Disclaimer: I'm only playing in Pat's beautiful playground.

A/N: This chapter may be particularly triggering. All warnings listed on chapter 1.

Chapter 17: Black Night

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I don't know how long I ran for. I couldn't possibly retrace my steps or pull out a single frazzled thought from my swirling mind. All I know is that I found myself outside the Broken Horseshoe, arguably the shittiest inn that side of Renere. I stood in the cold wind, staring at its creaking signpost for a long time as my heart beat painfully from exertion and I breathed in lungfuls of knives. But for all that, my hands were steady. When I had mastered my breathing, I pulled on the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. It was time.

For a halfpenny, they put me up in the drafty attic, right below the eaves. The room, if it could be called that, was the size of Mother's old closet. There was a tiny window fitted with nothing but oiled sheepskin and wooden shutters, and the wind seeped easily into the room, causing the light from my single candle to flicker. I sat atop the lumpy mattress and shivered, the ratty blanket wrapped around my shoulders. On the twelve inches of dusty floor before me sat my bag and a cracked cup of rapidly cooling water that smelled strongly of sulphur.

I hoped I wouldn't be there long.

I cupped a hand protectively around the candle and stared into my bag. There were the packets May had given me. Herbs mixed together with her loving hands. To help. But not to heal. They were just a plaster; she had made that clear enough. Treating the symptom… but not the cause.

My hand shaking very slightly, I reached past the packets, deeper, until my fingers brushed cool glass.

But if I could treat the cause…

I grasped the tiny jar and pulled it out into the shifting light.

Krovnium.

My stomach clenched. I was a thief after all. I hadn't paid May nearly enough — not for this. And she knew. Of course she did. If she called the constables, it would all come out. I would hang for Derren. And I had realized it as I ran, as my feet pounded painfully against the hard stones of the road.

I didn't want to hang.

I didn't want to die.

The will to live; I couldn't explain it, couldn't understand it. It wasn't logical. But I could feel it burning inside me. I could hear it with every beat of my heart. I didn't know why I was still here. Why I was the one that had survived, after everything. For all this time. But as hard as it all was, as painful as it was…

I wanted to live.

I raised the jar and carefully pried off the lid. The smell permeated the room in seconds. It was strong. Bitter. It burned my nose as I breathed it in.

I closed my eyes. For a moment I saw the woman, hovering on the threshold of the apothecary. Her dark hair lank and unkempt. Her eyes wide with desperation.

"Anything. A tea? Denner? Please!"

"Are you sure about this?" Father's face was serious. His voice so soft I had to strain to hear from where I hid behind the display of candies and snacks. "This is what you want?"

"Yes." The raw conviction in her voice had burned itself into my memory. "I can't have this child. Please."

"All right. There is something. Krovnium." Father had led her into the back, his voice falling away across the growing distance. "It's an herb. Natural. Quite safe. It can be brewed with hot water and…"

"Don't listen." Denna spoke behind me and I gasped and turned sharply. "She's doing a bad thing. You shouldn't hear."

"Why?" I said. "Why's it bad?"

"Because children are a blessing," she said, giving me a sad smile. "And life is sacred."

"Tehlu anyway, you sound like Grandmother." I stuck out my tongue at her. "You always say we should be able to do whatever we want anyway. So if she doesn't want her baby, why isn't that fine?"

"Because." She tweaked my braid.

"Hey!" I swatted her hand away. "Because why?"

She gave me a sweet smile.

"You'll understand when you're older."

I opened my eyes.

Denna… would you understand?

I tilted the jar. The krovnium rustled softly as it scraped against the glass. The sound echoed somewhere inside me. Grating.

There was no logical reason to think what had happened to Denna would happen to me. Women had babies all the time, easily and without issue. If they didn't, we would have all died out centuries ago. I knew that. But the fear in my heart was real. Heavy as stone. And even if it was a child I carried. A perfectly normal child. I… couldn't.

I didn't want this.

After everything, wasn't I allowed to be selfish just this once?

Carefully, I poured three buds into the cup. The water swirled, the color turning a murky brown. The smell intensified. Twice as bitter now. I paused.

