Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

I’ll have you transported.’ The threat came with a wag of a finger.
    Merion kept his smile. ‘I won’t, I promise. Next time you see me, you’ll understand what this is all about.’
    Pagget took his time getting to his feet. He held up Merion’s papers, ripped them in two, and dropped them into the bin.
    ‘Get up.’
    Merion did as he was told, and let Pagget tightly clasp his wrists. He was led to the door and prodded along the corridor. Now that his hand had been played, Merion stayed silent. He held his tongue and kept his eyes on the worn stone floor.
    Pagget marched him straight out onto the street. Before he turned him loose, the lieutenant took a moment to stare at the bustle, as though he was looking for a reason not to let Merion join it. He sighed.
    Merion reached out to shake the man’s hand. ‘Thank you, Constable Pagget, for your help. And believe me when I say you’ll thank me when I’m done.’
    Judging by his expression, Pagget didn’t quite believe him.
    ‘You’re a good man, Pagget. Don’t let anybody tell you different.’
    ‘Your father told me that once.’ He shook the boy’s hand and retreated back inside the station without a further word.
    Merion took a moment to rub his hands and arms, working the grime off them. He wondered what dealings his father may have had with Pagget in the past, and shook his head, dismissing it as a mystery for another day. Ignoring the jostling of the busy bodies around him, he pulled his hood down over his face and headed north.
    *
    No summer’s day in the Empire could ever be trusted. Though a morning might spring up all warm and shining, its sibling afternoon might just as easily pounce, drenching the hot streets and lightly dressed people with a downpour. It was a mischievous climate, and it never failed to wrinkle a lip or furrow a brow, even on staunch Britannia faces.
    This particular summer’s day was just as slippery. When one o’clock ticked past, the skies were abruptly streaked with wispy clouds; heralds of the coming storm. By two, they gathered in dark patches, ominous and brooding. By three, the rain was unleashed. Steam rose from the warm cobbles. Umbrellas bloomed. Newspapers were held aloft. People scurried in every direction, as the clouds rumbled on, laughing at their mischief.
    Merion trudged along the gutters, unbothered and unhurried. He was enjoying this. It had been months since he had last felt the patter of these raindrops on his skin; months since he had inhaled the pungent scent of rain on dirty stone and rooftop. Like every true-born of the Empire, rain ran in Merion’s blood. Though the island’s children scowled at it, cursed it, and shook their fists at it, given time away they would always secretly long for the feel of the rain on their skin. And so it was with the young Hark.
    He walked slowly, keeping his eyes quick and his hood low, careful to dodge the scattered piles of horse dung; shiny in the summer showers. The rain drummed on the waxy cloth of his overcoat. As he blew a strand of hair from his face, his stomach gurgled, and Merion realised he hadn’t eaten since that morning.
    A quick jump took him up onto the pavement. He weaved through the crowds, following his nose to something warm and greasy; the unmistakeable smell of Empire fare. Pastry. Gravy. Beef. Smells wafted from every corner. His stomach complained more loudly.
    He discovered a bakery down a side street, where a young woman sat behind the counter, occasionally poking her pies and slices into different positions, as if trying out some impromptu art.
    Merion’s mouth was practically a waterfall by the time his eyes made it across the shelves and up to the woman’s questioning face.
    ‘One of the beef pies, please, madam.’
    ‘Tuppence.’ She rustled a flat brown pie into a bag.
    Merion fished out two coins and slid them across the counter. The woman eyed him up and down before deciding to test their metal with her teeth. On any other day,