Chapter Text
Say’ree swore under her breath as another set of eyes followed her progress down the darkened streets. She kept her pace even, trying not to draw more attention to herself, pulling the intricately embroidered cloak tighter around herself. She had to find some place to trade it out, what with how much attention it was drawing to her. She would have just dumped the damned thing in the river if her clothes beneath would not draw even more unwanted eyes.
“My dear, there you are,” a voice purred as its owner took her arm, setting it upon his. There was a dangerous tint to the words that sent a shiver down Say’ree’s spine, like a cat who enjoyed playing with its prey until the poor thing’s heart gave out.
Say’ree would know that voice anywhere.
She turned her attention over her shoulder, watching as two dark clad figures who had taken to following her melted back into the shadows. Their clothes were bulky, hiding the shapes of their bodies, hoods of their cloaks pulled low to conceal their faces.
“They’re getting better at that,” Say’ree commented, trying to keep her voice even. Her heart felt like it might beat right out her chest, and she was certain her companion could tell no matter how well she attempted to hide.
“I would hope so.” Say’ree lifted her head, finally looking at the man who held her arm. Zharas was smiling down at her, pleasant as a panther. His green eyes glinted in the starlight, the torchlight from the tavern they passed dancing off his copper skin. “If they have not learned after the last disaster, then I’m afraid there is not much more I can do for them.” Zharas followed up the statement with a dramatic sigh, running his free hand through dark locks of hair despite not a single one being out of place.
“Disaster is a bit of a strong word,” Say’ree countered. Her heart began to take on a more even pace, but she was not about to drop her guard.
Zharas’s smile grew, showing the barest bit of teeth, but he chose to ignore the statement. “What brings such a pretty little sparrow to my neck of the woods?” he asked, getting straight to the point.
“I need to call in my favor,” Say’ree answered, grateful he seemed in a hurry. He never would have dropped all the banter so quickly otherwise.
Zharas’s brows raised in mock surprise. “And what could have caused that?”
Say’ree threw him an unamused look as he led her into a shabby looking building. She had no doubt word would have already reached his ears, probably even before she had set foot outside castle grounds.
It just caused him to chuckle as he held the door open for her. Dust clung to her skirts as they walked through the apparently abandoned building. “Oh Sparrow, I don’t owe you nearly that much. Certainly not enough to work with the dead.”
Zharas stopped suddenly, spinning Say’ree to face him. They stood before a door, but he made no move to open it this time. Those emerald eyes bore into her, and Say’ree knew he was calculating her worth. She could only hope she did not come up short. Zharas and his thieves were the only ones she could turn to after tonight.
“What can you give to cover the difference?” Her heart sank at the words.
Say’ree stared him down, Zharas’s eyes shining as she refused to flinch away. “Don’t act like there’s an ocean of debt to make up for.” Her formal pattern of speech dropped, the more common dialect strange on her tongue after years of disuse. But it brought her down to a level the guild was much more used to dealing with. Zharas’s brows shot up even further, not bothering to hide his surprise. “Your little band would’ve been wiped out five years ago if I hadn’t stepped in.”
“Yes,” Zharas practically purred. She hated when he did that. It felt like his voice was worming its way beneath her skin until it would tear her apart piece by piece. He raised an arm to lean against the doorframe, using his height to loom over her as he leaned in much too close. Say’ree did not back away, her hands clenched into fists at her sides at the feel of Zharas’s warm breath against her face. “And what do you think will happen to us if we shelter you now? If Lucius finds out we gave the dead queen shelter-”
He cut off as Say’ree hissed, her calm demeanor finally breaking. “Enough!” she snapped in a harsh whisper. “Name your price and be done with it, or send me on my way.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. Either way you’re too valuable.” He gripped her chin, a dark chuckle on his lips as her eyes flashed. “I want one simple thing from you. A small introduction, that is all.”
“With?” Say’ree snapped, impatient at Zharas’s pause.
He looked all too pleased when he uttered, “Osbert.”
Say’ree sucked in a sharp breath, not able to hide her surprise. “What do you think he will give you?” Her formal tone was back, Say’ree unable to keep it off her lips without conscious effort.
“That is not your concern, little Sparrow. All you have to do is send a message that he should meet me. He will not deny me if you are the one asking.” Zharas released her chin and stepped back. “So, what will it be, Your Majesty?”
There was no choice really. If she did not agree, Say’ree knew she would find herself sold to Lucius. Or worse, Avery. Neither option was appealing. She only hoped Osbert would not be too angry with her. “All right,” she whispered.
“Excellent!” Zharas smiled wide, the toothy grin doing nothing to reassure Say’ree. He threw open the door, Say’ree blinking at the unexpected light suddenly spilling into the room. She looked down the long set of stairs, but could not see what lay at their end.
