Corvo looked at his hands—the hands that had once held Jessamine as she died. The mark of the Outsider pulsed like a second heartbeat.
“Corvo,” she whispered, her face buried in his coat. She was trembling. She smelled of cheap perfume and fear. “I knew you’d come.” dishonored 1
Tonight, he was not here to tempt fate. He was here to save a princess. Corvo looked at his hands—the hands that had
But Emily was listening. Somewhere in the next room, she was curled behind a locked door, hearing everything. She was trembling
Emily squeezed his neck. “You’re shaking,” she said.
The Golden Cat was a silk-draped hell of perfumed vapors and captive women. Its patrons were nobles who paid in coin and cruelty. Corvo had learned their names from the Loyalists—Admiral Havelock, the spymaster Pendleton, the inventor Piero. They promised to restore Emily to the throne if Corvo did their bloody work. He didn’t trust them. But he trusted the Lord Regent even less.