Emily falls asleep on the short trip back to the Hound Pits, tucked up close to Corvo's side with her hands clutching tight to his coat. She kept up a cheerful attitude all the way back to the boat, but he can see now how very tired she is. He can see the darkness under her eyes, the hollowness to her cheeks, and the bruises ringing her wrists.
Poor little Emily, once the heir to her mother's throne, now the most fiercely contested piece in a game of power, something to be jerked around, traded, and fought over. Is he really taking her anywhere better than where she just came from? The Loyalists might claim nobler intentions than Burrows and his allies, but they're all playing the same game, all bargaining and bickering over top of Emily's head.
He can see the mouth of the river from here, where the Wrenhaven spills out into the ocean beyond. This empire is immense and the world beyond it even more so. There must be some place outside the reach of Dunwall's vast influence, somewhere even an empress could disappear. Corvo has a good amount of coin in his pockets right now, taken off the Pendletons' bodies and looted from abandoned plague houses. It is intended for Piero – to fix the balance on his crossbow and improve the sights on his pistol, to replace the cracked lens in the right eye of his mask – but perhaps he can find a better use for it instead.
"How much do they pay you for your work, Samuel?" he asks, and the boatman startles, probably surprised at hearing him speak so many words at once. "Havelock and the others?"
"Enough to eat and keep the boat in good working order," Samuel answers with a shrug. "Coin is tight in our little group, and there's more important things to use it for than lining an old man's pockets."
Corvo puts a hand in his own pocket, clutching tight at the gold resting there. His other hand curls gently around Emily's shoulder. "I can pay you more," he says, quickly and quietly. "If you turn your boat right now and take us away from here, get us as far from Dunwall as you can, I'll pay you everything I have."
Samuel gives him a long, sad look. "Begging your pardon, Corvo, but I'm not much interested in coin. I do this work because I believe in the cause. I believe that little girl deserves a chance to claim her birthright, and I believe you're the man to make sure she gets there." He looks down to the controls of the boat, shifting the tiller to make a small adjustment in their direction, still headed right toward the Hound Pits. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. "How long do you think you could keep her hidden out there all alone, nearly everyone in the Empire knowing your faces?"
He's right, and Corvo knows it. Even if they could manage to slip away unnoticed and get past the blockade, it would be nearly impossible to go unrecognized for long. Corvo casts another longing look toward the mouth of the river, his grip on Emily's shoulder tightening to pull her closer. Still, maybe somehow, with these new powers he's been given…
Emily stirs at his side, blinking up at Corvo sleepily. "Are we going back to the Tower?" she asks in a mumble.
Corvo hesitates. He pulls his hand from his pocket and gently pushes a strand of hair away from Emily's face. "Not yet," he tells her. "But soon, I promise."
She smiles at him, rests her head against his chest, and drifts back to sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Samuel give a short nod.
Corvo nods back, putting his hand to his sword as they continue on to the Hound Pits.
He'll see Emily ascend her mother's throne even if it takes his own death to get her there. Or if he has to cut down everyone who stands in her way.