She pointed out the various points of interest to her fellow traveler. “Men’s showers—restaurants—clothiers, if you decide you didn’t bring enough shirts and trousers with you—sleeping benches. But we only have two hours. Don’t forget to watch the clock.”

“Meet me back here as soon as you’ve washed up,” he said. “We’ll go together to get something to eat.”

She was annoyed that he didn’t trust her and irritated with herself for caring. “I’ve come this far with you,” she said sharply. “I’m hardly likely to turn around now and run back for the city.”

“Even so,” he said, so she shrugged and acquiesced. They parted at the door to the women’s necessary room.

Five minutes later, Kit was naked under the communal shower, reveling in the feel of hot water on her body and in her hair. If she had to pick one pleasure from the canon of human sensuality, it would be the act of getting herself completely, luxuriously clean. She would forgo food, she would forgo love, she would forgo the feel of silk against her bare skin all for the satisfying satin of shampoo rinsing away past her fingers. She kept her eyes closed and splashed water over her face again and again and again.

But it was a public place, and she had forgotten how very much she stood out in this environment. When she opened her eyes, she found herself the focus of sideways glances from the five or six other women also standing under the gushing sprays of water. She was the only blueskin here, of course. There must be no more than a dozen indigo women a year who passed through Krekt Station, and most of them would die before stripping naked in front of their gulden counterparts in such a careless fashion. Kit was not so well-known outside Gold Mountain that sheltered clan women this far from the coast would instantly suspect her identity. And so they stared at her, and wondered, and looked away when she tried to meet their eyes.

She didn’t belong here. She knew she didn’t belong in the city, either, at her grandmother’s table and in the ballrooms of the Higher Hundred. There was no place that she truly fit in.

Even Chay would not be happy to see her. And Jex was a refuge so dangerous she could not allow herself to consider him. There was not a place on this entire continent that she could call home.

*   *   *

It was in this bleak mood that she rejoined Nolan a few minutes later. He too had taken the opportunity to shower. His black hair formed wet curls at the collar of his fresh shirt, and he smelled like disinfectant. No doubt she did, too. The soap in the necessary rooms was effective but hardly elegant.