She breathed out, understanding. “He tried to use it on Grey Serrado last week. Fortunately, Captain Serrado didn’t know what Ghiscolo wanted to hear.”
Alsius’s feet tapped. ::So perhaps he can only affect one at a time? That’s reassuring, I suppose. Inasmuch as anything about this can be reassuring. I wonder who he used Sessat on, after Nikory? You’d be wise to stay away from my family. Well, Sibiliat and Mother are mostly harmless.::
Harmless as vipers. The influence of the medallion Ghiscolo held would bleed out into his whole register, a desire for authority and power. How was it that the Acrenix had never taken a Cinquerat seat before now? Either they’d come into the Quinat medallion only recently, or the link between that numen and excellence meant they’d played their game very well. Didn’t House Acrenix have influence all throughout Nadežra, without ever showing their hand openly?
And if Ghiscolo had Sessat now as well, that explained a great deal about his actions as Caerulet. He’d fallen very rapidly into the impulses of that numen. As bad as one medallion was, maybe it was worse to have two.
Renata hesitated, trying to think of a way to share her concerns with Alsius without saying anything about Kaius Rex’s chain of office. Before she could, Alsius shook himself. ::You don’t need me to tell you about dangers to avoid. You’re adept enough on your own. Quite astonishing, what you’ve made yourself into with no help at all. I’m very pleased you’re our ally. Speaking of which, is there any chance you might have a word with the Rook? I’ve never much cared about that vigilante, but it upsets Vargo, you know. And our plans, of course.::
If Alsius thought she’d done this with no help at all, Vargo must not have told him about Ondrakja. Or else—and this was possible—Alsius wrote Ondrakja off as insignificant, since after all, she hadn’t been a noblewoman. However genial his manner, he’d grown up a cuff, with all the assumptions and arrogance that meant. And perhaps some lingering traces of Quinat.
But they would have marked him as dead in the register, so he wouldn’t be affected now. As for his request… she hunched over the numinat, so she could speak just above a breath. “The Rook wants Ghiscolo taken down. And the Praeteri. So long as that remains, Vargo need not fear.”
::Thank you. I’m glad Vargo has you for a friend. That boy is entirely too serious, though I’ll never admit to saying it.::
A sound in the corridor interrupted Tess’s monologue: one of the junior maids, calling out to someone else. Peabody uncurled from his huddle but stayed in the numinat. ::Before I go—and if it isn’t too much an imposition—I do have a favor to ask.::
Renata answered with a brief, inquisitive noise, peeking around the desk in case she needed to sweep her floor clear—numinat, spider, and all.
::I’m very impressed with Tess’s work. Since she’s here, would you ask if she might be willing to make me a pair of gloves? Or rather, four pairs?:: He raised two of his legs in cheerful semaphore, though the voice in Renata’s head was a mournful wail. ::Sixteen years now, I feel as though I’ve been walking around naked!::
Eastbridge, Upper Bank: Canilun 13
Ever since the adoption ball, notes from Sibiliat had arrived at Traementis Manor, inviting Giuna to one thing or another. Every single one, Giuna consigned to the hearth in her mother’s office.
Until she accepted that she couldn’t dodge them forever, and sent back a note of her own.
Securing a table in the atrium of Ossiter’s was easier than she expected. Her mind still lived in the days when the Traementis name couldn’t buy her an unmatched glove, much less attention at an exclusive business. Armored in one of Tess’s newest designs, a split surcoat of copper net weighted down with a spray of pink tourmalines that matched the gown underneath, Giuna made sure to arrive early.
For so long she’d been the little bird. The minnow. The one who stood meekly and quietly in the shadow of her elders. Today, she took her cue from her cousin. Renata would position herself to catch the light—the better to make certain every eye was on her.
“Giuna! You made it,” Sibiliat said in greeting when she arrived, as though Giuna were a pet who’d come when called.
But Giuna refused to be thrown off her footing. She dodged Sibiliat’s attempt to take her hands, pulling out the chair that would leave her guest squinting into a sunbeam. “I would hardly invite you out and then not show up.”
