The silence in the room deafened them, more effectively than anything ever could. They'd huddled in the corner of the room together so close their wings overlapped. They waited for Seltus to appear, hoping that he'd take one or the other away with him where the job could be finished cleanly. Wren knew it would be her. Phina was too dangerous, too much of an unknown. Too much for Seltus to risk. The blade of the knife burned into her thigh. 

"Are you scared?" Phina asked, though they both knew she already knew the answer. Her hands shook and the air frizzled in out of her lungs like the smoke that left the top of the tents in the caravan and curled into the cloudless sky. She nodded anyway, more to give herself something to do than anything else.

"You need to mean it, before he gets on top of you and takes your blade away." Phina's voice was so dry it made Wren's hands shake harder. The cold of the cellar creeped into her bones like breath on a frosty morning. Phina's presence did little to chase it away. The ghost of a lantern trickled in through the tiny window on the door, barely casting shadows where their legs crisscrossed the floor.

"What if I can't?" Wren asked. She curled her hands around each other and folded her wings up tight against her back. She already had, once, but that had been instinct. The moment came so fast she scarcely had time to think about it. This was different. This time she had enough time to chase the idea away before she fully committed to it.

"You can. I know you can, because I know you don't want to die." Phina's voice cut the darkness like the dagger she'd helped her to hide. She gripped Wren's hand in hers. A shiver traveled up Wren's arm and into her chest. It felt not like strength but like weakness; like something terrible that had not happened yet. Wren cringed but did not move away.

The sound of footsteps bounding up the hall made Wren's back stiffen and the feathers on it rise. Phina let go of her hand, then moved a small distance away. She nodded, faint outline barely visible in the dark light. Wren took it as a sign of encouragement, because anything else made her lungs feel like someone was squeezing them. She huddled her arms around herself and waited for the door to open.

Time passed as if they were moving through quicksand. The door did not open, and more sounds leaked into their tiny chamber. Shouting. The sound of a scream that cut off with an abrupt whine. Something like a sack of turnips hitting the floor. Wren covered her ears while someone rattled the doorknob, as if an explosion waited her on the other side.

"They're in here!" 

Wren opened her eyes. She hadn't realized she'd squeezed them shut. Rannok's wings blocked so much of the light she barely managed to catch his silhouette framed in the doorway. The air rushed out of her chest like a steam pipe. She scrambled to her feet and reached her hand out for Phina, but she'd already risen.

"How did you get down here?" 

Rannok looked behind him, down the hallway, and sighed a sigh of relief. "Whoever they put down here wasn't very good. Armand's outside keeping watch, I managed to kill the one guy." His face sank, like he felt terrible about it. Wren had a sudden reflex to hug him.

"We need to get out of here, we're a fair way from the door and someone probably heard us," Elyn said, head barely peeking through the threshhold. Wren never thought she'd be so relieved to see him. She ducked out the door and into a larger room. It smelled like damp walls and blood. She wrinkled her nose. At the end was a narrow opening that led to another hallway.

They filed out into the thin passage like a ribbon, Wren leading up the back, Phina in front of her, cradling her arm. Everyone stopped moving when the sound of a slamming door cracked through the darkness, and she ran into Phina's back. The sounds of footsteps came down the stairwell like hammers.

"What is the meaning of this?" a voice shouted. Wren wheeled in time to see a man come down the stairwell. His tall, thin form caught the edges of the lantern-light, and suddenly she wished the dagger was much closer at hand. He froze at the bottom of the stairwell, mouth hanging open, pursed as if he meant to say something. It took her a few moments to realize she recognized him, and a sinking feeling came over her.

"Please," she said. His eyes were as kind as they had been before, when they'd talked in a room overflowing with cushions and smoke and he'd asked her to talk alone. It made her hope she would not have to kill him, because he had seemed like a decent man, and he still did now. He smiled a thin, small smile.

"You came to kill him."

"Let us go," Phina replied, her voice a low growl that shook the inside of the narrow passageway. Wren took a step away from her. The air grew frigid, as if an invisible breeze had gone through the passageway. His eyes grew cold as he stared straight at Wren, like he could see through her.

"I told you, he's a terrible man. I've seen what he does. What he can do. It's better if he's gone." He reached for her hand. Phina grabbed onto Wren's forearm and gave her a hard look. She shook her head and stepped away.

