Our mutual friends.
She stared at me, wide-eyed.
Tigo caught up, and then Miss Haney. I could see the confusion, then the hatred, in their gazes.
“Where’s Rhianne?” I forced out, looking away.
“Their Sparkmouth? I don’t know,” Nemaine said, irritated. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and look for her? I tried, but this lottake too much minding.” She kicked at Mawre, who glared in response. “Find her. Subdue her. Bring her in here. We need to move stealthily, in this calm before the tempest.”
I stayed where I was; my feet felt stuck to the floor.
“Come, now,” she said, flashing white teeth at me. “We are allies, though we didn’t know it before. We must be quick. Our friends will be here in less than an hour.”
I backed away, stumbling over a downed coatrack.
Not long ago, I’d thought I might feel triumphant when the time came. When Rexim, Vercha, and Emment realized there’d been a cuckoo in their nest this whole time. But the rest of them…there, everything was gray.
I stared at the captives. At least here they were out the way. Safe—for now—from the Cage’s unexpected army.
But in return, their gazes were as sharp as Tigo’s hand ax, flashing with that new and awful understanding.
I couldn’t stand those stares any longer. I turned and fled.
—
Pressing the back of my hand to my mouth, I skirted Debry’s body and ran full tilt for the stairs.
First order of business: I needed defenses.
The weapons in the entrance hall had been cleaned out, all the sabers and rapiers commandeered forCithre’s Folly. There was the armory, of course, but that was back past Debry…past Nemaine…
Instead, I lurched up the steps to my room, where I levered up a loose floorboard under my bed and brought out two items I’d sequestered there.
The first was the pouch of laconite beads I’d liberated from the backs of the Shearwaters’ drawers, for defense against Orha when theday arrived. The pouch buzzed faintly as I pocketed it, its promised protection reassuring me slightly.
My fingers trembled as I drew out the second item: a knife from the kitchens, stubby but sharp. I’d placed it there a few days ago after watching yet another of the siblings’ rehearsals, seeing Emment stride back and forth across the stage, playing the villain so convincingly. The ominous feeling that had curled deep within me had become something dark and resentful and wicked. I’d gone to the kitchens to get this knife, hoping that just a few days later, I’d find out—whether from the Cage or from Emment himself—what part he’d really played in my friend’s disappearance.
I’d hidden it here with a vague, wild intention to use it for something that scared me: revenge.
Pulling it out now, it looked inadequate, pathetic. Not just for threatening Emment but for defending myself.
I gripped it tight anyway. It was better than nothing. But the feel of the handle against my skin made me pause. So far this night had been a dream, then a nightmare—the dancing, that kiss, then the horror of Debry’s death. Now the cold metal on my skin brought it home. It was real. It was happening. And I didn’t know if I’d make it out.
Briefly I crouched and let out a sob. Let the panic and misery overwhelm me, just for a second. Then I swallowed, swapped my gown for some breeches, and, with shaking hands, tucked the knife into my belt.
Second order of business:
I had to go and meet the Cage.
—
I slipped out a side door, avoiding the inner ward. It was a cold, crisp night, the air rich with pine. The twin moons were half veiled by cloud, and the island was bathed in eerie silver. For a moment, glancing outat the bay, I stood puzzled—the clouds were hanging so low. Then I realized it was sea fog, growing denser by the minute.
I hurried west to the causeway, taking a circuitous route, for the guards were probably swarming around the gatehouse. Fingers of mist clawed at me as I ran. I could just see the windows of the ballroom burning gold.
At last, a furnace of adrenaline in my chest, I crept under the low-hanging boughs of the pinewood and picked my way forward through the mist-wreathed trees.
In front of me, the vista unfurled like a blanket: the black, empty bay, the rivers choked by fog. Through the thinner haze that clung to the island, I saw the causeway arcing out like a blade.