Was it enough? How much did I need?

Three. It seemed so little.

I tilted the jar again, adding another. Then another. That was five buds now. Only two left. Five seemed a great plenty. But what if it wasn't enough? Seven wasn't much more than five, after all. Just two more, really. Shouldn't I give myself the best chance? Wasn't seven the lucky number? Grandmother had always said so, so Tehlu must have said so too. The seventh saved city when the greatest demon fell at last.

Seven. That would keep me safe.

I titled the jar and shook the last two buds into the cup.

It tasted bitter and vile and strangely smokey, and it burned my mouth and throat. Choking it down was an exercise of will. But I hadn't expected it to be easy. This was punishment as much as a reprieve, and its saving grace would be more than I deserved. I curled into a ball on the lumpy mattress, a moan escaping my clenched teeth as the mixture hit my stomach. I felt it settle there. First warm. Then painfully hot. It burned steadily across my abdomen for a long while, leaving me sweat-soaked upon the filthy sheets.

It felt like hours had passed before it faded, though it couldn't have been all that long for the night was still dark and silent. My whole body ached, and my stomach felt raw and worn, as if someone had taken my insides and wrung them dry. Wearily, I struggled with the layers of cloth around me until I spotted the red streaks upon the white fabric. Bright even in the fading candlelight.

It was working.

I'd done it.

I collapsed back against the filthy mattress. Exhausted. Shaking slightly with the enormity of it all. Shocked at the hand I'd dared to play in my own destiny. It reminded me of Denna, somehow. Denna, who had been brave and loyal and kind. Loving. Denna, who would have given her life for her child. And did.

Tehlu… What would she think of me now?

She was the last thing I saw before I faded into darkness. Standing beside me. But I can't remember her face. I can't remember if the expression she wore was love… or hatred.

It was pain that woke me.

I'm sure that it came first in a dream, but I can't remember the details. Only the stabbing ache that pierced through my stomach and echoed through my chest. And in my dream, I'm sure that I was dying.

I remember blinking awake into the predawn haze, my stomach clenching painfully, as if torn up by a thousand burning knives. I remember the pain in my head as I lifted it, as if the knives were there, too. The way the world seemed to tilt. Blurring with my heartbeats. And the blood. There was no white anymore.

I had prepared an extra sash of fabric. I don't remember switching it out. I don't remember moving. I remember nothing but pain. Enduring. Overwhelming. The smell of day-old sweat clinging to my skin. A flash of the burning sun as it pierced through the sheepskin sheet. Morning bleeding across the wooden planks. Painfully bright. Hot. So hot. Thirst burning my throat.

Denna beside me, her hand on mine. Her eyes as deep and dark as the Centhe Sea. Her voice was a whisper. Calling to me. She felt so real then. Reaching for me through all the worlds between.

Then darkness fell again. Solid and black as pitch. Though her face remained.

I remember struggling awake once again in the black. I felt weak and empty, and my body trembled with cold. The attic reeked of sweat and iron. And when I lifted my head, the shadows spun dizzily around me. The filthy sheets were stained with black.

And Denna was still there. Standing beside me. Her face pale and bright amongst the dark, more solid than the air. So real I was sure I could touch her if I only reached out my hand. And the world around me felt wrong. Off-kilter. Swathed in cotton around the edges, like my mind was slipping away as Denna grew clearer. Realer. She was calling to me. And I realized it then, somewhere in the depths of my mind where the cotton didn't reach, that I had made a horrible mistake. A miscalculation. The krovnium; it was all wrong. Everything was wrong. She was too present; Denna. She would take me. And my life was a series of mistakes. All of it. And this one… this one would be the end.

But the thought was hard to hold. Hard to focus on through the haze of pain that still held me. But it burned. It burned enough to push me to my feet, where the world spun and Denna drew closer, her arms reaching out to me. An invitation. I yearned to take it. To make the pain end. To make it all stop.

I didn't.

I stumbled across the room. Down the uneven stairs. The pain echoed through me, so jarring I could barely breathe.

