The boy is in my bed. I understand why it's necessary, but I have the sinking feeling that Leavi's going to continue to expect me to let him stay in here. He's barely conscious, and Leavi's trying by candlelight to drip chicken broth she nabbed from downstairs past his chapped lips. Snow flurries outside, the moonlight reflecting off the falling flakes.

"Leavi." I lean against the windowsill, a smile slipping onto my face.

She looks up.

"We're not dead."

She laughs, in that giddy, not-quite-thinking way that she gets when she's tired or excited. "Yeah," she says, breathless. "We made it."

"What now?"

A shadow falls over her face. "I'm not sure. I don't know if it's safe to go back."

I somber as well. "Do you think the guards saw us?"

"It was dark... I don't know. They could have. And," she pauses, setting down the bowl, "someone else might have seen me."

"That spook behind the stage fire? He couldn't see through that stuff any more than we could."

"No, but..."

My fingers jitter at my side. "What, Leavi?"

"When I was coming back from getting his cloak, he was there, in the hallway. In the fire." Her voice trails off, an unnerved look in her eyes.

There's something in the way she says he that sets me on edge—like she knows him, and knows him so little yet so well that he is a full enough concept without a name. It's like the way I think of—

I shake my head. "He who, Leavi?"

Her eyes refocus. "The Man from the East."

The stage name shakes loose the chains of fear trying to wrap around me. Just because she's scared doesn't mean I have to be—or that she should either. "Okay. Please, I ask, quit with the theatrics." Indignation flashes across her face, and I hold up a hand. "I know you're probably not doing it on purpose, but I need you to speak clearly, Leavi."

The anger in her expression hardens into remote, scientific interest. "Alright, Sean. What, precisely, would you like to know?"

An unconscious sigh forces its way from my lips. I wasn't trying to offend her. "Who is this person, why are they important, and how much influence do they have?"

"A guest of Lady Veradeaux. She listens to him—has to, it seems. I hypothesize that whoever he's working for is paying her to keep him"—she gestures to the boy—"locked up."

"Okay. Thank you." I pause. "And why did you sound so scared of him?"

"I'm not scared, Sean." She bustles around, dishes clinking together as she puts up the soup. The boy has drifted back into unconsciousness.

"Now isn't the time for saving face. What's up with him?"

She freezes for a moment, back to me. Then she busies herself again. "He's just an intimidating man with the resources to make our lives a lot harder. He, and Lady Veradeaux, are going to come looking for whoever did this. The question is whether he knows it's us."

"Okay..." I can't shake the feeling that she's still hiding something, or at least playing it down, but I don't know what.

"I was wearing my muffler, though." She turns back to face me and pulls the cloth that was dangling around her neck up to cover her mouth and nose. "Do you think he'd recognize me from just this?"

I hesitate. Only her eyes are revealed, deep brown and worriedly waiting.

But I can also see her midnight hair and moonlight skin. I still see the tiny scar just beneath her hairline and the single faint freckle beside her eyebrow. The muffler doesn't disguise her frame, tall and confident. It doesn't hide the girl I've studied long enough to recognize in the darkness of caves and the half-light of lanterns.

"Maybe." I hesitate. "How long was he looking at you? I mean, it might work for a stranger."

She pulls the fabric down, letting it hang around her neck again. "Only a few seconds, I guess. But it—" She cuts off, that troubled look filling her eyes again. Just as quickly, it fades. "Only a few seconds."

"'But it' what? Leavi, what aren't you telling me?"

Her mouth twists. "But it feels like he recognized me, Sean. Like he looked at me and saw me." She looks away, fiddling with the dishes again.

The people around here have light skin, but darker than Leavi's. They have blue eyes. Blonde, red, or light brown hair. She looks little like them.

But it was also dark. She was only there for a moment. And just because most people look that way doesn't mean everyone does. There are outliers, just like in any set. Leavi's not the only option.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have had enough time or information to identify you. Fire's a tricky light source—you know that. And other than that, it was dark. And you had your muffler. I'm sure it's fine."

She glances back at me. "You think so?"

"Yeah." Uncertainty lifts my voice a bit.

She turns to face me, frustration and worry etching her expression. "Tell me the truth, Sean. Do you think he knows it was me or not?"

I throw my hands into the air. "I don't know, Leavi! I know what you look like, even with the muffler on, so I can't judge if others wouldn't. Okay? Besides, we probably have to operate like people know it's us anyway. If you plan for the worst-case scenario, then things hopefully go well, right?"

She closes her eyes, nodding. "Yeah." She looks back up at me. "You're right."

I run a hand over my face, trying to wipe away my anxiety. "Okay. So what now, then?"

"Well, we don't go back to work tomorrow for one. And," she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "I guess we move on to another town. Like we said before, we have a little bit of money. We head in... whatever direction Morineaux is. Get work in between."

