“Untie yourselves,” she said clearly.

Again, nothing happened.

Vivenna leaned her head back in frustration. Awakening seemed such a vague art, which was odd, considering the number of rules and restrictions it appeared to have. Or maybe it just seemed vague to her because it was so complicated.

She closed her eyes. I have to get this, she thought. I must figure it out. If I don’t, I will be killed.

She opened her eyes, focusing on her bonds. She pictured them untying again, but somehow that felt wrong. She was like a child, sitting and staring at a leaf, trying to make it move just by concentrating on it.

That wasn’t the way her newfound senses worked. They were part of her. So, instead of concentrating, she relaxed, letting her unconscious mind do the work. A little like she did when she changed the color of her hair.

“Untie,” she Commanded.

The Breath flowed from her. It was like blowing bubbles beneath the water, exhaling a piece of herself but feeling it flow into something else. That something else became part of her—a limb she could only slightly control. It was more of a sense of the rope than an ability to move it. As the Breath left her, she could feel the world dull, colors becoming slightly less bold, the wind a little more difficult to hear, the life of the city a little more distant. The ropes around her hands jerked, causing her wrists to burn.

Then the ropes unraveled and dropped to the ground. Her arms came free, and she sat, staring at her wrists, shocked.

Austre, Lord of Colors, she thought. I did it. She wasn’t certain whether to be impressed or ashamed.

Either way, she knew she needed to run. She untied her ankles, then scrambled to her feet, noticing that a section of the wooden door had been completely drained of color in a circular pattern around her hands. She paused only briefly, then grabbed the rope and ran down the stairs. She unlocked the door and peeked out the doorway onto the street, but it was dark, and she could see little.

Taking a deep breath, she rushed out into the night.
* * *

SHE WALKED AIMLESSLY for a time, trying to put space between herself and Vasher’s lair. She knew that she should probably find a place to hide, but she was afraid. She was distinctive in her fine dress and would be remembered by all who passed. Her only real hope was to get out of the slums and into the city proper, where she could find her way back to Denth and the others.

She carried the rope tucked into the dress’s pocket pouch, hidden behind a fold of cloth on the side. She’d grown so accustomed to having a certain amount of Breath that missing a fraction, even the small bit contained in the rope, felt wrong. Awakeners could recover Breath they invested into objects; she’d been tutored on that. She just didn’t know the Commands to do it. So she brought the rope, hoping that Denth would be able to help her recover its Breath.

She maintained a quick pace, head down, trying to watch for a discarded cloak or piece of cloth she could wrap around herself to hide the dress. Fortunately, it seemed as if the hour was too late, even, for most ruffians. She did occasionally see shadowed figures on the sides of the road, and she had trouble keeping her heart stilled as she passed them.

If only the sun were up! she thought. It was just beginning to grow light with morning’s arrival, but it was still dark enough that she had trouble telling which direction she was going. The slums were convoluted enough that she felt she was going in circles. The tall buildings loomed around her, blocking off the sky. This area had once been much more rich; the shadowed fronts of the buildings held worn engravings and faded colors. The square down the street to her left held an old, broken statue of a man atop a horse, perhaps part of a fountain or—

Vivenna stopped. A broken statue of a horse man. Why did that seem familiar?

Denth’s directions, she thought. When he explained to Parlin how to get from the safe house to the restaurant. That day, weeks back, seemed so vague to her now. But she did remember the exchange. She’d been worried that Parlin would get lost.

For the first time in hours, she felt a sense of hope. The directions had been simple. Could she remember them? She worked, walking hesitantly, partially just on instinct. After just a few minutes, she realized that the dark street around her looked familiar. There were no lamps in the slums, but the light of false dawn was enough.

She turned around, and sure enough, the safe house lay huddled between two larger buildings across from her. Blessed Austre! she thought with relief, quickly crossing the street and pushing her way into the building. The main room was empty, and she hurriedly opened the door down to the cellar, seeking a place to hide.

She searched around with her fingers, and sure enough, she found a lantern with flint and steel beside the stairway. She pulled the door closed and found it more sturdy than she would have assumed. That felt good, though she couldn’t lock it from this side. She left it unlatched and bent down to light the lantern.

A set of worn, broken stairs led down into the cellar. Vivenna paused, remembering that Denth had warned her about the steps. She walked down carefully, feeling them creak beneath her, and could see why he’d been worried. Still, she made it down all right. At the bottom, she wrinkled her nose at the musty scent. The carcasses of several small game hung on the wall; someone had been here recently, which was a good sign.

She rounded the stairs. The main space of the cellar was built beneath the floor of the upper room. She would rest there for a few hours, and if Denth didn’t arrive, she’d venture out. Then she—

She froze, jerking to a halt, lantern swinging in her hand. Its unsteady light shone on a figure sitting before her, head bowed, face shadowed. His arms were tied behind his back and his ankles were bound to the legs of the chair.

“Parlin?” Vivenna asked with shock, rushing to his side. She quickly set down the lantern, then froze. There was blood on the floor.

