Empress of Rogues by Carrie Summers

Author:Carrie Summers [Summers, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lonely Crag Press
Published: 2019-02-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

WHEN MYRRH SPIES Hawk across the yard, the tension in her chest unwinds, more than she’d like, if she’s honest. Her knees wobble, and for a moment, she wants to run to him and lay her head on his shoulder and stop worrying about her crumbling syndicate and Glint’s cage and the hard-faced guards wandering around the yard with cudgels in their grip. She stops herself, forces a breath, and then banishes the weakness. She built Ghost Syndicate without Hawk, and she’s here as his would-be rescuer, not the young pickpocket he pulled from the gutter ten years ago.

Raising her chin, she starts across the yard through the scattering of Rat Towners. They crouch and stand and sit on empty ore crates in the rain, eyes downcast. Tears have cut streaks through the dirt on their cheeks. Myrrh clenches her fists and moves quickly, but after a few steps she realizes how this confidence must make her stand out. Ducking her head, she forces her shoulders into a hunch and shuffles forward as if she feels as miserable as the rest of them. Cutting a straight path to Hawk won’t do either, so she takes a winding course as if wandering aimlessly. Finally, head down and hands curled around her belly, she comes up behind her former mentor.

“Hawk.”

Her low-spoken word reaches the man’s ears, and he turns, brow furrowed as if trying to place the voice. When he spies her, his eyes widen for a moment, but his face quickly flattens.

“Sixes. Where did they catch up with you?” he asks. He glances at her scuffed and rain-soaked clothing, her smudged face and unkempt hair. “I’m guessing they haven’t connected this”—he gestures at her face—“with the notorious woman accomplice in the Maire’s murder.”

Myrrh gives a little head shake. “Listen. They didn’t capture me. We should have the door open shortly, and you need to be ready to run. We’ll rendezvous at Glint’s Lower Fringe safe house. Not the mansion. The tenement building.”

Hawk blinks as he takes in the information. His eyes dart to the side, bringing her attention to a pair of guards who are standing over an old man who sits with a broken walking cane across his lap. One kicks the longer half of the cane, sending the stick clattering. The man scrambles for it, and the guards laugh.

All at once, Myrrh doubts herself. Doubts her plan. It’s always been like this when she has Hawk to rely on.

“I count twenty-two guards inside,” he says. “Could get ugly.”

She hardens her jaw. “Ivy and Resh are working up a distraction. They’ll keep the guards from giving chase. Most of them, anyway.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just nods, and Myrrh has to make fists of her hands to hold tight to her the last shreds of confidence. “Who else is here from Ghost? I need to tell them where to meet up.”

Hawk swallows, a flicker of darkness on his face that he quickly masters. “Carver. Usually pacing along the back wall.

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