She dashed off. Winter, Walnut, and the guards waited in silence for a few minutes. Somewhere nearby, a baby wailed.
A baby?
“Winter!”
It was Abby, naturally. Winter steeled herself and put on a neutral face. “Um. Hello. Jane asked me to come.”
“I know. Thanks, Walnut. I’ll take her upstairs.”
Walnut nodded and let himself out. Abby beckoned Winter to follow and led her back through the building to the creaky old stairwell. When Winter had last been here, these lower halls had been dusty and seldom used, with the girls housed on the upper stories. Now the walls were lined with bedrolls, blankets, and makeshift mattresses, and all the people who were absent from the streets outside seemed to have made their way here. They were mostly young women, not the cheerful, well-fed girls Winter remembered but dirty, scared-looking things. A few boys were with them, too, and small clusters of old men and women, wrapped in blankets. All conversation stopped as Abby and Winter passed by, and all eyes followed them down the hall until they passed out of sight.
“Abby,” Winter whispered, “what the hell is going on?”
Abby shook her head. “Jane can explain.”
Reaching the stairwell, they climbed four stories to the top of the building and went into the old study Jane used as her war room. Jane was gathered around her table with Chris, Becca, and Winn, but when Abby and Winter entered she straightened up and made a shooing gesture. They all piled out, wide-eyed, leaving Winter alone with Abby and Jane.
“Jane-” Winter began.
“Walnut picked her up in the street,” Abby said. “She was alone.”
Jane paled and set her jaw. “Winter,” she said carefully, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought I was coming to see you,” Winter said. Her eyes flicked to Abby. “I got your note.”
“And you walked here by yourself?”
Winter’s cheeks heated. “I’m not a child, for God’s sake.”
Jane crossed to a chair and sat down, carefully, like an old woman sparing her creaking joints. Abby cleared her throat.
“The streets aren’t safe,” she said. “Not anymore. Three of our girls have been attacked, the last one in broad daylight not two blocks from here.”
“Not to mention Billy Burdock’s son,” Jane said. “Sal fished him out of the river with his throat slit. And there’s more missing.”
Winter’s skin crawled. “God. I didn’t. . I had no idea.”
“Of course not,” Jane muttered. “None of the goddamned deputies has bothered to come Southside and take a look around.”
“I saw a squad of Patriot Guards,” Winter protested. “Don’t they patrol?”
Jane just laughed. Abby said, “The Guards are half the problem. When they’re not harassing people, they’re breaking into houses to look for spies and stealing everything that’s not nailed down.”
“Or fighting each other,” Jane added.
“People are scared,” Abby went on. “There’s not enough food coming into the city, and men from Newtown and the Bottoms have been coming up to search for bread.”
Winter looked around for another chair, found one, and sank into it. A moment passed in silence.
“Who are all those people downstairs?” she said, quietly, though she could already guess the answer.
“People from the Docks who didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Abby said. She turned her gaze on Jane. “But we can’t keep them here. We’re running out of food for ourselves, much less. .”
“I know,” Jane said.
“There’s only enough left for-”
“I know,” Jane grated. “Abby. Get out of here, all right?”
Abby looked at Winter, who managed to meet her eye without flinching. To Winter’s surprise, Abby’s expression was pleading. She mouthed two words at Winter.
Help. Her.
Then she slipped out, closing the door behind her.
There was a long, awkward silence.
“Winter,” Jane said in a hoarse whisper. “Where have you been?”
Running away, Winter thought. When you needed my help. As usual.
“At the Deputies,” she said. “I was supposed to represent us there. .” It sounded weak, even to her.
“Do they even know what’s happening here?”
“No,” Winter admitted. “They’ve been debating whether the queen should have the right of legislative veto.”
Jane gave another hollow laugh. “Oh. I can see why that would take priority.”
“They mean well,” Winter said, not sure why she was defending them. She reflected. “Some of them, anyway.”
Jane lapsed back into silence.
“You said you needed my help,” Winter ventured. “I got your note.”
“I was waiting for you to come back,” Jane said. “I keep trying to hold things together, but it’s like. . two fucking four-horse teams, pulling me in opposite directions. The people need help, my girls need help, but there’s not enough food and everything’s changing too fast. Half the fishermen have packed up and left, the stores are shut, nobody is willing to lift a finger for anyone else anymore.” She looked up. “You remember Crooked Sal and George the Gut?”
Winter nodded.
“I thought I had gotten something through their thick skulls.” Jane’s eyes fell to the floor again. “Sal told someone in the Guard that he thought George was a Concordat spy. Last night a squad of Guard smashed up George’s house and dragged him away.”
Eight corpses, dangling from the cathedral. Winter wasn’t sure if one of them had been George. She’d done her best not to examine them closely.
“I thought I had it together here,” Jane said. “But it’s coming apart in my hands, and I don’t. . I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I thought you would come help me.” She swallowed. “I didn’t think I’d have to beg.”
“Jane. .”
Winter wanted-wanted so badly-to get out of the chair, run across the room, wrap her arms around Jane, and never let go again. But the ghostly image of Jane and Abby hung before her, pinning her to her seat, stopping her voice in her throat.
There was only one way to exorcise it. It felt like taking a bone saw to a healthy limb, slashing the rusty, serrated teeth through soft flesh until they bit into the bone hiding beneath, bearing down until she heard the snap. Crushing a musket ball between her teeth, to stifle a scream.
“I. .” Winter swallowed. “The night after we took the Vendre. I saw you. .” Her throat was almost too thick to get the words out. “You and Abby,” she finished, in a whisper.
Another silence, unbearably oppressive. Winter’s breath came fast, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest.
“You saw that,” Jane said, in a dull voice.
Winter nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“And that’s why you. . stayed away.”
“It’s not what you think,” Winter said. Words spilled out of her, suddenly, as though a cork had been pulled. “I realized the two of you must have been. . together, before I got here. And I couldn’t. . I mean, I can’t just walk in and expect you to. . It was unfair. To both of you. You understand?” She paused, out of breath. Please say you understand.
“As soon as I knew it was you,” Jane said, “I told her. She understood. I could tell that it hurt her, but she stood there and fucking smiled, for me. God. And then that night. .”
Jane shot up from her chair, so fast she sent it skidding backward. Her hands balled into fists.
“I was drunk,” she said. “So was she, I think. And I was lonely, and you. .” She gritted her teeth. “I’d been sleeping alone. Since you got here. And she was. . there. Fuck.” She whirled on Winter, green eyes full of fire. “What did you expect me to do?”
Winter held up her hands. “I told you! It wasn’t fair of me to ask. . anything. It’s not fair.” She hesitated. “I came here to apologize.”