You’re losing it,I thought as I tugged the door open.
But as I slipped through it, shutting it behind me, I couldn’t seem to shake the sinister sensation of a presence somewhere nearby.
Listening and watching.
—
The next morning, I presented myself at Miss Haney’s office door.
My eyes were heavy. I’d had barely any sleep. I’d needed to tally the laconite in the armory, and the dead of night seemed the best time to do it. But Tigo had sat up long into the evening, the door of his room cracked open, spilling light. I suspected he still harbored suspicions about me, for his early starts and strenuous labor meant he was usually snoring by ten. I hadn’t felt safe sneaking past on the stairs until well past midnight, when his lamp finally went out.
It did mean I’d had time to prepare a script in my head. It was market day again tomorrow, and I hoped my excuse for a visit would fly. But before I could even open my mouth, Miss Haney glanced up, spotted me, and said, frowning, “Ah, Corith. Have you seen Ferda about? I’ve had a crow from Madam Mora. The girls’ dresses are ready. I need him to go and fetch them today.”
My mouth opened and closed a few times. “I can go,” I said abruptly. “I can get them tomorrow. Then I could get a last-minute fitting done for mine.”
She blinked at me, still frowning. “I don’t think so, my dear. Not if Ferda can get them today.”
“But it’s market day tomorrow,” I persisted, trying to look winsome. Time to deploy the excuse I’d prepared. “Truth be told…I was hoping to get a gift for Miss Vercha. Something small, just to say thank you for my dress.” I smiled, drawing on the limited charisma I had.
Her expression moved from faintly baffled to charmed. “Well, now, if that isn’t a lovely idea.” Then she chewed her lip. “But the ballisin a week…”
“A day won’t signify,” I said with false confidence. “And if anything happens on the crossing—gods forbid—I’m the best person to protect the dresses.AndI’ll make personally sure that any other alterations are completed in time.”
The housekeeper looked gratified. “You certainly are an asset to our little team here, Corith. Thank you.” She smiled. “That will be all.”
As I walked away, I hid the tremor in my fingers. It had been worth it, all those weeks spent cozying up to Miss Haney. I just had to get through the rest of the day, then ensure I was in town for sunset tomorrow.
I set off to find Ferda, to let him know I’d need the boat, but as I crossed the entrance hall, Llir and Emment were coming down the stairs.
“Come on, Brother, it’s perfect,” Emment was saying. “What better way to end their visit than a play? You know, I’ve always thought I had a talent for acting…”
Those words snagged my attention, made me glance sharply at him.
But Llir looked distracted as soon as he saw me. As his brother chattered on, Llir’s eyes tracked my progress, his face carefully blank, impossible to read.
I bobbed my head shallowly and quickened my pace, glancing at the clock as though my chores were calling. But I was thinking of my foray into his rooms, the horrible sense that someone else had been there, the possibility that the rain had brought him in early…
At least my sneaking for the Cage was over. Even if Llir was still suspicious of me, if I could keep my head down, give him no more cause to wonder, I hoped that eventually his attention would drift away.
20
Whenthe date of my second meeting arrived, the sea was choppy, riled by chill autumn winds. I’d spent most of the day either racing through my chores or standing idly by while the Shearwaters and Cormorants played mallet ball in the rose gardens, practiced archery in the outer ward, or talked excitedly of the amateur theatricals they were planning.
By the time the sun was midway to the horizon, they were hotly debating which play to put on: Catua’s choice was deemed too satirical, Emment’s too racy, and Llir’s too tragic. Llir was arguing good-naturedly with Morgen, countering her objections with a lopsided smirk. The sight oddly irked me, and I was glad when, finally, I could make my excuses and hurry away.
My heart pounded as I readied the boat. I had to take a few moments, draw on Zennia’s old trick, to calm myself enough for the wind-tossed waters to heed me. I didn’t need much propulsion—the strong gusts helped me along—but I could already sense a fickleness to the ocean. Pallwater was waning now, and archwater beginning its slow and ominous encroach.
I stared fixedly at the mainland, at the shadow of Port Rhorstin, as I traversed the final mile or two of the crossing. I’d gathered the information my contact had asked for. I’d translated my code onto a fresh piece of parchment. Now the Cage had to hold up their end of the bargain.
It transpired, when I arrived first at Madam Mora’s, that Vercha had left strict instructions not to let me spy my own gown before the ball. The seamstress insisted on blindfolding me before helping me into it and standing me on a stool. She then commenced pinching and pinning it all over, occasional low murmurs escaping her lips. The garment felt cold and tight on me already; its stiffness, its rustling, alien and unsettling.
At last she disappeared into a back room with the dress, and I was permitted to tug off my blindfold. But the alterations dragged on longer than I’d expected, and when she finally returned, my eyes were on the windows, nervously watching the sun meet the horizon.
After stowing the dresses in a cart at the stables—tipping the stable girl every coin I had on me to guard them—I hurried out into the red-gold streets. Across town, the Veil was strung with lanterns, which peeped from the vines climbing its timber-framed walls. A sweet, spicy scent filled the air—wine and sugar—tinged with woodsmoke from the half dozen chimneys. I changed rapidly in the same alley as before, my bluebird mask rasping against my face, my whole body wound taut with expectation.
What was it my summons had said? Around the back.
I circled the building and entered the yard where Emment and Turnstone had bet on the fight. The memory brought a sharp, vinegary anger, sitting at the back of my throat like bile. No young men filled the yard this time—the fights clearly happened late, past midnight—and there wasn’t a guard on duty this evening. Perhaps my contact had arranged some distraction.
