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“It can’t last.”

“What can’t?”

“This.” He made a small sound. Almost a
hiccup. Almost a sob. “This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted,
Misha. To have you like this. To be had by you. For you to want me
the way I want you.”

“And I do.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s wrong? Do you doubt my feelings
for you? Do I make you ashamed, like he did?”

“No. Not ever.”

“Then what is it?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.
“It scares me. Sometimes, it feels so good, I worry I’ll die. And
other times, I’m so happy, I almost want to.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it won’t last, Misha. They’ll never let
me be.”

“The Dollhouse?”

“Somebody. I don’t know who. The Dollhouse,
maybe. Donato. Anzhéla. Everybody. They’ll take one of us away. I
know it.”

His words raised the hair on my arms and sent
a cold shiver crawling up my spine. They touched some half-denied
sense of foreboding deep in my gut. I hoped to the Goddess this was
only his imagination, and not his eerie ability to predict certain
things. “Nobody’s taking either of us anywhere.” I kissed his wet
eyelids. I dried his cheeks, but more tears fell against my thumbs.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I need you to promise me
something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t let them take me.”

“I won’t.”

“No, Misha. Listen to me. Promise me you’ll
kill me before you let them have me.”

“What?” I shook my head, trying to deny the
sense of dread that roiled in my chest like storm clouds over the
sea. Trying to erase the image his request had created in my mind.
“No. I won’t—”

“If they take me, they’ll take it all away.
Every good moment I’ve ever had. Every second of my time with you.
They’ll make me forget everything.” He put his hand against my
cheek. “I’d rather die like this, with you still in my head, than
let them erase my happiness.”

I swallowed hard, fighting a lump in my
throat, trying to tell myself he was wrong, but that third row of
tattoos down his chest warned otherwise.

“Promise me,” he whispered, digging his
fingers into the flesh of my back.

“I promise.” But my mind recoiled from the
thought. “It won’t come to that.”

“It might.”

“It won’t!”

He sighed in frustration. “Something’s going
to happen, Misha, I know it. The universe can’t let me be happy. It
can’t let me feel this good. It’ll never let me have what I
want.”

He shuddered again, and I pulled him
close.

“The universe doesn’t get to
decide.”

Sleep eluded me. Ayo’s soft snores gave me
little comfort as I considered his request.

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked me to kill
him, but it had still come as a terrible surprise. His surety that
some tragedy was bearing down on us unnerved me. It was possible he
was being paranoid, but it was equally possible that his strange
sixth sense was telling him something.

And what if the Dollhouse did come for him?
I’d fight to the death to keep him with me, but to what end? So
that he could see me die before they took him away? So I could end
up with a chip in my brain too? I hadn’t been able to stop them in
Deliphine. He was here with me now, safe for the moment, but not
because I’d beaten the Dollhouse. Not because I’d prevailed, but
because…

Because the Dollhouse had an agenda. Or, I
corrected myself, they had a client with an agenda. That was the
only thing that made sense. And yet, who would pay to have Ayo
released? No one. Who would care enough about him to send him back
to Davlova? Nobody.

Was I worrying for nothing? After all, Adele
had certainly garnered all the info she could from Ayo in the days
they’d held him captive. She’d undoubtedly collected details about
Donato and the inner workings of Davlova’s old regime. She didn’t
need to keep Ayo around to sell that information. He was a used
product. Damaged goods. Clients turned to the Dollhouse because
they could order up anything they desired — sex slaves made their
exact specifications. Why pay for somebody else’s cast-off when
they could have their own fantasies brought to life?

The more I thought about it, the more sense it
made. After all, I had paperwork from Adele proving Ayo was no
longer a slave. The third row of tattoos on his stomach might say
nothing more than that he’d been set free.

But if that were the case, why had the
Dollhouse denied Gideon access to Ayo’s file?

I needed to know what the new markings said.
Dharma had translated parts of the original tattoos. Maybe she
could do it again. And even if she couldn’t figure it out, we’d be
no worse off than we were now.

Once I’d settled on a course of action, I
finally fell asleep. I slept late. By the time I dressed and
stumbled downstairs the next morning, it was almost lunch time. I
couldn’t find Ayo at first, and I suffered a few seconds of panic
before I heard his laughter through the door the led to Ceil’s
living quarters.

“There you are!” Ayo said brightly when I
entered. “I thought you’d sleep all day.” He was sitting at a table
with Ceil, slicing what was left of the apples we’d brought from
Deliphine. “Ceil’s teaching me to make turnovers so we can sell
them later. We’re going to do laundry while they bake, and after
that, we might go searching for wood.” He said it as if it was the
greatest treat he’d ever been given, his eyes bright with
enthusiasm.

“Really?”

“Aye,” Ceil said. “I never seen a lad so
anxious to help.” She eyed me sideways with obvious embarrassment.
It puzzled me until I thought about the night before. Had she heard
us? I blushed at the thought. “And these apples,” she went on,
placing the last of the one she’d been slicing into a bowl. “He
brought one down for breakfast, and I made the mistake of saying
how much I missed them. Next thing I know, he’s pushing the lot on
me. I told him he should keep them. That, or sell them, but he was
all keen that I should have them.” She leaned back in her chair to
gaze up at me. “My flour’s barely even starting to squirm. I figure
I can sell these turnovers, make a bit of profit. Maybe we could
split it down the middle? That plus cut your room rate a bit, to
keep things fair.”

“That’s fine.” Honestly, I was just glad to
see Ayo so cheerfully occupied.

“There’ll be a procession later today,” Ceil
told me. “The plaza will be full of people. It’ll be a good time to
sell them.”

“What kind of procession?”

