Even so short a dash over the waves made my soles feel strange on solid ground. Llir, Catua, and Ebba had struck out powerfully for the stone slipway and now strode up it with loping steps. My ribs thudded painfully at what I’d done, at the sight of Llir, sodden hair dripping, shirtsleeves soaked and clinging to his arms. But when his moss-green gaze snagged on mine, I could only discern a strange, sharp appraisal. As though he was almost as surprised as I was—as though he hadn’t thought me capable of it. It reminded me of the look he gave me a few nights ago when I’d rescued Emment. Like he was seeing me anew.
A touch on my shoulder, a voice at my ear. I swivelled to face a grinning Avrix. “Excellent work,” he said admiringly. And then, perhaps because he sensed my reticence, “Nothing wrong with a cutthroat tactic or two. Trust me.”
With a wink, he fell in with his sister and the siblings, who were already trudging up the loose shingle, sparring genially about the result.
Rhianne caught my eye, and I moved to join her. I thought my fellow Orha might disapprove, and sure enough, Tigo, nearby, was tense-lipped. But as soon as he’d taken his usual place directly behind Llir, a gleam entered Rhianne’s gaze.
“That was brilliant,” she murmured with a twitch of her lips. I half shrugged, but inside, my chest warmed pleasingly. “Oh,” she continued, digging into her livery and tugging out a slip of parchment as we hiked up the path. “I don’t supposethismeans anything to you? I found it up in the culverhouse this morning. Can’t make head nor tail of it. I’ll give it to Miss Haney when we get back to the castle, but”—she squinted at it—“it’s very odd.”
Skin icing over, I stared at the note.
md ss v back k
That was it. The letters were tiny, precise. But it took only a second for their meaning to register.
Market day. Sunset. The back of the Veil. K.
I swallowed, mouth dry, throat squeezing in panic. “Er…” I held out a hand for the note, pretending to want to examine it more closely. As Rhianne gave it up, she glanced at my face, and I wrestled to keep my features neutral. “Actually,” I said, remembering with a jolt just where I’d seen such shorthand before—symbols and letters often caught my eye—“this looks like it might be from Madam Mora. You know, the ball dresses?” My pulse was clattering. “Maybe she needs an extra measurement.”
Rhianne’s confusion seemed to clear. “Right,” she said. “ ‘Back.’That does make sense.”
“I can give this to Vercha later,” I said, fingertips white where I clutched the note.
The Sparkmouth seemed relieved. “Thanks. I’ve got so much to do in the kitchens…”
As we wound our way upward, my thoughts raced and darted. I’d done it—my contact was clearly satisfied—and next market day was the thirtieth of Tima. Just over a week to finish my tally and present the Cage with what they’d asked for.
But as the castle loomed through the trees above, my eye caught West Tower, where the siblings slept.
I still had three of their bedchambers to search. And the prospect of trespassing in Llir’s domain made an odd disquiet flitter behind my breastbone.
19
Crack!
The noise was deafening, making my heart jolt and my shoulders twitch.
“Ho! Fine shot, my boy.” Avrix Cormorant shaded his eyes, gazing down the neatly trimmed lawn to the targets: round sheets of parchment nailed to wooden frames. They were riddled with bullet holes. Smoke tinged the air.
“Kicks to the side a bit,” Llir said indifferently, flipping the eight-shot matchlock revolver and examining it closely, running his thumb over the wood.
“Sheisa touch unreliable, it’s true.” Avrix smiled, his laconite drop earring winking. “But she’s a beauty, don’t you think? Breovan walnut.”
Llir handed the gun to Tigo and Rhianne. They stood close by him, straight-backed, immaculate. The Sparkmouth kept the match burning while the Mudmouth pounded the bullets into the barrels.
I let out a short, frustrated breath. Standing with Mawre off to one side, I was acutely conscious that another day was slipping by.
Opposite us, near the entrance to the rose gardens, the Cormorants’ Orha stood in a line, flaxen-haired Nemaine looking on with thin lips.
I watched as the pistol was handed to Catua. She hefted it, intrigued, and Avrix chuckled. Nearby, Vercha, Morgen, and Emment were engaged in a lively debate. I tuned them out.
Two days.
Only two days left until my meeting.
Nearly a week had passed since the sail race, and almost all of it had been spent like this: standing around, just as Rhianne had predicted, any spare moments used to catch up on my work. I was tired and antsy, horribly aware of each hour that passed, as though there were a ticking clock in my mind.
I’d only just managed a fleeting inspection of Vercha’s and Catua’s laconite the day before, a snatched opportunity while emptying their baths in a rare few moments when Debry wasn’t lurking.