She walked with me. I don't know how I found my way out of the Broken Horseshoe. How I made my way through Renere's spiderweb of tangled streets. Were there people? Did they see me, or was I as much a ghost to them as Denna? Were the cobblestones behind me painted with red? Even now, I can't imagine how I knew the way. But the walk, the pain; all of it is lost to the darkness, because the only thing I can remember is the outline of her face.

And then I found myself outside the door, my hands scrabbling frantically against the familiar wooden panels. In that moment I was cold, and I was shaking, and the pain was everywhere, the darkness around me dimming by degrees. And it was all somehow familiar, the door before me blurring with the door from my memory. Of another painful winter, which had left me just as cold. And then, finally, when I was sure I couldn't stand another second, the door creaked open. And she was there. Her lined and wrinkled face pulled tight with worry. Her eyes sharp and wide, and afraid.

Again, I found myself at Grandmother's door. The heart was the same.

"I'm sorry," I tried to whisper, but I don't know if I ever made a sound. My tongue felt too heavy, unyielding. The shape of the words all wrong in my mouth. "So sorry…"

"You foolish girl!" May hissed, reaching out to grab me. "What have you done?"

And I wanted to tell her. Everything. To beg for help. For forgiveness. To tell her… I wanted… But the darkness that I'd carried this whole way had grown too heavy. I couldn't hold it anymore. I remember the way her face had tilted, growing closer and further both, and then the feel of her arms, her grip warm. Firm as iron. And then there was only black again. Black that grew as dark as pitch. As coal. As shadow.

A perfect, unbroken darkness.

And Denna's face… was gone.

I blinked awake into the dim haze of May's basement. It took a long time for the blurriness glazing my eyes to clear. For the familiar smell of herbs to settle around me. Light filtered softly into the room through the small windows. It was day, though I couldn't say which.

I felt torn inside. The ache was dull, but it went so deep that I could feel it in my bones. And my body was heavy as stone. I turned my head with effort to see May standing before the bookshelf. She was flipping through a book in the thin rays of light falling from the nearest window, but she glanced my way as I moved. It was hard to make out her face in the shadows.

"May…" I managed, my voice a dry croak.

"Dayana." She put down the book and came to stand beside me. Her eyes were hard. Unreadable. "I see you're not dead."

I opened my mouth and closed it again, too weary to talk.

"It was a close thing." May reached over, placing her fingers to my wrist. Her hand felt rough, at odds with her gentle touch. She held it there for a moment in silence before turning away. "You must have a death wish."

"I… don't." I coughed weakly.

She sighed, picked up a cup of water and brought it to my lips. I took a grateful sip. Then another.

"Why?" she said, when I was finished.

The question was so vast, I didn't know where to start. I was exhausted just thinking of the answer. I said nothing, averting my eyes as the silence grew heavy.

"Krovnium." She lowered the cup, placing it on the nearby table. She did know, then. I had been sure of it when she came looking. And here was the proof. Indisputable.

"Incredibly potent," she added quietly, "even in small doses. You are familiar with herbs, Dayana, so I'll assume you didn't take it because you fancied the pleasant smell."

I shook my head, still looking anywhere but at her.

"No," she said. "You had a problem and wanted to solve it on your own. Is that it? I thought you had more sense."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to steal from you. I left a—"

"Kist!" she cursed. "Stupid girl! I found your penny. You think this is about money? Tell me, how much did your pride cost you? The state you were in when you got here. How much did you take?"

Was it pride? And all along I had thought it was shame. I felt something catch in my throat. Something so big and hot that it was hard to speak around without my voice breaking. "All of it."

She cursed again. "Foolish. All that for one child? One would have been sufficient. The amount you took — it's poison. Did you want to die?"

I stared, a hot prickling tugging at the corners of my eyes. Her voice seemed to slice right through me. I shook my head again.

"Kraem!" Her voice grew louder, rising in angry spirals. "To do such a thing. So carelessly. Gods, how stupid. It's good you came back. Had you waited any longer, no one but Tehlu could have saved you."

"I know."

