No explanation was necessary. Four years ago, the priest who had given me shelter sent word to my brother that the prince was here. The messenger undoubtedly told others of the rumor. The priest was eventually convinced I was only an orphan boy, but if the pirates thought there was any possibility I was Jaron, they would have come here. I’d already left, but the priest paid the penalty intended for me.
“You all right?” Fink asked.
I wasn’t. It was hard to breathe. Feelings of sadness and anger flooded me, choking me. “Who was the pirate?” I asked. “The one who killed him.”
Fink shook his head. “I’m not telling you that.”
I grabbed Fink’s collar and shoved him against the church wall. “What’s his name?”
Fink looked nervous, but Avenian boys are used to getting roughed up so he kept calm. “Why should I tell you?” he asked.
I reached into the satchel tied around my waist and withdrew a garlin, probably a month’s worth of money for him. “You’ll tell me because you’re hungry.”
He held out his hand. I put the coin on his palm, but pinched it firmly between my fingers. Fink glanced both directions before he leaned forward and whispered, “Devlin did it. But you won’t find him in these parts because he’s the pirate king now. You probably don’t want to find him at all, unless you want the same end as the priest.”
Devlin was their king? That explained why Avenia was willing to help with the assassination attempt. Because it wasn’t just about revenge on me for escaping the pirates four years ago. Together they were seeking the total destruction of my country.
I released the garlin, and as Fink’s fist tightened around it, I pulled him close to me again and muttered, “Now go away, or I’ll tell everyone where I heard that name.”
This time, Fink got the message. Without a second glance at me, he ran. I waited until he had gone, then left in the other direction.
I held my composure only until I found an alley where I could duck behind an old wagon that had been mutilated for spare parts, probably during the recent winter.
In the privacy of the alley, I pulled out my knife and stared at the blade, angry at Devlin for having killed an innocent man. No, angry at myself. Because I was the reason Devlin killed him. And because the priest died without even knowing I really was the boy he had initially thought me to be.
I first cut the bandage off my arm. The wound from Roden was tender but sealed. It was too soon to remove the bandage wrapped around my waist, but I tore it off anyway. I could not look cared for. A grim smile crept onto my face as I pictured what Mott would say if he saw me. Then it vanished. If Mott saw me now, he’d have nothing good to say.
Down on my knees, I grabbed a fistful of hair and sliced through it with the blade. There was enough hair in my grip that the blade cut unevenly, which is how I wanted it. The last person to cut it had been Errol, my manservant while I was at Farthenwood. He’d faint now if he saw what had just happened to the strands he had worked so carefully to trim.
The first cut had been in anger and felt to me like a rebellion, a rejection of the person everyone thought I should be. With the second cut I turned the anger inward, furious with myself that I didn’t think the way others did, and that my solutions to any single problem always created several new ones. With the third cut I found myself fighting back tears until it was pointless to pretend that any amount of resistance would matter. Devlin had killed a man whose only crime was to shelter a hungry and frightened boy. For reasons I didn’t understand, I wanted to know if anyone other than me had cried for the priest. Did he have a family? Anyone who would blame me for the part I had played in his death?
I had told Mott that I needed to kill Devlin, which was already an unbearable weight. But if Devlin was the pirate king, then the way out of this was so much harder, so much worse. I’d never get their loyalty, and if he controlled the pirates, Devlin would never give up wanting my life. The only way to make Carthya safe from them, and the only way I could survive this, was to destroy them all.
Mott was right. That was impossible. But it was my only choice now.
I drew in a long, steady breath to calm myself, then made a final cut of my hair, this one with resolve. I had to keep moving forward, and if the devils were willing, I could go home again.
What’s the matter with you?”
With a jump I turned, knife out, and saw Fink staring at me, his finger casually hooked around the rope that acted as his belt. The rat still sat on his shoulder, watching me cautiously. Rats weren’t my favorite companions. I’d experienced enough rodents in the orphanage to develop a healthy hatred of them.
Embarrassed, I wiped my eyes and stood, then replaced my knife in its sheath and continued walking down the alley away from him. He followed.
“So you’re telling me the name of that pirate is Devlin?” I said loudly. “You, Fink, are telling me the pirate’s name?”
“Stop it!” Fink said, running up to me. “Everyone can hear you.”
“Really, Fink? So everyone can hear that you told me the name of that pirate? Stay away from me or I’ll keep talking like this.”
He stopped walking. “Oh, I see. You don’t want me around.”
“Nope.”
“But —”
I glanced back. “But what?”
He licked his lips, which were already cracked and dry. “I know you’ve got other coins, and I’m really hungry. I know you’re new here, and so if you need anything, I’ll help you find it.”