“Parlin!” she said louder, urgently lifting his head. His eyes stared forward, sightless, his face scratched and bloody. Her life sense couldn’t feel him. His eyes were dead.

Vivenna’s hand began to shake. She stumbled back, horrified. “Oh, Colors,” she found herself mumbling. “Colors, Colors, Colors . . .”

A hand fell on her shoulder. She screamed, spinning. A large figure stood in the darkness behind her, half-hidden beneath the stairs.

“Hello, Princess,” Tonk Fah said. He smiled.

Vivenna stumbled back, nearly colliding with Parlin’s body. She began to gasp, hand at her chest. Only then did she notice the bodies on the walls.

Not game animals. What she had mistaken for a pheasant in the dim light of her lantern now reflected back green. A dead parrot. A monkey hung beside, body sliced and cut. The freshest corpse was that of a large lizard. All had been tortured.

“Oh, Austre,” she mumbled.

Tonk Fah stepped forward, grabbing for her, and Vivenna finally shocked herself into motion. She ducked to the side, escaping his reach. She ran around the large man, scrambling toward the stairs. She came up short as she collided with someone’s chest.

She looked up, blinking.

“Do you know what I hate most about being a mercenary, Princess?” Denth asked quietly, grabbing her arm. “Fulfilling the ste reo types. Everyone assumes that they can’t trust you. The thing is, they really can’t.”

“We do what we’re paid to,” Tonk Fah said, stepping up behind her.

“It’s not exactly the most desirable work,” Denth said, holding her tightly. “But the money is good. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this. Everything was going so nicely. Why did you run away? What tipped you off?”

He pushed her forward with a careful hand, still holding her arm, as Jewels and Clod moved down the steps behind him. The stairs groaned beneath the weight.

“You’ve been lying to me the entire time,” she whispered, tears almost unnoticed on her cheeks, heart thumping as she tried to make sense of the world. “Why?”

“Kidnapping is hard work,” Denth said.

“Terrible business,” Tonk Fah added.

“It’s better if your subject never even knows they’ve been kidnapped.”

They always kept an eye on me. Staying near. “Lemex . . .”

“Didn’t do what we needed him to,” Denth said. “Poison was too good a death for that one. You should have known, Princess. With as much Breath as he held . . .”

He couldn’t have died from sickness, she realized. Austre! Her mind was numb. She glanced at Parlin. He’s dead. Parlin is dead. They killed him.

“Don’t look at him,” Denth said, delicately turning her head away from the corpse. “That was an accident. Listen to me, Princess. You’ll be all right. We won’t hurt you. Just tell me why you ran away. Parlin insisted not to know where you had gone, though we knew he spoke to you on the stairs right before you vanished. Did you really leave without telling him? Why? What made you suspect us? Did one of your father’s agents contact you? I thought we found all of those when they entered the city.”

She shook her head dumbly.

“This is important, Princess,” Denth said calmly. “I need to know. Whom did you contact? What did you tell the slumlords about me?” He began to squeeze her arm tightly.

“We wouldn’t want to have to break anything,” Tonk Fah said. “You Idrians. You break too easily.”

What had once seemed lighthearted banter to her now seemed terrible and callous. Tonk Fah loomed in the shadowy lantern light to her right, Denth was a slimmer form in front of her. She remembered his speed, the way he’d slain those bodyguards at the restaurant.

Remembered the way they’d destroyed Lemex’s house. Remembered their flippancy toward death. They’d hidden it all behind a veil of humor. Now that Denth had brought another lantern, she could see a couple of large sacks stuffed underneath the stairs; a foot was hanging out of one of them. The boot bore the crest of the Idrian army on its side.

Her father had sent people to recover her. Denth had just found them before they found her. How many had he killed? Bodies wouldn’t keep for long in this basement. Those two corpses must be relatively new, awaiting disposal somewhere else.

“Why?” she asked again, nearly too stunned to speak. “You seemed like my friends.”

“We are,” Denth said. “I like you, Princess.” He smiled—a genuine smile, not a dangerous leer, like Tonk Fah. “If it means anything, I really am sorry. Parlin wasn’t supposed to die—that was an accident. But, well, a job is a job. We do what we’re paid to do. I explained this all to you several times, I’m sure you recall.”

“I never really believed . . .” she whispered.

“They never do,” Tonk Fah said.

Vivenna blinked. Get away quickly. While you still have strength.

She’d escaped once. Wasn’t that enough? Didn’t she deserve some peace? Quickly!

She twisted her arm, slapping it against the back of Tonk Fah’s cloak. “Grab—”

Denth, however, was too fast. He yanked her back, covered her mouth, then snatched her other hand, holding it tightly. Tonk Fah stood surprised as Vivenna’s dress bled free of color, turning grey, and some of her Breath passed through Denth’s fingers and into Tonk Fah’s cloak. Yet without a Command, that Breath couldn’t do anything. It had been wasted, and Vivenna felt the world around her grow more dull.