Page 3 of Song of the Hell Witch

Two

Puck was no longer the bag of bones who’d found her in a storm drain, nor the scrawny thief who’d run with her down alleyways and across rooftops in the life she’d tried so hard to scrub from her skin.

His shoulders filled out his tweed vest and cotton shirt, and his neck was thicker, the veins forming a sort of triangle at the base of his throat.

New wrinkles creased around his eyes and above his dark brows, and specks of white salted his otherwise auburn hair.

And yet his smile, with its single line on the left and its double line on the right, was still the same, along with his cornflower eyes, wide as the Spheres themselves.

In his vest and herringbone trousers, he could almost pass for a gentleman.

Except where gentlemen were buttoned up and freshly pressed, Puck was disheveled, a bit wild, as if he’d jumped into his clothes, dashed up Silk Hill, and only just skidded to a stop.

Paris immediately dropped to the floor, swiping the brooch back into his hands and clasping his cloak around his shoulders.

“You … you would shame a lord and an Apostle like this?” Father Sewell frowned at the insinuation that he and Paris were suddenly allies, as did his mute, useless acolyte. “Do you have any idea who we are?”

“Oh, did I not make that clear?” Puck smirked, and the sludge settling in Prudence’s stomach shifted a little.

“You’re Paris Talonsbury, second-born son of Edmund Talonsbury and heir to …

what was it? Oh yes. Nothing at all. And that there is Father Sewell, who I believe whipped my bottom at the boys’ home back when I was six, am I right, Father? ”

“I … well, I wouldn’t say …” Father Sewell pinched his eyes shut and sighed. “Yes. Hello, Mr. Reed.” He gave Puck a strangely kind smile before turning to the people behind him. “Mr. and Mrs. Keats.”

What? Prudence squinted at the faces behind Puck.

Arthur and Marney Keats stood arm in arm, their faces weathered by the last twelve years.

When she’d met them at seventeen, they were a young married couple scraping to get by on Arthur’s four lyran a week at the steel factory.

Standish, the thiefmaster who took Prudence in and molded Puck into a gifted thief, had been happy to bring the Keats couple into his operation given their knowledge of the Silk District and their connections to factory workers.

Marlowe. Her nerves fizzed as she searched the other faces, hoping to find her childhood best friend somewhere among them, but he wasn’t there. Perhaps he’d finally chased his own dream, headed across the Marrow Sea to Visage.

Perhaps he hadn’t made the mistake of coming back.

A woman with lustrous brown skin and silver hoop earrings posed on Puck’s right.

For a Groundling, she was impeccably well dressed, with a violet bowler hat decorated with a peacock feather and a matching evening gown that shimmered when she moved.

Her penetrating topaz eyes tugged at Prudence’s memory, but she couldn’t place her face.

The wink she gave Pru made her that much more confused. Did she know her? How did she know her?

“Paris.” Frederick finally broke his silence, rising out of his chair.

The people gathered in the hall shifted backward a step.

He frowned at all of them, and they turned their backs as if they weren’t interested at all in what was about to happen—but their voices stayed low so they could hear.

“While I do not condone the embarrassment you have endured here tonight, I must say it is nothing short of what you deserve. I have tried to make you see reason these last few years, but you won’t accept my help.

Elixirs, shock treatments—these things could all give you peace, joy even, but you refuse them.

And tonight you’ve gone and let your illness embarrass my wife and interrupt the important business of offering counsel and gaining insight into the needs of the people of our city. Hornsby!”

Boots clicked across the marble floors. From the outer doors, William Hornsby and the other three Watchmen hired for security marched into the room. They wore freshly oiled maroon leather armor that glistened in the lamplight. Paris stiffened, all too aware of what their presence meant.

“See my brother makes it back to his carriage safely, will you?” Frederick said, his shoulders a single, hard line, his jaw clenched tight. Prudence had never seen him so obviously enraged before. “Paris, you are no longer welcome here in our father’s house.”

Paris sneered at him. “As if I would want to come back here with you and that beast rutting in our parents’ marriage bed.

” Hornsby grabbed one of his arms, but Paris threw him off, jabbing another finger at his brother’s face.

“But mark me, you will pay for this, Frederick! General Hale is building an army, one worthy of the Lightbringer’s glory, and those who stand in his way will die screaming, do you hear me? ”

“Get him out of here,” Frederick commanded.

