Arabella smiled and turned to Justin. “Do you want to get out of these handcuffs?” she asked him.
His eyes flickered to Lola, then back to the door. He nodded.
“Wait,” Lola breathed. “Don’t—”
But Arabella had already slid the key into the lock. The cuffs clicked, and Justin wrenched his hand free and stood up and stalked off without so much as looking at them.
Lola jumped to her feet, but Arabella grabbed her wrist. “Don’t worry. I Chained him—he can’t leave the cabaret, for that favor. I wanted to talk just the two of us. It’s temporary—I’ll free him after.”
Lola swallowed and slid into the booth, still casting a nervous look to her brother. “He’ll go to the bar, then. I don’t want him drinking. It wouldn’t be good for him.”
“Consider it done,” Arabella told her smoothly. Then Arabella reached forward and took Lola’s cocktail. She took a sip and scrunched her nose. “That’s a bitter, pretentious drink.”
“I’m a bitter, pretentious person,” Lola muttered.
“I know. I read the papers in your briefcase.”
Lola’s eyes widened. “Those are...”
“Private?” Arabella smirked. “You don’t even write about yourself. You write about everyone else but yourself.”
“If I wrote about myself, there’d be nothing to write about,” Lola scoffed. “And in this city, that’s a good thing.”
“None of your friends seem to think that.”
“What friends?” she said flatly.
The Bargainer rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, when I wear this face, I feel younger—like this face is how old I really am. And then I spend time with someone this age and remember I’m not.”
Across the cabaret, Justin shouted profanities as he attempted and failed to reach the bar, prevented by an invisible force. He looked shatz, pounding on the Chained barrier, on seemingly nothing. The dancers around him cleared a wide berth.
Lola sighed. “Maybe I don’t write my own story because it’s mucking depressing.”
She flushed as soon as she spoke—she didn’t talk like that, not to anyone, least of all to Arabella.
Arabella had donned glass contacts for their excursion, and even with the crimson of her eyes masked by black, she had a very pointed stare.
“Yesterday, I told you everything you wanted to know about Veil and Lourdes and the Great Street War,” Arabella said gravely, though her voice made everything sound grave. “But tonight I want to talk to you about the Revolution.”
“What do you mean?” Lola asked apprehensively. These weren’t secrets Lola had asked for; Arabella was under no obligation to tell her anything else. And though Lola was grateful to have someone by her side, especially someone with volts, Arabella was under no obligation to stay with her, either.
Arabella swallowed, and Lola realized with a start that the Bargainer was nervous. ThatLolamade her nervous. “Having read your files,” Arabella spoke, “I can tell you’re a good judge of people. I want to tell you more. And then I want your help.”
Lola’s apprehension doubled. She hadn’t been a good judge of anyone lately. “I don’t think—”
But Arabella had no interest in Lola’s unease; she launched into her story.
It started much the way Lola’s own tale had—with misfortune.
“I don’t think you can imagine what it was like, when the Mizers reigned, when the Faith was public doctrine and not superstition. I grew up in hiding. I knew so many who...” Arabella took a shaky breath. “Malison and shade-maker are the Mizer and orb-maker counterpart. The Mizers feared us because we were the only ones strong enough to take away all the power that they’d built for themselves.”
Arabella closed her eyes, as though reliving the memories. Anger coursed through her features—a muscle clenching her her jaw, her wispy brows knitting together.
She continued. “And so I, born a malison and a shade-maker, became what the Mizers always feared most.”
A shiver shot down Lola’s spine. The Bargainer wasn’t simply trusting her with the Revolution’s story; she was trusting her withherstory. Arabella held nothing back as she recounted how her legend began—not her deceits, not her cruelty. She left countless victims in her wake all to ensure she never became one herself. And not once did her voice betray any regret.
“I bargained with Semper for his freedom on one condition—that when he led his rebellion, he wouldn’t stop short after Reynes,” Arabella explained. “Because even though I’m from here, what use was it to me to stop at this one kingdom? I knew worldwide revolution would risk countless people’s lives, and so I needed to know that the world would truly change for it. So I made him promise that, once it was all over, every last Mizer would be dead. The kings. The nobles. Even the children.”
