The Royal Thief

Chapter Twenty-three: Love Letters

I'm so sorry this update took so long to get up. And I've got no excuse except loss of excitement. Actually, you guys should be rolling your eyes because I almost gave up and put it on hold. *Shudders* So glad I came to my senses... I haven't even gotten to the best part yet! ALSO! Warning: There may be an info-dump sometime soon. Or rather, a reminder-dump, because there are a bunch of things I mentioned towards the beginning of the book that I haven't brought up in a while but are actually really important, so I have to figure out how to bring them to Morane's attention. For example, if you've forgotten who Iso and Joshua are, you might want to check the index.

"I don't understand where we're going," I whined.

Beck shot me a sickly sweet grin. "You said you wanted to see for yourself. So we're showing you."

"I was thinking along the lines of tomorrow night, actually."

We were standing outside the Black Horse, waiting for Aiden to come out. Well, Beck was standing, I was leaning on the wall, and Kemp was trying to kick a pebble around Nali's feet. 

"Tonight," Beck said bluntly. "You never know when there'll be a clean-out. Tonight, we know there is nothing going on."

A clean-out. Something clicked in my mind. The first night at the match house-- Jaden explaining, saying--

"...Fights every night, unless there's word that there's a clean-out in the lower quarters. Brimstole probably bribes the provost's people enough not to worry, but nobody wants to  risk."

"Risk what?"

"Nothing, for some. And everything, for others. I'll have to explain later, many things..."

It hadn't made sense back then. A clean-out, probably meaning the provost's men searching the city for criminals. And apparently, enough of those "criminals" hung out at the match house that when there was a clean-out, no one would risk being caught there. I'd assumed that that was all there was to it. It was obvious that most of the people there weren't exactly in any legal sort of business. But what if the provost's men were looking for a very specific set of criminals in these clean-outs of the lower city? People like Beck. Aiden. Stubbe. Jan and Nali and Rayna and Dell and even Kemp.

As it began to dawn on me, I turned slowly around and looked at them-- the rebels-- closely. Beck-- usually not seen at the match house, but hung out with many people who were. Kemp-- well, he didn't count; he was too young. But Aiden-- as I saw him stride out the doors of the Black Horse, I was sure there was something familiar about his face. Certainly, I could have seen him there. Stubbe, probably not, but Jan-- yes! I recognized his perpetually angry face from the betting counters. And Dell, she was Gordan's friend and I had often seen her hanging around in the corners. 

And then I noticed the biggest connection between the rebels and the match house. Because at that moment, as Beck led me, Aiden, and Jan down the street, Nali reached up and flicked the red hood of her cloak over her head, and the edge cast a black shadow over her entire face.

Another memory-- Two hooded figures climb onto the wood stage. One is tall, black-haired-- Luca, the first time I saw him there. Gordan calls the other one the cutthroat.

"So you're a fighter at the match house," I said to her calmly, as though I hadn't just realized that this was far bigger than I'd thought.

Her hood really was the best disguise, I saw, as she turned her head in my direction. I couldn't see her eyes or even the upper part of her face in the shadow, could barely make out her smile.