The urgent group took to a shadowed backstreet, trying to find someplace they could speak in private, Gareth and Jemroth half-supporting Lotte between them. She hadn’t stopped shaking since she’d finally made it back to the Ballroom, a nail-biting hour after she’d left with Eidan. As soon as she’d found Claire, she’d hissed in her ear they needed to leave and find somewhere to talk, fast. Thinking quickly, Claire had asked for Gareth’s cloak pin. When he’d asked why she needed it, she’d clutched it tight in her fist explaining, “I need an excuse to come back tomorrow so I can find Marcus.” She’d waited until they’d descended halfway down the building before dropping it surreptitiously in a corner. After that, she’d breathed easier as they swept out the front door amongst the throng of other departing guests and hurried through the Council Complex to the city itself, Jemroth leading them through side street after side street until they’d left the wealthier part of Kelnariat far behind.

At last, Jemroth paused in a wide cobblestone street beside a wooden pillar for tying horses to, dragging the others in close. “What happened?”

Gareth flung an arm about Lotte’s shoulder. “Yes, are you all right? Are you hurt? We saw you following Eidan and—”

“Let Lotte speak,” Claire said gently.

Her friend’s eyes were wide with fright. “Eidan knows about ya, Claire. Somehow he knows yer alive.”

A sudden roaring in Claire’s ears and pounding at her temple made it hard to concentrate. How could Eidan know? The Saura, if you can hear me, protect us.

“Take a deep breath and start from the beginning,” Gareth said.

Though his advice was meant for Lotte, Claire used Maen’s breathing exercises to slow her own racing heart.

“No, not here,” Jemroth said. “Let’s get back to the inn. We don’t want to be overheard.”

“We can’t do that,” Lotte said. “Eidan knows we’re staying at the Spotted Duck thanks to the invite and the token. He’s sent men to intercept ya. He promised me I’d be unharmed, but only if I lead ya onto their swords.”

“Then we should go straight to the safe house instead,” Claire said.

As Gareth and Jemroth murmured assent, Lotte caught her eye, shaking hard as she mouthed something between stiff lips.

“You’ll have to speak up. Take another breath,” Claire said, taking Lotte’s cold hand in hers.

“He knows about the safe house too. I dunno how but I’ll swear on anything ya like he does.”

Claire felt like a bucket of icy water had been thrown over her head. “But that’s not possible. Not unless—”

“Someone’s betrayed us,” Jemroth finished her sentence for her. “But that means we’ve lost everything.” His voice broke. “Even the poor horses. They’ll become another trophy in Eidan’s stable. They won’t settle after how well they were treated with us.”

Claire put a steadying hand on Jemroth’s shoulder, swallowing past the lump in her own throat. She hated to imagine Livia and Agea in Eidan’s grasp, but they had to accept the pair were lost to them. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but we need to find shelter. We can mourn what we’ve lost later. I can’t believe this of Bron. I thought he was our friend.”

Gareth’s stare flicked from Claire to Jemroth and back. “If you’re suggesting for one second that Bron was the one to sell us out …” he said hotly.

Claire’s stomach roiled as the truth of Gareth’s words hit her. Bron wouldn’t, but what about Alaya? She’d been connected to Eidan after all, and not all that long ago. Her scalp and neck prickled as Jemroth’s eyes met hers and he gave a small nod. It was good to know that he shared her suspicions.

“We need to find somewhere we can talk properly,” Jemroth said. He paused, peering into Lotte’s face. “Though there’s something I want to know first. Why did Eidan take you into his confidence? For all he knows, you’re of Maellwyn House and no amount of coin would break your loyalty to us.”

“He knew I wasn’t one of ya. Mebbe I didn’t hold meself correctly or had a different look. I dunno.” Lotte wrung her hands together. “I had no choice but to tell him a version of the truth; I told him I weren’t really a Maellwyn servitor, that I’d joined ya on the outskirts of the city when yer’d seen me wearily walking on the main road, sobbing that my sister would give birth before ever I made it to Kelnariat. I said ya took pity on me and lemme ride in your cart and offered me a position for coin while ya was staying in the city ‘coz yer old servitor got sick.”

Claire wanted to hug Lotte. She knew that the best lies were the simple ones. She’d only had to adjust her cover story a little.

“By the Mer-people, that was some quick thinking,” Gareth said quietly. “Good work.”

“If the safe house is compromised, what should we do about Bron?” Claire asked.

“He knew the risks,” Gareth said. “If he wasn’t the one who sold us out to Eidan, and I don’t believe for a second he did, he’s probably dead, but even if he isn’t, we can’t afford to lose sight of why we’re here. If we can find a change of clothes so it’s not so obvious that we’re Maellwyn, I’ll purchase quill and ink and parchment and write to father to warn him about what’s happened. Lotte can take the message. That’s why she was chosen to come along after all, but the rest of us need to push on.”

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Claire felt sick. She didn’t want to be separated from Lotte. What’s more, she couldn’t stop thinking about everything they’d lost with the safe house and their room at the Spotted Duck in Eidan’s hand; their horses, Livia and Agea, the cart, their coin and supplies, even Lotte’s bag of memories. The exile had left it on her bedside table, unable to conceal it beneath her thin servant’s attire. Claire would have to go on foot to the Rift and if Eidan’s men followed after, they’d soon catch up. What were they going to do? She glanced up the street frantically. Not too far along, someone’s washing hung on a rickety balcony, swaying in the gentle breeze.

“Gareth’s right. In half decent light, anyone will recognise our clothes and report us to Eidan.” She pointed at the washing overhead. “Who’s the best climber?”

Lotte raised her hand.

