by Lori M. Lee
After the session with the tailor, I spent a few hours training with the torch blade as Mason repeatedly corrected my form. When he allowed me to leave, I washed up and headed out into the city. That morning, Cassia had mentioned that her favorite bakery resided a few blocks down from the stone arch that divided Vethe between the farmer upper class and everyone else.
I avoided eye contact with the farmers dressed in fine tunics and damask gowns strolling by at a leisurely pace. In contrast, all the servants walked briskly, their eyes averted. I probably would have looked like a servant if not for my long hair and the fact I didn’t have a servant’s tattoo.
While the farmers reminded me a bit of the White Court citizens, now that I knew to look, I could see the evidence of their work in the rough texture of their hands, when they weren’t covered with leather or lace gloves. These people provided food for Vethe, and they appeared to wear that duty proudly.
A carriage rattled by with a family crest painted on the door. Everything felt so novel. I could sit on one of the benches off to the side of the road and be content simply watching the vehicles and horses pass. The buildings rose and fell along with the rough terrain of the mountain, looking much more cramped and crooked from ground level. With the abundant glimmer glass as Vethe’s main source of light, the city was always well illuminated.
As I neared the arch, I scanned the shops. On the corner ahead was a building with elegant curls carved into the window frames. Painted into the smooth stone in bright pink was the name Patriya’s Bakery.
I pushed inside. A bell jingled above the door. The aroma of fresh baked goods and sugary sweets wafted around me. I smiled.
Platters and trays of pastries, breads, scones, and cookies were displayed on tables and racks all around the shop. I selected a cookie in the shape of a flower and a cream-stuffed pastry, and nestled both inside a paper box. Then I took my purchases to the counter. A pair of women chatted ahead of me in line. I tapped my fingers along the sides of my box while I waited, unable to help overhearing their conversation.
“For six months,” one of the women was saying. A purple hat with tufts of gauzy black lace sat at an angle on her head. “I’ve been writing every week, but I haven’t heard a word.”
The other woman clucked her tongue in sympathy and pressed a satin-gloved hand to Purple Hat’s shoulder. “It’s horrible, isn’t it? I wish they’d make peace and bring our children home.”
Purple Hat bobbed her head in agreement. “Kahl Emryn did say in his latest speech that we’ve pushed Peshtigo back behind their own borders. That’s something! It’ll be over any day now, I’m sure.” She chewed her lip, not looking very confident.
Peshtigo? Where had I heard that name before? I mulled it over as the women left and the clerk rang up my order.
I munched on the cookie as I headed back to the citadel.
“Kai?”
I stiffened at the voice. Emryn rode up, probably returning from checking in with the guards outside the mountain. He was dressed in his armor, his cloak draped immaculately over his horse’s tail. Two of his men flanked him.
He handed his reins to the soldier on his left. “Return her to the citadel for me.”
The soldier nodded as Emryn dismounted and joined me on the sidewalk.
Ever since the chimera attack in the Fields of Ishta, his demeanor had changed around me. He wasn’t so brusque. He actually smiled sometimes. While I was glad to be spared his constant superiority, it annoyed me that seeing me in danger had caused his change. I wasn’t some defenseless kid who needed protecting.
“Hello, Emryn,” I said, continuing down the sidewalk. Everyone on the street who’d been ignoring me before now openly stared.
Emryn didn’t seem to notice. He was probably used to it.
He pointed to the box I was carrying. “My best friend and I used to buy sweet buns from Patriya’s Bakery every morning when I was a child.”
I didn’t have any similar stories to share considering my first taste of cake had been a few months ago in Etu Gahl, and I’d never really had a best friend. So I waved my half-eaten cookie at him and said, “They’re really good. Would you like the other one?”
He declined the offer with a polite shake of his head.
“Returning to the citadel?” When I nodded, he said, “If you decide to explore the westernmost neighborhoods, one of your sentinels should accompany you. It’s not safe there by yourself.”
