by Emma Savant
I had always planned on helping Grandma with the show. I hadn’t planned on being the one to select the entire lineup. Josette and I had whittled the final choices down to fifty pieces, including accessories. It wasn’t a large collection—certainly not the size of many that would be at Fashion Week—but it was still enough to make my vision go double. There were gowns, sleek pantsuits, tailored coats, and, of course, the crimson capes, all created to fit one sleek aesthetic that blended the Carnelian sense of heightened drama with the elegant sparkle favored by the Faerie Queen.
Elsewhere in the mansion, a series of doors banged. More Daggers than I’d expected were still holed up here, and probably would be until either Grandma came home or they got sick of living elbow-to-elbow with each other. I closed the studio door to block out noise and returned to the sketches.
I spread out the designs to examine them side by side, then made notes of common themes we could play up with fabric or embellishments. Grandma had favored sharp darts this year, and flowing chiffon skirts, and plunging necklines that would emphasize Queen Amani’s slender neck and collarbones. One bright side in all this was that we were designing for the Faerie Queen, not some Humdrum princess. Queen Amani had no hesitation when it came to low necklines or high slits, so we could get away with more than we could dressing an ordinary politician.
The colors, too, would be designed to suit her dark skin, with our usual cool silvers warmed up with a touch of gold that would highlight her glowing complexion. The reds were especially rich, too, and the blacks as dark and dramatic as possible. The gowns were stunning, but it was the pantsuits Amani favored that I thought might get us in the door.
The door banged open. Mom stuck her head in.
“Have you been getting my texts?”
I looked at my phone, which was half-buried under swatches of black velvet.
“Um, no, sorry, haven’t been paying attention.”
“You need to start,” Mom said. “I spoke with the other Cardinals, and we’re going to go rescue Grandma in two days.”
I swiveled around to look at her. I’d been performing divinations since Mom and I had last talked, and they’d all indicated the wolves would be in smaller numbers than usual during the coming week, and weaker due to the new moon. But I hadn’t dared hope she’d take my information seriously enough to go mount a rescue.
“That’s great,” I said. “What can I do? How can I help?”
“You can finish—whatever this is,” Mom said. She pointed at me. “You’re not coming with us, so don’t get your hopes up. But after dinner, I need you to go train with Sienna so she’s ready.”
I made a face. “Can’t one of the other Daggers train with her?”
“The other Daggers are busy with their own tasks,” Mom said. “And Rowan and Autumn are on babysitting duty, so you’re welcome.”
I’d rather have the toddlers. But she was already gone. I turned back to my work. My phone buzzed again, and I snatched it up off the table.
Brendan: Come on, you have to eat sometime.
He was literally the most persistent person I had ever met.
And it wasn’t a bad thing. Anyone who wanted to keep up with a Dagger had to show some tenacity.
Not that I was a Dagger. Except I was. But not really. Trying to figure out my place in the house made my head hurt.
I glanced at the pile of sketches in front of me.
Scarlett: I can do dinner. Need to be back by 7.
Brendan: I’ll pick you up at 5:30.
I tried to imagine explaining that one to Mom.
Scarlett: I’ll meet you there. Send me the address.
The ride to the restaurant gave me time to think about the clasp Alec had dropped off. It was a beautiful triskele carving, with the three linked spirals all worked from a single piece of gleaming ash. It was simple but striking, exactly the sort of thing that represented Carnelian best. I’d texted him my thanks and told him I approved of the design and to move onto the next one, and he had responded with a brisk notification that I could expect the next clasp in a few days.
He seemed mad at me.
I couldn’t decide if I cared.
At any rate, Grandma would be back soon, and then the clasps would be my only major problem instead of number one of about seventeen thousand. I couldn’t believe she’d been doing collections like this for so many years. While the pressure to win a palace contract wasn’t always part of Fashion Week, it didn’t need to be. Getting a fifty-piece collection done was more than enough to be going on with.
I parked in front of the restaurant and raised my eyebrows at the sparkling golden sign that the Humdrums on the sidewalk didn’t seem to notice. I had never heard of Conjured Palate before but had figured it was just another Glimmering spot for pasta and fairy dust drinks. I was clearly wrong, and clearly underdressed.
Well, they’d have to deal with it.
I hopped off the bike and pushed open the door, which was made of gold filigree in a modern pattern of swirls and triangles. The door wouldn’t budge. One of the spirals melted into itself to form a circle at about chest height. Etched on it were the words, Charm, please.
I rolled my eyes. One of those.
I pointed at the circle, directing a simple warming spell at it. The circle swirled back into a spiral, and the door clicked open.
Inside was a stunning lobby with a vaulted silver ceiling and shining black floors. A magician in a sleek tuxedo and top hat took me in, glanced down at the list on the podium in front of him, and looked back up with a pearly smile.
“Welcome to Conjured Palate,” he said, bowing slightly. “Your table is this way.”
23
I gave Brendan a sharp look as I slid into the seat opposite him and slung my leather jacket on the back of the seat.
“This place is ridiculous.”
