by Sharon Shinn
In the morning, Marguerite didn’t have to pretend to have a headache. And this time she actually looked as bad as she usually pretended to feel, her face pale, her eyes bruised, her mouth pinched.
“I’ll fetch you breakfast and spread the word that you’ll be keeping to your room today,” I said. “Are there any errands you’d like me to run? It looks like this could be a very productive day for Brianna.”
She smiled wanly from her seat before the window. “You could bring me back some flowers.”
I couldn’t resist patting her on the head, for all the world like a sick child. “I will.”
Purpose followed me to the door and I heard her set the lock behind me. After a quick stop in my own room, I swung by the kitchens, where I sighed loudly over Marguerite’s poor state of health and gobbled down a meal before carrying a tray up to Marguerite’s suite. Once I made sure all was well there, I was back downstairs and out the palace doors.
The morning was sunny and fine, not too hot, as befit a day when summer was about to ease into autumn. I had plenty of stops to make before I headed to the flower market because I had had very little time to myself since this masquerade began. I posted a letter to my mother, purchased a few trinkets for my siblings, and picked up sewing supplies to mend a couple of Marguerite’s gowns, as well as hairpins to replace the ones we were continually losing from our headdresses. We had spent enough time strolling through the city that her walking shoes had become scuffed, so I needed polish, and I wanted more ribbon for the next set of headpieces I planned to design. When I passed a confectionary shop, I couldn’t resist going in to buy a bag of hard candies in assorted flavors, since Marguerite and all her echoes loved sweets in any form.
Naturally, Nico was waiting for me when I stepped back outside. Truth to tell, I was a little surprised that it had taken him that long to materialize. Of course, he had probably been sneaking along behind me ever since I walked out of the palace, waiting to see if I would visit any suspicious locations so he could report back to his uncle.
“Good morning,” he said.
“And good morning to you. Would you like a piece of candy?”
“I might,” he said. “What kind did you get?”
I opened the bag and held it out so he could see. “Four flavors,” I pointed out. “Everyone has a preference.”
He was carrying a lumpy sack in one hand, but he slung it over his shoulder so he could tuck his hand in the candy bag. But now he paused to look at me, eyebrows raised. “‘Everyone’?”
“Marguerite and her echoes. As I told your uncle, they all have slightly different personalities.”
He pulled his hand slowly from the bag and popped a red candy in his mouth. “I thought you couldn’t tell them apart.”
“I can when they’re reaching for their favorite flavors.” I shook the bag to redistribute the contents, peering in to search for a piece that was green. “Marguerite always wants lemon. Purpose likes grape. Patience likes cherry. I like lime.”
He waited for a beat. “And the third echo?”
Goddess save me, I had forgotten about Prudence. She was always disappointed if there wasn’t orange in the mix. My stomach clenched into a hard ball, but I managed a light laugh. “Prudence. She will eat anything. So she’s easy.”
“Malachi found your story extraordinary, you know. Echoes with their own names. Their own attitudes. He said he’s never heard of that before.”
I shrugged. “I can’t help it if the inquisitor has limited experience.”
He grinned, resettled the sack on his shoulder, and took my arm. He set off in a direction I had not intended to go, but I acquiesced without protest. “I’m sorry if he frightened you,” he said.
“I imagine he frightens everyone. I imagine he wants to.”
“Some truth to that,” he admitted. “But I hoped you would be too brave to give in to such fears.”
Now I was the one to give him an inquiring look. He grinned down at me and said, “Last night. When you didn’t show up at the bridge. I thought probably Malachi had scared you away.”
I wondered if I should be honest about some of the things I’d been thinking. It wasn’t Malachi who made me uneasy. It was you, inviting Malachi to come meet me. Did you want to show me off to your uncle? “Look, here’s the girl I’ve been seeing. I think she’s special.” Or did you want him to question me, to pry out the secrets you’ve been unwilling or unable to learn? Was he there at your invitation? Or was he drawn there by his own curiosity—or suspicion?
But I had started lying to Nico so long ago, I didn’t know how to be truthful now.
“I wish I had stayed away last night because of your uncle,” I said. “But, in fact, Marguerite had a bad night. She was sick to her stomach and a little feverish, and I didn’t feel like I could leave her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I trust she’s better this morning?”
“Yes, but cranky enough to want solitude. So I slipped out as soon as I could—and I plan to stay away half the day! She’ll be very contrite this afternoon, however. She’s always sorry if she thinks she’s said an unkind word.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that she treats you so well—but the sentence that caught my attention was ‘I plan to stay away half the day.’ Do you really?”
Now I was laughing. “No. But I might dawdle on the way back.”
“For an hour? For two?”
I eyed him. “Why, exactly?”
“Because there’s a place you might like to see. I thought of it yesterday and I was going to tell you about it last night—but then you didn’t make an appearance. I would be very sorry if I never got a chance to show it to you.”
“Well, this is most intriguing! How far away is it?” I glanced around, just now realizing that the buildings we were passing were made of old stone and crumbling mortar. “Have we been in this district before?”
