age-lines etched into the woman’s skin shifted while she studied me.

There was no way for her to know that I was not a Guardia, nor an Élite, but a regular Performer in proverbial sheep’s clothing. I winced. I was tired, but I needed to continue. Something Antonio had said popped into my head:At the heart of wilderness survival is discipline. Discipline to have total control over your body, even when it defies the concept of subjugation.

We regarded each other warily for a moment. What must she be thinking? Did she recognize me like everyone else did? And, if so, did the glimmer of gold call to her the way it did most people?

Even if she didn’t recognize me, I was still alone, and dressed in an ancient Guardia uniform. But I didn’t have any weapons, and I was sure I looked young and more than a little terrified, with diamond earrings. I tucked my hands into the warm space under my arms. There were no gloves, and my fingers and face were perpetually cold.

The Dreg gave me one last up and down, and I could almost see the decision to talk to me play out across her worn face before she said, “Sleeping out in the open like this is stupid.”

A large part of me was grateful she had spoken. Mostly because she was right, but partly because I had heard Dregs were dangerous. Hell, anyone was dangerous to me now, Guardia and Dreg alike.

Her movements belied her as a gentle soul, and I watched the way her hands softly scratched at her chin where several wiry hairs had grown. “I saw a Guardia patrol coming up from the east side. They stopped me, asked if I saw someone wearing a red gown.”

A clammy trembling started in my lower back, quickly taking over my entire body. I had been right, and something was telling me to run. She could likely turn me in for a very generous reward.

Her bushy, dirty brows furrowed. “I have seen no one who fits that description. So, I suppose you are safe for now.” The creaky sound of her Spanish, replacing several consonants with a breathy hiss, was almost cozy despite her destitute state.

I blinked, and the corners of her mouth twisted up into a smile. Without thinking, I reached out and wrapped my arms around her. Tears had sprung into my eyes without warning, and I couldn’t stop them from making frozen tracks down my cheeks.

The woman smelled of sweat, dirt, and smoke, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Gracias Doña,” I said fervently.

Slowly, her hands went to my back. “Mija, tienes que correr. Te están buscando.”

She was right. I did need to run, but all I could think of was how she had been the first person to call me ‘mija’ in many months. Maybe it was because of Maestra Cecelia, or finding out about my mother, but anyone claiming ownership of me made my chest ache.

The Dreg woman’s hands reached my shoulders and gently pushed me off her.

For a moment, I almost thought she was crying too, but her eyes were only glimmering because they were presented with an up-close view of the diamonds wrapped around my throat and ears.

A part of me felt foolish. Of course gold would call to her as well. With a shaking hand, I reached up and took out one of my earrings before handing it to her.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I do not know if you can even sell that to anyone, but I hope it serves you well,” I drawled. A part of me considered giving her more, but I needed to buy passage out of here, which would be impossible without bargaining chips.

Her head cocked to the side. “There is a Comerciante Nocturno in Ciudad de Rubíes, right on the outskirts of the city. I’ve sold…” she hesitated, as if she were surprised that she had told me so much. “He buys things like this.” She held up the earring a little higher, letting the large stone sparkle in the air.

One part of me froze at the mention—Comerciantes Nocturnos sold a hell of a lot more than jewelry, all of it more dangerous than baubles, too. A part of me wanted to beg her to show me, but I wasn’t sure that I would go. If I could bribe a shipowner, that would be enough.

In fact, many shipowners were Comerciantes Nocturnos. I bit my lip. “How will I know where he is?”

The Dreg took a deep breath. “Look for the house with a white circle behind the bushes.”

I took my hands out from the warmth of my body and rubbed them together. “How much longer to the city?” I asked, licking my dry lips.

The old woman pursed her lips and looked at the sky. “If you start walking now, you could reach the city in around four hours.” Then her eyes darted back to me, suddenly filled with warning. “But you shouldn’t be walking at night. Wolves roam these parts, they are more wild than normal.”

My mouth went dry. On a regular night, I could scare them away with noise. But I didn’t want to do that, and the woods had already been sprayed with the frenzy gas, as my master strategist Joaquín had called it. It would make them feral—they would kill quickly.

The woman shifted her feet and reached out, handing me half of something that looked like a sandwich. My stomach growled loudly at the sight of the food, and I shoved it in my mouth before considering the state of the nourishment.

“Gracias Doña,” I said between mouthfuls of meat and bread.

She nodded once. “You should be going. I suggest finding a good hiding spot for the night and trying to get some sleep.”

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