We were at a table near a faux window, which was made of modernistic stained glass in the shape of a leaping bunny. It linked to a similar piece, which linked to another, and so on in a big circle of jumping rabbits until the windows tapered off near the archway to the lobby. The ceiling in here was vaulted and silver, with a giant mobile of sparkling stars spinning lazily above our heads. The waitstaff were all in tuxedos, and I had a feeling the appetizers alone cost more than I made in a month at Carnelian.
“You’re paying for this, right?”
“If I invite, I pay,” he said.
He smiled broadly at me, and I had to admit that something in my stomach fluttered a little.
Not butterflies. Scarlett Hunter wasn’t the kind of girl to get butterflies. But ladybugs, maybe, or those cute jumping spiders I sometimes found on the mansion’s driveway.
He handed me a menu just as the waiter came by for our order. I asked for water.
“Come on,” Brendan said. “This place’s drinks menu is out of this world.”
“I didn’t like what happened last time I let you pick my drink,” I said.
He leaned forward. “I am genuinely sorry about that,” he said. “I’d been having a weird day and I was trying to impress you, and it was not one of my finer moments.” He turned back to at the waiter. “Water, please.”
I gave Brendan a slight, approving nod and perused the menu. This was the kind of restaurant that didn’t even list prices.
Well, if he was going to take me somewhere like this, I was going to order whatever I wanted. Maybe he’d be more sensible next time.
Did I want there to be a next time?
I had barely asked myself the question before I knew the answer.
Yes. Yes, I did.
He seemed to blush without actually blushing. His eyes darted away from me, and I grinned at him. “What?”
He scratched his arm, pushing up his T-shirt sleeve a little, which revealed a tattoo of a woodcutter’s axe with Celtic knots on the handle.
Tall, broad, and tatted. Yeah, I wanted a second date.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just glad you came.”
“Don’t be glad yet.” I shifted in my chair. “You don’t even know if you like me yet. Not really.”
“I knew I liked you the minute I saw you in line.”
“What, when I almost punched you?”
He grinned. “Yeah. I was into that.”
It was my turn to almost blush. Goddess, did I want to wrestle him—and not like I wrestled with the other Daggers. I buried my face back in the menu.
The meal was more outlandish than I had imagined. The salad course came first, but it wasn’t salad; it was a small glazed white pot filled with dirt. I eyed it warily while our waiter sprinkled sand-like seeds into the dirt with a flourish and watered them with a small glittering can. Within seconds, tiny seedlings pushed from the soil and grew into two small, compact heads of lettuce. The waiter snipped these from their roots with gleaming silver scissors, cut each head into quarters, and then plated them with a drizzle of oily dressing and a sprinkling of cheese and bacon crumbles.
He bowed at us and backed away. I raised my eyebrows at Brendan.
“Was that actual magic or just sleight of hand?” I said. I didn’t know much about magician magic. I’d never needed to know.
“Just sleight of hand?” Brendan said, sounding almost—but not quite—insulted. “That takes artistry, you know.”
“But which was it?”
“Magic,” he said. “Come on, you don’t really think a parlor trick could grow lettuce.”
He took a big bite of his salad and gestured wildly at it with his fork before swallowing.
“That’s good,” he said. “Tell me that isn’t the best salad you’ve ever had.”
It was. The leaves were tender but crunchy and had a slight sharpness that mingled perfectly with the dressing. I took another bite, then rested one elbow at the table and pointed my fork at him.
“Why are you trying so hard to impress me?” I said. I jerked my thumb back toward the room at large. “This is too much.”
He just smiled at me and sipped his water. Then he set it down and laughed.
“Okay,” he said. “Confession time. I’m not actually going that far out of my way for this. A family friend runs the place, and I just helped him chop about a million cords of wood for his vacation home up on Mount Hood. In exchange, he gave me a couple of dinners here.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. He looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I laughed. “That’s better.”
“I thought you’d like me making a little effort.”
“I don’t mind effort, but—I don’t know, this felt like a lot of pressure, like you were expecting something.”
“Who said I’m not?”
I didn’t want him to make an effort. Effort always came with the effort to reciprocate—not just with affection, although I’d definitely had guys try to buy their way into my pants before, but with time and attention and all those things a Dagger couldn’t afford to give.
I pushed back the thoughts and returned to the moment at hand. “At least you chopping wood explains how you got those arms.”
He smirked.
Our main dishes were steamed cod and rabbit fricassee, both pulled out of our waiter’s hat, and dessert was two creme brûlées, each bearing a foot-high crown of fire that the waiter put out with a snap of his finger, sending smoke in the shape of two gray doves fluttering up to the ceiling.
The displays and food itself were impressive, and I was glad Brendan hadn’t actually had to pay for them.
“I can’t promise we’ll do this again,” I said, digging past the cracked crust of the brûlée to get at the gooey, sweet interior.
We’d spent the whole time talking about nothing—arguing about movies, one-upping each other with stories about the pets we’d had as kids, agreeing on our assessment of a Glimmering rock star who’d recently sold out. None of it was important, and I loved the break.
