As I snapped to attention, my blanket fell off me and I realized just how cold it was. The soupy humidity leading up to the storm had sloughed away, leaving a thin, bitter chill.
“No matter,” she went on, stepping toward me. “Corith, listen. I’ve been talking to Father. He agrees that he spoke a little too hastily last night in informing you that your service would end. I’ve persuaded him to allow youone week—no more—to prove yourself an indispensable member of our staff. You’ll have to—Oh, Corith!”
She’d come across my still-sodden dress, which I’d left exactly where I’d stepped out of it: a dark-purple puddle, skirts torn, turning musty.
I jumped off the bed. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Let me—”
She waved me back. “Never mind, never mind. Maybe Debry can work some magic on it.” She picked it up delicately, laid it over a wooden bench.
Turning, she swept a stern gaze over me. “You’re able to crack on with your chores, I take it? I’m aware you were battered around a bit yesterday, but we have work to do if we’re going to convince Father…”
I thought of Rexim’s fond looks at his daughter, how ready he always seemed to agree to her plans. I’d long suspected she was his favorite, and I saw now how much sway she had.
“Of course,” I said. My heart was drumming.One week.“But, Miss, I must thank you—”
“Please,” she interrupted, her smile tight-lipped. “You may thank me by proving I wasn’t foolish to argue for you.”
I met her stare with a frosty understanding.
Vercha had invested time and money into me, paying for my dress, for the new clothes I’d bought. She’d preened me, paraded me, been seen to favor me. Now she was saving face. Smoothing things over. She didn’t want her judgment to appear to have been poor.
I dropped my gaze and set about tugging on some work clothes. Rhianne’s breeches were tight and frayed at the hems. “I’ll report to Miss Haney straightaway,” I said breathlessly.
As I crossed the room, came within touching distance of her, Vercha’s arm snapped out and grabbed my elbow.
“Corith,” she said quietly, a small smile on her face. “You won’t disappoint me. Will you?” Her eyes bore into mine. This close, I saw the elegant sweep of her cheekbones, the sharp cut of her jaw, so like her younger brother’s.
My relief at my weeklong reprieve sputtered out, replaced by a cold apprehension. Her fingers were like pincers where they gripped my arm.
“I won’t, Miss,” I forced out, avoiding that piercing gaze.
She released me, unmoving, and watched me walk to the doorway.
I remembered the fragments of charred paper in her grate. That was one secret I’d decided to let lie. The alternative—crossing Vercha—sent a prickle of fear through me.
I opened the door, my blouse sweaty with nerves, and slipped out, grateful to vanish from her sight.
One week.
Through a window, I glimpsed the glistening mudflats, peppered with gulls delighting in fresh pickings. I thought of the rebels,somewhere out there on the mainland, plotting and preparing for their foray at pallwater. The sixteenth of Undalh was far too late now. In one week, I might be gone from here, unable to pass on the information—the secrets—the Cage would need to “persuade” Rexim Shearwater.
Which meant Kielty’s group would have to come early. I had to send him a summons. Today.
I also had to get Avrix alone somehow. Tell him what had happened, and find out how long he’d be here. With my tools gone, no doubt swept off into the bay, he was now my only means of fully succeeding, of finding out what had happened to Zennia.
Shivering, I remembered the eager-eyed guests at the ball. The stark realization I’d come to after the wave.
I’d demanded that Kielty protect me as a source, ensure the family didn’t know I’d spied, but now the thought of remaining here—ifVercha managed to convince Rexim to keep me—brought an acrid bitterness to the back of my throat.
The alternatives, though—leaving with the Cage, or running, only to be suspected of it anyway—felt weighty, and more than a little frightening.
When Kielty’s groupdidarrive, I knew I’d have to make a choice. Decide what I wanted my future to be. But I couldn’t bring myself to dwell on that just yet.
In the meantime, I was about to set a fire beneath them.
27
I’dcounted on the Waking Tide rousing me the next morning, but up in my drafty room in East Tower, its roar was muted, just a distant rushing. Instead, as I remembered Catua once lamenting, it was the birds that shocked me awake close to dawn, wheedling as they rode the sea breeze past my window.
