4. Ratter

RATTER

A half hour later, I’d finished telling my sister the whole story, and Verity and I sat in the middle of one of the unused nesting rooms. It smelled awful, but it was quiet. The younger children—six girls, ranging from four years old to fourteen, and two younger boys who had been born inside these walls—knew to stay away when I asked. Four of the eight women who lived here had made us a meal. Two of those were Omegas, who needed to be hidden for more than one reason. They were rare, of course, and Alpha males would want them for breeding and to help soothe their violent natures. But one of our Omegas loved one of the women, a rare female Alpha.

Winna, the other Omega, had fled her Alpha husband with her infant daughter Gertie five years ago. He’d kept Winna hidden in a basement for half her life until a midwife had helped her escape, and she was the unspoken leader of the group. She sat near enough to eavesdrop on our conversation, but I didn’t mind; she needed to hear this as much as Verity.

“Winna, I’ll need you to tell the other women something for me, soon. I’m leaving Turino.” She gasped. “And there’s more.” Raising an eyebrow, she set aside the sock she’d been darning. “There’s news they’re planning to tear this building down.”

Her hands trembled on her lap, and I knew she understood why I was here, and how tricky things could get. With a nod, she curled her shaking fingers into fists. “Thank you, Ratter. We’ll manage somehow.” She knew as well as I did that was a lie. Almost all the women here were on the run. Not all of them would be recognized by the people of Turino, but some would. Being seen was not an option for many of these refugees.

“I’ll find you another place,” I promised. “But you’ll have to move soon, within the week. This will be my last Solstice Eve here. I’m being sent to study in Verdan. I leave the day after the Solstice.”

Winna stood, and the rich scent of roses that always surrounded her like a cloud of expensive perfume almost overwhelmed the odor of the cooking cabbage. “Then we’ll need to make this year’s Solstice Eve celebration very special. And don’t worry about us. You’re a good lass, the finest I’ve ever met. But not even the Great Ratter of Rimholt can solve every problem.”

“I can try,” I protested, but she forced a smile and waved us out the door.

“Go on, sweet girl. I’ll tell the others. You need to get home before you’re missed.”

I hugged her, and Verity followed me out the door, both of us promising to come back the day before Solstice, with candies and some of our mother Haven’s famous cinnamon rolls.

Back home, Haven and Graham were still teaching their newest crop of students in the larger downstairs schoolroom. I snuck past them and up to the room I shared with my sisters, locking the door behind me. When I had first come to live here, a shared room felt like a luxury. But now, with me, seven of my crew, our four parents, and the three new children they’d added to the household, an entire house felt cramped. It wouldn’t be for long, though, not with so many of us growing up. Leaving.

I stood at the bedside table Tracks—now Trevor—had made for me when he became an apprentice at the woodcarver’s. It had been hard, realizing my younger siblings were going out in the world. I was so proud of them all. So happy, though once I would never have thought such a word could describe me.

Hungry, though. I’d been hungry my whole life. For food. Then power, when I was powerless. Then knowledge.

I was excited about leaving Rimholt. I just needed to make sure the vulnerable people who counted on me were protected once I was gone.

My crew and my family didn’t need anything. There were enough of them to keep eyes on the queen’s children, which was the job Vilkurn had given us years before.

But the women and children in the warehouse didn’t trust Alphas. They wouldn’t even let Robert deliver the cloth and threads for the embroidery the women did anymore, now that he had a distinctive scent. They’d been too abused and traumatized by Alphas to live normal lives, where they might come in contact with them.

Before my Aunt Cilla left with her mates for Mirren, I’d begged the women for permission to bring in an outside Omega, to talk to them. One of the only Omegas the world knew existed, Cilla had been sneaking in to teach them some needlework so they could learn a trade.

But not even Winna, the bravest of the group, would take the risk of starting up her own shop, and running into an Alpha. I’d seen her freeze and go into shock when she’d smelled my dads’ scents on my damned cloak, and they were the most placid Alphas in existence.

I reached into the hidden drawer Trevor had built into the side of the table, and pulled out my savings. Seventeen goldani. I’d been saving for a new scabbard for my obsidian blade, and that was more than I needed. It was nowhere near enough to buy a building, though, not one that could be made safe quickly for the women and children.

I pulled a small pouch from another hidden slot in the wood, and poured the contents into my palm: a single yellow diamond, flawlessly cut.

This gemstone would buy more than a building, but it was far too valuable to try to sell in Turino. Not even the finest jeweler could give me anything close to what it was worth, and they would immediately report my attempt to the king.

But maybe… My stomach churning, I pulled my knife out and considered it. The sullen winter light glinted off the jet-black stones on the handle, and the obsidian-black, carved blade itself. It wasn’t obsidian, though, or at least not the regular kind. This blade had never cracked, and it almost seemed thirsty for blood when I used it.

Vilkurn had mentioned soon after the knife came into my possession—courtesy of a little judicious murder, which the previous owner had earned by attacking my crew and family—that the stones weren’t all common onyx, either. Some of them were black diamonds, from the island nation of Pict. I had a feeling the whole knife was from there, which made sense, since I’d taken it off an assassin from there.

Taken it off his corpse, that is.

“Priceless beyond your wildest imaginings,” Vilkurn had said about it when I showed him my prize. “And it has a history, if rumors are to be believed. It belongs to some religious order. If it falls out of your hands, Ratter, and makes its way back to its original owners…Well, they’ll send more than one assassin to make you pay for taking it. Their god may demand it.”

But now I was leaving. If I sold it, and anyone came looking, I’d be gone, not only from the town, but the country. “Priceless,” I muttered, holding it up again. There was no such thing. Everything had a price. And so would my knife.

I fought back a wave of sadness, stuffing it down. If someone had been willing to part with a treasure when I was a child in this city, my mother would have been able to find a safe place for us, medicine for her wounds. She might have lived. I would have known more than hunger, pain, and fear when I was little, before Vilkurn saved me.

No, I had two things to sell, and I’d need both for the debts I had hanging over my head.

One would buy safety for the ones who needed it most. The other…

The air around me smelled of mint as I pictured the dark-haired Alpha in his sickroom at the castle.

I grabbed what I needed, unlocked my door, and headed for the one jeweler I trusted not to cheat me too badly, and who had the funds to cover what I’d need. I’d purchase the property I had in mind, and then I’d go say goodbye to my nemesis.

And, though I was really not good at it, mostly due to a lack of practice, I’d apologize.