Chapter 18 Ren Monroe

Ren thrived on pressure.

At Balmerick, she'd loved deadlines. Exams. Anything meant to push someone to the very edge of their limitations. Landwin Brood should have done his research. He'd made all the wrong moves, and now Ren hastened to punish him for it. The next evening, she descended from her minor kingdom in the clouds and into the Lower Quarter. Her mother was waiting. A scheduled dinner that would also serve as a rendezvous. Her mother just happened to be the primary informant on all things Nevelyn Tin'Vori. Ren was eager to hear everything, especially given her own shifting plans.

The exterior door of her mother's building offered an absolutely ghastly groan as it opened. She was pleasantly surprised, though, to find her mother's apartment locked for once. She knocked three times. The door opened. Her mother was in a breezy dress, dark hair curled down past her shoulders. The tempting scent of pan-fried fish dominated the small apartment.

"You look nice," Ren noted. "And you cooked? I didn't know you still cooked.…"

"Please. I cook all the time."

Ren raised one eyebrow.

"Well, I didn't cook this. But I do cook. You're just never around. Harlow was here. Trust me, you'll prefer his recipe to mine."

"Harlow again… is he turning into a permanent guest?"

"Regular is not the same as permanent, dear. I live my life a day at a time. Let's eat."

The two of them quietly went about the business of filling their plates. Besides the fried fish, there were buttered rolls and spiced cucumbers. Ren felt famished, stretched as thin as she was by everything that was happening. She could barely restrain herself from eating as she crossed the room to sit at their knee-high table. Her mother settled in beside her and let out a pleasant sigh.

"You're right," Ren said, mouth full of food. "This is better than your recipe."

"The fisherman knows fish," her mother said. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"That's what he is? A fisherman?"

Her mother shrugged. "He has a number of occupations."

"How vague. But he's good to you?"

"Of course. I don't have patience for anything less at my age." Her mother looked her up and down. "I'm getting you more fish. You're nothing but bones."

Ren could only smile as her mother went to grab another plate. It was nice to have someone fuss over her needs like this. Her mother returned with the rest of the scraps. Ren reached across to pick at them, her own plate already clean.

"So… how is Nan?"

Their chosen pseudonym. Ren had thought it too old-fashioned, but her mother had insisted that the older names were always cycling back through. "Nan is settling in," her mother answered. "I saw her at the market the other day, buying rice. Our contact at the playhouse said she's doing fine. A good worker."

"Our contact? You mean Harlow?"

"Of course. Who do you think secured Nan's apartment? And who do you think pulled the strings to get her hired by the seamstresses in the first place? That's all Harlow's work. You told me you didn't want anything traced back to you. How else was I supposed to get it done?"

Ren only nodded. "No, you're right. I wasn't criticizing. I just want the circle to stay tight. No one else should know about her. The last thing we want is for someone to recognize that she's one of the missing Tin'Vori children."

"Who would? She left when she was a girl. She was how old? Seven? And it's clear life hasn't been kind to her since then. I doubt that even their dearest servants would know who she was. Besides, the rumor is that the Broods butchered most of them. Trust me, Nan's secret is safe."

Ren rolled that around in her mind. It all came down to trust. She might not know Harlow, but if her mother said they were squared away—they were squared away. The rest of the plan relied on Nevelyn's abilities. Could she navigate the politics of the seamstress room? Their plan required her to advance quite a bit past her current station. They'd given her mechanisms for making contact if it was not proceeding quickly enough, but so far, Ren had heard nothing.

"It's interesting," she said. "Harlow helping us so much. Why would he do that?"

"Because I asked him."

It took a lot of effort to not roll her eyes. "Come now, Mother. You're obviously a delight, but what's the real reason? He's sticking out his neck by involving himself. If the plan works… there could be some serious consequences. The other houses might retaliate. He's risking a lot."

Her mother nodded. "We aren't the only ones who hate the Broods, Ren. There were other men and women on that bridge when it fell. People in the Lower Quarter don't forget. They might not be able to do anything about it, but they don't forget. All I had to do was hint at what you were planning and Harlow agreed to it. He knows what we all know: if one of the great houses can really fall, there's hope that the rest of us can rise."

"Fair enough. I just—"

"—don't trust him. That's good. We taught you to question everything and everyone."

They most certainly had. Agnes and Roland Monroe had not raised a fool. The silence between them stretched, until her mother went on.

"But Harlow is one of us, Ren. He's Lower Quarter through and through. He was born in their shadow just like you were. If we can't trust each other, we'll never beat them."

Ren had no answer to that. She was about to bring up her work and the offer she'd just received from Landwin Brood. At the last second, though, she bit her tongue instead. She was afraid that her mother might like the idea too much. What if she pushed Ren to accept that offer of a normal life? Ren didn't want another fight. Instead, she reached for more fish. The two of them made small talk about the docks and pretended like nothing else existed outside these walls—like this was their normal day-to-day. When the evening had run its course, Ren cleaned off the plates with her mother at the washbasin. Her voice was quiet.

"I need to leave Kathor. An opportunity has presented itself."

"Going to Nostra?"

Her mother was too clever by half. Ren nodded.

"The Tin'Voris have their tasks and I have mine. I need to sway Theo."

Her mother asked the question Ren had been avoiding.

"What if he says no?"

She sighed. "What if he says yes?"

"That's not an answer."

Ren reached for a dishrag. She started drying off plates. Her mother hummed a song under her breath. It wasn't an answer, because Ren didn't know the real answer. The Tin'Voris had asked her in Ravinia about Theo. She'd spoken boldly, but she'd also contorted her answer just enough to avoid suspicion. The moral sword had not harmed her, because in that moment, she had been telling the absolute truth. If it came down to her revenge or Theo's life—she would choose revenge. The fall of House Brood, above all else.

But her mother had touched on her greatest fear. What if Theo weighed everything—his father's sins against him and against Ren—and still said no? What if blood ran too deep? She had been clinging to the belief that he would accept her plan. He would choose her. Of course he would.

Her next step was to travel to Nostra. Ren had already requested time off from Seminar, who was so delighted by her work that she granted it—though with the understood promise that Ren would use her time away to brainstorm even cleverer spells. Everything was settled, but Ren knew that her mother was right. She was avoiding the real answer to the question at hand.

What if Theo said no?

If he says no,Ren thought, the Tin'Voris will kill him.