“After you, Sparrow,” Zharas instructed, once more holding the door open like the gentleman he was not.
Say’ree turned from him, taking a deep breath before stepping onto the stairs. She made her way slowly down, Zharas silently at her back the whole way. The room opened up at the end of the stairs, designed so that one could not see into the room until they stood on the very last step. All activity had stopped, eyes trained on her with dark hostility until Zharas popped his head into the room. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, he guided her toward a bored looking young woman.
“Finch, darling,” Zharas called to her, that dangerous note gone from his voice. “Would you be so kind as to give our friend here a new hairstyle. We need to make it not so obvious she is who she is.”
Finch tilted her head, eyes slowly sliding from her boss to Say’ree. “Be easier to do if we dye it as well.”
Zharas shook his head, lifting a lock of Say’ree’s hair between his gloved fingers. “No, I can’t have the smell of bleach or dye hanging off of her. And no,” he continued when Finch lifted her hand, the glow of magic springing around her fingers, “that would only draw the attention of those we are hiding her from. You’ll have to make due with the basics, I’m afraid.”
Finch glared at Say’ree as if the instructions were somehow her fault. “You’re not givin’ me a lot to work with.”
Say’ree was treated to the strange sight of Zharas kissing Finch’s cheek, tenderness he never showed on the streets obvious in the soft gesture. “Take care of her, Finch.”
Finch huffed and pushed herself out of her chair, motioning for Say’ree to take the seat in her stead. “If you insist.” Say’ree had to give the woman credit for the amount of melodrama she managed to sink into each word.
Say’ree sat in silence as Finch worked on her hair, cutting off the waist length locks at the shoulders. She stared at the floor, watching Finch throw the shorn strands to the ground. After everything that had happened to her tonight, it was ridiculous that this of all things made her want to cry. Luckily Zharas had gone off to do his own thing, and no one else seemed to be paying them much mind. Oh, Say’ree was certain they were watching her every move, but their subtlety in the action allowed her to at least pretend.
“Don’t move,” Finch instructed. Say’ree only realized then that Finch had set down the scissors and picked up a piece of heated metal instead. “Wouldn’t want to scar that pretty face,” Finch added, sounding like she did not care one way or the other about what happened to Say’ree’s pretty face.
Finch was putting the last wide curl in Say’ree’s hair when Zharas stepped back into view, a plain cotton dress folded over his arm. Her deft fingers worked through Say’ree’s hair, refusing to be hurried by the return of her boss, critical eyes scanning her work until she was satisfied by the curls thrown over Say’ree’s shoulder.
Zharas placed a hand at Finch’s waist as she stepped away. “Beautiful work as always,” he complimented, his whisper loud in the silent room. It had to be near dawn now, and many of those who had occupied the hideout earlier had either left to their own dwellings, or were curled up on straw stuffed mattresses thrown into corners of the common room.
Finch took the dress from his arm, swatting at his arm lightly when he turned to pout at her. “Like I’d let her change in front of ya and all these heathens.”
Finch grabbed Say’ree’s arm and led her to a closet, before pushing her in and throwing the dress in after her. The space was cramped, and Say’ree did not have much room to maneuver. Her fingers curled into the fabric, vision blurry as her eyes filled with tears. They dropped onto the cotton dress, and the sight of them filled Say’ree with a desperate anger. She swiped at her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, and began to undress.
It took a surprisingly long time for her to remove the dress. There were a ridiculous amount of clasps and ties to her embroidered gown, and she cursed more than once trying to undo all of them. This was so much easier when she had her handmaids to help her. It was a relief when the fabric finally pooled around her feet, grateful that she had not insisted on dressing in complete formality that morning. Going through that process again with layer after layer was not something Say’ree wished to go through at this particular moment.
By comparison, slipping on the cotton dress over her shift was almost laughably simple.
Zharas leaned on the wall across from the closet when Say’ree stepped out, Finch having apparently decided to seek her own rest. Say’ree could not resent her that. Zharas took the heavy fabric from her arms, looking it over appraisingly. “We’ll use this to pay for your room and board tomorrow. Such a shame you got so much mud over all of them. And…” Zharas trailed off seeing the stains across the chest of dress. Understanding dawned across his face, and his mouth opened, for once without a taunt coming from it.
“Don’t,” Say’ree said, more tired than anything else. “Pity does not suit you.”
Zharas studied her a moment longer before nodding and folding the dress back up. “There’s a free mattress over there,” he said, pointing into one of the shadowed corners of the room. “Get some rest, and we’ll continue this when you wake.”
Say’ree was too numb to argue. Zharas took her hand, guiding her forward until she all but dropped onto the offered sleeping space. The mattress was scratchy and smelled of old sweat, but Say’ree was asleep the second her head hit the pillow.
Overhead, the city bells chimed in mourning, announcing the death of their beloved queen to the populace.