I feellike a living corpse by the time I make it home to the Vulture’s Prose. My limbs feel heavy, my heart weighed down with iron. Sleep calls me with every step I take, but as soon as I make it to my bedroom door, I’m bombarded by two voices.
“Where have you been?” Podaxis says as he and Nadia tear down the hall toward me. I stifle a groan. Podaxis stares up at me with worry in his eyes, tapping his claws together.
Nadia looks indignant. And stunning. She’s dressed in a red silk floral robe, her short black hair set with pins that I’ve seen transform her coiffure into the most elegant waves come morning. I’ve always been jealous of her hair. It’s a little shorter than mine, cut just above her jaw, yet hers never looks as wild as my pink tresses. She puts her hands on her hips and looks me up and down. “Podaxis said you went to speak with Martin in your room, but when he next came to check on you, you were both gone. Martin came to invite us to the Honey House a half-hour ago and said he’d been working the card tables before that and hasn’t spoken to you all night. What’s going on? We’ve both been worried sick.”
I try to laugh off her concern. Nadia and I have never been close friends. I always considered her more Podaxis’ friend than anything. Was she truly worried? “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
Podaxis lifts his claws in frustration. “How is that a misunderstanding, Pearl? I saw Martin with my own eyes, while he claims I saw no such thing.”
“It isn’t what you think, and it’s not important right now.”
He taps his hind claws. “Oh, I say it’s important. Do explain.”
“I will tell you all the details later,” I say slowly, giving him a pointed look that I hope communicates what I can’t say out loud.
Podaxis huffs but makes no further argument.
Nadia looks from me to Podaxis, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If you don’t want me to hear it, just say so. I only wish I’d known you were fine before I spent the last hour running down the streets of Lumenas in my bathrobe.”
“Did you really?”
“She did,” Podaxis says, and I catch a subtle brightening of his mushrooms.
I’m moved by how much Nadia seems to have cared. It makes me want to give her something in return, even if it’s only a fraction of the truth. “It’s just…this has nothing to do with Martin. It really was a misunderstanding, all right? All I can tell you is, well, I’m going to compete for a young man’s hand in a bridal pageant.”
Nadia’s brow wrinkles with confusion. “And you had to disappear for over an hour to make it so?”
I hesitate to form words that are true. “Podaxis wouldn’t have approved,” I finally say.
He gasps. “Don’t you dare tell me you’ve joined that competition to marry Brother Dorian. That’s a very, very bad idea, Pearl, and you know it.”
“Why is that a bad idea?” Nadia asks. “If Pearl wants to find love, shouldn’t you be happy for her?” She glances between us, then her expression falls. “Unless…are the two of you an item?”
“No!” I say with horror.
“Repulsive,” Podaxis says. “She’s like a sister to me.”
Nadia shrugs. “Then what’s the problem, my little crab?”
I expect Podaxis to rail at being called a crab, but of course, he does nothing but smile back at Nadia. “No problem, I suppose.”
“Then let us celebrate. But, please, dear Pearl, do tell me you aren’t joining the competition wearing anything like that.” She scowls at my outfit with even more disdain than my mother showed.
I release a heavy sigh. “Do you happen to have some clothes I can borrow?”
* * *
“These bridal pageantsreally are all the rage on Salvation Street, aren’t they?” Nadia says as she rifles through trunks of fabric. She sets a few pieces of silk aside and moves to a rack that holds several gowns in varying styles. We’re in the theater’s dressing room, which boasts a vast array of eclectic costumes, many that were made by Nadia herself. Or, more accurately, altered from clothes that had been discarded around town or left behind at hotels and brothels. We have a working relationship with several establishments that sell us used garments at a discount.
I wrinkle my nose as Nadia holds out a flamboyant red dress. “No?” she says, then returns it to the rack.
Perhaps I was wrong to seek her help. We don’t exactly have the same taste in fashion. As the resident aerialist, her outfits tend to be tight-fitting sequined leotards, while I’m perfectly at home in menswear. Still, I’ve seen some of the fine gowns she’s stitched together for the theater’s performers. There must be something here I can wear.
“Did you see the sign with the milliner last week?” She lets out a low whistle. “He was quite handsome, wasn’t he? What church did you say your soon-to-be-beloved belongs to?”
I’d given her only the barest details about the upcoming pageant, much to Podaxis’ great annoyance. I could tell he was dying to hear the full story. He looked like he was going to explode when Nadia suggested he give us some privacy to sort through clothes together, and I’m sure he’s waiting in my room right now, tapping his little claws with impatience.
“Saint Lazaro,” I say.