“I grew up on streets a lot worse than this. I think I can manage.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was patronizing me. “But I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”
Since he seemed determined to walk with me, I ignored him and finished off my cookie. For a few blocks, neither of us said much. He pointed out some buildings, like the noodle shop that he claimed made the best pasta, the city square where he gave a speech every couple of months to keep the people apprised of pertinent matters, and the elaborate tangle of roots nearby in which the children liked to climb and hide.
I had to grudgingly admit he was interesting company.
The ground began to slope upward as we neared the gates to the citadel. I paused and turned around to look down on the crowded sprawl of buildings. Emryn stopped next to me.
A woman was crossing the street, clutching the broad-rimmed hat on her head. She reminded me of the women in the shop.
“What’s Peshtigo?” I asked Emryn.
“Where did you hear about Peshtigo?”
“In the bakery.”
After a moment, he said, “Peshtigo is a country to our east.”
That’s where I’d seen it. The name had been on Emryn’s map. Cassia had mentioned it as well.
I sat on a stone bench beside the road. Emryn did the same, but he followed slowly, as if reluctant to linger. I wasn’t going anywhere until he told me more about Peshtigo and whatever conflict might be happening with them.
“Have you been there?” I asked.
“A few months ago. Its lands suffered less damage than ours, but I imagine it would have been a sight more impressive before the Mahjo War.”
I watched a wagon filled with hay rattle past, and then asked, “Why’s that?”
“Because Peshtigo was once the center of trade on the continent. Its ports saw ships carrying goods from all over the world, and its capital of Westlin was home to both the Academy of Science and the Temple of Light.”
I’d read about the Temple of Light. It had been the largest and most revered mahjo temple in the world. Young mahjo had journeyed there to learn how to control their powers and, if they were lucky, to someday be given control over one of the many mahjo temples across the continent.
“That would have been a sight,” I agreed. “Why did the women in Patriya’s make it sound as if you’re at war with them?”
He scratched his beard. He did that a lot, I’d noticed, particularly when I was asking him questions he seemed loath to answer. “Because we are. Peshtigo is a country of madmen. Their kingdom borders a place of darkness. An endless stretch of black earth and a raw emptiness that eats you from the inside.”
“The Void,” I said.
He looked at me. “An apt name.”
“And living so close to the Void drives them crazy?”
“Maybe, but it’s worse than that. Peshtigo’s Kahl and his people have taken to consuming the soil.”
With the toe of my boot, I nudged a patch of green fronds sprouting from a tree root. “Because they’re starving?”
He snorted. “That would be a better reason, but no. It’s because they think the magic residue that keeps the earth from healing will restore their own magic. And in doing so, help them to reestablish Peshtigo. In reality, it’s only driven them mad. They suffer hallucinations that make them believe they’ve recovered their magic, but it’s only in their heads.”
“That’s terrible.” And sad. I’d taken to imagining the threads as they’d looked when I could touch t
hem. Would that seed of longing grow with age and someday curve into madness? Maybe the world was better off without magic.
“I was in the east helping to defend our borders, but fighting people who are half-crazed isn’t particularly easy.”
I rubbed my thumb along the sharp edge of the box in my lap. “When the chimera began to attack the farmers, you came back.”
“Yes. And now our army is divided between the ongoing conflict with Peshtigo and defending against the chimera.”
That would explain the distinct shortage of soldiers in the city. There were still enough for a sizable army—enough to defend the city—but not nearly the numbers I’d been expecting.
“Why wasn’t this mentioned when we first discussed an alliance?” I asked. He had to realize how suspicious it looked that he’d failed to mention the country was at war with its neighbor.
“It’s . . .” He gave a jerk of his head. “It’s not something I’m particularly proud of.”
“Embarrassment isn’t a good reason to hide a war.” The only time a ruler would want a war kept secret was if he was doing something questionable—like Ninu and his campaign to find Irra’s fortress.