“Nearby. We’re headed toward Amanda Plaza, though we’re coming in by a different route.”
“We can throw coins into the grate.”
“Well, we can, but that’s not why we’re going there.”
“Why, then?”
He smiled and shook his head and, to make himself even more provoking, began pointing out various buildings with historical significance and unusual architectural features, even though it was clear I had no interest in these things. It was probably another ten minutes before we made it to the plaza, where we hung back before approaching the goddess statues because a wedding party was there before us. They were all laughing and joking as they dribbled their coins into the grate, guessing out loud at the wishes their friends might be making. They were watched benevolently by three priestesses all wearing the red robes of celebration. I reflected that, since I had come to know Marguerite, I had almost forgotten that the temple servants wore any color besides white.
“They look happy,” I said, my voice wistful.
“They should! Or I don’t have much hope for their future together. But they’re very slow. Come on. We’ll offer our coins on the way home.”
He drew me in the direction of a building that stood on one border of the plaza. It was tall and narrow, five precarious stories high, and it looked like it had been abandoned some years ago because of structural instability. There was a padlock on the thick wooden door that was set somewhat crookedly into an iron frame, and the grime on the bottom-story windows was so thick that I couldn’t see inside.
“This is what you wanted to show me? I’m guessing it’s the oldest building in the city, and you wanted me to see it before it gets torn down. Tomorrow, I’m hoping.”
He laughed as he pulled out an ornate old key and fit it into the lock. He had to expend some effort to get the key to turn, and I could have sworn I saw flakes of rust drift down. “One of the oldest,” he corrected, “and currently owned by the crown. Not in daily use. But my uncle finds it handy from time to time.”
We stepped inside and looked around. We were in an open sp
ace that constituted the entire bottom level, although it didn’t feel particularly roomy because the windows were so dark and the ceiling was so low. There was a faint smell of mold and the occasional skitter and scurry from small creatures I didn’t want to look too hard to identify. From the layer of dust on the floor, I surmised that Malachi hadn’t found the place to be handy any time in the past year. Across from the entrance, I spotted a stone stairwell built into the wall and spiraling sharply upward through a shaft that I guessed led, level by level, to the top floor.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “It’s so much more inviting than I expected.”
He paused to close the door and drop a bar in place to keep anyone from wandering in off the street. “I was sure you’d appreciate it. Come on, we’re going upstairs.”
“Oh, good. I’d have been disappointed if we didn’t.”
I took the first step somewhat gingerly, but the stairs seemed so solid they might have been hewed out of a mountaintop, and I followed the ascending spiral with Nico close on my heels. I glanced into the successive levels as we passed them, but they were all the same—single open rooms with streaked windows and dusty floors. However, each story grew lighter as we climbed, as if the mud and dirt from the street couldn’t reach high enough to cloud the glass, and by the time we arrived on the top floor, the space almost had an airy, sunny feel. It was a little too warm, however, and had a musty odor, though that was an improvement from the scent of mildew downstairs.
I was a little breathless from the climb—although, from what I could tell, Nico wasn’t winded at all—but I wandered around the perimeter of the room, pausing to glance out of each window. The building was high enough to give me an unobstructed view of the plaza, with its tree and well and executioner’s wall, as well as the honey-colored stone bridge that arched over it. I could see the clerks and nobles and servants and petitioners crossing the square in a constant, busy exchange. But I was so high up, and the old glass panes were so thick, that everything seemed silent, remote, and unreal, somewhat like a painting come to life.
“I can see why your uncle would like this place,” I said, and this time I meant my words. “It seems a most excellent place for spying.”
Nico joined me at the window. “Yes, the first month that I worked for him, we had someone stationed here day and night for a week, watching for a man we believed would be meeting a friend in the plaza below. They were planning—well, I’m not supposed to talk about it. But a crime against the crown.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“Tedious, mostly. But the man did eventually show up, and we arrested him, so the long hours paid off.”
I turned away from the glass, leaning my back against a stone wall that stretched between two of the windows. “So? What did you want to show me here?”
He dropped the sack he carried and spread his hands. “Just the view.”
I tilted my head. “I’ve seen the view, or one very like it, from the bridge.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten.”
Of course he hadn’t forgotten. I nodded at the floor. “What’s in the bag?”
“Just some things I thought might be useful as I went about my day.” When I maintained my silence, he went on, “A blanket, in case I wanted to sit somewhere and the ground was dirty. A jug of water. In case I got thirsty.”
I let my eyes travel around the room before I fixed my gaze on him. “Both of those items would seem to be useful in this particular setting.”
“That’s just what I was thinking. So if you’d like to sit down—and perhaps have a sip of water—”
I had been trying very hard to keep my smile from showing, but I could feel the corners of my mouth turning up. I settled my back more comfortably against the rough stone of the wall. “Nico, I simply have to ask. Do you have seduction on your mind?”
He stepped close enough to touch me, but he didn’t. Instead he placed his hands on the wall on either side of my head and leaned in. “Well, I didn’t, but if you were bent on seducing me, I don’t see how I could stop you.”
