Page 69 of For the Love of the Quest

Edith’s nervous eyes as Thomasin kissed her way down her stomach.

A backhand from Worthing that made her teeth rattle.

Edith’s fingers tugging at Thomasin’s hair.

A kick to her stomach.

Edith coming apart in her arms.

She didn’t know which hurt worse, the memories or the blows.

Thomasin spit another wad of blood from her mouth, then ran her tongue along her teeth, some of which were worryingly wiggly. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and with each breath, she became more convinced her nose was broken. There was a vague ringing in her ears that she tried to hear past, listening for signs of her captors. She didn’t know where Worthing and the chief had gone off to. It was still dark out, no sign of dawn in the sky. Though her concept of time was murky just then, she thought it had been at least an hour since they had decided they needed a break from tormenting her. She fought to keep herself awake, but the exhaustion was winning. Each nodding off was harder to wake up from than the last. Thomasin knew she must have finally fallen asleep, because she was suddenly thrust into a viciously beautiful dream.

Edith’s face swam into focus. Her hand gently cupped Thomasin’s cheek, tilting her face up. Thomasin leaned into the touch. Edith’s skin was so soft.

“Thomasin, wake up!” Edith’s voice was the barest whisper.

Thomasin smiled, nuzzling against Edith’s hand. She was just happy to hear her voice again. But then that hand was shaking her, and the pain in her swollen eye and bruised cheek roared back with a vengeance. She straightened her neck, Edith’s touch falling away. Thomasin blinked, rousing herself, expecting the vision of Edith to disappear. But she remained, crouched before Thomasin, her frame hardly visible in the dark.

Edith had come back for her.

All of Thomasin’s cozy, lovesick feelings for Dream-Edith fell away. “What the hell do you want?” she snarled under her breath, although the effect was dampened by her swollen lip.

Edith held her hands up. “I know you’re angry. But I’m going to fix this.”

Thomasin pulled at her restraints, wrist bones jutting against the pillar. “Look at me, Edith.” Her name strangled its way up her throat. “This is your fault.” Thomasin hoped she looked as bad as she felt. She wanted Edith to feel guilty, didn’t want Edith to think she was making up for all the wrong she’d done by the mere act of coming back.

Edith’s lips pinched into a frown. “I know. And I’m so sorry, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. But first, we need to get you out of here.” Her face was ridiculously earnest, like she truly believed every word she was saying. Thomasin wouldn’t fall for that again so easily. Edith was always earnest. That didn’t matter when said earnestness could switch sides like the flip of a coin. One minute, she was earnest about loving Thomasin. The next, she was earnest about leaving her. Well, Edith could be as earnest as she wanted about coming back for her now. Thomasin was not going to play the fool this time. But she couldn’t argue with her second point.

Edith’s return seemed to have hardened all of Thomasin’s despair into rage. Enough so that she was no longer content to submit to her fate at Worthing and the chief’s hands. As skilled as Thomasin was at slipping bonds, Worthing was just as skilled at tying them. She wasn’t getting out of this damned church alone. Thomasin steeled her heart and put on the mask she had worn her whole life. The one of the ruthless crime lord. She pretended it fit as easily as it used to.

“Where are Worthing and the chief?” she demanded.

Edith looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t see them. The church is empty.”

“They won’t have gone far. We need to get out of here before they come back.”

Edith jerked her head in a nod. “I have a plan.”

Thomasin rolled her eyes and smiled mockingly. “Do tell.”

Pulling a knife from her belt, Edith said, “I’ll cut your ropes, and then we run away.”

“That’s not a plan,” Thomasin said as Edith shuffled around to the other side of the pillar.

“Yes, it is.”

“Your plan only has two steps. In order for it to be a plan, it has to have at least five.” Thomasin felt the ropes pull tighter as Edith began to saw at the fibers.

“Says who?” Her whisper was breathless with the effort of cutting the rope.

“Says the greatest criminal in all of London.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. I’m new at this criminal thing.”

“You’ve been a criminal since the day we left London,” Thomasin scoffed. The pressure on the ropes paused.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”