Page 62 of Savage Crown
I slipped inside and shut the door as one girl clicked on a lamp. The glow was weak but enough to see the children clearly. Small. Scared. Fragile. I imagined adults under Harrow’s control screaming orders at them, punishing them. Their fear made sense. They didn’t have a reason to trust strangers.
“Children!” a shrill woman called down the hall.
I had seconds.
“I’m here to kill King Harrow and break his control over everyone, and I need you to hide me,” I blurted, voice cracking with urgency.
The words hung in the air. Eyes widened. Mouths fell open.
Footsteps drew closer.
One girl, the eldest, maybe twelve, flung off her blanket, crossed the room, and grabbed my arm with surprising strength. She dragged me toward a closet on the far wall and shoved me inside right as the main door swung open.
The closet wasn’t well-built; a narrow seam between the planks left a half-inch gap. Perfect for spying.
“Mrs. Clay, what’s going on? Why are the sirens sounding?”
The girl who’d hidden me spoke casually, bringing a blanket to a younger child with deliberate ease, like she’d practiced lying to adults her whole life.
Through the sliver, I saw the woman enter. She wore sleep clothes and a robe, hair in a messy twist, eyes alert and sharp.
Her voice, though soft at first, held weight. She was dangerous in a different way.
“There is a very dangerous young woman with dark hair and a sword around here. She is looking to hurt little children. Have you seen her?”
Oh crap.
She’s looking to hurt little children?
He was good. The bastard. Turning me into the villain with a single lie. Of course they would give me up. I looked insane, running in here in the middle of the night with a sword. Honestly, I’d snitch on me too.
“No, Mrs. Clay. The sirens woke us up, and then Mitzy got cold, so I got her a blanket. Should we go out and help look for this woman?” the girl asked, voice steady in a way that sounded rehearsed from a life of lying to survive.
Mrs. Clay scanned each small face. The silence was thick, but the children held firm, still and blank, smarter than most adults I’d ever met.
They were lying for me…
“No. You are not permitted to be outside. Naturally, we want to keep you safe. Get back to sleep. Tomorrow morning, take your lessons in the library with the boys.”
“Yes, Mrs. Clay,” they chimed together, as if they’d practiced that, too.
She slipped out. I heard her feet clicking down the hall, then a distant door opening, likely the boys’ room.
The closet door jerked open, and I found myself staring at the stern glare of the twelve-year-old. Her hand held a sharp fountain pen, pointed squarely at my gut. The girl’s eyes narrowed at my sword, and the pen tightened in her little fist.
“You here to hurt us?”
Her voice didn’t tremble. She meant it.
Creator, I loved her already. She genuinely believed she could take me with that pen. Brave, stubborn, ready to die defending her friends, she had a spirit that reminded me of home, of a Dreg-born who would do anything to survive.
I shook my head. “I’m here to save you. I need this to defeat Harrow, but if you want to hide it under your bed until I leave, that’s okay with me.”
I held the sword out to her carefully. Val wouldn’t harm the girl, not when she could recognize fierce loyalty like her own.
“She’s acting normal. Like a kid!” another older girl whisper-screamed from across the room, awe slipping into her tone.
I nodded. “My sword protects me from being under the control of the king.”