“Oh, now, you must think me a wanton,” I murmured, lifting my face toward his. “The kind of woman who’s always trying to catch a man.”
“Not that so much, no, but I believe you could snare any man you set out to catch.”
“I’m sure you’ve had many more girls than I’ve had boys,” I scoffed.
“Not me. I’ve been much too busy to pursue romances.”
I affected great surprise. “So then—you’re completely untutored in the ways of a man with a woman?”
“Well,” he said with a grin, “I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t mind gaining a little more experience, though.”
“Experience is always good.”
“I think you should kiss me,” I murmured, pushing an inch away from the wall.
But he didn’t bend closer. In fact, he shook his head. “I’m not going to take advantage of you—here, in a locked building, where no one would come running if you called for help. You have to be the one to start. I have to be sure. You have to be sure.”
I lifted my arms to twine them around his neck and stepped in so close that I could feel the length of his body against mine. “I am sure,” I whispered. “I am tired of standing in a high place and looking down on the world. I want to live life, not watch it.”
I pressed my mouth against his and held him tight, feeling his body gather and harden in reaction to mine. He kissed me back with a building fervor, never initiating a new kiss, only responding to mine. He finally did put his arms around me, but so loosely that it would take me no effort to break away.
I was still wrapped around him when I pulled my head back just enough to say, “Where’s that blanket?”
“The floor will be hard,” he warned.
I laughed. “I think I’ll manage.”
He dropped his arms. “Let me get it from the sack.”
He knelt on the floor to spread out the blanket, and I began discarding items of clothing, one by one. My shoes, my stockings, my overdress, my underdress, everything, methodically stripping them off and folding them neatly and setting them aside. I made sure to do this while standing right before Nico, who was still on his knees. I was directly in front of one of the windows, so the sunlight washed over my body and illuminated every inch of my skin. I wondered if people from the streets or neighboring buildings could see in through the dusty glass. If so, they were getting quite a show.
Nico just stared up at me, his lips slightly parted, his hands completely stilled in the fabric.
“Maybe none of those other girls told you this part, but it’s much better if you get undressed, too,” I told him. “Or is that something else you expect me to do for you?”
He instantly rolled to his buttocks and kicked off his shoes. His jacket and shirt came off so fast I didn’t even see him touch the buttons. “Just waiting for the invitation,” he said. His pants and underclothes were shucked off just as quickly, and then he was kneeling again.
I dropped to a crouch beside the blanket, balancing myself with one hand on the floor, and took a moment to study him in the daylight that was just as interested in his body as in mine. Nico was far more muscular than Robbie had been, with admirably defined arms and a sculpted torso edged with dark hair. What I saw between his legs was more impressive than Robbie, too.
“You should be posing for artists who want to carve statues out of stone,” I said.
“I think you’ve already turned me to stone,” he said. “I can’t move. I can just stare at you.”
“That would get boring very quickly.”
“Not to me.”
“Well, it would to me,” I said, crawling forward onto the blanket, not stopping until one of my knees was between both of his. I set my hands on those beautiful arms, running my fingers up the smooth flesh. Then I scooted even closer and embraced him again, pressing my breasts against his chest. Sweet godde
ss, the feel of skin against skin, warm, sleek, intimate. I have never known another sensation that compared.
I brushed my lips over his. “You’re still waiting for invitations?” I asked.
“Yes,” he breathed.
“Then kiss me. Put your arms around me first.”
He complied with both requests.
I was the one to pull him down to the blanket, the one to run my palms with a sensuous delight over his hips and thighs and backside. I was the one to take his hand and lay it on my breast, then to pull his hand away and draw his mouth down instead. Then I began to give commands, which he faithfully obeyed. I told him to kiss me again, and he did. I told him to love me, and he did. And when I demanded that he tell me what he was feeling, he laughed and said, “Joy.”
Afterward, Nico and I lay entangled on the very thin blanket on the very hard floor and simply talked. I had pillowed my cheek on my folded dress while he propped his head up with one hand so he could gaze down at me. His other hand was resting on the curve of my hip, while I had one hand pressed flat against his chest. I couldn’t remember the last time in my life I had felt so much at peace.
“I think next time I come here, I’ll bring a down comforter,” Nico said. “Something to put between the blanket and the floor. Or maybe even a feather mattress.”
“How about a bucket and a mop?”
“That might come in handy.”
“Curtains for the window. A chair. A brazier, in case you wanted to cook something.”
“Or in case it got cold,” he said.
I laughed lazily. “It’s still practically summer.”
“Well,” he said, “if I was coming back here for months and months. Through the fall and winter.”
I was silent. He waited a moment for me to speak, then drew his hand from my hip, closed it over the hand I had pressed against his body, and carried it to his mouth. “Although I suppose, by winter, any number of circumstances might have changed,” he said softly.
“I could very well be back in Oberton,” I said.
“Perhaps,” he answered. “But perhaps Cormac will have proposed to Marguerite and she will still be in Camarria, planning her wedding.”
