‘It was still stupid,’ she said, ignoring me.
‘How many times are you going to say that?’
She stopped and grabbed me by the sleeve of my coat, trying to turn me around. I decided it was time to clarify who was in charge.
‘Look—’
Her face was full of tears.
‘Why are you—?’
‘Because I’m scared! Can’t you see that? Don’t you ever get scared?’
I knelt down, trying to talk to her at eye level, but she was too tall for that, so I got up again and leaned down to her – it was remarkably awkward, and it made what I said next sound even more foolish. ‘I’m scared all the time, Aline. I’m scared right now. But we’ve got to move on and find a place—’
‘You’re not!’ Her voice was half-shriek and half-growl, and it made me take a step backwards. It was early enough that there was no one else about, but I was still worried someone living above the nearby shops might take notice.
‘You’re not,’ she said, more quietly. ‘No one who was afraid would do something as stupid as you did back there. Those people could have helped us.’
‘Those people weren’t—’
She threw her arms up and down in a gesture of frustration and futility. ‘Those people weren’t Greatcoats, but they could have helped us. They could have given us a place to stay, they might have looked out for us, even just given us money or contacts. Something! Anything!’
‘I understand that it’s hard, but you don’t understand everything that’s at play here,’ I started, but she interrupted me.
‘No, Falcio val Mond of the Greatcoats, it’s you who doesn’t understand. You don’t understand what it is you’re doing.’ She spoke with all the assurance of a young girl who still thinks life should play out like a storyteller’s romance.
But I was tired, and aching from more fights in two days than I’d fought in the last year. ‘I’m trying to keep you alive, damn it!’
‘No,’ she said, quietly, calmly, ‘you’re trying to get back at them all – Shiballe, the Duke, that woman who calls herself a Princess: everyone who doesn’t believe in you and your Greatcoats.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘If I was out to hurt them, believe me, I could find lots of ways that would be less work and less dangerous.’
‘But that would be revenge, wouldn’t it? Or assassination? I’m just an excuse for you to fight all these people you hate and beat as many of them as you can before one of them finally kills you and you can die feeling noble and heroic.’
‘I wish I had the time to stand here and listen to you berate me, little girl, but I’m afraid I have to try and keep you alive now,’ I said pettishly.
‘Then do that! Stop picking fights with everyone you meet and find a way for us to survive this!’
‘Fine,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘And how exactly do you think we should go about it?’
‘I don’t know! I’m thirteen years old. I’m not supposed to know how to stay alive while everyone is trying to kill me. You’re supposed to be— You’re supposed to know how to do that.’ And with that she started crying uncontrollably.
I reached out to her, but she pushed my hand away and we stood there in silence, her sobs the only sounds punctuating the emptiness of the street.
Finally I said quietly, ‘I don’t know how.’
She looked up from her crying and said, ‘I know.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know how we can do it. It’s not— I thought it was possible, but this city – it lives on murder and deceit. I don’t know how many are after us, or why, but I do know Shiballe can get anyone in this city to do what he wants. This whole place – the people … It’s practically designed for murder.’
‘I’m going to die, aren’t I?’ she said stoically.
I didn’t want to say it; it would serve no purpose. Even vain hope is still hope, and some reason to keep moving. But somehow it felt wrong to lie just then. This girl had lost her family, and she would soon lose her life, all for no purpose other than the machinations of men who gave less thought to this than to what wine they drank at dinner. She had the right to choose whether to face or hide from the world as it really was.
‘Yes, they’re going to find us,’ I said quietly. ‘One or more of them is going to catch us. And yes, they’re going to kill us.’
She looked at the ground, then she shook herself and looked back at me, her eyes clear. ‘I’m ready then,’ she said.
I shook my head as if to clear it. I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I wasn’t sure what else to say.
‘I want you to do it,’ she said firmly.
‘Do what?’
‘Kill me.’ She saw my reaction and immediately put her hand on my chest before I could turn away. ‘You have to. You don’t know what I know, Falcio. They won’t just kill me on the spot. They’ll take me and they’ll torture me – they’ll turn me over to the men who do these things for them. I’m all right – I mean, I can stand to die, but I don’t want any more pain. I don’t want them to—’
‘Aline, you’re the daughter of an otherwise unremarkable nobleman who just happened to irritate the Duke by marrying the wrong woman. They’re a lot more likely to kill you and torture me,’ I said softly.
‘I don’t care.’ she said stubbornly. ‘I don’t want them to win. If I’m going to die, I want to do it on my terms. I can’t run any more.’
I thought about that for a moment. How do you answer when they take the last good thing from your life? It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself all these years, since they killed the King – before that even, in truth: since they killed my wife, my brave Aline. Gods, how in the world had I reached this hopeless place, trying vainly to keep a doomed little girl alive for no better reason than that she shared the same name as my dead wife?
I reached into the inner pocket of my coat and pulled out the tiny package. I handed it to her.
‘I don’t want any more of the hard candy right now,’ she said.
‘That’s not what it is. Open it.’
She did. Inside she saw the little square of soft orange and red striped confectionary. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s the soft candy,’ I said.
‘You said that before. What’s it for?’
‘It’s for when you can’t run any more. It’s for when there’s no hope left.’
She picked it out of the package carefully with finger and thumb and brought it to her lips.
‘There’s always hope,’ the King said, pushing the tiny package back to me. He’d been away on a trip to one of the great cities, ‘courting the nobles’, as he called them, as if it were all a grand joke he told himself for amusement. He wasn’t smiling now, though. ‘You shouldn’t have asked the apothecary to concoct this without my permission, Falcio, if for no other reason than that it smells absolutely foul.’
‘Would you have given permission?’ I asked.
He pushed me towards one of the great reading chairs in the library – we spent a great deal of time there during those early days. The King had no experience with war; he had never served in his father’s army, nor had he been part of Greggor’s administration, nor taken any part in the running of the country. Most of his adult life had been spent imprisoned, with no companionship but the books his mother had stolen for him. Through that mercy she had made him a strong believer in reading, and as a result, we spent hours in the royal library, searching out and reading books on war, on politics, on strategy.