A rat skittered across the cobblestones, making Emry jump. London was different at night. Colder. Lonelier. It grasped at her from the shadows of dark alleyways, making her skin prickle whenever she came upon a blind corner, or heard the yowl of a street cat.

The normally colorful storefronts were closed for the night, the street vendors had packed their wares, and the craftsmen had boarded up their stalls. The sheriff’s men had rounded up the poor souls with nowhere to go, casting them outside the city walls so the gates could be safely locked until dawn.

London was still a fortress, even when it pretended to be a city.

She knew the quiet was supposed to be reassuring, but the emptiness unnerved her. She clutched her thin jacket tighter around her shoulders as the neighborhood grew rough and the alleys narrowed around her. She was already past the docks, and almost to the square where, earlier in the day, there had been dozens of market stalls. It wasn’t so much farther to the castle gates. And once she was through, she’d be able to breathe a sigh of relief—a small sigh—before figuring out how she was going to make this work long-term.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. She could see his shadow in the thin moonlight. She chanced a look back, spotting a boy with brown skin and an expensive coat.

She’d seen plenty of opulent fashions at court, enough to know that his coat, a sky-blue brocade trimmed with gold, must have cost a small fortune. Which meant he was someone important. And snagging the attention of someone important was the last thing she needed right now.

Because as far as everyone at the castle knew, she was still in her room, not wandering the city streets with a suspicious amount of luggage and a forged pass in her pocket. She didn’t know what excuse she’d give if she were caught, and she’d prefer not to find out.

If she went much farther, her destination would be obvious. She spotted an alley up ahead, and darted into it, curious if the boy would follow.

The alleyway was rougher than she’d expected. She passed a ruined building, its timbers singed black, its windows boarded shut. Next door, a tavern’s wooden sign swung overhead, yet there was no name, only a grim picture of a bird of prey, its talons outstretched.

Emry swallowed nervously, forcing herself to keep going.

Cutting through this alley had been a terrible idea. She had her pack slung over her shoulder, heavy with Emmett’s additions, and she knew it made her an easy mark.

Footsteps echoed softly behind her, and Emry’s heart thudded against her chest. The boy had followed her after all.

“Can I help you?” she called, making her voice as deep as she could.

“It’s a dead end!”