The words seemed to break something in me. Sobs rose up in my chest, bursting free into the space between us. I felt the tears spill across my cheeks, hot and heavy.

How had it all gone so wrong? It was everything. Everything I did. How many times had I tried to do it right just to have it all fall apart?

May watched me for a moment, her face unreadable. Then she sat down wearily beside me, her wrinkled hand brushing at my cheeks.

"It's all right," she said, her voice lower. Surprisingly gentle. Her warm hands were squeezing mine. "You're alive. It's all right. It'll be all right."

She held me then. The hug tentative, but firm. The scratchy fabric of her dress softening as my tears seeped into the cloth. But she let me cry against her. She was warm. And for that moment, so was I.

When I finally regained control of myself, May explained the repercussions of what I had done. Of how the near-deadly dose of Krovnium had done its job, and torn my body apart besides. She spoke softly and kept her voice even. Her hand warm on mine as I lay on the narrow bed, the rough sheets wrapped around me. But for all that, her words left me cold.

"So I'm broken." Everything had been broken for so long. Just one more thing now. What did it matter?

"Not broken." Her voice was firm. "You're still here, aren't you? Still alive. As for whether you'll ever have children — it's unlikely. I won't lie to you."

The words were numbing, like the outline of a distant loss I couldn't comprehend. I didn't know what to do with it. And there was relief wrapped up in it, too. And anger.

"Good," I said savagely. "I shouldn't."

She said nothing, her gaze unreadable.

"It's for the best." My voice broke a bit. It had been a long time since I'd dared to dream of a life. A normal one. The sort that could fit into a house, surrounded by trees and flowers and children, like the one Denna had painted for me once a lifetime ago. I couldn't even imagine it anymore. But I thought of them. Denna. Mother and Father. It was just me now. And there would be no one else. Even the memory of them would fade with time. Would end with me.

I felt empty. I was a fire burning with nothing at the hearth. A ghost already.

"Dayana," she said gently. "You can't keep going like this, child."

"Like what?" I said wearily.

"How much are you making?" Her eyes were set on mine, her gaze hard. "A penny a night? Two if you're lucky? These men are wild inside. Like animals. They'll leave you for dead if it suits them."

I lowered my eyes, ashamed. "What do you know about it?" I whispered bitterly.

"Do you think you're the first to come here like this?" May said. "To be in this position? I've seen enough girls like you to fill a lifetime."

"And what of it? It's all I know." I thought of Mother's rebec. Of the way it strung together pieces of song that twined with my voice. I would have given anything to have that back. But the shadows around me were too dark. I squeezed my eyes shut. "All I'm good for."

"I don't believe that," she said.

"You should. It's the truth." Speaking the words left me cold. Even my voice sounded empty.

May gave me a long look. "And how long do you reckon you can manage like this? How long have you been doing this, Dayana? Since the summer? And look at you... You're nearly dead on your feet. Winter is coming, and when it does, this city will freeze over. And they don't come so much in the winter. What then?"

"I'll figure it out," I whispered. "I'll survive."

"And that's enough?" Her voice was gentler now. "Surviving?"

"It has to be."

"Why?" she pressed.

"Because." My voice broke. "It's all I deserve."

I felt the tears sting my eyes again. Felt the cold marks they left on my cheeks as they trailed down into my hair.

"Oh, child," May said softly. "No one deserves all that."

"You wouldn't say that," I managed. "Not if you knew what I'd done."

"Tell me, then," she said. "What is it, that it should be so terrible? Tell me what you've done."

And I did.

I spoke until my throat grew dry and my eyes burned. I spoke of Mother. And Father. And Derren. Of every mistake I had made. It was a relief. Like cutting out a poison. I shifted when I was done, my body suddenly lighter. It all didn't feel quite as heavy anymore, with May standing beside me, listening. I couldn't say what she thought of it all. But she looked at me as if she could see straight into my soul, and there was no hate in her eyes. And that was enough.

"I wouldn't have called the constables," she said finally, when I had talked myself into silence and the quiet hung between us once again.

I nodded, too weary to find the words. I wasn't sure if I had any left. In truth, I had known it already; had realized it in my delirium, sometime in the night, before I wandered to her door.

