“Did Donovan actually say that he saw her? Or was he only bragging, like always?”

The voice drifted up from the staircase. Dorothy recognized it immediately as Eliza, a Cirkus Freak who seemed to harbor a particular hatred for her. Dorothy held her breath, worried about making a single sound.

Somewhere deeper in the hotel, a door opened and closed, and then there was the sound of footsteps winding their way up the stairs, down the hall . . .

“He said he saw her,” said a second voice. Bennett, Dorothy thought, her body going tense. “’Bout twenty minutes ago. Said she took the back entrance.”

“Twenty minutes?” Eliza released a short bark of a laugh. “She’d be a fool to stay any longer than that.”

Dorothy backed into Roman’s room and eased the door closed. Blast. She closed her eyes, pushing a finger to the skin between her brows.

Think, damn it!

There was another staircase at the other end of the hall, but she couldn’t risk going back down the way she’d come. If someone had seen her sneak into the hotel, then Eliza and Bennett wouldn’t be the only ones looking for her. There would be others as well, probably a pair for every floor. Any route she might take back down to the docks was effectively blocked.

It would have to be the roof, then.

Silently, she crossed the room and threw Roman’s window open. Eight rows of sleek glass windows separated her from the ground below. From up here, the murky brown water below seemed unbreakable, like concrete.

Dorothy swallowed and looked away. She’d been exactly here once before and, then, she’d chosen to jump in order to escape the people chasing her. This time, fortunately, she wouldn’t have to attempt anything quite so dramatic.

Sliding her duffel to her back, she propped a foot on the windowsill and hoisted herself up, balancing on the edge. Wind blew against her legs, and the world spun below her.

Deftly, she eased along the thin ledge of concrete that jutted out from below Roman’s window, fingers gripping along the walls for the worn-down grooves in the rock that Roman had taught her to look for. Wind whipped her cloak against her legs, threatening to flick her off the side of the building like a child might flick a spider. Her fingers quickly cramped, and her lips quivered, but she kept going.

Past one window, and then two, until she’d reached the balcony of the room next door. She took a single moment to catch her breath, and then she began to climb up . . .