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“Who? The Dollhouse?”

“I’m not sure.” He gripped the right side of
his head, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingertips into
the spot behind his ear. “I can’t see anything in the black spot,
no matter how hard I try, but I know we can’t run. The only way out
is through.”

I didn’t ask what that meant. Whatever sense
of foreboding plagued him didn’t come with solid evidence or
details.

Finally, it was time to go. He watched me
warily as I strapped my knives into place. “Do you think you’ll
need those?”

“I rarely need them. But I feel better having
them.”

Finally, we crossed the plaza hand in hand and
entered Upper Davlova.

Frey answered the door, just as he had the
time before. He scowled as he let us in.

“I was halfway hoping you wouldn’t
come.”

I’d expected him to be awkward with me after
his confessions the night before, but his anger confused me.
“Why?”

We were still in the narrow confines of the
house’s entryway, and Frey glanced pointedly toward the back of the
house. “Aleksey’s here.”

“Is that a problem?”

Frey’s scowl deepened. Next to me, Ayo seemed
to shrink in on himself, as if afraid he’d be forced to bear the
brunt of Frey’s rage. I squeezed his fingers, trying to reassure
him.

“Not a problem, necessarily,” Frey answered,
keeping his voice low. “But I can’t figure out why he’s so
determined to be here.” He twisted the silver rings on his fingers,
glancing warily toward the back of the house where Anzhéla and her
brother undoubtedly waited. “You can’t trust him, Misha. No matter
what he says, remember that.”

Anzhéla greeted me warmly, despite the less
than friendly ending of our last meeting. “Misha,” she said,
hugging me. “Thank you for coming.”

She sounded sincere, and I felt a tug in my
chest. “You’re the closest thing to a mother I have left. It’s the
least I could do.”

She put her warm fingers against my cheek,
smiling up at me. “We
are
family, Misha. I hope you know
that.”

I nodded, embarrassed that I’d said so much. I
was saved from answering by Anzhéla, who turned to present the
person behind her.

“You’ve met my brother, Aleksey.”

“Yes.” Although only twice, and never on what
I considered friendly terms. The first time, he’d been sent to
collect my report on Donato. The second time was after Donato had
nearly beaten me to death. I’d woken to find Frey, distraught over
Anzhéla’s arrest, and Aleksey, gleeful that the war was finally
about to begin.

“You gave us quite a scare the night of the
fire,” Aleksey said, shaking my hand. “We were so glad to hear
you’d made it safely back to Davlova.”

I blinked at that, confused. I knew he hadn’t
cared about me one way or another, and the subtle reference to my
time in Deliphine troubled me, but I didn’t have time to consider
it.

“And this must be the boy from the Dollhouse,”
Anzhéla said, turning to Ayo.

Ayo seemed to shrink under her gaze,
practically cowering behind me, his eyes wide with dread. It
surprised me. He’d been fine meeting Lalo and Ceil and even Gideon,
and he’d learned not to fear Frey, but now, facing Anzhéla, I was
reminded of the nights we’d waited together for Donato to bring his
rage like an unchained beast into the room with us. I squeezed his
fingers again, trying to reassure him.

“Yes, this is Ayo.”

Aleksey eyed Ayo with a distant curiosity, as
if admiring an exotic bird in an aviary, but Anzhéla smiled warmly
as she shook his hand. “Any friend of Misha’s is a friend of mine,”
she said. “Are you thirsty? Would you like something to
drink?”

“No,” Ayo said quietly. “Thank you. I don’t
want anything from you.”

Even in his meek voice, the comment might have
been construed as an insult, but Anzhéla was used to dealing with
stubborn, scarred, scared kids. She continued to smile. “If you
change your mind, you let me know.”

She turned quickly to Frey, raising her
eyebrows in a silent question. No words were spoken, but he nodded,
understanding what she wanted. He turned to Ayo. “Why don’t I show
you the house,” he said. “Aleksey and I will give you the
tour.”

I knew the last thing Frey wanted was to spend
time with Aleksey, which meant Anzhéla and Frey had agreed to this
arrangement ahead of time so she could speak to me alone. Aleksey
couldn’t quite hide is scowl of annoyance, obviously coming to the
same conclusion. Ayo turned to me, whether asking for permission or
encouragement, I wasn’t sure, but I gave it.

“Go ahead. It’s fine. I’ll be right
here.”

He went, albeit reluctantly.

Anzhéla went to the side bar and poured a
drink. “Would you like one?” she asked over her
shoulder.

“No, thank you.”

The empty chess board was no longer in the
room. She gestured with her own glass of watered-down wine toward
the couch. “Why don’t we sit?”

“I’m fine standing. Thank you.”

Her smile faltered only a little. She set her
drink aside and sank down on one end of the couch. “I’m not your
enemy, Misha. I hope you know that.”

“I do.” But I wasn’t sure she was my friend,
either.

“I heard about what happened with
Tino.”

“Oh? What did you hear?”

“That you managed to defuse the entire
situation with grace and bravado. You saved a group of freed slaves
while avoiding a war.”

“Not really.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared
at me, a laughing challenge in her bright eyes. “I heard it
directly from Frey, and he’s not one to exaggerate. They’re calling
you a hero, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

I fell onto the couch, torn between laughter
and exasperation. “It’s been blown out of proportion. I went in
there to save Ayo, and I succeeded. That’s all.”

“Stories have a way of growing with
repetition. The fact is, what really happened in that stable
matters a lot less than what people are saying.”

“And what are they saying?”

“
That you help out the little guy
even if it puts you at risk. That you’re honest no matter what.
That you understand what they’re going through. They’re saying,
‘Here’s a man with money and means who actually knows how it feels
to live in the trenches.’”

