She laughed before she could stop herself, then cleared her throat and looked serious again. “There’s nothing in this city that’ll take a swing or a shot at me, Red. Ain’t that right?” she asked Houjin and Zeke.

They nodded their support, but their eyes were anxious. Zeke said, “Even the pirates keep their promises to Miss Angeline.”

She said, “And one person is quieter than four people. That’s not my opinion, that’s math.”

Still the boys stood firm, so she relented. But before they resumed their hike, the princess extracted a promise from them. “If things get bad, I want you boys to run, you hear me? Don’t stick around and try to be heroes. I’ve talked and cut my way out of tight situations before, and I’ll do it again. If it all goes to hell, I want you to head back to the Vaults and tell Zeke’s momma.”

Rector let out a small snort. “Why? What’s she going to do?”

Zeke turned to him. “More than you think, and she won’t do it alone. She’ll bring Cly, and maybe Mr. Swakhammer. And both of them have friends. Big friends, the kind who don’t mind making a mess.”

“Promise me you’ll go?”

Collectively, they sighed, promised, and continued up the hill.

It might’ve been Rector’s imagination, but he could’ve sworn that the higher they went, the thinner the Blight and fog were. He’d heard it was heavy stuff, and it pooled like liquid, or maybe the light just got better as their altitude rose. One thing that wasn’t his imagination: These had been some expensive houses, once upon a time. They were huge and ornate, and even with crumbling gingerbreads and drooping porches he could see that they must have cost a fortune. They’d all agreed to maintain their silence, so he didn’t ask if this was the neighborhood they’d called Millionaire’s Row, but he expected it probably was. You’d have to be a millionaire to own one of those places, even seventeen years ago.

The higher they went, the lighter it got, and the louder the noise of busy men grew.

Angeline led in a crouch and the boys mimicked her, staying low and keeping behind cover—going out of their way to hide behind derelict wagons, carts, and outhouses rather than venture into the open. They left the edge of the wall, but not by much. They didn’t need to: The noise came from nearby, close enough that they could still follow the lines of the barrier even though they weren’t right up against it anymore.

They heard loud voices, voices that hadn’t been asked, ordered, and reminded to stay hushed. A conversation took place that was loud enough to understand, quite clearly, at a distance—each word fired off like a gunshot in the misty, ghostly ruins.