“There’s nothing more to tell,” Emryn said, looking placid. But he was touching his beard again. “Peshtigo continues to assault our eastern border, and we continue to hold them off. We’ve tried to petition for an audience with their Kahl, but we’ve always been refused. There was nothing sinister or deceptive about my omission.”
I wasn’t so convinced. I stared down at the flowers, bright ribbons against the harsh gray, wishing I’d known all this sooner so that I could have included it in my message to Miraya.
“You’ve fought in a war,” Emryn said. It wasn’t a question.
“I wouldn’t call it a war, but . . . yes. I’ve fought an enemy.” And killed him.
“The way you move is practiced, like you’ve been trained to fight unarmed.”
“Mason has been my instructor for a while now.”
He was silent a moment. Then, “That was very brave of you—jumping in to save your sentinel without even knowing how to use your sword.”
Unless it was my imagination, there was respect in his voice. Maybe I was wrong about his change in demeanor. It wasn’t because he thought I needed protection. It was because I had earned his respect.
I looked away. Not enough respect to warrant the truth about this war with Peshtigo. “Thanks,” I mumbled, touching my waist where my torch blade would have been. At the moment, it was back in my room in the citadel. “But next time I’ll be prepared.”
“Next time I hope you’ll think twice before facing a chimera alone,” he said wryly. “But, yes, at least you’ll be prepared.”
I pushed to my feet, holding my box against my stomach. “I should get back.”
It didn’t take long for us to reach the courtyard. While Emryn explained how they never culled the roots unless they threatened the stability of the city, my thoughts kept returning to the war with Peshtigo. There was more to it that Emryn wasn’t telling me. I was certain of it.
CHAPTER 21
CASSIA CAME RUNNING out the citadel’s doors a few hours later, shouting my name. I was in the middle of sparring with Aylis, but she grabbed my wrist without a word of explanation and dragged me back to my room.
She bounced on her heels, teeming with excitement, and I had no idea why until I saw my new gown draped across my bed. My breath caught. Cassia squealed and clasped her hands together.
I was almost too afraid to touch it, but I reached out and carefully held it up. The gown was sleeveless. The front of the bodice was constructed of cream satin with gold embroidery. Delicate gold leaves, blossoms, and lace accents had been hand-sewn into the fabric in flattering patterns. The back of the bodice was sheer, but the gold embroidery continued in leaflike symmetrical patterns across the shoulder blades. A line of tiny pearlescent buttons ran the length of the spine.
The skirt was like nothing I’d seen, not even in the White Court. Layers of cream tulle and chiffon were draped in waves. The top layer was barely a foot long, its thick folds giving dramatic volume around the hips before the elegant draping continued down into the full skirt.
Would I even fit through a door in this?
Two servants blew into my room, an older woman and a young girl carrying a basket filled with bottles and lacquered pots. Cassia greeted them warmly, but I watched with rising apprehension as the young girl set the basket on my dressing table and began unpacking its contents.
“Well, let’s see then,” the older woman said. She grabbed my arms and held them out from my body as she scrutinized me with a slight curl of her lip. I wanted to cover myself despite being fully dressed. “Hmm. A bit thin.”
I snatched my arms away. If she thought I was skinny now, she should have seen me a few months ago when I’d still been scraping by in the Labyrinth, eating little more a day than a sandwich, dried fruit, and whatever Avan could give me for free from his dad’s shop.
“Kai, this is Madgie,” Cassia said. “She usually helps me prepare for parties, but I thought she could assist you today since it’s your first time.”
“Undress,” Madgie ordered.
I didn’t like being barked at, but Cassia only smiled, her eyes bright with amusement. This must have been Madgie’s usual manner. Madgie huffed and reached for my tunic.
“I can do it,” I said. I sneaked behind the paneled dressing screen in the corner and shed my simple gray and blue tunic and pants.
“Everything!” Madgie snapped from the other side of the screen. With reluctance, I also slipped off my undergarments.
