It is as bustling as it ever is. I leave Rocinante with the stable boy. I know him, and he knows me. I toss him an extra coin because I’m feeling generous.

It’s strange, being here without Ana. I cannot recall if I ever have. She and I are a pair. A team. A set. Santiago’s eyebrows inch upward as I take a seat at the long counter that separates his realm from his rabble-rousing customers. “No Ana tonight?”

The intonation of his voice tells me that he knows something is not right between us. “Has she been here?”

It’s a pointless question, but I ask it anyway. The pursuit of futility is such a peculiarly human pastime. “Haven’t seen her since she was last here with you.” His brow furrows. He looks like he’s seeing right through me, sussing out emotions I would rather not share with him. Or with anyone. “Why do you ask? Something going on with the two of you?” His knowing look turns wry. Bemused even. “Lovers’ quarrel, perhaps?”

The word lovers makes something in my chest curl up into a spiked ball in the corner of my chest.

I shake my head, accepting with gratitude the flagon of wine he puts before me. “I’m not here about Ana.”

“Then what brings you to my humble establishment?”

“Information.”

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes roving over the crowded tavern behind me as if scouting for any stray ears. “What is it you want to know?”

“A friend of mine received some unfortunate news. Her cousin has been murdered.”

He wipes at the counter, his hands sure and steady. But there’s a twitch in his eye. “Truly, a shame. What can I do to help?”

“Tell me anything you know. Anything you might have heard.”

He sighs, resting the heels of his palms against the wooden countertop. “I hear lots of things. Most of them bad.” He lowers his voice. “Stay out of it. For your own good.”

If he was trying to quell my curiosity, that was the wrong thing to say. “Why?” I lean over the bar. “What do you know?”

With a weary sigh, he meets my gaze. “You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?”

I simply hold his gaze, letting him read the truth on my face.

“Fine.” He tosses the rag to the side. “Girls are going missing. Dying. Usually, it’s the sort of girl no one cares too much about. The kind of girl who comes and goes without many taking notice. This city eats people up and spits them out, and life goes on.”

“So what makes these deaths different?”

Santiago shakes his head. “There’s something about the way they’re being left behind. The bodies, I mean. It’s almost like someone wants them found.”

“Like whoever’s doing it is showing off?”