“They call it the March of the
Priestesses.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“They claim it was tradition back before the
last High Priestess was killed, and they’ve taken it up again now
that there’s a new one. They start at the northern temple and take
the Boulevard down to the plaza, then up through the gate,
delivering the High Priestess to the Council House on the hill.
Sometimes she stops in the plaza and grants blessings to those who
ask. Sometimes she doesn’t. But either way, it’ll bring a hungry
crowd to the plaza.” She turned to Ayo. “Now that Misha’s awake,
why don’t you run up and gather your clothes? We’ll see if anything
needs mending before we wash it.”

“All right.”

She watched him leave the room before turning
to me, her expression wary. “He spun me quite a yarn this morning,”
she said, lowering her voice. “All about Miguel Donato and the
Dollhouse and you being his hero.”

“I’m no hero.”

“And what about the rest?”

I hesitated, considering. It felt like a
betrayal to Donato, but there was no point in protecting him now.
“It’s all true.”

“And the bit about his age?”

“His age?”

“Aye.” She lowered her gaze, and I was
surprised to see a deep blush creeping up her cheeks. “I asked him,
truth be told. I heard you in there last night, having a go at
him.”

“Oh,” I stammered, wondering whose cheeks were
more red, mine or hers. “I’m sorry. I—”

She held up her hand to stop me. “I only
wanted to make sure you weren’t doing it against his will or
nothing. He assured me that ain’t the case, with enough enthusiasm
to make me blush more than I am now.” She laughed uneasily. “I said
he was only a boy, too young for a man like you, but then he told
me about his age. How he only looks young ’cause Donato wanted it
that way, but how he’ll be older soon.”

“He
is
older,” I said. “But yes, his
body will finally be like it should.”

She shook her head, wiping at her forehead
with her knobby hand. “It’s a crazy world, ain’t it?”

“It is.” I sighed, hating myself for blushing
yet again. “We’ll, uh, try to keep it down from now on.”

She laughed again. “Well, ain’t like I never
heard a bit of fuckin’ before. And like I said yesterday, I’d be a
fool to let my misgivings get in the way of an honest business
arrangement. He seems happy enough, and Goddess knows I’ve seen
folks put up with a lot worse for a lot less.”

She made it sound like he was my whore. Or
worse, my slave. Or maybe that was only my guilty conscience making
her words sound more vindictive than she’d intended. I opened my
mouth to tell her it wasn’t like that — that Ayo wasn’t just some
wretch I’d picked up to fill my bed, destined to be tossed aside
when I tired of him — but he chose that moment to reappear, our
small collection of clothes clutched tight in his arms.

“Is that all you have?” Ceil asked in
disbelief.

“That’s everything,” Ayo said, dropping them
on the table next to the bowl of apples.

“We need to buy him some clothes,” I conceded.
“We probably should have done it before we left
Deliphine.”

“The tailors in Davlova’ll be glad enough to
take your coin, although if he’s about to shoot up like a beanpole,
you’re probably better off buying something
second-hand.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense.
No point in paying for newly tailored clothes when he was about to
age several years in a few months. Still, he only had two sets of
clothing, not counting his slave tunic. I spotted the white fabric
and pulled it from the pile. “We don’t need this. You can burn it
for all I care.”

Ceil took the drape, rubbing it between her
fingers. “It’s good cloth. There’s enough here I could probably
make him a decent shirt.”

“Make one for yourself, if you like.” As far
as I was concerned, Ayo was never wearing the foul thing
again.

Ceil eyed me over the tiny pile of laundry.
“What about you? You must have more than this?”

“I do, but not with me. I need to collect my
things from…” I didn’t want to mention the whorehouse. “From the
place I lived before.” I turned to Ayo. “And I need to check in
with a few people. Will you be all right here until I get
back?”

“Of course. You’ll be back for dinner,
right?”

“I should be.”

***

I left the haven of Ceil’s inn and headed into
the streets of Davlova, thinking of everything I needed to do, but
stepping into the plaza brought me up short. I was struck once
again by how different it felt. To my left, the gaping hole in the
white wall that had once held the gate drew my eye. Beyond it, the
upper city slumped like a wounded soldier, buildings black and
leaning precariously on their foundations. Lawns that had once been
green were nothing but ash.

My rubbery legs moved of their own accord,
taking me to that once-forbidden entrance. I stood, dwarfed by the
wall. I’d lived in its shadow my entire life, and yet I felt a
kinship with it. I felt that hole like a wound in my chest. I
looked up the hill, toward Donato’s house. It wasn’t visible from
here, but I felt it there, calling me, begging me to witness the
violence done to it.

I wasn’t ready to face it yet. And if I
couldn’t bear Donato’s house, how would I ever manage to confront
what lay ahead of me? If I’d had my way, I would have gone back to
Ceil’s inn. I’d have climbed into bed and slept until this
nightmare ended, but I didn’t have that option. I turned resolutely
toward the fourth quadrant.

Toward the trenches.

In the past, my routes from the plaza to the
theatre had been dictated by clan territory. Certain lanes had been
safer than others. I’d known every side street. Every window well.
Every refuse-strewn alley. I followed that path now.

It was familiar, and yet heart-wrenchingly
wrong. I had to stop several times to get my bearings. Everything
looked different, as if in my absence the buildings had
mischievously switched places. As if roadways had changed their
direction. Landmarks had fallen, leaving empty lots and broken
bones. Roads and intersections — the veins and arteries that had
fed this once-great city — lay clogged and ruptured. My heavy heart
grieved to see Davlova in this state. She’d been my home. My
mistress. My captor, and yet, my benefactor. She’d fought her
demons. Faced the beasts who ruled her.