The Hidden Twin by Adi Rule

Author:Adi Rule
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250036315
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

twelve

So far, my least favorite thing is the pants.

Corvin and I stretch out on the roof, our elbows over the apex. He fiddles with knobs on his binoculars, though how he can see anything on this moonless night is anybody’s guess. A streetlamp casts a murky pallor over the gated doorway of the workhouse across the street.

“It’s the chafing,” I whisper. “My thighs are not used to all this excitement.”

“I wear pants like this every day.” Corvin peers through the binoculars. “Your thighs can handle it.”

I squint into the darkness. “Yours aren’t so tight. And Orm did just pull a bullet out of me. Not the sort of thing you want tweed rubbing against.”

“One would think you’d be more concerned with the goddamn slice you made in your own throat with Fir’s saber.”

A black scarf tied around my neck hides the bandage. The cut stings when I move my head, but it will heal. Besides, it was worth it.

“None of the Fog Walkers wonder if I’m really a redwing now, though,” I whisper.

Corvin laughs. “No. No, you’re right about that. You’re out of your mind, but you’re right.” He looks at me. “You’ve got to start taking better care of yourself, Redwing. I see you’ve got part of an ear gone as well. You’re starting to look like a half-plucked alley hen.”

“Oh, that.” I finger the ear the stritch whip sliced. “I just need a new hairstyle.”

I flash him a cheeky smile and his expression softens. It catches me off guard, and for a moment, we look at each other in silence. He seems like he’s about to say something, but a sound from below steals his attention.

A figure approaches from inside the gate, indistinct in the night mist. “Here she is,” Corvin whispers, and we are both silent, tense. I’m still not entirely sure how this game is played or what the teams are.

The figure swings the gate open slowly and pauses, looking up and down the street. The streetlight illuminates an old woman’s face. There is something shifty about her, her patchy coat and rough edges. The way her eyes squint in the dim light.

I frown and lean over to Corvin, my words the barest whisper in his ear. “Who is she?”

He leans his head in my direction. “Teppa the Fowl. We can’t talk to her here. She’ll just run back inside, and I’m not about to tangle with the workhouse guards. Got to get her out in the open.”

Satisfied, she closes the gate behind her and hurries off. In an instant, we are up and following swiftly.

We keep to the rooftops, our black attire sometimes hiding us even from each other as we trail her. I try to keep pace with Corvin as he slips under pipes and over pitches, in and out of the darkness of gables and the striped shadows of iron balconies. The old woman moves below, winding through garbage-strewn alleys and broad cobblestone streets. I am a tiny bit grateful for the snug

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