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes with the
heels of my hands. Of course I understood the trenches, but the
rest of it? I wasn’t sure any of it applied to me. “I’m just doing
what anybody would do.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You’re
doing what people
should
do, but you’re one of the first to
actually do it.”

“It’s nothing. Like I said, I went after Ayo.
That’s it. Everything else was…” I waved my hand, searching for a
word. “Sheer luck.”

She leaned forward and put her hand on my
knee. She waited quietly until I met her gaze.

“Clan kids whisper your name, like some kind
of talisman against the dark. They look at you with hope. They see
you and they think, ‘That could be me.’ You could parade into the
plaza with your wallet hanging open, and not one of them would
steal from you. They’d probably die defending you against anybody
who tried.”

“I don’t want that.”

“And that’s why you’re a hero to them. Who
else would stand up for them without asking anything in
return?”

“I didn’t do it for the clan kids. I did it
for Ayo.”

“I’m not sure there’s a difference in their
minds, and they’re not the only ones. Freed slaves know you’ll give
them money to have their tattoos changed. It’s the only business
the tattoo artist has had since the fire, and he thinks you’re some
kind of god. He told me nearly half of the slaves who come to him
ask him to write ‘Freed by Misha’ beneath their old slave
marks.”

“Holy Goddess, that’s insane!”

“And how many of the freed slaves come to you
asking if you can help them find work? How many inn keepers and
tavern owners and businessmen from the third quadrant come to you
saying they want to hire slaves and asking if you know where to
find them?”

I sighed. It was true that I’d somehow become
an unwitting labor organizer for what felt like half of Lower
Davlova. “A few, I admit. But still—”

“You buy tools for the freed slaves to work
with. You buy food you don’t need and whiskey you don’t drink and
clothes you give to clan kids and whores. Ceil and Ayo sell
turnovers for a fair price, not gouging the buyers like others
might do. You help people, Misha. You give them hope without making
them feel like beggars. You’re becoming a legend, just by being
you.”

“I’m not!” I said, jumping off the couch. “I’m
none of those things! I’m a clan kid who grew up! I’m an ex-whore
with a decent wardrobe. I’m a thief who finally has the luxury of
not having to steal to eat, but that’s it!”

“Not to them.”

I turned away, smoothing my hair away from my
face, trying to make her words fit with my vision of myself. Yes, I
bought whiskey and tools I didn’t need, but I never paid an
exorbitant price for them. I never gave money to the clan kids,
although Ceil and I would occasionally slip them a turnover at the
end of the day or pay them a penny to run an errand or two. Maybe I
wanted to help, but I knew how fruitless it all was. The trenches
were still the trenches. Thieves were still thieves and whores were
still whores and kids still starved in the gutter every single day.
None of that had changed. The little bit I could do seemed so
inconsequential.

I stared out through the double glass doors.
The lawn had been black when I’d first visited, but now, I could
see bits of green pushing through the soot, reaching for the
sun.

None of it was fair. I wasn’t a hero. I didn’t
deserve anybody’s gratitude.

“I want to offer you a job.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want the
den.”

“I’m not talking about taking over the
theater. I’m talking about something different. A paid position,
working with the Board of Governors.”

That shocked me enough to shake me out of my
reverie. “
What?”
I asked, spinning to face her. “I can’t be
part of the Board!”

“Not part of it, no. But we’ve been talking
about creating a new position. Sort of an ambassador to Lower
Davlova, and I think you’d be perfect.”

“I don’t know the first thing about being an
ambassador! I don’t even know what that means!”

“I can teach you, Misha. I’ll walk you through
it, step by step.”

Yes, just as she undoubtedly did with Dharma.
I heard Ceil’s words in my head.
The machine keeps rumbling
on
.
That don’t mean you got to be part of it.
The rumors
and the stories about all my good deeds were exaggerations, but no
matter how small my acts of charity, I could honestly believe I’d
done some good since coming back to Davlova. Would that still be
true if I accepted Anzhéla’s proposal? I almost thought I’d rather
run the den than risk the taint of the hill.

I sighed and went back to the couch, sinking
slowly to the cushion opposite her. “Let me think about
it.”

She smiled and reached over to pat my hand.
“That’s all I ask for now.”

For now
. Those last two words seemed to
echo in the air.

“Anzhéla,” Frey said quietly from behind me. I
hadn’t realized he was there. I wondered how much of our
conversation he’d heard. He put a hand on my shoulder. It was a
simple gesture, but it felt like a show of support. “Did we give
you enough time to talk business?”

Anzhéla laughed. “There’s never enough time
for that. My whole life is business.”

Frey’s smile was forced. I remembered his
words.
I can’t help her with this new fight.
“You don’t have
to tell me. I know it better than anyone.”

“And you disapprove?”

She was teasing, laughing as she said it, and
I wondered if she noticed the shadow that seemed to fall across
Frey’s face. He didn’t reply. He gestured instead over his shoulder
with his head. “The boy’s terrified, and neither Aleksey or I are
helping. Maybe you should go do what you do best.”

“And what is that, love?”

“Making scared kids trust you.”

Anzhéla and I both turned to study Ayo, who
stood in the far corner against the wall as if trying to hide,
watching Aleksey with wary eyes. Aleksey was pouring himself a
drink, seemingly unaware of the scrutiny.

“Huh,” Anzhéla said, with a gentle smile.
“What a fool I am. I should have realized, the only way I win you
over is by winning him over first. Am I right?”

I tipped my head in a reluctant nod. “I hadn’t
thought about it that way, but I suppose maybe that’s
true.”

She patted my knee. “You’re a good kid, Misha.
Even though you’re not much of a kid these days. That’s why you’d
be perfect. Whether you’re running the den or working with the
Board, you’ll do great.”