I nod. "I think that's the best idea. But we don't have food, any knowledge of the geography of this land, or really, anything to be camping out in this environment with."

"We can get directions. Jacin's traveled quite a bit; he might have some tips. And if the next city's not too far, we can buy a tent there." She must notice the reluctance and distaste on my face. "What?"

"I—" I lean on the bedpost. "I don't know. The library in town probably has a map, doesn't it?"

"You think this place has a library?" she scoffs.

"The guy with the kid would know where the next town is, right? That would surely have a map."

"You mean Markus?"

I wave it away. "Whatever."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, he might. But I'm still not convinced we're going to find a library anywhere near this area. These people are even more backwards than the topside towns." A strange look crosses her face. "I suppose these are topside too, but—"

"I know what you mean. But even if there isn't one, Markus probably knows just as much as Jacin."

"What does that matter, Sean?" She stands. "What do you have against Jacin anyway?"

"He's a creep!"

She throws her hands in the air.

"I don't know what you have for him," I say.

"He's been nothing but helpful to us since we got here."

"Maybe to you, but from an outside point of view, he's obsessive and possessive."

"Where is this coming from?"

"What do you mean?"

She sits back down, shaking her head. "Look, I don't know what he's done to you, but it's beside the point. We get directions. Who from, I don't care—"

"I do. I don't trust him."

"Okay, Sean. You've made that clear." On the bed, the boy stirs. She turns and checks on him. After a moment, she says, "When are we planning on leaving? I don't think he'll be ready to travel until at least the day after tomorrow."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—he's coming with us?"

"Well, we're not just going to leave him in the same city he was captured in, are we? That's not much better than having left him in his cell!"

"Yes, it is! He's out of the manor, he's not going to be found, and he'll leave when he can. Besides, we don't know where he's headed. He'll be a drain on our already scarce resources."

"He's helpless, Sean. I'm not just leaving him here." She straightens the covers with one hand.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't make sure that he's okay. But once he can do for himself, I say that he gets lodgings here and provides for himself. I think we've done enough for him."

Her eyes widen. "He can't just lodge here, Sean. He's wanted by the local government."

"Then he can leave on his own and feed himself!"

"With what money?" she exclaims, shooting to her feet.

"That's what I'm asking about us already!"

"We have enough. We have enough to provide for ourselves and at least get him to the next town with us. Okay?"

"No! Not okay. Leavi, we don't know how much our little bit of money can get us. We're walking around with little metal disks in our pockets without any sense of value attached to them. We have no idea if we'll even be able to provide for ourselves, much less your charity case."

"Well, why don't you just worry about providing for yourself, and I'll make sure me and him make it to the next town alright."

I throw my hands into the air. "So just because I don't think we should waste our time and resources on a stranger, you're going to leave me behind for some random person you don't even know? How does that make sense?"

Her frazzled hands shake in the air like she's not sure if she wants to choke me or take me by the shoulders. "Skies, Sean, I'm not planning on leaving you behind! But I'm also not going to leave him behind. Why can't you understand that?"

My jaw clenches. "This is irrational, and"—I tap against my leg, trying to gather myself—"dangerous, and half-cocked, and—it's just a bad idea, Leavi."

She slumps back onto her seat at the foot of the bed like all the air's gone out of her. "Well, I don't know what else to do, Sean. We can't leave him here. It's not right. That's all I know. It's not right."

"Are all of your decisions based on helping people?" I run a hand through my hair. "Skies." I take a few paces to the side, then turn back to her. "We need to make sure we're okay first, Leavi. Don't you see that?"

"We'll make due. We'll figure it out."

I drop my head into my hands. This is useless. Why can't I win arguments with her? "Fine," I murmur into my palm. "But let's actually"—I look up—"figure out what we're going to do, rather than stick with some barely thought out idea that we'll decide what to do later."

She looks up, tempered excitement dancing in her eyes. Words measured, she says, "We get directions. We hop to the next town, get a tent there. Maybe a job. We figure out our next move from there." She holds my gaze hopefully.

"I meant about somehow also providing for him." Sour-faced, I jerk my head toward the bed.

"We'll make due, Sean. We'll just have to be careful with our money."

I run a hand through my hair. "Fine. We'll leave as soon as he can travel."

She nods. "Alright. I'll be back in the morning." She offers me a tired smile. "Night, Sean."

"Night." I curl up in the floor with extra blankets, thinking of nights around campfires in stone tunnels. Thinking of barely concealed animosity and puffed mushrooms and clean blood tests. That feels like so long ago. Telling her goodnight now feels so different from then, and I don't know if it's a turn for the better or a sign of worse things to come. Sleep is fitful and hard-fought for.