To the east, the towers of Fellsmarch Castle pricked the horizon, silhouetted against the rising sun. It was several miles away at least, somewhat farther than they’d walked the night before. Was it really just a day ago she’d crossed Ragmarket with Amon and her secret escort?

There was no choice but to leg it. She headed for the towers, navigating the twisting streets and alleys, feeling as if she walked two miles for every one in a straight line. It was like the maze in her rooftop garden, only walled in with decrepit dwellings and paved with cobbles, broken brick, dirt, and debris.

She was crossing a courtyard when a young girl ran out of an adjoining alleyway, all in a panic. She was thin, maybe a year or two younger than Mellony, with long blond hair scraped back into a plait. “Young miss! In the name of Madeleine the Merciful, help, if you please. It’s my baby sister! She’s sick!”

Raisa looked around to see if she might be speaking to someone else, but there was no one in the courtyard. “Me? What’s wrong with your sister?”

“She’s choking! Turning purple!” The girl tugged at Raisa’s hand. “Please come.”

Raisa followed the girl down the alleyway, her mind racing. Maybe here was a chance to do some good. The choking sickness had been going around. There were healers in Fellsmarch Castle Temple who had been successful in treating it. Maybe…

Suddenly she and the girl came up against a brick wall. Raisa turned and saw that they were no longer alone. Five others came out of the adjoining streets, four boys and another girl, surrounding them. Her stomach did a nauseating flip.

“Hey now,” the new girl said, squinting at her. “Where you going in such a hurry?”

Her accent said she was from the southern islands. She was older than the first girl, maybe sixteen, with dark skin and long, wavy black hair wrapped with thread into sections. She had high cheekbones, and a generous mouth. She wore breeches and a sleeveless vest, exposing muscular tattooed arms.

The girl reached out and ripped Raisa’s makeshift scarf from her hair. “What are you doing with this?” she demanded, shaking it in front of Raisa’s face. “Where’d you get it?”

Raisa saw then that all of them wore bandannas of similar weave and color knotted around their necks.

“Raggers!” she blurted. “You’re Raggers!”

The girl flinched and looked up and down the alley before she replied. “Are not. Who says?”

“Did Cuffs send you?” Raisa demanded, furious at being taken so easily. “Well, you can tell him for me that I don’t care how many cutthroat street ruffians he sets after me; I’m not—”