I’ve been their little sister for two years now, and I’m fond of them. I like the way Grantaire drinks too much, mostly to annoy St. Juste. I like teasing St. Juste and watching his face go red and his eyes become like flint. I like the way Feuilly is always reading, even in the middle of the most avid debate. He’s lent me entire libraries of books in the last year, after being shocked when he learned that I could read. I think it pleases him to see me clutch one of his old tomes and carry it around the house like a well-read alley cat.

I’m their gunrunner, their messenger, their go-between, bringing news and information from the Guilds for a shiny gold coin. But they’re not mercenaries, not merchants, not crooks like the Wretched. They don’t know how to keep me at a distance. They don’t know how to treat me differently, so they treat me like I’m one of them. And for the first time in my life, I began to feel like maybe I could belong to a world that’s not the Miracle Court, to a family that’s not the Thieves Guild.

I shake my head at these foolish thoughts and begin to peel off my clothes: dress, chemise, skirt hoop, and corset land in a heap on the floor. I wipe my face clean with water from a jug and an old cloth, undo my hair, and braid it, tying the plaits up in a crown that will more easily fit under my cap. I take out my Cat clothes: dark trousers, boots, and a shirt.

I hide all proof of my womanhood under ill-fitting clothes. First I wind bandages around my soft shape. I erase and rewrite myself with a new face and form. The feel of the linen as it slides over the scars on my back reminds me who I am and what my purpose is. I’m no woman, no girl. I’ve no blood father or home; I’ve none of the cards this life dealt me at birth. I chose who I am. I’m the Black Cat. A daughter of this city. A child of Tomasis, Lord of the Thieves Guild. No one can take anything from me because the Tiger has already taken it all.

And I’m going to get it back.

Once the revolution is over, I’ll get what I’ve waited, planned, and worked for these last two years. I’ll use these boys, as they’ve used me for their games of war. They’ll be my weapon to destroy the Tiger once and for all, because they can do what I, as a child of the Miracle Court, cannot. They can attack, report, and destroy a Guild without bringing war to the Court.

They will be my revenge.

I get out my tools—my carved picks, my needles and pins for locks—and slip them into my trouser pockets. I roll up my sleeve and strap my dagger to my lower arm, then pull my cuff back over it. I dip my hands in a small pot of gray dust to keep my palms dry, and I pull out pieces of long gray cloth, wrapping them around my hands as makeshift gloves. I pull on my jacket and tuck the loose hairs into my cap.