Magnus chewed his lip. “You really think that’s a good idea? Disappearing is a kinder fate than death.”

“Kinder for whom? She’s holding out hope that after the Evil Eye is cleansed everyone will be released. I need to tell her whatever necessary to make her leave this place.”

“Don’t mention death, at least.” He stood, touching my cheek. “She already has nothing left.”

“She has breath in her body, doesn’t she?”

“Hard truths aren’t for everyone, Andromeda. Sometimes the only mercy is to lie. We’re not all as strong as you are.”

I hesitated. Took a deep breath. “I won’t tell her. But I will encourage her to leave. And live.”

“You’re better than all of us.” He kissed my forehead, lingering just long enough that for a moment my breathing faltered. “So, what’s the next step?”

“The next step?” I looked at my bandaged hand, determination blazing through me. “We get rid of this hyena.”

CHAPTER 19

I was glad I’d taken Magnus’s advice, because Emma took the news that Tom had “vanished” as well as could be expected. I let her cry on my lap for a few minutes and then let Peggy take over, although I doubted the woman had a tender bone in her body. Emma couldn’t travel, crying like this, especially not alone—I didn’t want her to be a target for harassers or thieves. But I assured her she could sleep in my room tonight, and that I would take her to the city as soon as she was ready.

But I couldn’t linger. I needed to see Jember as soon as possible, and this time I wouldn’t be polite, wouldn’t adhere to any narrow time limit. I would bother him all day if I had to—this time I was getting answers, whether he liked it or not.

When Saba and I reached the stable door it was already open, and Emma had started hitching up the horses. She wore trousers and a white shirt, though they fit too well to have been Tom’s. She had on a flat hat that would’ve been too big for her if she hadn’t stuffed all her hair inside, the lip of it sticking out enough to block the sun from her face … the same hat Tom had worn the night I met him. There was a large shoulder bag sitting beside the coach.

She could maybe pass as a fourteen-year-old boy if she was lucky, but maybe that would be enough.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I asked.

“Anything is better than staying here,” she said.

I let her climb into the coach, trying to distract myself from her crying as Saba finished preparation.