Page 8

Eight

Damn Rui for making me search for him— wait for him. As if he was the one in control.

“I need to see your master ,” I told a redheaded boy I knew was one of his in the alleyway by the den. I’d already been here looking for Rui throughout

the day. It was out of desperation that I circled back.

“Ain’t here, miss” was all he said with a tart tongue. “Piss off.”

I gave him the worst grimace I could muster, making him jump, and stomped away.

It was the kind of rudeness I expected in London. They were more open about their disdain for me here, which I found odd,

since street markets were home to a far greater variety of people, all in close proximity. After I left the boy in the alley,

I found them all here amongst the street folk: the Irish fishmongers and Italian fruit sellers. Dutch girls selling brooms

and Indian chimney sweeps. Oftentimes I could tell them by their accents—like the German shoving clothes into my hands, hoping

I’d buy.

“I’m sorry,” I told him as politely as I could, and when I rejected him, he muttered a rather rude swear in his native language.

I only understood it because I’d made it a point to learn all the iterations of “that word” in every language the moment I

realized just how frequently it popped up around me in these lands.

People tended to divide themselves into castes even here. Mama and Reverend Schoen tried very hard to keep me from these parts and the working classes, who she considered to be the stewards of intellectual degradation and moral vice. And yet even here the English costermongers proudly separated themselves from the Jewish vendors selling the very same nuts in great barrows—and they didn’t associate with those only who sold tea and coffee in fixed stalls. How dubious the reasons humans found to separate themselves from those they deemed different. It didn’t matter that so many similarly struggled to fill their children’s stomachs.

I saw them all here in this crowded street, shouting, trying to get the attention of passersby, all the while being distrustful

of one another—distrustful of me.

It really didn’t matter where I was in this land. I didn’t fit.

But neither did Rui. Rui was a denizen of the darkness. He’d said so himself—that it’d taken him years to turn himself into

such to accrue power and men willing to do his bidding. Perhaps that was why we never seemed to meet when the sun was up.

He made himself furiously difficult to track down. There wasn’t any way to contact Rui unless he wanted to be contacted. So,

after a stroke of genius, I took matters into my own hands. The sun was already setting by the time I made my way to West

India Dock Road and stood in front of the expansive building, longer than it was tall: the Strangers’ Home for Asiatics, Africans

and South Sea Islanders.

Its two stories of windows glinted in the light of the dying sun as I walked up the front steps and into the center. Yes, it was a center, run by missionaries to house soldiers returning home, or waiting to be recruited by the East India Company to head out eastbound. I wasn’t there when Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, laid the foundational stone six years ago. I wasn’t there when the first lascar was lured in by the Christian missionaries who ran the establishment, concerned about their terrible treatment and lack of payment. I was here now to search the laundry rooms and dining halls—the bathrooms and libraries filled with Bibles translated into different Asian and African languages.

It had been two days since my verbal joust with the Queen and my wits were still alight with cunning. I was here because Rui

was here. I knew he was. I’d followed him enough times to learn he came every second Friday.

I knew the area. My reconnaissance skills were second to none. The immigrants in the surrounding area were welcoming, but

busy, too busy to notice someone like me stomping the ground, though this was one of those special areas in England an African

girl wouldn’t stand out so much anyway, princess or not.

That’s why he didn’t see me coming.

“Found you,” I said, the moment I spied his figure on the second step of the wooden staircase leading up to the dormitories.

At the sight of me, Rui’s eyes widened. It gave me a little devilish thrill knowing that just the glimpse of me could spark

a reaction in him.

“Didn’t think I had it in me, did you?” I winked.

His fingers immediately clasped around a brass pocket watch in his palm, but it was too late—I’d already seen it. He stuffed

it hastily inside the pocket of his gray pants, but the silver chain still jutted out a bit.

He looked so... respectable in his white-and-black-striped vest pocket, his black hair combed down, his back straight as

if he were a student at Eton College. This wasn’t the Rui I was used to. He’d been engrossed in conversation with a bright-eyed

man in a turban, speaking with a polite but stern tone in a language I didn’t recognize. It was an important conversation

about an important topic. I could tell that much. But I only managed to catch two words coming from Rui’s mouth: mērē pitā . What did it mean?

I didn’t have time to ask. Rui barreled down the steps and, without so much as a greeting, dragged me out of the building

by the crook of my arm.

“W-Wait!” I stuttered, stumbling down the steps as Rui yanked me around like a child does a doll until the West India Dock

Road was long behind me. “Unhand me, you pillock!”

He did, but only once he found an alleyway to throw me into.

We were on Commercial Street. I made note of the signpost because I’d long learned that being aware of one’s surroundings

was crucial to survival. I slapped Rui, but his jaw was set so tight, his high cheekbones could have cut my palm.

“How dare you drag me across the streets as if you were sweeping them with me,” I whispered though we were alone in the dank

alley.

“How dare ‘I’?” Rui hissed, taking a furious step forward. He angrily combed his fingers through his hair, throwing it into

disarray. “How dare ‘ I ’?”

I was loath to admit that I found the slightly venomous glint of danger in his dark brown eyes to be slightly exhilarating.

