In a tone that reminds me too much of Oscar, he murmurs, “I’m sorry,” and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that I might pass out quickly rather than experience hours of this agony. I blink, and the knife is raised once again. He brings it down fast – too fast – and my arm falls free. He leans and slashes through the leather holding my other wrist and then turns, stance bold, muscles tensed, ready to fight.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-nine

It takes me a moment to understand, to see. I nearly faint from pain when I bend to unbuckle the straps at my ankles. But after a minute, I stand – free. Bloody and broken, but free. Obel has the mayor pinned to the ground – none of the guards come to help him – and Connor – well, you don’t hand a knife to a criminal. Connor looms over Longsight, the bloodied blade at his throat.

I wait for the crowd to descend. But the people aren’t coming to their leader’s aid. They look astonished, but not angry. I glance around, but I see no sign of Jack Minnow. I wish I was a snake and I could taste the air to get a flavour of the atmosphere. Instead I pause and watch and listen until I’m sure, and it’s … relief. The overriding mood is cautious, shocked relief.

I am surprised to see my own mother on the platform, standing central. She has a bag over her shoulder and she looks so small.