Sera dropped Hannah off at Joey's place, the rest of the Carvers were still ignorant of the burden their second youngest son bore. They invited Hannah in with smiles and laughs, the two youngest Carver children, Thomas and Georgie, running around the tiny house like wild animals.

Hannah had dragged herself into the fray, avoiding clumsy limbs and greeting both Magada and her husband Vincent with a distracted smile. Had it not been for Tom almost running into the food and ruining dinner, Magada would have trapped Hannah with concerned questions. As it was, she escaped to find Joey on his bed, three empty cots edging each remaining wall.

"Jo?" Hannah called by the threshold.

He looked up, rubbed his sleeve under his eyes, and swung his feet off the bed.

"You don't need to get up." Hannah rushed forward, grabbing his hands and pulling him back onto the bed, where she sat with her legs crossed facing him. "I think you better tell them tonight. It's eating you up alive."

Joey pulled his knees to his chin. "I would if I knew what to say. I was gonna do it this morning, but then...then Ma starts goin' on about Bay needing new socks and how she had bought wool at the market to sew some." His eyes glittered with fresh tears.

"The longer you wait..." Hannah took a deep breath in.

"I know. I'll tell them. Tonight."

At the dinner table, conversation steered towards the market and the twins' obsession with the sweetmeats it had to offer. Eventually things grew out of hand, and Magada's booming voice interrupted the whines and pleads for more, Vincent ever silent at the head of the table with his eyes on his food.

Time dragged, and Joey's presence next to Hannah was like watching an arrow fly towards someone with no voice to warn them.

"The two of ye are rather quiet," Magada said across the table, dishing a hefty helping into her husband's dwindling bowl of soup. Vincent was none the wiser, nose buried in papers and scrolls. "Makes me worried ye goin' to be slippin' out in the middle o' the night. Don't look so shocked, Miss Seaward. Ye think I don't notice them yawns and dark circles under yer eyes?"

Hannah looked to Joey for some backup, but her friend's eyes were lowered and his soup was providing a far more riveting performance as his spoon circled the bowl. Mr Carter was also far too preoccupied, work having sprung a last minute task for him to sort out.

Magada made a knowing noise in the back of her throat, ceased filling her husband's almost overflowing bowl, and looked at Hannah with a poignant gaze. "Well? Anything new then? What ye been learning at that school?"

Hannah bit on her bottom lip, scrambling to think of her latest lesson. "It was...um."

"Joey?"

Joey jumped, dropped his spoon, and flinched as hot soup hit his chin, hand, and chest.

"Heavens boy," Magada said standing up, "ye be as jumpy as a rabbit these days. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were frightened by something." Her large frame bustled around the table and towards the kitchen, mumbles of clumsiness and the youth of the day echoing in her wake.

Mr Carver set a piece of parchment down and peered at his son over his spectacles. With dark hair as thick as a horse's main trimmed close to the wick, he looked like a man struck by lightening. His skin appeared bright red from the raging fire in the corner fireplace, but was usually pale like Joey's.

"What you working on, Mr Carver?" Hannah asked when the silence grew too much. "Is it anything interesting?"

"Unlikely for young'ns," he said, "but fascinating for me. Us older folk find tales in the most mundane of matters."

"Vincent!" Magada's called. "Gimme a hand will ye?"

Mr Carver frowned, setting his papers aside. "It's just a rag, Maggie. How much help could you possibly need?" Despite his words, he huffed as he stood and left the room. Hannah swivelled to Joey.

"You going to say anything tonight?" she demanded. "Damnit Jo, your mum almost had my tongue back there."

"Ma had your tongue?" Thomas giggled.

"It's just a saying Tom," Joey snapped. "I think you two can go play now."

"But I want–"

"You heard what Ma said. No more candy."

Thomas stuck out his tongue, turned to his sister without warning, and punched her. Georgie's eyes flew wide, but she recovered quickly like most children her age and punched him back.

"Joey," Hannah hissed, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the twins. "You going to say anything at all tonight?"

"I'm thinking Han." Joey squeezed his eyes shut. "It's not easy, you know. I'm going to change everything, and I'm trying to...just..."

"I can help," Hannah insisted. "I told you I would."

"I know you did, but have ye thought of the questions that come after we tell them?" His eyes were fervent and focused on her. "Why didn't we say anything sooner? Where's the body? Are you sure it was Bay? I gotta have answer to any one of those, and I still don't know what I would tell them. Sorry Ma, I didn't tell you straight away because I was puking my guts out and then was too much of a coward to tell you. Or no, I don't know where the body is cause some big guy with no hair said he'd take care of it, since Han and I were in quite a pickle at the time." He drove his fingers through his unruly dark hair, squeezing his eyes shut. "If you got answer to any of those you better tell me now, or I'm not doing it tonight."

"Jo, I'm not letting you not do it."

