And so despite half the corpses belonging to Stasia’s axes, Cyrus walked from body to body, carving a bloody crown across their foreheads. That done, he opened the wooden door to the interior and entered. It was a small jail, built to handle drunkards and the occasional thief. Nine men and five women were crammed within, forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. They startled at his arrival, but their fear and shock did not last long. Something new replaced it, something Cyrus was steadily growing familiar with.

“The Vagrant,” a man at the front said. He was missing a hand, and he pressed the stump of his wrist through a gap in the bars. Seeking to touch him. To receive affirmation. “You’re real.”

“Very real,” Cyrus said. He pressed the key into the lock. “And your guards are very dead. Follow me.”

A trio of soldiers under Pilus’s command waited in the street outside the dockyard jail. They ushered the fourteen to hurry, throwing cloaks and coats over them for both warmth and disguise. Safehouses were already set up for them, but first they had to get there. Cyrus lurked nearby, weapons still drawn. Thorda would like that, he knew. Let the people see the blood on his blades, feel the deadly gaze of the watchful killer.

Only one other member of Thorda’s group was allowed to share in the Vagrant’s adulation, and she roared from her rooftop perch above the jail and spread wide the jagged bones of her wings.

“Be free,” Mari told them through the magic of her word-lace. “Be strong.”

Already shaken by the sight of the Vagrant, several burst into tears, and one fell to his knees to prostrate himself before her.

“Up, up, pray later,” one of Pilus’s soldiers said as he forced the man back to his feet. The group hurried away, following a preplanned path that would take them to a safehouse half a mile away. It was only when they were gone that Stasia emerged from around the corner, her arms crossed and her axes buckled at her hips.

“Dead imperials, and fourteen lives saved from the flags. Not a bad night, I’d say.”

“I’ll still be happy to crawl into bed,” Cyrus said, but to his surprise, she shook her head.

“Got one more task. Sorry. Bedtime will have to wait.”

She gestured for him to follow, and he reluctantly did so. Mari bounded over within moments, making hardly a sound on her padded feet.

“I will await you there,” her word-lace translated after a growl. She raced ahead, easily outpacing the other two with her feline speed.

“So what now?” he asked.

“This mission’s a surprise.”

“You and your father love your surprises, don’t you?”

Stasia winked at him.

“You’ll like this one, I promise.”