Elysia grinned, but let a hint of vulnerability shine through as her smile faded. “I’m really sorry I worried you both. I just really haven’t been doing well. I’m barely sleeping, and I’m shit at pretending everything is fine around people who know me as well as you two.”
Truth and lies. Truth and lies.
It was the only manner of existence that she knew.
Remy nodded in understanding, forcing Elysia to meet her eyes. “But now we know, and if they haven’t caught the bastards yet, then who knows how long it will take. Until then, you can’t let this run your life. This won’t be the last time someone gets pissed off if you insist on cleaning up the trash of Relaclave. Trust me, I would know.” She made a face, likely thinking about all the threats she’d received over the years.
Remy, who fearlessly took on corrupt financiers and lawyers, even when she knew they were backed by men and women who would not so much as blink at removing her from the equation entirely. No, Remy, the shark that she was, would not allow her to wallow or hide.
A wave of anxiety rippled through Elysia.This conversation needs to end now.Before clever, clever Remy spoke all that she might actually be seeing.
“You’re right. As usual,” she acquiesced.
Remy smiled broadly, leaning back in her chair while holding her teacup out in the air. “Why yes, I am always right, aren’t I?”
Elysia’s voice became dry. “I have a meeting with the Golden Seal herself soon. I’m sure I can snag us an invitation to some gala or another.”
Her mother was diabolical and likely to give her an aneurism one day. She also threw a damn good party.
The Golden Seal.Such a ridiculous title.Her mother’s porcelain smile was never brighter than when she bestowed her seal. Like she was doing the person some benevolent service.Parties, funerals, weddings, they were all nothing without the Golden Seal. If the Golden Seal was etched like a tiny medallion onto the calling card, then you had at least for the moment made into that elusive tier of people who steered the tides of Kava.
Daphne’s face lit up. “Yes! That isexactlywhat we need. Less tongues, more parties.” She nibbled on a shortbread cookie before poking it at Elysia’s face. “Nothing stuffy. I wantscandals, dammit. And imported alcohol, I’m sick of gin.”
Remy rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine as she squeezed Elysia’s hand. “A scandalous evening for all of us then, but no more secrets, okay? I would never tell you to not chase your crazy dreams, but Iamglad you’re alright.”
Elysia’s heart squeezed as tightly as her hand. “No dreams here. We all know Jack Parker would never let me go far. Just a one-off, I promise.”
Oh, she was scum. The dirty scum that grouted the cobblestones. Lying like the Crown fools who had raised them.
And even though the rest of tea went smoothly and all had been forgiven, Elysia could not shake the feeling that the lifeline of her secrets was dwindling to its end.
Chapter 4
The sun waspast noon when Elysia left Fillie’s and struck back out into the heavy rain. Her beautiful velvet cloak did nothing to stop the pelting rain drops from soaking to her skin. She didn’t mind, though. You’d never go outside in Kava if you were afraid of a little rain. Besides, it wasn’t a long walk to the castle, and in spite of getting her own place years ago, her mother liked to pretend she hadn’t moved out at all and kept a room for her filled with fresh clothes and necessities.
She replayed the web she had spun at morning tea as she walked. She’d done what needed to be done, and they hadn’tallbeen lies. Her self-consolation was half-hearted at best. Even she was tired of her own excuses, but unless the king suffered a stroke and declared magic legal again, this was her life, and lying was nothing new.
Dropping the tip on the blood drainers had been the first and last time she’d done something good with her curse. Something in all of those women’s accounts had struck a chord within her.The desperation.The fact that they knew no one would believe them.
It had been a mistake. Likely driven from her own guilt buried in some unreachable corner of her soul so it didn’t leave her frozen and useless when she needed to be vigilant.
The mud slid from her boot as she stepped out of a puddle. She wondered what it would take to wipe away the filth of the work she did for the Crown.
Whatever the answer was—it didn’t matter. She never should have indulged herself. The scars that wound around her feet prickled, and she forced herself to breathe, to smile at the people she passed. Her feet were healed. The skin now dead and weird, yet new. A healer whose curse she had managed to keep a secret from her father for years had seen to healing her up the best she could—she owed that woman more than she could say. It was likely she wouldn’t have been able to walk properly again without her.
Two months ago, her father had lost it when he found out that she had turned in the names of people involved in the murders and assaults of those women. Said she was out of control—out of her mind. That she must be raving mad if she thought that behavior was acceptable. That she must want her whole family to be killed.
Elysia waved to a courtier hurrying down the street, and turned a corner, dodging a woman dragging a toddler. When she was younger, she struggled to ignore her curse. How it demanded she follow its call. Her father thought this incident might have been the same. His solution had been to carve her feet with a small, sharp collapsible knife. It was the same knife he’d kept in his pocket since she was a child. The one he peeled fruit with and sliced open letters with when the seal stuck.
Now, the next time she thought about prancing off to help womendumb enough to be in a position like that,her feet would be a reminder. The pain would help her remember what would happen should she slip again.
Elysia plodded on through the rain. She was going to be a damn prune by the time she arrived at the castle. Her eyes snagged on what once had been a brewery run by a woman with the ability to work with yeast magically. The golden sign with wheat and hops painted onto it was faded now, and even though she hadn’t experienced Kava when it had magic, the sight still made a pang shoot through her chest.
It sometimes felt as though the older generations had made a silent pact not to speak of how they once had magic in their fingertips and a sun that shone over a sootless land. Instead of the sun, Kava now boasted an almost constant haunting, ethereal mist. It rolled through the streets now, quieting the ache and replacing it with awe. Elysia ran her fingers through it, marveling at the dewy chill.
Kavians had lost their magic overnight. Soon they lost their businesses and homes. Their lives had been structured around magic—it was an integral and expected part of who they were and what they did. Until it wasn’t. No one had ever so much as thought to be prepared for a moment like that. The entire economy collapsed in the aftermath, and the plundering by other kingdoms had not helped.
King Garrison was the hero in this story. The man’s wife had just died in a tragic horse riding incident, only for magic to disappear while he was still clothed in his grief. Soon after, their home was under attack. His people were dying and their kingdom was failing.
