“Forget the books, are you hurt?”
Lydia looked up, blinking as if she had just realized Miranda was there. “Me? Oh, well, I suppose…” She wiggled her limbs. “All seems to be in order—oof.” She rubbed her elbow. “Probably a bruise. Nothing to fuss about.”
Miranda shook her head. “Never change, Liddy.”
Lydia gave her a wide smile, her eyes blurred slightly by the special lenses in her spectacles. “I should think not. Not until I finish my book.”
“Yes, I remember. The first historical context on demon culture.” It would be the first because, at present, all literature on demons concerned their many transgressions against the other races or how best to kill them. The Demon War had ended sixteen years ago, but as the opposing force in the conflict, demons and their kin, grimm, suffered more prejudices than the other races. Lydia was obsessed with researching and learning about their languages and culture.
“I’m close, Miranda, I have pages of research. Notebooks full. My mother is quite displeased. She says my fingers are always stained with ink and ruining the china.”
“Did you really need to research it in the middle of the night?”
Lydia pierced her with a knowing stare—or, rather, it might have been knowing. It was hard to tell exactly what Lydia’s eyes were attempting to express. “I could ask the same of you. Your mother nearly caught you, by the way.”
Miranda winced.
“Thankfully, I had already been to your bedchamber to see if you couldn’t sleep either and wanted to explore the library with me, but you weren’t there. Your mother found me just as I was leaving and I said you were out like the dead after we had spent the night talking.”
“Thank you, Liddy.”
“It’s not a bother, but where were you?”
“I was getting this.” Miranda revealed the envelope, and Lydia raised a dark eyebrow curiously.
“Yes…a lovely envelope, dear.”
“It’s what’s inside, obviously. I just…I’m scared to open it.”
Lydia’s smile faltered. “Is this about your secret mission? The one you refuse to tell me about?”
“Maybe,” Miranda hugged the envelope to her chest.
“Well, if you want my help opening it, then I think it’s time you tell me what this secrecy is all about.”
“Fair enough.” Lydia was the only person in the world Miranda trusted with her mission. Not even Cordelia knew Miranda’s true aim was to stop her wedding. “First, the information, then I’ll explain.”
Regaining confidence, Miranda opened the envelope. The paper inside was thin, just a single sheet, and Miranda leaned toward Lydia’s candle.
These were not any sort of letters that Miranda recognized. She squinted, wondering if the light was playing tricks on her. The longer she stared, the more she realized shedidknow those letters, at least, she knew of their existence. Reading them, however, was impossible. “Blast it all, this is written in Faery.”
The page creased as her fingers clenched. She saw and heard nothing save the hammering of her pulse working into a frenzy. Shit. All the work, the weeks of pooling allowance in secret, all of it amounted to a document that she couldn’t read.
“I don’t suppose you can read Faery?” Miranda offered the page to Lydia.
“I’m afraid not, no. I have been working on a translation of ancient Demonic, but…I suppose that’s not very helpful.”
Miranda leaned into the shelf, working at her bottom lip with her teeth and fingers. This was a nightmare. What use was a document she couldn’t read? This might say anything.
“Oh, I know!” Lydia brightened. “Your sister’s fiancé can read Faery, I’ll bet anything. My mother is always going on and on about him.” She adopted a mocking tone. “Cordelia is so lucky. He’s just the sort of suitor you should be looking for, Lydia. Why can’t you be more like the other girls, Lydia? You can be such a disappointment sometimes…” Lydia’s voice trailed off and she looked down at her lap. “Anyway. Alderman Graves could translate it for you.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Miranda said, shoulders sagging in defeat. “My intent was to use this to expose Graves of crimes that would have him arrested.”
Lydia opened her mouth then closed it, her nose wrinkled as she processed Miranda’s words before saying, “But then, what would become of the engagement and wedding?”
“That’s the point, Liddy. There can be no wedding.” The words left Miranda’s chest hollow, like a great weight had shifted andbeen set free. Though she planned to omit most of the details, it felt good to share her mission with someone.
“I don’t follow.”
