Her voice carries on the crisp night air like birdsong, clear and resonant. Her vowels are nice and round, her consonants perfectly enunciated. If you didn’t know any better, she would sound almost as refined as I do. Over the past five years, she has worn down her street urchin accent, but it’s still there, hiding beneath the surface. It peeks out every now and then, when she’s angry or drunk or simply unfettered, enjoying herself without restraint. She wears that society accent, but it is not hers. It is not truth. It is a mask.

That is why we’re out here, skulking around in the dead of night instead of tucked into our beds like good girls. Neither of us fits quite right in the home we’ve been given, so we sneak out, searching for the things that feel right and true and good.

What I don’t tell her—what I can never ever tell her—is that the only home I know, the only home I ever want to know, is her. Not this house or its finery or its wealth. Just her.

I shrug and opt for something that’s not even a lie. “Just thinking about what Rosalita said. About girls going missing.”

I wasn’t, but now that I’ve said it, I am.

Ana nods. “I wish I could say I was surprised but…”

“But this is Potosí.” I sigh. “That sort of thing just happens, I know.”

“We’ll check in with Rosalita tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be fine. But for now…” Ana grins at me. It’s a tired grin and a little ragged at the edges, but it’s still good. “Race you home.”

With that, she takes off, her boots sliding against the dew. I follow her, letting the rush of wind in my hair distract me from my thoughts.

She beats me to the villa, but just barely.

I’m faster than her, and we both know it. That’s why she had to cheat.

Without missing a beat, I kneel down to give her a leg up to the window we’ve left open for precisely this purpose. I hoist her up, and she climbs in. She reaches her hands out to help pull me up after her.

I collide against her as my boots slip against the marble floor, and we nearly collapse in a fit of giggles.

I’m about to shush her when a sound from outside silences me. I clap a hand over Ana’s mouth. Her breath is warm and moist against my palm.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper.

She shakes her head.

Then I hear it again.

A rustling, like there’s someone in the bushes outside. I put a finger to my lips with one hand and draw my sword with the other.