She opens her eyes so she can take small sips from the cup until she is able to pull herself into a seated position. “Nothing has made any sense lately. Not since…”
I wait for her to finish her thought, but when she doesn’t, I don’t push her.
Not all of Andra’s visions are as violent as this one, but lately they have been more and more unpredictable in both nature and outcome, like her command over her Sight is slipping. She hasn’t had Sightings like this since we were kids, back before she knew how to control and harness her Gift. The whole thing turns my stomach.
“I miss Diana,” she says softly, and I squeeze her hand gently.
What I wouldn’t do for a bit of Diana’s insight and wisdom in these moments.
Andra hesitates, sitting up cautiously, her mouth opening like she has more to say but doesn’t want to say it.
I sit next to her on the chaise, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s the same vision every time, Cate.” Her voice is heavy with worry, so unlike the bright chatter I’m used to hearing from her.
Fear stirs in my belly. “What did you See?”
“Blood. And a dagger.” She swallows thickly. “And Harold.”
That fears grips me from the inside out. “Harold is going to die?”
She shakes her head. “He’s wearing a crown.”
My brow furrows because it doesn’t make any sense. Harold isn’t royalty, but even if he were, the monarchs have just been overthrown. No one will be wearing a crown from this point on.
A quiet knock taps on the door and after a beat, Bianca’s head pokes into the room, her red curls a cloud around her face, pale with worry. “I’m sorry, I know this is bad timing, but Harold is requesting we all join him in the main salon.”
Andra and I exchange a heavy look. Harold doesn’t gather us all together unless there is some kind of major situation. Given the dire warnings that just spewed forth from Andra’s vision, combined with what I know about the state of the club, I don’t know that I want to hear what Harold has to say, don’t know that any of us are ready for even more upheaval.
Bianca joins us at the chaise, taking one of Andra’s hands in hers. “Nothing physically wrong with you, then,” she declares once her healer’s Gift has managed a full assessment.
“Come on.” I rise, pulling Andra to standing next to me, and paste on a wide smile. We are the same height, the same coloring, though Andra has always been lanky where I am nothing but curves. “Let’s go see what the big fuss is.” I inject my voice with a levity none of us feels.
The main salon is already crowded with people when we arrive. Many have congregated on the stage, and just as many clutter the small café tables circled around it, where each night our patrons await our dazzling performances. A few are perched on the balconies that rim the room, leaning over the tarnished gold railings. It’s early enough in the day that we all wear our casual clothes—cotton dresses and linen tunics and plain trousers—enjoying the comfort before we don our intricate and bold, and sometimes restricting, costumes for the evening. The main hall of La Puissance is vast, and in the nighttime hours teeming with people and booze andmusic. I’ve always loved it during the day, when our voices echo around the empty space, when the natural light shines through the skylights.
The stage is the focal point of the main salon, framed by heavy, mottled crimson curtains and lined with gas-powered flames that have caught more than one frilly skirt on fire. Wide enough to hold a chorus of twenty girls, today it looks like a gaping maw, dark and empty and vast.
Bianca, Andra, and I find an empty table and slide into the waiting seats. It looks like every member of the club, from performers to bartenders to musicians, has gathered. As my eyes take in the group—people from every province, a vast array of skin tones and accents, as many Gifted as permitted, even more with no Gifts to speak of—something fierce and protective surges through me. Things might look bleak, but I know there is nothing that can tear this group, this family, apart. Meri, Tes, Rosa, and Helen find seats at the table next to us, and from the tense smiles we exchange, I can tell none of us knows what to expect.
A hush falls over the room as Harold enters. He’s dressed in his finest tuxedo, the one he normally wears only when important patrons are dining in his box at the club, complete with top hat and his fanciest cane. And he’s not alone.
A tall woman, hair as dark as the ebony keys of the piano, eyes a bright amber, accompanies Harold as he strides confidently into the room. Her face is stoic and not a single hint of emotion shows as she takes in the room, takes in the group of us waiting. Her long black dress is as severe as her features, her corset tight, fabric covering her from the top of her neck down to the tips of her fingers. Never has a woman looked so thoroughly out of place in La Puissance.
Harold claps his hands together for silence, though the buzz and chatter ceased immediately when he entered. “Friends, my darlings,thank you all for being here this lovely afternoon.” A wide smile breaks across his face and with it, a sense of ease spreads through the room. If Harold is beaming like this, whatever news he has to tell us cannot be bad.
At first, I relax with the rest of the crew, but when I take in Andra’s face, something leaden drops in my stomach. She looks as though she’s seen a ghost; what little color was left in her cheeks after her vision has been drained away. I reach for her hand and her ice-cold fingers squeeze mine in a silent warning.
“I know this may come as a surprise to some of you.” Harold’s eyes find mine but flit away before I can latch on. “But I have been feeling lonely for some time now, wondering when or even if I might ever find that perfect person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life.” Harold reaches back, joining his hand with the woman’s. She doesn’t smile. “And I’m delighted to announce I have found that woman. And we have been married.”
An audible gasp echoes around the room with his pronouncement. Andra’s fingers are holding mine so tightly I fear I might lose circulation in my hand. My hand automatically drifts to the dagger at my thigh, not sure what the threat she senses is, but wanting to be ready for it.
“My dearest darlings, it is with greatest pleasure that I introduce you to my new wife, the Lady MacVeigh.” Harold says the words with such a flourish that applause breaks out, leading to raucous cheers and cries of congratulations.
Those around us leap out of their seats, rushing to grant hugs and handshakes to the new happy couple. No one at my table moves, Bianca having sensed that something has gone seriously wrong.
“Look the innocent flower but the serpent under it,” Andra whispers to no one in particular.
My eyes turn from my sister back to the front of the room, whereHarold and his new bride have begun to distribute glasses of champagne. I find Lady M’s eyes easily as she is staring right at me.
