“It’s not long now, don’t worry,” he said, mistaking her clinginess for nerves. “Tomorrow, we’ll wait until everyone is at work and then head for the station. No one will bother us. Porto Rosa by midday, and on a merchant vessel by nightfall if we’re lucky.”

“We should leave some money for Signor Stefano,” she said. “For Mama and Papa… and for his silence.”

Renzo nodded. “We will.”

Malachi fell asleep sitting up, his head back and his mouth open. Nomi curled up and buried her face in Renzo’s blanket, forcing her breath to slow. When Renzo started to snore, she crept to the stack of clothes and grabbed a few items.

She snuck into the small washroom and changed into the pants and shirt she’d worn on Mount Ruin. Then Renzo’s heavy wool cloak. If she pulled up the hood it hid her hair and most of her face. She put a few of the coins from the silken money purse into her pocket, leaving the rest for Renzo. Silently, she slid her feet into her boots, adjusted the jagged blade Serina had given her, and picked up Renzo’s composition book.

The moonlight through the uncovered window provided just enough light.

Dear Renzo,

The tattooed woman may become a ghost, but she exacts her revenge all the same. Take the train to Porto Rosa, the ship to Azura, and be safe. Give my love to Serina.

I’m sorry for everything.

Love,

Nomi

She placed the note on the floor by her brother’s head, where he would see it when he woke. Then she crept for the door.

A hand gripped her arm. She swallowed back a scream.

Malachi turned her to face him and whispered, “What has gotten into your head?”

She raised her chin, her lip trembling, and hardened herself. “He killed my parents, Malachi.”

His hand tightened on her arm. “He’ll kill you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “I’m the one who gave him this power. I will be the one to take it away. My parents deserve justice.”

“No.” His expression cracked. “He’s my brother. He’s my responsibility.”

Nomi couldn’t bear his protests. She felt like a jockey just before the Premio Belaria, full of anticipation and terror.

His lips parted, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak this time. Driven by instinct, by grief and longing, she stretched up and pressed her lips to his. Tears leaked out of her closed eyes. He stiffened for an instant, and then he melted into her, his hands snaking up to tangle in her hair.