Hornsby and his men latched on to Paris and began to drag him toward the door.

“The Lightbringer shall smite those who defy Him and His Order!” Paris shouted at the crowd, all shrinking away from him as though he were infected with some terrible disease. “Mark my words! And you !” He brandished an arm toward Puck. “I will see you brought as low as the worm you are.”

“I’m quaking in my boots!” Puck bellowed as Hornsby muscled Paris out of the room, to the obvious amusement of every single one of their guests.

Father Sewell smiled at Frederick and bowed his head. “I thank you, Your Grace.”

“Why?” Puck cocked a sarcastic brow. “He do something worthy of thanks?”

The Apostle—and Frederick, for that matter—ignored him.

But Prudence, uncertain of how she could still be capable of clear thought, knocked herself out of shock enough to ask the question burning in her mind. “General Hale. Where is he, do you know?”

Father Sewell shook his head. “We cannot be sure. But given that some of our more … impressionable acolytes have disappeared to join him, we believe he may be somewhere nearby. Perhaps at one of the estates just north of here. It appears he has won over those nobles who fought with him in Visage and gains more support by the day.”

Wonder how many of these dunderheads he’s actually charmed. Every eye in the room was suddenly a dagger eager to twist into her heart.

“I shall keep my ear to the ground, Your Grace,” Father Sewell said. “We must not let such extremism take over our country. Women, of course, should be content with the lot that’s been given them.”

“Oh yeah, subservience and obedience, who doesn’t love that?” the woman with the brown skin quipped. Prudence almost laughed with her.

Father Sewell turned his nose up at that, then kept going.

“But we must not forget that it was women who kept Leora turning while our men were away at war, and they proved themselves worthy of certain choices. I will not see them subjugated, nor will I see fear destroy us. Now, Brother Orwell.” The Apostle took his acolyte’s arm.

“If you will escort me from the hall, I do believe Mr. Reed has something to say before the festivities begin again.”

“Thanks, Father. Keep slapping those babes’ asses; definitely keeps them from becoming scoundrels!” Puck called after him before stepping up to take his place.

“Mr. Reed.” Frederick’s face shifted into a look of confusion as he addressed Puck.

“Your Grace. Duchess Talonsbury.” Puck’s gaze snagged on Prudence’s necklace before pointedly fixing to her forehead. “Quite the impressive house you’ve got here. Lots of columns. Big vases everywhere.”

“Rare to see the Hodgepodge District represented at such events.” The tips of Frederick’s ears burned red. “I wasn’t aware you lot were organized enough to even have an official leader.”

“Well, when people start calling you Thief Lord, you’ve got to take that as a sign they want you to do something for them, don’t you?

” Puck hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, and Prudence didn’t know why she needed him to look at her, but she did.

Just one glance. Come on. “Look, I know you don’t want us mangy River Rats spoiling all your elegant fun, so I’ll get straight to it.

” He clapped his hands together, and a few of the guests in one of the corners jumped.

“You’ve gotta pull back the Watch in the Podge. ”

Frederick’s chortle cut through the ballroom. The guests turned, their gasps bounding through the room as they beheld five River Rats standing in their space. The horror.

With each snide comment she could make out, Prudence shrank a little more, until she felt all of two feet tall.

“You’re not serious,” Frederick said to Puck’s request.

“Think I’d hike up Silk Hill with a storm coming on if I wasn’t serious?” Puck’s smirk didn’t falter.

“Mr. Reed, the Hodgepodge District sees more crime in an hour than the rest of the city sees in a day.”

“Actually, most pickpockets score in the Silk District or in the Stacks when the merchants take their lunches.”

“Yes, but pickpockets who live in the—”

“And when’s the last time you found a stiff on our side of the River Whip?” Puck cut in, sending his crew into self-satisfied chuckles. “Couple years at least, right?”

“Yeah, ’cause we take care of each other.” Marney Keats didn’t seem to have a problem looking at Prudence. She stared right at her as she said it.

It was a strange kind of agony, sitting there as the Silk she was, looking out at who she used to be. She wasn’t quite sure why. Once the four of them left, she’d go upstairs, slip between her satin sheets, then wake the next morning to a breakfast fit for royalty.

And yet …