But that was all it was: a break. Mom hadn’t been on board with my quitting the Daggers, so even if Grandma did come back in a few days, I’d have to think long and hard about the kind of future I wanted with them if I was going to try to argue my way to a more normal life.
I could still quit, I knew. Mom couldn’t make me go on missions or attend coven rituals, and Grandma wouldn’t. But maybe I wouldn’t be able to give up on the dream I’d held for so long. Or maybe I would, because the things that lay beyond it—like this date and the possibilities it offered—meant more.
This wasn’t the right time to think about any of it.
“You don’t want to come back?”
“My life is busier than you think,” I said. My tongue felt heavy with the weight of everything I couldn’t tell him, and the fear of everything I might have told him that night at Gilt. “How much did you hear before about my job?”
“That you’re an assistant at Carnelian,” he said. “And you help your mom with her security work, or at least you want to. Or you feel like you’re supposed to, but don’t want to?” His eyes squinted a little with the questions.
“I want to,” I said. “I think? But I’m not very good at it yet. I have a lot to learn.”
“Sounds like plenty to juggle.”
I craved the sympathy in his voice, and I couldn’t let it in.
I scooped out the last of the creme, then got to work on the caramelized crust. I’d saved the best for last, and the burnt flavor danced through my mouth with a hint of vanilla and molasses. “It’s what I chose. Just doesn’t leave a lot of time for friends or dating.”
“I’m not high-maintenance,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I probably would be,” I said.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked at me like he was trying to figure something out. “Probably?” he finally said.
I set down my spoon. “Never gotten really involved with anyone,” I said. “Plenty of offers.” It felt important to mention that bit. “Just haven’t had the time.”
“Or the interest? I find people make time for what’s important.”
“Not when it’s all important,” I said. I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin, which I had quickly identified earlier as being hand-hemmed linen woven from Belgian flax, and possibly purchased from the same supplier Carnelian had used for a few chambray blouses in last year’s ready-to-wear summer collection.
I would never have time for guys with information like that taking up all the space in my head.
“I’m just giving you a warning,” I said. “I like you. I’ve had a great time tonight. Just don’t expect anything, okay?”
Brendan reached across the table and put a hand on mine. The touch startled me, and then I let myself settle into the warmth of his skin.
“I don’t want to pressure you,” Brendan said. “I’m not asking for anything. I just enjoy your company, and I’d like to hang out sometimes and get to know you better whenever you have time, if you’re interested.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t meant to hold.
“That’s fair,” I said. I pulled my hand away. “Just don’t get your hopes up.”
24
I felt light walking into the mansion in a way I hadn’t experienced for months. Something about dinner with Brendan had restored me.
The feeling disappeared the second I walked into the ballroom and saw Sienna standing there, looking perfect in her sports bra and tight yoga capris with her flawless hair pulled up into the kind of messy bun that seemed effortless instead of just greasy like mine. I adjusted the strap of my tank top and started stretching across from her.
“Thanks for being willing to work with me on this,” she said. “I appreciate it. The other Daggers are way too busy right now to help a newbie like me.”
I ignored her. These little jabs wouldn’t get to me today.
I finished stretching and went out the middle of the floor.
“I’ve already set up the softening charm,” Sienna said. “Hoping that’s o
kay.”
“Sure, whatever helps you be comfortable,” I said.
The charm would keep the marble floor from being quite as unforgiving as marble floors usually were. It also saved us the hassle of having to drag mats out whenever we wanted to use the ballroom for sparring.
I raised my arms and faced off against Sienna.
“Ready when you are.”
She was good at hand-to-hand combat, definitely better than me. I knew that going in, but it still grated at me every time she dodged a punch or managed to land a blow. Nothing actually hurt in a way that mattered—we’d long ago been trained to take a punch—but every successful hit made my soul wince.
“Heard your divinations helped Ruby decide the best time to go rescue Grandma,” Sienna said.
“We all have to pitch in however we can,” I said sweetly. I threw a blow at her head.
She blocked the punch, knocked me off balance, and shoved me backward. I skittered and found my footing.
“It’s nice to have someone who’s good with the cards since Grandma and my mom are both gone,” she said as I faced up against her again.
“How is your mom doing anyway?”
“She’s good,” Sienna said. “Enjoying Australia.”
“How’s her mission going?”
“She found the Garkain nest,” she said. “With any luck she’ll be home in another month or two.”
Sienna’s mom, my aunt Garnet, had been in Australia for the better part of the year studying an Aboriginal creature called the Garkain, who haunted the jungle along the Liverpool River and suffocated victims who trespassed into its domain. The creature had recently reproduced, increasing the number of attacks. Garnet had lived in Australia years before, and Sienna’s birth father still lived over there, although Garnet said he’d been a one-night stand and Sienna had never met him.
I ducked to avoid a jab at my face and slammed Sienna in the gut. She coughed and kneed me in the face. I winced as pain echoed through my jaw, then caught her arm and spun her into a hold.
