Her Dark Knight's Redemption. Nicole Locke

Helewise, who were ripping into their bread as though they hadn’t eaten properly in a sennight...which they hadn’t.

      She was failing them. At least Vernon and Helewise were used to it, they had been with her the longest. Before her, they had survived on their own. Aliette discovered them over a year ago, in another part of Paris, sitting on the ground in the filth of the streets. Helewise, whose bones were crooked from her ears to her toes, and Vernon, whose eyes were so clouded he couldn’t see more than shadows. They were too frail to move when slop was thrown on them.

      Over the years since she’d been abandoned in Paris, she’d seen hundreds of street beggars. The old or frail were usually dead within a week either by starvation, assault or reckless carriages.

      But not these two and they fascinated her. Over many weeks, she’d watched as Helewise, too crippled to walk, told Vernon where to find food. They made terrible thieves. Vernon, almost blind, was slow and Helewise’s loud verbal commands let any nimble, listening child to reach the prize first. There were no fresh loaves for them or animal-trough remains. In truth, what they scavenged was dropped by others or given by charity.

      Filthy, starving, but nothing hardened their souls as it did the others, as it had done to her. They were kind to each other and shared food if they were fortuitous that day or the warmth of their bodies if they weren’t.

      But her observing ended the day Vernon made Helewise laugh. It wasn’t the laugh of the privileged, full of conquering lightness. Nor was it the laughing sneer of the street. Her laugh was full of...she didn’t know. It lit up both of them and did something to her heart as well. Like warmth, only so much better.

      That was the day she gave them every scrap of food she’d scavenged and they welcomed her to sit with them. Then they gave her stories. Of who they were and where they came from. Stories about legends and brave heroines and love. That was the word they used. Love.

      Was love what kept their souls intact? Whatever it had been, something began that day she gave them food. At first, she thought the tightening in her chest was something foul she ate, but the feeling grew and wouldn’t let up. It was like that warmth which spread with Helewise’s laugh, but it had an achy longing about it as well.

      A longing for something she knew she’d never possess. Her parents had abandoned her. No matter how much she wished for someone to love her, it wouldn’t happen. If she was capable of giving or receiving it, she certainly would have found someone in all the years since. Still, seeing love between Vernon and Helewise, she wouldn’t let it go either. Even if at times her longing filled her with sorrow and not just warmth.

      She blamed that longing for moving them to where she had been living: under a small bridge. It was in an industrial area of Paris, with no private homes or residences where respectable people could potentially force them to leave because it was too near the tanners and stank.

      When shelter and safety were tantamount, scents that made your eyes water mattered little. She couldn’t count the times she’d been accosted or had a weapon pointed at her. Sometimes it was to take something away from her like food or clothing. Most times, they looked at her as a threat and used a dagger, or a large blunt stick to ward her away.

      Paris was a jumble of wealth and poverty and she’d learned to take advantage of the good within the bad. And there were drawbacks with the bridge, the lack of walls not much of one. The true drawback was it was far from any food and much too far for Helewise and Vernon to scavenge on their own. It was up to Aliette to feed them.

      On one of these travels, she’d spotted Gabriel outside the gaol making sounds she’d never heard in her life. On the streets, there was abuse and maiming. There were harsh words and harsher fists, but the street’s survivors were bitter or angry.

      Gabriel’s helpless sobs were as if his heart was cracking. As though he only just realised life contained cruelty. He cried as an innocent would cry. A word Aliette knew, but had never truly understood. She tried to be good, but she stole and lied. Her life couldn’t afford anything pure. Gabriel’s clothes, though worn, were newish and clean. And he looked soft despite the bloodied mutilated mess where his right ear used to be. He had never been born and raised on the streets as she had.

      As the guards had. Guards who chatted because the sounds of a weeping child near their feet was meaningless to them. For Aliette, Gabriel’s defenceless whimpers called to her.

      A few gentle questions his way and he told her of his parents’ imprisonment and their hanging scheduled the next day. How he had no one and no home. He could tell her nothing of why they chopped his ear and not given him a simple flogging. Such an extreme punishment for one so young.

      His eyes were so full of grief, so full of fear. Half-starved despite the cleanliness of his clothes. Despite his ear, his hands told her he wasn’t raised on the streets like her. She knew what happened to soft children. To thieve or be used. By the carving of his ear, he had failed at thieving. She refused for anything else to happen to him.

      Slowly, coaxingly, she led him to their home under the bridge. His feet were laden down with exhaustion, hunger and loss. His eyes darting from her to every corner, looking for traps.

      No matter her soft words, he remained wary until Vernon greeted him and Helewise opened her arms and, crumpling at Helewise’s feet, Gabriel laid his head on her knees and promptly fell asleep.

      The longing to belong grew fiercely inside Aliette. The life she led with Helewise and Vernon wasn’t good enough for Gabriel. She could no longer steal a few turnips or potatoes. She needed proper food. They needed more than huddling under a bridge with one blanket. To achieve that she couldn’t only steal, she needed work.

      Which wasn’t easy. Everyone needed to work. For an unskilled woman, no one was willing to pay her actual coin, but after a while of going from market stall to shop to farmer, she found people who paid her for work with extra food, day old bread, more threadbare blankets.

      So much work, but eventually their supplies were noticed. Gabriel had gained strength, but not enough to defend against thieves or those with weapons. She needed to protect her acquired family.

      She had searched abandoned homes, but more than once she returned to the bridge with bruises and cuts made by residents who guarded their territory. It forced her to venture into finer neighbourhoods, until she discovered one that had been once grand, but now lay neglected. Many of the homes were boarded, the owners waiting for years until the area became suitable again.

      The house she found was boarded tightly up, secure against those too lazy or desperate to break in.

      Over a period of weeks, she watched the property and worked the back boards on the servants’ entrance loose. When she walked through the dank rooms, she knew she’d found what they needed. The roof didn’t leak much, there was a space for a small fire and there was furniture for comfort. Chairs and tables. Beds.

      They couldn’t have asked for a better home. With such fine furnishings, she suspected the owners might have left Paris for the winter and she didn’t imagine that they could live here indefinitely. Spring would soon be here, though there was no sign of it. And a few extra months until warmer weather would give them much reprieve and allow Gabriel to gain better health.

      But Gabriel had stolen and jeopardised everything.

      Without unclenching her eyes, she said, ‘At least tell me you didn’t steal them all from the same baker.’

      ‘Not at all,’ the boy quipped, not an ounce of guile in his words. To him, the words he said were the honest truth. Yet it was another lie since the remaining untouched loaves bore the same mark from the same bakery. He said the words to make her feel better.

      Nothing about this could make her feel better. She had two options. She’d need to return the loaves or pay for them. Neither scenario would end well for them. If she returned the loaves, it was likely he wouldn’t accept them and she had no money to pay.

      Easing her hand away from her stinging nose, she let out a breath and opened her eyes. Gabriel’s large brown eyes were more enormous than ever and sheened with