She laid a hand on my shoulder and kept it there for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was rough. "You did right. With the man. Derren." Her grip was firm. "It had to be done."

I felt something catch in my throat again, but I swallowed heavily, forcing it down.

"It wasn't your fault."

I said nothing. My lips pressed tightly together.

"Not him," she said firmly. "And not your mother, nor your father either. None of it. D'you hear me?"

I nodded.

I didn't believe her. Words. What did they mean in the face of all I had witnessed and lived through? Words were just air. Just noise. I knew what I had done; what I deserved. And Mother, Father, Derren — they were all wrapped up in it. Smothering me. But May's touch felt like a shadow of love, even though I couldn't remember what love felt like anymore. And that hurt in ways I couldn't describe. So I stayed silent, and tried to push my swirling thoughts away. To simply focus on the warmth of her hand.

I think she understood. Because she sat there with me for a long time, still in the quiet. Watching the light change beyond the narrow windows. This silence didn't feel as heavy as any of the ones I had known before. It was a shared silence. It felt safer. Lighter, for the secrets in my heart no longer wore it down.

"You are clever," May said, after what felt like a long time had passed. "Too clever by half to be doing what you are." She sighed. "But you're right. You shouldn't sing here. Not in the city. You shouldn't stay here at all."

"I know." Of course I knew. It had been my plan once, before I'd forgotten what hope could feel like. Before I had consigned myself to this city and stopped imagining the future.

A future. Something beyond tomorrow or next span. Something further than the looming winter. I let my mind drift there. Carefully. Just a step.

"Isn't there anywhere you want to go?" she asked.

Was there anywhere I still wanted to go?

I looked up at the window, where the light was dimming to dusk. For the first time in a long time, I thought of the sky. Of the map of stars above me.

"Anilin." The name was like a half-remembered whisper. I felt it echo through my chest. I could feel it again. The edges of hope.

"What's there?" Her voice was gentle.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe… maybe family."

"Maybe?"

I nodded, more firmly now. "Maybe."

"Well," May said, after a short pause. "Anilin is half a world away. You're not going to get there hopping from bed to bed for pennies."

I thought back to my meager collection of coins. Dwindling, still. Of the long winter ahead. "I know."

"You'll need a way out of the city," she murmured, almost to herself. "Papers. Passage on a ship. It'll be expensive." She rose, pacing. "You'll have to earn more, and far more at that. And singing… no, you cannot do it. Not here. Not in Severen. Not in all of Vintas."

"No?" I repeated weakly.

"No," she said, stopping and facing me. "The travel warning will still be in effect. That man — Derren — I have heard of him. The only son of the Noble Lord Fern. Wretchedly rich. Connections to the court. There's not much talk of it here, but they will still be checking the gates. They'll have eyes in all the major cities. It isn't safe. You were wise to keep it to yourself. Even here."

A welt of fear snapped through me, followed immediately by resignation. Nothing had changed, after all. I was what I was.

"Whoring, then. It's the only thing I can do."

"Then do it better."

Her voice was sharp, and I froze, my eyes snapping to her face. Her eyes looked hard in the dimming light.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Dayana." She paused, letting out a heavy sigh. "Kist and crayle, these things. I don't know. But it's the lesser evil. If you're going to do it."

"I don't… know what you mean."

"When you were at the Mare, did you sleep with men like this?" she asked plainly.

"Like what? Men are men. All the same, aren't they?"

"No," she said. "They aren't. A brothel is a brothel, no matter what wrappings you dress it in. But it still sounds like those wrappings were quite fine. How much did those men pay for a night with you? For an hour?"

"The Mare was a fancy whorehouse," I said, "if that's what you mean. They paid in silver."

"Then why are you letting these uncultured pigs paw at you for pennies?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" I protested. "It's all they'll pay. Finding them is hard enough."

"Here," she said, "But there are men, rich men, in this city who are willing to pay more. If you want to do this, you need to find them."

"Where? You said it yourself — they're looking for me. And I won't go to another Red Mare." I clenched my fists firmly above the blanket. "Not ever."

