Santiago snorts. “I had a life before I became the keeper of a tavern, Ana.” He glances at me. “I was a soldier once, a long, long time ago. The life wasn’t for me. I am not fond of violence.”

“And yet I keep bringing it to your door.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” Santiago begins to unwind linen for Rosalita’s bandages. Already, the poor girl is going loose-limbed. “Go. Find your girl. There’s something off about her.” He spares me one last glance before turning his attention fully to Rosalita. “I think she’s hurt.”

I shake my head as I stroke my fingers down the back of Rosalita’s hand. She doesn’t flinch. Not one bit.

“Aren’t we all?” I say.

But I do what Santiago suggests. I go and I find my girl.

I find Kiki in the next room over, being a complete, fiery imbecile.

Her dress is halfway off. And there’s blood all over her underthings. She’s trying to unhook the holster around her thigh, but she’s entirely too pale and swaying on her feet.

My breath leaves me in a rush. “Mother of God, Kiki.”

She looks at me, brow drawn and hands even more covered in blood than mine. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Yes, flesh. That protective layer meant to keep your blood on the inside.” I snatch up another clean rag by the basin beside my own vanity. We’re going to go through more than our fair share of these tonight.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?”

Kiki glares at the holster in her hands. She says nothing. Her chest rises and falls in stilted little hitches.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” I don’t quite stomp over to her, but it’s close. I should be quieter for Rosalita’s sake, but after what Santiago gave her, she’d probably be able to sleep through a horde of the Sun King’s elephants stampeding through the house.

I unhook the holster and snatch it out of Kiki’s hands. She grabs for it, but she’s too slow. That alone conveys how bad her wound must be. Her reflexes should be as sharp as her saber. But now, her arms spasm when she reaches for the gun, her breath stuttering through a pained hiss of an inhalation.

“I don’t know why you’re being such an ass about this.” I set the holster gently aside. The ornate gun glimmers in the warm light of the fire, looking out of place against the plain wood of the table. When I turn around, Kiki is glaring but thankfully not at me.