But she’s not sure. Burned is dead, and on the one hand, a bed retainer has a chance of being elevated out of bed service and into the ranks of the scullery and cleaning retainers, or even trained in a skill if they’re fortunate, if they survive that long. But on the other hand, the ones who don’t last turn into tortured shadows who wither and splinter into a drawn-out misery that always ends in death.

The chatelaine’s words chase El all day as they walk. She’s not sure what “the cruel thing” means, but she does understand about the fey look that makes men want to hurt her sister. Ao is pretty in the way Lady Eleawona is pretty, not that anyone would ever make the comparison out loud. She’s like a jewel thrown into the garbage heap for anyone to grab.

El’s got to find a way. And there are only two ways. Death, or escape.

Escape is impossible. Everyone says so. The captured outlaws show so.

But what if there is a way?

She wonders about the Sea Wolves, the dread raiders in the north. Everyone knows they aren’t human, even if they look mostly human. It can be hard to tell. She’s never seen the ocean, but she swears she remembers a great water dragging on her tiny body, back when she was so young, not even really a memory but more a physical sensation woven into her bones. Once she heard a visitor tell the lady there are traitors to humankind who join the Sea Wolves and murder their own brothers and sisters. Maybe the Sea Wolves would take her and Ao on to work for them.

That would be better, wouldn’t it?

What if they could escape to the north, to the coast, and join the Sea Wolves? But … it is so far. She doesn’t know how far it is, except she heard one of the northern soldiers say it took them a month to ride south. Yet she and Ao have no food of their own, no knife, no spoon, only the tunics they wear, which don’t even belong to them but to the lady. In the winter, they’re lent a pair of boots and a cloak that are taken away again in the summer.

They walk in silence. Birds sing, which is a good sign. Birds mean safety.

The child keeps its head pressed against Ao’s shoulder. After a while, it murmurs, “Where is Mama? The bad men took her into the other room, but I fell asleep.”

“We’re going to find her now, dearest,” Ao lies. “Can you walk yet?”

The child clutches her more tightly.

“It’s all right,” Ao says in her sweetest voice. “I won’t let go of you.”

They walk on. The child falls asleep.

“Are you okay?” El asks Ao in a low voice. “I can take a turn.”