Release: Davlova: Book One (29 page)

It all came back in a rush—Donato. The prisoners turned slaves.

Ayo, lying dead.

I closed my eyes against the tears that tried to fill them. “How long have I been asleep?”

Aleksey, seeing my confusion, laughed softly. “You slept through the day and another night, and most of this morning. Luckily for us, you’re rather forthcoming in your sleep. We’re lucky Donato never thought to question you when you were unconscious. You told us more than enough to fill in the blanks.”

“About the prisoners being sold as slaves?”

He nodded. “It was perfect. News of Donato beating some lower city whore to within an inch of his life had them riled up. They wouldn’t even let his carriage back through the gate. We put the fliers out yesterday afternoon. And then, after what happened last night—”

“Stop!” Frey bolted from his chair to turn on Aleksey. “This isn’t a game. They’ll kill her!”

“This is no time to get emotional.”

“Who?” I asked

Frey turned to look at me, and I could see how hard he was fighting to keep himself together. “Anzhéla. She’s been arrested.”

“Holy Goddess. When?”

“They came last night, just before dawn. I don’t know how they got through the gates without anybody knowing, but they did. Busted down the doors of the theatre. But I—” He stopped, pushing a fist against his lips as he struggled to keep his emotions in control. “We heard them come in, and she sent me to secure the passage to the den.” He ducked his head again, his shoulders shaking, although he barely made a sound as he wept.

I wasn’t surprised Anzhéla had sent him to watch over the kids in her keeping. “She knew she couldn’t hide, too, because they’d only keep looking. But if they had her, they’d move on.”

Frey nodded.

“Did they find the den?”

He shook his head, but the question seemed to bring him strength. He straightened his shoulders. “No. The kids are safe. When we heard them come in, we figured it was a raid, but they didn’t bother to arrest anybody but her.”

“However they got through the wall, they couldn’t do it with too many prisoners.”

Frey nodded at me. “That was my thought as well.”

“We can’t lose sight of the big picture,” Aleksey said, stepping between us. “This is what she wanted. It’s what we all wanted. It’s why she pushed for us to publish the fliers in the first place.” He pointed out my window, in the direction of Plaza Gate. “She wanted to drive that mob to a frenzy. And it almost worked. We needed one more thing, and this is it, Frey! Word of her arrest has become the match that will burn the old vestiges of this city to the gr—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your revolution!” Frey yelled back. “Not if it means Anzhéla dying!”

“You don’t know that will happen. She’s resourceful. And the gates won’t hold. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be having this conversation on the fucking hill—”

“You don’t know that!”

“—And Anzhéla will be there. I know my sister—”

“You may know your sister, but do you know Benedict? Do you know what he’ll do to her? What he’s probably already doing to her?” Frey took a step toward Aleksey, but pulled up short, as if thinking better of attacking his lover’s brother and co-conspirator. He turned instead to the small chair he’d vacated. He kicked it, and it hit the wall, losing a leg in the process. He didn’t say another word. Just turned and walked out the door, leaving me alone with Aleksey.

Now that I knew they were siblings, I could see the resemblance. The same passionate eyes and calmly smoldering disposition. “This is a victory, Misha. We’re going to win this war because of you.”

I thought of Ayo, and of Anzhéla. “At what cost?”

He ducked his head. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, although no less fervent. “She knew the risks, Misha. And she chose to take them. The best thing we can do now is honor that. Don’t let this be in vain.”

***

I managed to get out of bed after Aleksey’s visit, although the pain was horrific. I took stock of my injuries. My face was the worst of it. Both eyes were black, the right one nearly swollen shut. My upper lip was cracked and swollen. My jaw ached when I moved it. But as bad as my face looked, it didn’t hurt as much as my midsection. The bruising there was harder to see, but I suspected at least one cracked rib.

I would have born the injuries a thousand times over, if it would bring Ayo back. Tears welled in my eyes every time I thought about the way he’d looked, lying motionless across the bed. He’d wanted me to use the word—begged me, even—but that didn’t make me feel any better about what I’d done.

Once she found out I was awake, Talia brought me something for the pain. She also sent me to the luxurious room with the giant tub that I’d used on my first night in her house. Soaking in the warm water eased the pain in my battered limbs, but hardly refreshed me. Outside, the noise of the mobs in the streets was growing louder with each hour. Talia closed the whorehouse for the night, rather than risk inviting in angry patrons who would take their frustration out on her whores. Some of her employees went out into the mob, eager to be part of history. Others hid inside, gathering together in the common room to speculate on what the morning would bring.

I did neither.

Lalo tried to lure me into a game of chess, telling me I could use a distraction, but I declined. I retired to my room, unwilling to face the others after everything that had happened. I didn’t care about the fate of the city, now that Ayo was dead.

Just after the dinner bell, there was a timid knock on my door. It opened, and Tawny stepped inside, looking scared and apologetic at the same time. “I’m sorry I spied on you.” She shrugged nervously. “It was only a job. You understand.”

I did. As much as I may have wanted to be angry at her, there was no reason. If our roles had been reversed, I’d have done the same thing. “Don’t worry about it.”

She smiled shyly and took a step closer, pulling an envelope from her pocket. “He sent this for you.”

I took it, wondering how it had come to be here, in my hand. It certainly hadn’t come through the gate. “How’d he get it to you?”

“I have a sister who’s a priestess, up in the first quadrant.” She shrugged again. “They have their ways.” She let herself out as quietly as she’d come in.

I looked down at the letter in my hand, wondering if I wanted to know what it said. Part of me wanted to shred it without reading it, but I couldn’t do it. Not now, knowing that whatever we’d shared was truly over. Whether it had been love, or only business, there was no going back. Whatever form the city took after the chaos had passed, I’d never again be his whore.

I was beyond his reach, forever.