That cool reception dampened Sibiliat’s condescending effusiveness. She sat, then discreetly tried to adjust her chair so she could look at Giuna without scowling from the brightness.
Waving for a server to bring the wine she’d ordered, Giuna prepared a plate for Sibiliat of autumn fruits, nuts, and cheeses. And she let Sibiliat look her fill. She didn’t have the skill to hide from those sharp eyes, so why bother? Let Sibiliat see. Let her think she could fix what she’d broken. Let her try.
“You’re angry with me,” Sibiliat murmured after the server had poured them both a chilled white wine as bright as an autumn afternoon. Sucking on a candied hawberry, she slid her gaze away from Giuna to study the atrium, cataloging the witnesses to their little drama. So far it was a pantomime rather than a play, Sibiliat keeping her voice low enough to deny them dialogue.
Giuna took her time selecting a creamy soft cheese to spread across a thin round of toast. “Whyever would you think that?” she asked. Usually when she spoke, she couldn’t hide the sweetness, but now it felt as false as ivory teeth. “Unless you think I’ve some reason to be angry. Perhaps something your family recently did against mine?”
“Damn Fadrin for a fool.” Sibiliat’s glass clinked hard against the table when she set it down after a too-large swallow of wine. “You know what an idiot my cousin is. My father can barely control him. Trust me, he was soundly reprimanded for—”
“I heard you, Sibiliat.” Giuna folded her hands to keep them—and her voice—from trembling. “The night of the adoption ball. I heard Benvanna offer you something on my cousin, and I saw you send Fadrin off to retrieve it.”
Sibiliat offered Giuna a tentative smile and her hand, as though there were still anything to salvage. “Little bird—”
“Don’t.” Giuna’s voice rang through the atrium as she smacked Sibiliat’s hand aside.
Now there wasn’t an eye in Ossiter’s that wasn’t watching avidly. Keeping her spine straight, Giuna brought her voice back down to a murmur. Let their audience fill in the quiet with their own assumptions. “I am not a bird. Or a minnow. Or a puppy you can train to be your loyal hound. I am not a child, and I neither asked for nor want your protection. You’ve lied to me, and you’ve claimed to lie for me—but the truth is that you only lie for yourself. I am done with the lying, Sibiliat. And I am done with you.”
Her cheeks were hot even though she hadn’t taken a sip of wine. It felt good, saying the words she’d practiced and having them come out exactly as intended. She almost wished she’d spoken loud enough for everyone to hear.
But no. These words were meant to sever ties, not to flay the pride from someone who didn’t know what it felt like to be hurt.
Giuna took a single sip of wine, then dabbed her lips with her napkin. “I’m leaving this afternoon to spend a few days with my mother at His Grace’s villa. When I return, I’ll be occupied with learning to take over my duties as the Traementis heir. Too busy for frivolity; you needn’t bother sending any more invitations. It would only be a waste of paper.”
With that, she’d said what she needed. There was no reason to stay.
But Sibiliat caught Giuna’s wrist as she rose, and her own voice sank to the low, hard note she usually tried to keep Giuna from hearing. “Are you certain of this? You don’t want me as your enemy.”
“Enemy?” Twisting her arm in a move Leato had once taught her to escape bullies, Giuna broke Sibiliat’s grip on her. She smiled. Even managed a genuine laugh. “So dramatic. Who said anything about enemies? Aren’t you the one who loves to point out that House Acrenix is everyone’s friend?”
/> “But—”
“There’s no reason we can’t be cordial in public.” Leaning over the table, Giuna set her lips to Sibiliat’s ear. “As long as you remember this. You might be Acrenix… but I’m Traementis. We protect our own. When you threaten my family, that is when you become my enemy.”
Pulling back, she caught a flash of fear in Sibiliat’s eyes, quickly veiled. No, the Traementis reputation was not forgotten.
With a satisfied smile, Giuna paid the bill and left Sibiliat alone on the stage.
