“It’s not. One of the women who works for them found the poor girl in an alley. She had a blackened eye among numerous other injuries, as well as being undernourished. Ellie’s healing,” Ezra quickly added. “Lady Sunders says that the child’s mother died many years ago, and her father had lost his source of income. She believes the child’s father was once a laborer at one of the farms that fell to the Rot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmured because it felt like I needed to say something, even though there was nothing to be said.

“I wouldn’t feel too sorry for the father. It appears that he enjoyed spending his money on liquor more than food, long before he lost his job as a harvester.” Ezra’s lips tightened. “Lady Sunders got the impression that the mother’s death may not have been a natural one, but the kind aided by the father’s heavy fists.”

“Lovely,” I muttered.

 “It gets worse,” she said, and I wasn’t sure how. “At some point, the father entered the business of selling intimate moments—”

“The sex trade?” I clarified for her.

“Yes, that is one way of saying it when the person is actually willing to trade time with their intimate parts for coin, protection, shelter…or whatever. But he was the type to make others willing,” she corrected. And, yes, she was right. It did get worse. “Which is also why the Mistresses of the Jade are very displeased with this man. As you know, they are not fans of those types of peddlers.”

No, the courtesans were not fans of anyone being forced into the trade they’d entered into willingly.

“The girl who was given over to Lady Sunders has a younger brother, who is still with the father. The boy is in a very precarious situation, being forced to commit all manner of thievery to keep his father’s cups full. She fears he’s being made to agree to other unspeakable things in exchange for food and shelter—as was the daughter.”

I inhaled sharply, disturbed but sadly not surprised. Both Ezra and I had seen this before. Hardship could exploit the worst in people as they struggled to survive, forcing them to do things they’d never consider. But then there were those who always had that darkness in them, the ones who were predators long before they faced adversity.

“Lady Sunders inquired to see if my friend who has a certain set of talents,” she said, glancing pointedly at where the blade was sheathed, “would be able to assist in extracting the child.”

In other words, the kind of skills that Sir Holland had spent years honing for a completely different reason. “And why would that require me to wear something more enticing?”

“The father? His name is Nor. Lady Sunders believes it’s short for Norbert.”

“Norbert?” I repeated, blinking. “Okay.”

“Anyway, Nor does his business out of Croft’s Cross,” she explained. Croft’s Cross was one of the districts that the Nye River separated from the Garden District. Near the water, that quarter of Carsodonia was full of homes stacked upon one another with little space between them. The warehouses, pubs, gambling dens, and other establishments nowhere near as resplendent as those found in the Garden. Most who called Croft’s Cross home were good people just trying to live. However, there were also people like Nor, who could infect Croft’s Cross as easily as the Rot did to the land.

“He’s been keeping his son close since he can’t get his hands on his daughter,” she went on. “The only way to get into that building is if he thinks you’re looking for a certain type of employment.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“I would do it myself, but—”

“No. No, you will not,” I said. Ezra had a brilliant mind, but she had no knowledge of how to defend herself. Not only that, she was an actual Princess, even if she was often involved in things one didn’t typically find a Princess engaged in. “Give me a few moments.”

Ezra nodded, and I turned, starting for my bedchamber. “Oh, and do wear something you aren’t worried about getting…bloody.”

I stopped, looking over my shoulder. “There is no reason for me to get blood on any of my clothing. I’m going in to get a child. That is all.”

She smiled faintly as her brows rose. “Sure. That is all that will happen.”

Chapter 8

The plain, black carriage bounced along the uneven cobblestones. That’s how I knew we’d entered Croft’s Cross.

Sitting across from me, Ezra frowned over her shoulder at the driver’s seat where Lady Marisol Faber sat, cloaked and unrecognizable. I imagined she must be suffocating in the godsforsaken heat.

Waving a hand in front of my face, I knew I was. I wanted to unhook the lightweight, hooded cape and throw it aside. Tendrils of hair had plastered themselves to the back of my neck.

I had no idea how long Marisol had been assisting Ezra in her many endeavors to aid those most endangered in Carsodonia. They had been friends since Ezra’s father married my mother, and she came to live here. But I hadn’t become involved in what they were doing until three years ago. I’d only discovered what Ezra was doing when I saw her at the old fortress while leaving behind a bushel of potatoes Orlano had left out for me to do with as I pleased. When we spotted one another, we pretended as if we had no idea who the other was. Later that night, I’d waited for Ezra to return from her walk in the gardens. It was then that I learned why she spent so much time beyond Wayfair grounds.

I looked over at my stepsister, studying her. There wasn’t even a sheen of sweat on her features. Unreal.

“How are you not hot?” I asked.

She pulled her attention from the window. “I think it’s comfortable,” she said, her brows pinching as her gaze dropped. “Your gown is…well, it should do the job.”

I didn’t need to look down to know that she was staring at the delicate, white lace of the low and very, very tight bodice of the sage-colored gown. If my chest managed to remain in my gown throughout this adventure, it would be no small miracle. “I think this used to belong to Lady Kala.” Which also explained why my boots were clearly visible since the hem only reached my calves. “There weren’t many options.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose there aren’t.” The skin puckered between her brows as she looked back out the window. A moment passed. “Do you need gowns?” she asked, looking back at me. “I have some that would surely be of more comfort to wear.”

I stiffened, feeling my cheeks start to burn. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure?” She leaned forward. “My gowns will not put you at risk of bursting the seams across the chest.”

“I have other gowns—nicer ones than this,” I told her, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “This was the only one I thought would be enticing.”

Ezra sat back. “I think the enticing part is the limited amount of time you have before your breasts break free.”

I snorted.

Her smile was brief. The look that settled on her face made me more uncomfortable than her offer of the gowns. It wasn’t one of pity but of sadness, and she looked as if she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Ezra always had words, a plethora of them, but she never spoke of the curse. The question rose to the tip of my tongue. I wanted to ask if she still believed that the Primal of Death would come for me, but I stopped myself. Her answer wouldn’t soothe me when I knew the truth.

Instead, I asked, “How did you sneak away without any Royal Guards following?”

One side of her lips curled up. “I have my ways.”

I started to ask about said ways when the carriage slowed. I glanced out the window. A mass of people hurried along the crowded street, heading toward the small shops and into dark, winding alleys under rickety metal staircases attached to narrow buildings that rose several stories. Many of them, faded to a dull yellow and drab brown, were packed side by side. Somehow, the proprietors managed to cram twenty or more rooms into those buildings without electricity, and in some instances, plumbing. It was irresponsible to allow anyone to live in these so-called apartments, but the people and their families would be on the streets without them. However, it wasn’t like there were no other options.