"No," she said. "And you shouldn't. But you need to leave South Renere, Dayana. If you're going to do this, you can't do it here. You'll end up dead if you keep going like this. You'll starve, or freeze to death, or get stabbed in some alley. They'll take everything you have."

Tehlu, I knew that for the truth. But still, the thought of venturing out into the greater city was terrifying. When I spoke, it was all I could do to keep my voice from shaking.

"If I go out there, they'll find me."

"They won't," she said firmly. "Not if you're smart." She folded her arms across her chest and looked at me plainly. "If you're slipping from inn to tavern, searching for a man to take you to bed, you might as well be waving a red flag at them. The only reason they haven't found you already is because they haven't looked hard enough."

"That isn't true," I said. "I've been careful. I've changed my hair. I've—"

"They haven't found you," May repeated, "because South Renere is full of shit and filth and foreigners, and it disgusts them. But you're not safe here. Not by half."

"Then what are you suggesting?" I lay back against the bed, weary to my bones. "How should I find these men who'll pay me more if I don't go looking?"

"It's simple," she said. "You don't. You let them find you."

I paused, letting the implications of that sink in.

"You want me to be a courtesan."

"That's a strong word. Nothing so crass as that," she said, though her hard gaze betrayed her. "You could be… a well-off young lady, looking for her place in the world. One who is not opposed to the occasional relationship. And if that relationship provides you with a certain standard of living, well, that's just the way of it. Let's say… a duchess."

I held her gaze. "And what's the difference?"

"The story you tell yourself, if nothing else." She glanced away. "Names are important things."

I said nothing, looking anywhere but at her. A courtesan. I had been a fancy whore at the Mare, but nothing so fancy as that. I couldn't even imagine how to go about it. I'd make a fine Modegan parody attempting. No matter how she worded it, all I would ever be was a whore. And that was the only story I would ever know. It left me cold.

When May spoke again, her voice was resolved. "If you do this, that is the only sensible way. You don't search. You don't wander the streets until the cold takes you. You take a room at a well respected inn. And you let them court you. And they'll pay — not with money, maybe. Not directly. But they'll buy you meals, jewelry, entertainment. It will be your company they're after just as much as anything else. Maybe even your heart."

I let out a single, bitter laugh. "And if my heart isn't there to give?"

"Then you leave." She looked away. "And take them for all they're worth. And you go."

Silence fell between us. I stared up, letting my eyes drift to the rough wooden beams that made up the ceiling. It felt like too much, somehow. All of it. Everything I had done here, and in the three years before, had been detached. Just a transaction, really. Just skin against skin. It was one thing to sell my body. Selling myself… That was something more. Something so entirely different that it sent chills down my arms.

"What if they're good men?" I whispered. "What if they're looking for something… something I can't ever give?"

"Love, you mean?" May asked softly. "Everybody across the four corners is looking for love. Aren't you?"

I said nothing, my eyes trained firmly on the ceiling. May squeezed my shoulder briefly before stepping away. After a while, I heard the sound of her footsteps fading as she drifted across the room, leaving me in the quiet.

She returned some time later, a steaming bowl of soup between her hands. She helped me up, handing it to me with gentle words. My body ached from the motion, but the smell of the simmering vegetables awoke a sudden hunger within me. I sipped it too quickly, the thick creaminess of it burning my tongue. She left me to my devices soon after, rechecking my pulse and offering me another brew of bitter medicine before retiring for the night.

I lay awake for a long time after that, my eyes tracing the room in the darkness as my thoughts whirled.

Could I do this thing? And was it true? Was I really looking for love? Was I trying to get back something I'd lost, or forgotten?

That was impossible.

And love… I wouldn't find it in the arms of these men; I knew that without looking. Without even leaving this bed. But perhaps there was something to it — to this plan that walking through the streets of South Renere would never give me. Something intangible. The sort of thing that existed between words spoken and moments exchanged in the light of day, instead of bodies pressed together in the dark.

Something human. Connection, even if it wasn't perfect or true.

I think I just wanted to know what it was like… to be warm.