Isla Traementis, the Pearls: Canilun 14
Tess was in her tiny workroom, blocking out the pattern for Faella Coscanum’s winter surcoat, when Suilis brought news that Pavlin was waiting in the kitchen yard.
“What happened to the brute? This one’s pretty enough, but the other had shoulders I could die over,” Suilis said, poking through Tess’s notions basket. Even though it held nothing more incriminating than a length of embroidered facing smuggled out of Ganllech, Tess snapped the lid shut like it was a turtle looking to take a finger.
Suilis mistook her urgency for ire, holding up a placating hand. “Not that I’d try for Sedge without your nod.”
“You’re welcome to him,” Tess said, smoothing her curls and biting color into her lips. “But fair warning: Between his kisses and Meatball’s, I couldn’t tell a lick of difference.”
You’ll thank me, Sedge, she thought as she dragged a shawl of cranberry-shot tiretaine over her maid’s uniform and went downstairs. Even if Suilis turned out to be no more than she seemed, she wasn’t Sedge’s type. Anyone with eyes could see that Tess’s brother preferred them quiet and vaguely menacing.
Pavlin stood with his face turned up to the sun, the golden light bringing out the warmth of the wool coat Tess had tailored for him and the honey of his hair. Tess couldn’t understand Suilis’s criticism at all. Those shoulders looked plenty broad.
Maiden and Mother, get ahold of yourself. You’re the ninny who pushed him off.
And he’d not pushed back. Tess was wise enough to appreciate that respect… and fool enough to wish he’d done it anyway.
“You’ve news for me?” she asked, striving for and failing at severity.
Pavlin nodded, holding out a basket of cakes for her. “Though I wish I didn’t. It’ll chase away that smile.”
And there he went saying things like that, and how was Tess supposed to avoid becoming entirely a fool?
But never so much a fool that she didn’t worry about who might be listening from one of the windows. “Not here,” she whispered. Fishing two cakes from the basket, she stashed the rest in the kitchen and led him along the route she usually took when walking Meatball.
The autumn winds blustered, making Tess glad for her shawl, and the warmth of the spice cake on her tongue, and Pavlin acting as a break as they meandered down the river walk, answering her questions about his family and the bakery as though nothing had changed between them. She let a sigh join the wind as they came to the Becchia Bridge and turned to head back. She could only pretend for so long that she was an alta’s maid out with her courting constable.
“I was right, then?” she asked after silence had settled too long between them. “About Suilis?”
Pavlin stopped and leaned his elbows on the river wall, forcing Tess to stay as well. The winds whipped lace froth on the rippled gold of the Dežera. From this distance, even Staveswater looked like a picturesque ruin of smoke and seagull nests.
He said, “She’s been a housemaid before—mostly daywork—but that’s not her real job.”
The confirmation chilled Tess more than a few river gusts. She clutched her shawl tighter. “And what is?”
“She’s tied into the Oyster Crackers.” His searching glance was punctuated with a nod when she frowned at the name. Who wouldn’t recognize it? One of the most legendary Upper Bank burglar crews. Fingers dreamed of earning an invitation into their ranks, the way they dreamed of meeting the Rook.
You’ve managed the latter. Doubt Suilis is sussing you out for the former.
Pavlin’s next words were the last stone atop the burial cairn of Tess’s optimism. “She’s part of the team Sibiliat Acrenix hired to toss your house in Westbridge.”
Tess’s fingers dug into her arms. “When my alta was recovering from her sleeplessness.”
“And during the Dreamweaver Riots, when you…”
She didn’t need the words he swallowed. Tess recalled too well the fear that had taken her when she heard the breaking window, the thump of furniture overturned. That fear drove her into the streets—and the cordon Pavlin held with his fellow hawks.
He was fidgeting, shoulders hunched and soft hair hanging over sun-warmed eyes. “Tess, I—”
“Would you have told me?” Suilis’s betrayal didn’t hurt, which forced Tess to admit to herself why Pavlin’s had. Only he had the power to make her feel vulnerable. “If I hadn’t met you that day, would I even know now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was sorry for lying from the day we met.”
Her heart twinged. I could just as well be saying that to you.
