I sawlittle of Emment in the days that followed.
He didn’t return to the mainland again. I got the sense something in him had broken that night and he wouldn’t be back at the Veil in a hurry. Instead, he brooded in solitude around the castle. As I worked, still striving to impress Miss Haney, I glimpsed him in drawing rooms nursing glasses of wine; folded into armchairs, unread papers in his lap; or stalking the gardens, feathered hat gripped in his hand.
Whenever he spotted me, he quickly looked away, and I couldn’t stop dwelling on his story about Zennia. The way he’d said she behaved rang true. But the accident…I still couldn’t picture it in my mind. Steadying a boat should have been well within her talents. Perhaps Emment’s threats, the prospect of banishment, had thrown her off, made the water refuse to listen.
I got no spoken thank-you from Emment for rescuing him. But my next wage pouch, handed over by a puzzled-looking Miss Haney, had nearly double the amount of regals I’d expected. I harbored suspicions that this wasn’t just a reward, that it signified a demand for mysilence about the Veil. Though I was still bitterly angry, I knew I had to comply. I certainly didn’t need attention right now, not with my task to complete for the Cage. I carefully folded the secret away, sequestered the pouch under a floorboard in my bedroom, and left the eldest Shearwater to his melancholy moods.
Instead, I puzzled over the false laconite I’d been finding. But try as I might, I just couldn’t fathom why Rexim and Emment might need it, or want it.
Expense? Laconite wasn’t cheap, it was true. But the false stone hadn’t looked inexpensive either. It might even cost more than laconite itself to create its mirror image from other materials, like ruby, garnet, or even red diamond.
No. There had to be a different reason. Maybe my contact at the Veil would know.
My contact.
Full pallwater was here already, and that meant I needed to send my first tally.
I had figures for Rexim’s and Emment’s rooms and a few other locations around the castle, and I fervently hoped that would be enough for now. I just had to get to the culverhouse in North Tower—a place I rarely had cause to venture—sometime in the next day, without anyone noticing.
The morning had dawned clear and chilly, the bay quiet, its waves whispering against the rocks. I was up in South Tower with a few of the maids, and as I plumped a pillow, wondering when I could get away, I spotted a guard hightailing it across the inner ward. Moving to a narrow window that looked west, I saw two boats on the water, one flying a blue flag.
“It’s them,” said Debry eagerly, coming up behind me. “At last. Go on, you’d better get downstairs.”
“Them?” I repeated, turning to look at her.
“The Cormorants, o’ course!” she replied, flapping her hands at me. “Quickly. You’ll be needed. You hadn’t forgotten?”
I flushed. Between my task and Emment’s breakdown, I had.
Recalling how we Orha had been summoned to Rexim’s luncheon, I hurried to the entrance hall, hearing voices below. Whatever this involved, I hoped it would be quick.
Miss Haney soon appeared, Rhianne and Mawre trailing after her. Tigo, I guessed, had gone to change into his livery. I shrugged off the smudged apron I’d been wearing over mine.
“Here, I’ll take that,” Miss Haney said, frazzled. “Go on, then, out to the gatehouse with you all. The family want to be the first to greet their guests.”
Outside, the air was fresh, faintly salty. The gulls that perched along the battlements squalled. Beyond the gatehouse, on the path rising from the beach, the Shearwater siblings stood together, resplendent—all velvet and lace, ornamented in laconite.
I brushed down my livery, skin tingling with nerves. Llir spotted us coming and murmured to Vercha, who turned, bright-eyed, and beckoned us forward. “There you are at last,” she said. “They’ll be alighting any minute.”
I glanced at Llir as we joined their little group. We hadn’t run into each other since the night I’d saved Emment. He seemed tense, gaze fixed on the path ahead. As I watched, Catua leaned briefly against him, and he turned his head a fraction, shooting her a tight smile.
Emment, on the other hand, was a man transformed.
These last few days, he’d looked dishevelled, almost wretched. The servants had whispered about him in hushed tones. Now he stood immaculate, every inch the strapping heir, a smirk on his face, his posture relaxed. Perhaps, I thought, the act of confessing had, in the end, tugged him out of the darkness.
“Now,” said Vercha, “you all know the protocol. Rhianne, over here. And Mawre. Remember—”
“Where’s Tigo?” Llir demanded, eyes flicking between us.
“Bringing up the rear,” came the Mudmouth’s deep voice, and he jogged into view, slowing to a stop close by Llir.
Like accessories,I thought with a stab of indignation. Llir was no better than Vercha for it.
“Very good,” Vercha said, running narrowed eyes over us. In the thin, cool air, their laconite sang faintly.
A moment later, a party appeared on the path. Two figures out front, sitting casually in their saddles, on mounts I recognized, borrowed from our own stables. I shaded my eyes, for their laconite, their finery, winked in the sunlight, obscuring their faces.
Behind them came others in bright cobalt-blue livery, along with a wagon piled high with leather trunks.