"I have to do this," she said. "The rest of you, go. I'll meet you outside." If I get outside. The rest did not need saying. Rannok wouldn't look her in the eye, and Michael and Elyn were too far away for her to see.  Phina's expression grew worried for a moment, then she nodded. Wren wondered if she was concerned for her welfare, or just jealous that she wouldn't get to plunge the dagger into him herself. 

She couldn't bring herself to look back as she followed him up the stairs. There was every chance he would plunge a weapon into her himself, and that would be the end of it. She hoped that the secrets she had learned when he was vulnerable had been true. That when he'd told her he hated Seltus, that they hadn't simply been playing the same game. 

"He asked for you, but I didn't realize that it was you. Are you armed?" 

Wren realized she didn't know his name; that she probably never would. She nodded, the dagger like a red hot poker against her skin. She could feel it dig into her flesh with every movement, the blade barely tucked into the side of her leg so it would not cut her, as long as she was careful. 

"Good. Seltus is a dangerous man. Don't fool yourself into thinking he's funny. Do what needs to be done, and meet me outside. I'll lead you back down into the basement. If your friends are smart, they will disregard your orders and wait."

They snaked up the stairwell and into a large, chambered room. Its ceiling was three times her height, engraved with marble and lit softly with crystal that glowed from within by candles so numerous staff must have had to relight them constantly. There was no one around, though, which eased her in a way no words ever could.

They disappeared down a slightly smaller hallway, lined with ornate doors. The man knocked on one of the far ones, then gripped Wren's forearm behind her back. Her face twisted up and he leaned close to her ear. 

"Have to keep up appearances," he said, then cut himself off abruptly and stood up very straight as the door opened. Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. The smile he shot her was long and sweet, like poisoned taffy. The man shoved her forward.

"The one you asked for."

Seltus let out a brief chuckle, then smoothed her hair out of her face. It made her want to vomit. He took her hand with a surprising amount of grace and pulled her inside. She barely caught the man's encouraging smile as it closed again.

The inside of the room made the brothel look like a pigpen. The walls were gilded, the windows swathed with red velveteen fabric. Furs covered his bed. A large writing desk stood in the corner, dusty from disuse, papers scattered around its surface. Seltus leaned on it and tapped his fingers.

"Given your line of work, I suppose you know why you are here already. I can't trust Phina, but you are small enough for me to overpower. If you're smart, you will cooperate." His mouth curved into a wicked smile. Wren's stomach tied itself in a knot. She'd nearly forgotten the dagger. The thought of plunging it into his flesh made her feel dizzy. She nodded. 

He took her by the arm and sat her down on the bed. She looked away from him. Her body tensed as he sat down beside her and ran his hands down her arms.

She wanted to drive her fingernails into his face, to feel the sharp edges part the delicate skin of his cheek. She waited until he'd grabbed her by both shoulders and pressed her backwards. She fumbled for the dagger as he tore at her shirt, then grabbed her cheeks in his hands.

"Stop struggling, or I will make you stop," he said. Her breath caught in her throat. The dagger was too far away, too loose in her clothes. Her fingertips just barely brushed the metal as he ripped her other arm away and pinned it. Tears pricked at her eyes as he bit into her neck. She forced herself to stop moving; to focus for just a moment as his hands creeped underneath her shirt. 

Metal caught in her fingers. Her heart swelled so much she wanted to laugh. A smile crept across her face. He stroked her cheek and murmured, "Good girl."

She barely felt the resistance as the dagger found her fist, then plunged into his gut, as if of its own accord. Red warmth spilled onto her hand as she pulled it out again. His face screwed up into a purse, like he'd swallowed a lemon, and his eyes filled with rage. He grasped at her neck. She pushed her hands away and felt for the space between his ribs. The knife plunged through it like butter left in the sun too long.

Seltus' grip weakened. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. He coughed once, and blood ran down his chin and onto her face. She grabbed onto his shoulder and pushed. His limp body rolled off her and onto the bed. An inferno sparked through her chest and into her head. 

"Please," he begged, eyes wide with fear, but she could not make herself stop. She pushed his face into the furs, raised her fist, and drew the dagger across his neck. A gurgle emanated from his throat, staining the white fur of some long-dead animal crimson. All was silent save for the sound of her own breathing.