I knew he wouldn’t do anything, not to me. It was all bluster. But then, he truly was irritated. Squeezing his hands into

fists, he turned away from me, calming himself down. Then he turned back, his black bangs ruffling in the slight breeze as

he tilted his head.

“How did you know about Strangers’ Home?”

“You mean how did I know your connection to it?” I folded my arms and for the first time realized the slight chill in the

air had my hair standing on end. “I have my ways, as you have yours. I suppose I know more about you than you realize.”

With a spiteful grin, Rui swaggered toward me, forcing me back until my shoulder blades could feel the rough brick of the

shop behind me. He placed his hand against the wall just above my shoulder and shook his head. “You know nothing about me, little princess.”

It was I who drew my face close to his, letting my cheeky smile nearly brush his lips. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

A test of wills. I wondered how badly Rui could see in my eyes that I wanted to know more about him. How he’d attained such

a crooked life, how he’d come to command his men with a powerful grip as surely as a captain did his army. It was Rui who

relented, finally, with a sigh.

“Tell me what you want from me first,” he said with a calm but still menacing tone. “Then we can have a debate about who violated

who.”

I scoffed. Violation? All I did was track him to some missionary halfway house. But now wasn’t the time to argue. “I have

something in mind for Captain George Forbes, but it will take men and resources—both of which you can provide.”

“For a fee, of course.” Rui lowered his head so that he was at my eye level. It took me a beat to realize my shoulders had

flown up to my ears.

“Of course,” I answered, exhaling, my flushed face defiant.

His eyes glittered. “ My fee.”

My heart thumped against my chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Intrigued, Rui raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And your plan?”

Explaining my schemes always gave me a thrill, perhaps because of how clever it all sounded to me. The promise of mischief.

Of mayhem.

“I will tell you,” I said. “But first—do I have your word you’ll follow through with your part?” I lifted up my hand for him

to shake. “Without complaint and with complete and utter loyalty to me? Even if it kills the both of us?”

At first Rui was stunned into silence. Before long, his laughter echoed in the night sky. “You truly are twisted.” But despite

the condemnation in his words, Rui bent down on one knee, took my hand, and kissed it. My breath hitched.

“Luckily,” Rui said, his tender lips still close to my skin, “there do exist causes in this world that I would gladly die for, princess. No— Ina .”

Ade’s words echoed in my mind.

Their “love” for you is conditional, Ina.

“Stop,” I said quickly, pulling my hand out of his grip and turning my face from him. My body stiffened. “Don’t call me that

name.” Why? Why did my body flush with discomfort?

It was my name, after all. My name slipping through someone else’s lips.

It’d been a decade. The last time I’d heard that name, someone died.

“Forgive me. ‘Princess,’ then.” And Rui stood and bowed.

It wasn’t the mocking bow of a man who considered me his lesser. I should know—I’d seen enough of that in my lifetime. It

was gentlemanly. Respectful.

I held my breath and thought back to the sellers in the London streets and their cruel sneers as I passed by. The ladies who

glared at me while I walked near Queen Victoria at her behest. Queen Victoria herself... all those midsummers she had me

sing for her guests.

Could this man be different? The possibility of it sent a pleasant but fearful shiver down my spine.

“I told you there was still yet further for you to fall. But I wonder if you’re ready.”

“Concerned?” I asked, remembering his warning in the opium den. But it hadn’t been concern in his voice back then. That day,

there’d been a hush of hunger in his expression as he waited for mayhem to unfold. I knew that hunger. I knew what happened

when I let it grow out of control. And I knew the ecstasy that came with sating it.

Like, say, when a building burned down.

“The world says there are rules to follow, you know.” He tilted his head. “There are many in civil society who would find you unseemly for bearing such ghastly thoughts.”

“Damn the rules.”

Rui came close to me and cupped my chin. His hands were large but careful. They were the kind that could strangle a man to

death, yet be so gentle as to not leave a mark. Just as he’d done to the lustful nobleman who attacked me on the West India

Docks the night we first met. That disgusting blue-eyed devil who ripped my dress and tried to taste my chest with his nasty,

foul-smelling tongue. After months of following my sources to find and enlist the criminal prince, he’d revealed himself in

a way he knew I’d never forget.

“I heard you’ve been looking for me,” he’d said with a frightening grin after ordering his men to dump my attacker’s body

in the Thames. A frightening grin. An exhilarating grin. “Which means you may be as dangerous as I am.”

How far would I fall? How far was the limit for a girl who’d lost everything that mattered to her? I couldn’t say. All I knew

was that seeing Rui murder a man in front of me that day was more bewitching than it was unnerving. It had made me wonder

and dream things I didn’t dare speak out loud, not even to myself. Perhaps that was my answer.

I drew his hands away from my face. “Make sure you’re ready for tomorrow. Uncle George won’t escape retribution this time.”

Rui held his hands up in defeat, backing away from me with a crooked grin. “May God have mercy on his poor soul,” he said

with a little laugh.

“Please. That old man has never prayed a day in his life.” I brushed off my sleeve and left the alleyway.