The servant wrapped a sheet around Emma, taking a good look at her as she did.
“The House of Foxes? But she’s got no collar. I thought she might be one of the Upper Houses—she’s so tall, you could take her for a noble. Will-o’-the-wisp blood or the like. Not that there’s anythink wrong with the Lower Houses, mind. My own cousin’s girl went into the House of Ravens, seeing as her father got into a spot of debt, and it’s only stiff-rumped folk that’re funny about it, these days.”
She held up a hank of Emma’s hair with an expert squint. “Nice wave you have. I can do it proper for you, if you like. The Dawn Rose style, maybe? It’s the most popular with the nobles. But—it’s maybe not fitting for you. We barely see the Lower Houses at Court, so I don’t know. Don’t want them officials thinking you’re reaching above your station.”
Before Emma could wonder how low, exactly, her station was that a mere hairstyle could overreach it, the maidservant bent her over the basin and began rinsing the dust from her hair. Through the sodden strands, Emma heard her peppering the Sister with questions. “Is it true you work in the Library? Do you really get to see mortals? Up close, in the daytime? Did you ever… touch one?”
“I do. That one you’re washingwasa mortal, not too long ago.”
“No, truly? Born mortal and everything? Not a curse or the like? I heard the City made the lordling of one Upper House a mortal for a week and a day, and he came back pale and thin as a spider’s thread. You lived as one for…”
“Nineteen years,” said Emma, into the basin, fighting to keep her face expressionless even as her heart sped. Someone had been turned mortal. As a punishment, no less. So there was a way to reverse what had happened to her. To go home.
“Well, you must be glad as anythink to be here now. Mortal for nineteen years, imagine…” She ran a scented paste over Emma’s hair, and the strands fell to Emma’s neck in waves, shiny and dry.
Emma did not answer. She was staring at the looking glass. If nothing else convinced her she was no longer mortal, her reflection would have. Her face had changed, honed into cold perfection. It was an inhuman beauty. Dark hair tumbled from her brow like the sea under moonlight. Her lips were red as dark fruit; her lashes and brows, crow’s-wing black. Her eyes were pools of liquid night. Tiny glints lit their depths, like cold stars winking in the deep.
“No fussing with the hair, now.” The maid interrupted her thoughts. “I hope it goes well for you, miss, with the Oath. It’ll all be over quick, either way.”
With that reassuring utterance, she tripped from the room. The door clicked shut behind her. And Emma sat down to marinate in her own uncomfortable thoughts. She barely registered the door opening again and the Librarian shuffling in. Not even as two foxes padded past him.
Then the foxes disappeared in a swirl of copper fur. And that absolutely did hold Emma’s attention. She fought the impulse to rub her eyes like a yokel, staring at the two upright figures where the foxes had been. At first glance, Emma would have called them girls. Then she wasn’t sure.Girlwas such a human word. The sheen to their skin was too perfect; the harmony of their fine bones and bitten-red lips too uncanny. They wore broad silver chokers, eachengraved with a curved claw. She recognized in them the same strange beauty that had stolen her breath in her own reflection.
One of the pair stepped forward. She was an unnervingly pretty girl—girl?Emma wondered again—with bouncy auburn hair around a narrow face. Her little nose was dusted with freckles.
“I’m Nancy. I hear you’ve a story and a half.”
Emma couldn’t help smiling back.
“We’ve not had a new fox maiden for decades. We’re a tight little clan, the House of Foxes. Just eight of us, if you’ll believe, but we make it work. You’ll fit right in. Saskia,” Nancy called back. “Come meet the new girl.” And, in an undertone Emma suspected was not meant for her: “Be nice.”
The other fox maiden straightened from helping the Librarian into a seat and stalked over. Her trousers bristled with buckles and ended in well-worn combat boots. She leaned back on one hip, arms crossed. The look she gave Emma was ambivalent in the extreme.
“Hi,” she said eventually.
Saskia’s hair was an explosion of spikes, standing straight out in jet-black glory. She’d shaved the sides, leaving a layer of soft stubble. Within a ring of eyeliner, her eyes were fiercely, deeply blue. Emma took in the high cheekbones and diamond jawline, the layers of leather and studs.
She looked Emma over. “You were trapped as a fox? Brutal.”
“That didn’t happen to you?”
Nancy squeezed her arm. “Night above, no.”
Emma’s breath came faster. “So what happens next?”
Saskia winced and pulled at her silver choker. It was cutting into her skin. The closer Emma looked, the less it looked like a necklace. There was no clasp, no way to unfasten it. It was more like a collar.
The Sister sighed. “Where to begin? Easier to start with the basics, perhaps. The Night City is a power, girl. Intelligent, ingrained in the earth around us. It has always existed in this stretch of land, if the records do not lie. Our hidden world grew around it. Ancient mortals worshipped it. Later ones built their town and their University on top of it. Mortals have been calling on the power of the City for centuries, most without even knowing. The inspirations and discoveries that make the University famous? All drawn from the City’s power—for a price. And the mortals do pay, little though they know it. You follow, girl? Over centuries, more mortals came, and the City’s power grew. It surrounded itself with its Court, laid down its laws. As citizens, we live under its protection. In return, we must pledge our loyalty. The Oath is the rite that binds you to the City, so its power can live in you.”
“Will it hurt? Is it—dangerous?”
The Librarian’s hand was on her arm, gentle as a landing dove. “We will be with you, child.”
The little servant was at the door. “Mistress? The tailors’ve sent word. Her things’re ready. Should we have the Boars come to guard her?”
“No, please. I can do all that is necessary.” The Sister drew out the silver chain Emma had seen earlier. “Your wrist, Emma?” She lowered her voice. “You trust I will not harm you, girl?”
The silver chain snaked around Emma’s wrists like a living thing, sealing itself in a shining circle. The Sister held the other end and tugged her forward.