The next couple of hours was a whirlwind of lace and satin, creams and perfumes. The servants jostled me back and forth as they closed buttons and tugged at my hair and applied powders and charcoal to my eyes. As they worked, I fidgeted, picking absently at a scab on my leg where Mason had nicked me during a spar. Was this what the upper class did every day? If it took this much effort to look rich, why bother at all?
And what if none of it worked on me anyway? The gown was exquisite, but I might wind up looking like one of Irra’s puffy bread bites.
And yet, as Cassia giggled out of view, I had to admit this was kind of exciting. I’d never done this before—at least not to this extent. There was this girl from school who liked to stain her lips and line her eyes with charcoal. She’d let me wear her makeup when we hung out at her house. Like all my friends, though, once she stopped going to school to work full-time, we lost contact. I had delivered a package to her house once when I was still working for the DMC, but she hadn’t been home.
Cassia came to stand beside me. I was sitting on a stool, layers of fabric piled around my hips, with my back to the mirror as the servants manhandled me. “You’re going to look beautiful,” she said.
I couldn’t move my head to look up at her face. So I smiled at her waist instead. “Or like a painted doll.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Madgie muttered. I snorted softly.
Cassia brushed her robes aside, and I noticed a fine dusting of black sprinkled over the skirt of her gown.
“You have soot on you,” I said.
Cassia swiveled away, brushing her fingers over the fabric. “Oops. Got too close to the fireplace.”
A few minutes later, Cassia had to leave to finish preparing for the ball herself. An interminable amount of time later, Madgie and her servant fitted dainty heeled boots on my feet and finally stepped back.
“Stand,” Madgie ordered.
I did, her gaze inspecting me. She gave me a terse nod and gestured for me to look in the mirror.
Nerves flitting through my stomach, I looked. And then I gaped.
My hair had been pulled back and arranged into artful curls at the back of my head, leaving my neck bare. Gold flowers and leaves nestled among the dark curls. My eyes, which I’d always thought of as watered-down blue—something else I’d inherited from my father—stood out l
ike fragments of ice, or glimmer glass, against the charcoal darkening my lashes and the smoky gray on my lids. My cheeks were a healthy pink and my lips were stained burgundy.
I lightly fingered the lace peeking out from the gold flowers on my bodice before brushing my palms over the full skirt and its thick layers of folded tulle and chiffon. I had the strange desire to twirl but resisted, because as stunning as the girl in the mirror was . . . she wasn’t me. This was the most elaborate costume I’d donned yet. Maybe things weren’t entirely the same in Lanathrill, but I’d always thought people in the White Court lived in an illusion—an imaginary world of beast-like Grays and crystal-studded gowns, where their next meal would be more than what Reev and I had eaten in a week in the Labyrinth. It wasn’t real.
I sighed and pressed a hand to my abdomen, the delicate flowers soft against my palm.
“You don’t like it?” Madgie asked. She looked perplexed and a little insulted.
“No, no, it’s . . . astounding. I’ve never looked like this before. Thank you.” I nodded to her assistant as well. “Really. Thank you.”
Madgie seemed satisfied, because they began gathering their bottles and pots and vials into the basket.
“Lady Cassia will be back to collect you,” Madgie said before they left.
Once the door was shut, I stretched out my fingers and took a deep breath before daring to look in the mirror again. I tilted my head, marveling at the transformation. What would Reev say if he saw me?
What would Avan do?
I retrieved my tunic from where I’d draped it over the changing screen and fumbled through the fabric until I found the leaf brooch. Returning to the mirror, I fixed the brooch to my right hip so that it sat nestled within the first layer of tulle.
Now there was a little bit of me in this costume.
CHAPTER 22
WE TOOK A coach to the ball. The rattling of the carriage, the rumbling of wheels, and the clomping of the horse’s hooves made me appreciate how smooth and silent our Grays were. Not even the sentinels would be able to move around undetected in one of these.
