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Crance gestures through the broken grate,hand still resting on iron When he loosens his grip, it leaves behind red lancing down the tunnel Cal knows Harbor Bay much better than I After all, he’s lived here before, occupying Ocean Hill every time the royal family ca through the docks and alleys here, just like he was doing the first time he met me

"Aye," Crance replies with a quick nod "Close to the Center as I can get you Egan instructed h the Fish Market, and has the Mariners ready to grab you, not to h Paltry Place, and won’t have anyone on lookout"

The way he says it sets e "Why?"

"The Paltry is Seaskull territory"

The Seaskulls Another gang, likely branded with tattoosthan Crance’s anchor If not for Maven’s scheht’ve helped a Red sister, but instead, they’ve been turned into eneerous as any Silver soldier

"That’s not what IMareena’s voice to hide o, the thought of three bodies crushed by rubble htened ht for Crance’s cohorts and their twisted bones Crance, despite his crilare back into the darkness, after the Mariners he helped kill They were probably his friends

But there are friends I would trade, lives I would forsake, for my own victories I’ve done it before It isn’t hard to let people die when their deaths gives life to so else

"I’m not one for oaths, or Red dawns, or any of the other nonsense your lot goes on about," hein rapid succession "Words don’t i The way I see it, I can either betray lea with every barbed word "Even rats want to get out of the gutter, Miss Barrow"

Then he steps through the grate, toward the surface that could kill us all

And I follow

I squareto face the echoes and the end of the tunnel’s safety I’ve never been to Harbor Bay before, but the ether, they paint a picture of roads and wiring I can feel the hts of the Paltry What’sI understand Crowds, alleys, all the distractions of daily life--these are e

Paltry Place is another market, alive as Grand Garden in Summerton or the square of the Stilts But it is dirtier,Red bodies and haggling shouts A perfect place to hide We ele of stalls crisscrossed by greasy canvas canopies But there’s no sht be poor, but we are not stupid One gli, tellsthe scents escape into the sky For noe’re surrounded by peddlers, inventors, weavers, each one trying to foist their wares onto patrons who don’t have two tetrarch coins to rub together The et it, buyers want to keep it, and it blinds them all No one notices a feell-trained sneaks slip out frootten hole in the wall I know I should feel afraid, but being surrounded by

Crance leads, hisinto a limp to match Shade’s He pulls a hood from his vest and hides his face in shadow To the casual eye, he looks like a bent oldbut He even supports Shade a little, one arainst his shoulder to helphis face, and keeps his focus on not slipping over the uneven ground of the lower Paltry Farley brings up the rear, and I’m reassured to know she has my back For all her secrets, I can trust her, not to see a trap, but to weasel her way out of one In this world of betrayal, it’s the best I can hope for

It’s been a fewAnd when I slide a pair of charcoal-gray shawls from a stall, my e of regret Someone h scraps Someone needs these But so do I One forthe frayed wool around his head and shoulders to hide his recognizable features I do the same, and none too soon

Our first few steps into the crowded, dinboard Usually filled with notices of sale, news scraps, memorials, the Red noise has been covered up by a checkered swath of printings A few childrenup the bits of paper in reach They toss the scraps at each other like snowballs Only one of the kids, a girl with ragged black hair and bare, brown feet, bothers to look at what they’re doing She stares at two fae posters They are stark and gri black letters that read "WANTED BY THE CROWN, for TERRORISM, TREASON, and MURDER" I doubtthe Paltry can read, but the h

Cal’s picture isn’t his royal portrait, which e of hirainy but distinct, a frozen still from one of the many cameras that captured him in the moments before his failed execution in the Bowl of Bones His face is haggard, pulled by loss and betrayal, while his eyes spark with unchecked rage The ht even be dried blood on his collar It makes him look every inch the murderer Maven wants him to seeraffiti, in spiky, scratched handwriting alkiller, The Exile The titles rip at the paper, as if the words couldthe titles--find him, find him, find him

Like Cal, the picture of me is taken from the Bowl of Bones I know exactly which ates of the arena, when I stood and listened to Lucas take a bullet to the brain In that second, I kneas going to die, but worse, I kneas useless The now-dead Arven ithMy printed eyes are wide, afraid, and I look sirl in this photo I aer Someone no one would stand behind, let alone protect I don’t doubt Maven chose this frae this would project But some have not been fooled So, before the execution broadcast was cut away Some knohat I am, and they have written it across the posters for all to see

Red Queen The lightning girl She lives Rise, Red as dawn Rise Rise Rise

Every word feels like a brand, searing hot and deep But we can’t tarry by the wall of wanted posters I nudge Cal, directing hily, following Shade and Crance through the swirling crowd I resist the urge to hold on to hiht off his shoulders No ht want to feel him, I cannot I must keep my eyes ahead, and away from the fire of a fallen prince Iit ablaze