“That’s it?” I called, gesturing with the map. “You give me the most difficult task ever conceived and tell me tofigure it out? Who asked you to do this?”
Spinning on her heel, Laverna returned to my side. She cupped my chin and tilted my head up. “I keep my client’s confidence, Aethra,” she said coldly. “And we both know you have no choice in this matter.” Eyes boring into mine, she let her threat sink in before releasing me and sauntering away.
Squeezing the map, I pretended I was wringing her neck. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded my fingers and smoothed the parchment out.
Grabbing my bag, I hurried out of the garden, nodding at the guards to show them I intended to leave with all haste. Once I exited the gates and was headed back toward Market Street, I released a nervous exhale.
Retrieving my coin purse from my belt, I counted the sparse coins inside. I’d need to spend what meager amount I’d managed to save on a suitable dress for the ceremony. Passing as a noble in this frock would be impossible.
An unexpected surge of sorrow stuck in my throat. Pushing back the tears, I lowered my hand. I would never manage to save enough for the one thing I truly wanted; allowing myself the luxury of disappointment was silly.
Shoving the purse into my satchel, I considered my list of contacts. The Guild handled everything criminal, from covering evidence of noble bastards to petty theft. Lords and ladies were always in competition with one another, smiling politely in public while hiring us for illicit affairs in the dark of night.
I knew a woman who made a living spying on nobles and selling their information. She could tell me who wouldn’t be attending the ceremony—I could wear their face and name and choose a dress in the colors of their house.
Luckily, Ainwir had taught me how to forge a letter and mimic a noble seal. I could make an invitation to the event myself.
Tightening my sandals, I trotted up a set of stairs and followed a bridge running over one of the main waterways. Gods, my feet would be in heaven if only I could afford to regularly ride the gondolas rather than walk everywhere.
A gorgeous plaza filled with blooming flowers waited across the bridge. The pleasant scent of baked goods wafted from the cafe nestled at its heart, a bustling establishment filled with people in elegant togas and capes: people who had nothing better to do, because they needn’t work just to live.
Scanning the crowd, I found my woman leaning against one of the grand pillars. She clutched a flute at her side, pressed against the colorful fabric of her dress. Tilting her feathered hat up, she met my eyes and winked.
Pulling out a few coins, I approached. “Morning, Cecelia. I have a request.”
Counting my coins, she tossed them into her overturned hat. “Name it.”
“Someone always misses the Sundering Ceremony. Who is it this year?”
“Lord Terpsichore’s fallen ill,” Cecelia said idly, playing with her flute. “So has his daughter. At least, that’s the story they’re peddling. In reality, his girl’s fallen for one of the priests, and her dear father’s trying to prevent a scandal.”
“Mm.” I nodded. Nobles and priests stood together during the ceremony, under romantic lighting and circumstances. The perfect opportunity for a forbidden affair. “Good to know. Anything else of interest swirling around?”
“Oh, one rumor’s got everyone in a panic,” she stared at me gravely. “They say something has the king’s council in a tizzy.They’re desperately hiding news from the people, horrified at the panic it will cause. But if they don’t find a way to soften the blow, it’ll make its way out in full, soon enough.”
“Because you already know.” I figured. “What is it? Did someone poison the king?”
“That’ll cost you extra.”
Of course it did. But world-shattering problems were far above my station. “I’ll pass.” I curtsied. “Thanks for the tip. You’re sharp as always.”
“Come back anytime.” Cecelia flashed me a toothy grin.
Wandering away from the bard, I recalled the Lady Terpsichore. She was about my height and build, with darker, straight hair. In the depths of night, I doubted anyone would realize the difference if I adopted her accent and bore her seal.
As the sun rose fully in the sky, the waterways filled with boats ferrying people across the city. Weaving over bridges and down quiet streets, I found my way to Sundering Square.
Festival preparation was underway. Lanterns streamed overhead, hung on thin ropes, and men balanced on ladders pinned pale blue banners to the walls. I chuckled, watching a few young men toil to clean the channel of waste and dirt.
Sitting on a bench beneath a flowering tree, I watched passersby as I contemplated the cheapest way to emulate a noble gown. A father strolled by, holding the hand of his young daughter. My arm twitched, and I scowled.
Wiping the expression from my face, I pressed my fingers into my eyes. Five years had passed since Ainwir betrayed me. He’d hardly acted like a father, so why did I still think of him as one?
The man had gifted Laverna a talented slave—why would she suddenly have a change of heart and set me free? And what madman had commissioned her to steal such a precious relic?
The answers were none of my business. Nor did I care to know them. All that mattered was the freedom awaiting me if I could do this one thing.
In all likelihood, I’d fail. I was a con woman, not a thief. But anendbeckoned sweetly, promising to deliver me from the nothingness that drolled on without meaning.