Pavlin babbled on to fill her silence. “You have every right to be angry—”
“No. I’m a hypocrite, being angry,” Tess murmured, then realized what she’d just said. No taking it back; she swiftly considered what she could tell him. Not Ren’s secrets, no. But… maybe some of her own?
In a soft voice, she said, “You weren’t wrong to suspect something amiss. You or the captain. My alta and I fled Letilia’s house with a casket of jewelry and little else.” Even true, it still tasted like a lie. “There’s more to the story—but that’s not mine to tell.”
His hand caught hers. “You don’t need to tell me anything.”
“I do. If I want…” She met his liquid gaze, then couldn’t look away. “I do.”
She wanted. Honesty and spice cakes and a shop of her own that wasn’t a cramped workroom in someone else’s house, a kitchen to hang her sampler while she fixed his poorly tailored coats and sewed binders for his comfort. His eyes on hers, his lips on hers, and so much more, even if it did make her a fool.
Maiden help me become a mother. It was an old Ganllechyn sweetheart’s prayer, and maybe she didn’t want quite all that yet. But she could imagine it happily enough.
Tess said, “I was born in Ganllech, but I grew up in Nadežra. There.” She waved across the channel to Lacewater. “I was one of Ondrakja’s Fingers.”
At his look of disbelief, Tess dredged up the tears that always came so easily. Not the real ones that left her face patchy red and snot-slick; the false ones that made her eyes shine and her lip tremble enough to shake coins from the pocket of any slumming cuff. “Her best pity-rustler.”
After a moment’s shocked silence, Pavlin dug through his coat. He came up with a few centiras and pressed them into her hands.
“What—?”
“Don’t look at me like that; I don’t think my heart can take it. Lacewater’s best pity-rustler.”
Tess giggled, blotting away her false tears with one hand. The other was still entangled with Pavlin’s, and she wasn’t inclined to ever let go.
“What do you intend to do?” he asked after they’d spent too long grinning foolishly at each other. “About Suilis, I mean. Can I help?”
Tess would need to talk to Ren, but already a plan was forming. Suilis wanted information about Renata’s secrets? Then Tess would become a font of them… and see what bait attracted her the most.
She said, “The Oyster Crackers. Suilis is probably passing what she learns through them. Do you think you can find out where they lodge?”
“I can try.” Pavlin lifted her fingers to his mouth. “If only to keep you from seeking them out yourself.”
His breath warmed her skin against the autumn’s chill. Sweet Maiden, but this was unfair. Tess tapped his lips in reprimand before he could tease away her determined mood. “As tho
ugh I’d do anything so senseless.” Leave the hero’s doings to Ren. Tess preferred her life quiet, uneventful, and deception-free.
And she preferred having Pavlin in it. “Come along,” she said, tugging him in the direction of home.
“Where are we going now?” he asked, though he followed her readily enough.
“My workroom. I’ll need accurate measurements if I’m to make you a proper constable’s coat.”
Whitesail, Upper Bank: Canilun 14
Ren was almost late to her appointment at Tanaquis’s house. She’d gotten caught up in writing letters to Donaia and Scaperto, explaining the interference found at the prismatium workshop—interference Orruciat had obligingly reported, saving Ren from having to come up with a reason for how she’d learned of it—and if her window hadn’t been open, the ringing of the nearest clock tower might not have caught her attention.
She hurried north and found she wasn’t the only person running late. Vargo was disembarking from a sedan chair as her own bearers trotted up, and he waited while they set her down and received their payment. In keeping with the facade that they were doing business together only reluctantly, he limited his verbal greeting to a chilly “Alta Renata.”
But over his link to Alsius, she heard him say, ::Is this about more Praeteri shit?::
Ren almost hadn’t told him what happened to her in the prismatium workshop, because she knew he wouldn’t take it well. But it seemed a pity to go back to the days when they hid things from each other. In his mental voice now, she could hear the leashed fury of a man who’d had enough of sitting at the center of his web and was about ready to kick someone’s teeth in for a change of pace.
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