Claire outlined her plan. Lotte would shimmy up the side of the townhouse and filch some clothes. They’d have to put whatever Lotte could scrounge over their Maellwyn outfits and leave anything too bulky like their cloaks and the servitor dresses she and Lotte wore at the porch. They couldn’t afford to pay a few coins in apology for stealing, but perhaps the family could cut up what they’d left behind and create something new to make up for it.

Claire, Gareth and Jemroth watched in agonising silence as Lotte swung up the edge of the townhouse, grasping at uneven wooden slats for purchase. She made it back down without mishap and soon they were pulling large tunics and baggy hose over whatever they could salvage of their own costumes.

Soon they were on the move again, the poorer residential streets giving way to the commercial district, busy even at this hour of the night. Jemroth led them into a narrow strip decorated with warm yellow lights strung across balconies. Stools and small tables scattered along the street were occupied by men and women drinking ale and laughing.

He stopped at a cramped tavern, hordes of revellers hanging out of windows and spilling onto the street. A woman stood next to an oaken barrel by the wooden door. Jemroth flung her the few coins he had kept in his pocket, holding up four fingers. The woman barely reacted, merely dipping brass tankards into the ale barrel and passing them over.

When everyone had their drink, Jemroth jerked his head outside to where buskers played flutes as dancers swung about on the cobblestones and those on the sidelines clapped and cheered. He shoved his way through the crowd to an empty patch of wall and lent against it with arms crossed. They huddled in close.

“Now, Lotte. Tell us exactly what happened,” Claire said, as quietly as she could manage. “Word for word. How did he know about me?”

“I dunno who told him about ya, but as to what happened, well,” Lotte said, white-faced, “after I’d sold him on my cover, he said as he’d pay me handsomely and that I’d be doing my civic duty if I told him where ya were, Claire. He described ya and asked me if I’d seen Gareth and Jemroth talking to someone who matched yer appearance. I lied. Said I hadn’t seen ya, but perhaps as yer’d come to meet them whilst I’d been out with my sister.”

“You did good work tonight,” Claire said, her fingers trembling against her tankard. “Your quick thinking probably saved our lives. Now, first things first, how much coin do we have between us.” They reached into pockets and pooled their meagre amounts. She looked at Gareth and Jemroth expectantly. “Is it enough?”

The pair shook their heads. “We couldn’t buy a quarter of a horse with that.”

Claire swallowed. She had to stay strong and find a way out of this mess. “Is it enough for accommodation?”

Jemroth grinned. “Sure. The piss-poor kind.”

“It’ll do,” she said. “Do you know which area of the city we should start looking? Let’s get some rest and then we’ll figure out what we should do in the morning.”

As Jemroth led them once more down back streets and into the poorer end of the city, Claire and Lotte fell a little behind the others. Lotte gripped tight to Claire’s hand, her breath too heavy and eyes too huge in her small face. She reminded Claire of Suranne, sitting on the couch waiting for news of Marcus.

“There’s more isn’t there?” Claire said grimly. “Fess up.”

Lotte turned. “Oh, Claire. I didn’t wanna lie to the others, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t tell ‘em I’m an exile now, could I?”

Claire felt like the air had been slammed out of her. “What? Eidan knows you’re an exile? That’s impossible!”

With a guilty glance ahead, Lotte pulled back her cotton tunic to reveal her mother’s feather, quartz and bead necklace nestled at her chest. “Someone bumped me, and I poured wine all over the floor. Another servant flung me a cleaning rag and when I knelt, it musta slipped out, and Eidan saw.”

“You shouldn’t be wearing it,” Claire hissed. “If Gareth or Jemroth had been the ones to—”

“I know, Claire. I just wanted to feel close to me mam and she told me to never take it off, remember? I thought I could be extra careful. That no one would ever have to know.” She swallowed, “Thank goodness I did ’coz now my pouch is gone an’ all.”

Claire squeezed Lotte’s hand. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “There’s no use either of us crying over spilt milk. Go on.”

“Eidan pulled me aside and said that if I was a Maellwyn he was a Dorran. He said he recognised the necklace’s make. He said he’d make it worth my while to follow him to another part of the building. I didn’t know what else to do. When we was alone, he said he could guess why I’d joined with Gareth and the others, that I wanted revenge for the death of me people at the hands of a magical House. I agreed with him, o’course, and begged him not to gimme away. I said I joined with ya on the road and had been biding my time ever since until I could stab ya in the dark.” She paused reflectively. “He enjoyed my bloodthirsty nature an’ all. As a kid, I spent loads of time thinking up what I’d do to Dorrans so it weren’t hard to be convincing.”

Claire glanced ahead but Gareth and Jemroth didn’t look back. She wondered what they’d think about her and Lotte with their heads bent so close together in private conversation. They needed to wrap things up before one of them noticed and asked awkward questions. “Then what happened?”

“He said as he’d sent guards to the places we’d frequented in the city. I pretended I didn’t know what he meant when he mentioned the safe house. Then he said I’d get to watch the Maellwyns squeal because he’d sent men to torture ’em for yer whereabouts. All I had to do was make sure ya went straight there after the reception. I asked him why he hated ya as much as we exiles did, and he spouted all that bilge about wanting to protect Kelnarium.” Her sweaty palm clutched harder at Claire’s own. “What if Jemroth and Gareth figure out I haven’t told ’em the full story?”

“They won’t,” Claire said.

“But someone told Eidan yer alive and in the city. I’ll swear on anything ya like it weren’t me, but what if they figure out who I really am and think I was the one as betrayed ya? They’re Maellwyns! They ain’t gonna believe it were Bron or Alaya!