"Well, I aint–"

He cut off, both of them looking to the kitchen as the most awful wail came from the open door. The twins stilled, both close to tears but silenced at the sound of their mother's anguish. Hannah could barely breathe as another wail followed the first, her insides turning to goo as her gut told her what likely caused Magada's wails. Joey stood, slowly as if pulled by a string at his lapels, the back of his knees straightened, and the chair scraped backwards.

Hannah followed him to the kitchen, taking a moment to turn to the twins and send them to their room. Surprisingly, both nodded and jumped off their seats. She watched as they led each other to their room.

In the kitchen, the back door was ajar, a cold draft lifting the hairs off Hannah's neck. Magada and Vincent both knelt on the floor, Magada crying into her husband's shirt, clinging to his arms as if it were a rope to pull her out of the sea. Mr Carter was rubbing his wife's back, his own tears falling into her hair and wimple. He turned to them, grief masking his usual pleasant features.

"No!" Magada wailed, sobs wracking the single syllable and chopping it into waves of pain. Hannah's hands found Joey's and squeezed the cold fingers. They did not return the pressure. She looked at him and found his eyes wide, tears running down to the tips of his open lips.

They knew.

Hannah turned from Joey, dragging her eyes away from him, away from his parents and to the large figure at the door.

Stone.

Joey's hand slipped from hers as he glided to his parents and dropped next to them. His father pulled him into his side, wrapping a protective arm around Joey's small frame. He murmured something at Joey's ear that made Joey nod and burst into audible sobs.

Hannah winced at the sound, turned to Stone, and glared. The look that crossed the large man's face was apologetic, but not enough. He turned, taking his leave, but Hannah had more to say. More to ask.

She left the Carvers to grieve and slipped out the door into the frigid night, shinering as the she sunk ankle deep into the fresh snow.

"Hey!" she called after Stone. "You can't just leave after this."

He stopped, his large back stilled, but it seemed he had no intention of turning.

"Why..." she breathed. "What reason did you have to tell them? What business was it of yours?" She hadn't realised she was crying, but now that she heard it in her voice she felt the tears hot against her skin.

Stone turned only his head to look at her. "I got me reasons, kid."

"I'm asking you to explain them to me, cause...cause otherwise I got ideas that are telling me things I don't want to believe. Or can't...I can't believe."

"What things?" he asked, no trace of curiosity behind the question.

Hannah swallowed hard and took a deep breath in. "Was he a thief like you? Bayden I mean? Was he?"

It was a moment before Stone moved again, this time to lean into his other leg. "It makes no diff–"

"I want to know if he was murdered in cold blood or if he was able to defend himself." She squeezed her hands into fists and took another few steps closer to him. "I want to know he didn't suffer or wasn't caught in the crossfire. I need to...Joey needs to..." Her breath shook and she lowered her chin to her chest to hide the new set of sobs.

Stone approached her silent and strong, knelt before her, and used the crook of his finger to raise her chin. "It was a quick death. Aint no suffering behind it. Bay was..."

"So he was a thief?"

Stone met her eyes. Dark yet kind, they held hers and seemed to promise something. What she didn't know. Adults said a lot without saying anything, but it was a language she was slowly learning. Koltin and Sera shared that same language.

Heavily, Stone nodded.

"So he wasn't...he didn't die by accident?"

Stone thought about the question and then shook his head. "He aint collateral damage if that be yer true question, kid."

"Was he in your crew?" Hannah sniffed.

The edges of Stone's lips twitched. "Aye, but I wouldn't be calling it my crew. He was a crew member, a thief...a mate. He was a good lad." Stone's fingers dropped and he stood. "He didn't deserve to die the way he did, but being a thief aint..." His features hardened and he dropped to a crouch once more, and this time clutched Hannah's arms in a vice-like grip. "I need ye to promise me something, kid, and I need ye to know I don't tell ye this because I be playing games, yeah?"

Hannah squirmed but nodded.

"I need ye to think before ye be running off on the streets on yer own from now on. There be bastards in this city that be down right evil."

"We're told all thieves are evil."

"And ye agree with what ye been told? Ye should know better, doing what ye doing and all."

"I don't believe it," Hannah said softly. "I believe some are good."

"None are good," Stone said, shaking her. "We all be damaged and desperate. That makes us dangerous. But just because we be stealing from one man to be feeding someone else or ourselves, don't make us evil to everyone. Just some. And ye are a..." He inhaled and exhaled. "Just be promisin' me ye will be careful. Ye be doing nothing foolish."

Hannah glared at him, trying to break free of his grasp. "But the Thief King–"

"He didn't get where he is without breaking a few bones, lass. He aint no saint. Neither am I, but I need ye to–"

"Why?" she demanded. "What difference does it make if I die out on the streets or not? What's it to you?"

Stone released her and stood. "It's nothing to me, but take a look at that family over there and tell me risking yer life fer a few pieces of copper be worth it to ye? Cause out here" —he spread his arms and began to back away— "death be the only thing waiting fer ye in shadows. There be evil men out here, and they don't be needing reasons to kill ye. They just will."

Hannah scowled at him as he blended with the shadows and disappeared. The night was silent, but behind her she heard the sound of hearts breaking.