“Turn around and close your eyes,” I hiss, voice quavering with restraint.
“Why?”
“That way if anyone asks if you saw me leave your room you can say no.”
“Who is going to ask that, and why would it matter if they did? I’m not fae. I can lie.”
I need him to close his eyes because I have no intention of using the actual door to leave. It must be morning by now, which means the brotherhood is likely already bustling about the church. I’ll have to rely on another trip through the Twelfth Court to get out of here unnoticed. I stammer to find an excuse. “What if there’s a hole in my skirt and…and I’m not wearing undergarments?”
His eyes go wide, and he takes a step back. “Where are your undergarments?”
“Just turn around!” I all but yell.
Finally, he does as told and I open and close his door just so he hears the sound. Then I slip silently into a realm of violet.
29
Two hours later, Podaxis shuffles back and forth across my bedroom floor, voice rich with panic. “This isn’t good, Maisie.”
I sit on the bed, brow furrowed as I stare at the full-page spread inside the Daily Illuminator, a paper Podaxis claims is the city’s most popular source for gossip. There I find an article by Glint McCreedy detailing Dorian’s bridal contest. On one side, I see a portrait of Dorian—the same that graces the sign outside the church—while the other side features a few select portraits of some of the contestants. Vanessa is at the top, followed by Greta Garter, then finally…me. Not just me. Me being held up by Dorian at the finale of my disastrous display at the Demonstration of Feminine Accomplishment. If I weren’t so mortified, I’d be impressed by Star Court’s technology for featuring photographs taken less than twenty-four hours ago.
With a grimace, I scan the heading above the photograph.Selkie Sea Princess or Conniving Drama Queen?I can’t bear to read what it says in the block of text that accompanies it. With a groan, I fold the paper and toss it to the side, then fall back on my bed. “At least I made it into the papers,” I mutter. “That must count for something, right? They didn’t even bother reporting on Briony or Josie.”
“It only casts you in a negative light,” Podaxis says. He climbs onto the bed and clacks his pincers together. “That’s not all. With your name in the papers, your father will soon hear about this.”
At first, the thought fills my heart with hope and the most childish trust that he’ll soon sweep into the city, take me away, and make everything right.
But he can’t.
He can do nothing.
His bargain with my mother means I’m hers now. I’m a subject of the unseelie Sea Court, not the seelie. And if Nimue is to be believed, he has no power great enough to break the curse she placed upon me, even if he had a right to reclaim me.
“Additionally,” Podaxis says, “I feel it is my duty to relay something I overheard.”
I roll toward my friend and prop myself onto my elbow. “What?”
“This morning, Dorian asked Father Viktor to reschedule his meeting with you for last. Before your—ahem—excursionlast night, your date with him was slated as first this morning.”
Podaxis knows about my so-called excursion, but only in the barest details. I didn’t dare tell him that I accidentally spent the night in his room, in his bed, in his arms—
I shake my head and shift my attention to the sheet of paper lying next to my breakfast plate, upon which the time for today’s rendezvous is scheduled. It’s at seven this evening with the Blessing Ceremony occurring at eight. He isn’t giving me a moment to breathe before moving from one thing to the other. Does that mean he intends for our date to be cut short? Perhaps just a farewell and advance warning that he’ll be eliminating me tonight?
“I also heard Father Viktor say he finds you to be a little too rough around the edges to be the wife of a brother of Saint Lazaro. That you aren’t submissive enough and he doesn’t think your fae soul can be saved. You appear to be the least popular contestant when it comes to the opinion of the church. Vanessa, of course, is the church’s favorite, while Greta is the darling of the people.”
I sit upright, burning with indignation. “Father Viktor said myfae soul can’t be saved? How is he supposed to be a modern priest if he’s still spouting female submission and fae salvation?”
He shrugs his claws. “He said he really likes you, at least.”
I freeze as my pulse kicks up. “Dorian said that?”
“No, Father Viktor. He says you’re a sweet, clever girl.”
“I don’t know if anyone has ever called me sweet,” I say, trying to ignore how my heart sinks.
Podaxis sighs. “Maisie, this is only getting worse. Last night was your perfect chance. You should have—”
“I know.”