I opened the letter.

Darling,

I have so much to say to you, and I’d give anything to say it in person, but I see now that it can never be. The end is coming, and if I have any hope of making peace with you, it will have to be here, with this pen and parchment, and the alarming inadequacy of these two words:

I’m sorry.

A shallow sentiment, when spelled out this way, but it’s true. I am deeply and sincerely sorry for hurting you. I’d give anything to take it back. I think of nothing but the way you looked when my rage passed. I fell to my knees when I saw what I’d done. I begged you to forgive me, but you were beyond my reach. I feared I’d killed you, and I wanted to die, too. Even now, knowing that you’ve betrayed me, that you’ve told the rebels of the raids, I feel no anger. Only sorrow. I’d give anything to hold you and be given the chance to make things right.

I know you, my pet. I know how your mind is slow to forget, and yet your heart longs to forgive. Please believe me when I tell you, this thing involving the arrests and Deliphine was not my doing. It was Benedict’s idea, and the Council’s. It’s been the city’s only source of income now for more years than I care to admit. Did I profit? Yes. I won’t lie. But I objected, too. Especially in the beginning. Work camps are one thing. Even being sent to the gallows has its own sort of dignity. But what they’ve done is beyond reproach.

I know you will ask, why didn’t I stop it? I should have, but how? Who was I to tell? Nobody can control the Council, and when I dug in my heels, they reminded me what happens to those who oppose them. They asked me if I’d like to share the fate of the High Priestess. After all, it would cost them nothing to replace me. There are plenty of men who’d like to live as I do. When I finally demurred, they paid me off. Not with money, but with the boy.

They knew my weakness.

Still, this last raid at Talia’s was not something I wished for. Nor was Anzhéla’s arrest. I warned Benedict that seizing her would push the lower city to its breaking point, but what can I say? The man is a fool, and that poor woman will never even stand trial. Benedict wanted her, and the Council granted his request. He has her locked away somewhere at his home. I hate to think what he’s doing to her. I bear no love for the woman, but I wouldn’t wish his cruelty on anybody.

I also want you to know that the boy is alive. You thought you’d killed him, but he’s fine. He slept for the better part of a day, and when he woke, he asked for you. I think he nearly said your name before he caught himself. I was jealous, I admit. He has a piece of you I will never have. Part of me resents him for it, but I’m also glad that in the midst of the savage chaos of his life, you’ve given him some comfort. The Goddess knows he’s had none of it from me. I can’t even remember why I denied him the culmination of his pleasure all those years. I think I was angry at him. He represents my biggest failures, both personally and professionally. He represents my lack of control. He represents every part of me that I hate.

It’s a poor excuse, but it’s the only one I have.

I’ll never know how you learned his trigger word, or why you used it when you did. You could have asked me. I would have told you the word. I would have given you permission to use it. Not on one of my bad days, no. But on my good days, there’s nothing I could deny you. I wish you had trusted me, and yet I understand why you didn’t. I wish I could have given you that gift, but it simply wasn’t meant to be.

I’m glad now that I never had a chance to move you into my house. You’re safer where you are. But I worry for the boy’s sake. The wall will come down. The city will fall, and I will fall with it. Once the gates are open, the remainder of my life will be counted in hours, if not minutes. I’m ready for that. Truly, I am. I don’t have the will to fight it. But what will become of him? Revolutions are rarely bloodless, and those savages on your side have stopped distinguishing nobles from servants or slaves. Everybody on the hill will have to beg for their mercy, and few will receive it. You of all people understand the danger he’ll be in when they discover the depths of his conditioning. I shudder to think of the horrors they’ll inflict upon him. I can’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t be better to end both our lives, by my own hand, together.

But I won’t. I’ve been a cruel master to him, I know, but I can’t bring myself to kill him, even if it might for his own good. Besides, there is still a chance, however slim, that things will work out. That maybe the wall will hold. The rebels will go back to their basements. And I’ll have a chance to beg you in person for your forgiveness.

It’s unlikely, I know. But I hold onto that hope.

I love you.

And I’m sorry.

Miguel

The letter left me in tears. I could hear his voice in my ear. I could feel the warmth of his touch. Not my master, but my lover. Not Donato, but Miguel. Part of me wanted to give him the chance to make amends.

But it wasn’t up to me.

I wept uncontrollably when I read that Ayo was alive. A tremendous weight lifted from my shoulders. But at the same time, it was replaced with a new urgency. Donato was right about one thing—the rebels would not show anybody mercy. Ayo was in grave danger.

And the bit about Anzhéla...

I had to find Frey.

I dressed quickly. I tucked my knives into their places. They felt odd now, less natural than they had in the past, yet still familiar and comforting. I tucked my money into different pockets, deep inside my clothes, away from the nimble fingers of clan kids. It was a risk taking it all with me, but I had no way of knowing if or when I’d be back, and if nothing else, I might need it for bribes. Coins often made hard tasks easy, merely by crossing the right person’s palm.

The streets were chaos. The sound of a battering ram against the Plaza Gate echoed through the streets at regular intervals. Crowds of people bearing weapons gathered on each corner, listening to the words of the men in yellow. And those men no longer wore masks. There was no point in hiding. Not at this late juncture. The revolution would happen tonight, or not at all. I ducked my head and took to the alleys. The people who still lingered here were too old, or too sick, or too tired to care about storming the hill. They watched me with hollow eyes as I made my way back home.

The street that fronted Anzhéla’s theatre was practically deserted. It was too far from all the action. The only people I saw were hurrying toward the plaza.

The theatre was locked. Hand-scrawled signs tacked to the door announced that all shows had been canceled until further notice. Now what? I glanced up at the gargoyles, somehow expecting them to be gone. They’d been on guard the night Anzhéla was taken, and they’d failed.