you are haunted like every other holy thing.
what tried to destroy you didn't have the strength.
still you stand,
sturdy and smelling of smoke.
- little bird, clementine von radics
༒
in which tommy shelby finds his asylum
in the ver...
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Every soul who had seen the war had sought a vice upon returning, even if they hadn't known it, even if their vice felt like the purest remedy. Gambling had always been Albie's medicine. Before her incarceration and during it, left with only the company of her thoughts, Winnow had long since wondered if it had something to do with the risk—placing everything on the line, feeling adrenaline rush with the unknown. Would the world crumble to nothing, or would it be replenished sevenfold? Would the gamble skew towards doom or glory?
As she fastened the white buttons of her gloves at her wrists and tried to breathe steadily, Winnow wondered if this was yet another gamble to him, another risk with unknown rewards. Were the odds weighed in her favour, or had the dealer rigged the cards?
This time, it was her life on the line. There was no going back.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slow, then left the bedroom and strode towards the front door. Her mother and brother both waited beside it, and Ru-Shi rushed forward almost instantly to smooth over the strands of hair which had come undone. Using false pearls she had 'borrowed' from the laundry, she had spent almost an hour pinning Winnow's thick hair into a hidden bun, and Winnow knew she would hear no end to it if she let that work go to waste before she even arrived.
"You look wonderful, Win," said Albie, smiling softly from the front door. Winnow met his gaze, then quickly looked away again, unsettled by something she couldn't name. She looked towards her mother.
"Thank you, Ma," she said quietly, doing her best to force a smile she wished she could feel down to her bones. "For trusting me."
Ru-Shi nodded, her lips pursed tight, her eyes shadowed by concern. It looked like she would say nothing more—but before Winnow could step from the door and into the bracing night air, her mother took her by the hands and held tight, pinning her with urgent dark eyes.
"When I was young, you know I did things . . . things I would never let you do," she said, and her voice was low and pressing, lit by a steady flame. "All of it for money. I was lucky enough to leave that world and . . . those hands, Ying-Yue. But I learnt the value in caution." She squeezed Winnow's fingers. "Be careful, maque. Keep your eyes open, and trust no one—especially no men, or their close women friends, who will betray you to them just the same. Stay in the light and stay near people. You understand me? You can never be too careful, Ying-Yue."
"Of course." Winnow tried to project confidence, self-assurance, but she could feel her smile trembling, and then faltering, and then slipping away entirely. The worried gravity she saw in her mother's eyes felt like a shadow of her own. "I'll only close my eyes to blink, Ma."
"And even then . . ." Her mother shook her head and released her iron grip on Winnow's hands to wave them towards the door. "Go," she said, turning away, "before I refuse to let you."
A cool gust of air swept inside as Albie opened the door and stepped aside to let Winnow through first. She felt as if the cold found its way into the marrow of her bones, and found no warmth to fight it all the way to London.
