Lux was too taken aback by the strange request not to follow through. She glanced around the room. At first, she saw none, but then a woman walked by in an emerald gown with diamond drops in her ears, and in her hair was not only a yellow feather same as hers, but a blue and an orange as well.
“They aren’t all the same,” said Lux.
“No. That’s because they’re each for something different. Canary feathers work best to shield against manipulations. Bluebird feathers are good for covering your tracks. An oriole’s will keep you grounded so your emotions don’t cloud your judgement.”
Lux’s head spun. “I’m really free? From the nightmare?”
“He put it on you right away, did he? Yes, it’s gone. And if he tries to place it again, it’ll sting. Birds will warn you of trouble about—if you pay attention.”
Lux hadn’t allowed herself to feel relief until now. Her shoulders rounded. “Blessed saints.”
Mistress Farrentail raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me they’ve got you thinking of becoming one of them.”
“They’ve offered,” said Lux, scanning for eavesdroppers.
Outside of Shaw, she’d never had an ally in anything; she’d always worked alone. Even partnering with Riselda had been built on using one another without an ounce of trust shared. Lux waited for the feel of resistance to come over her. Instead, an immense weight shed from her shoulders.
“I’d planned to set the place ablaze,” she admitted. “Do you have a plan that’s better?”
“We do. And it involves younotbringing that body underneath us back from the dead.”
Lux’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
The vendor’s nostrils only flared. Her voice changed, settling back into its initial sweetness. “I told you I’d care for the darling.”
Corvin’s fingertips ran the length of Lux’s arm causing her to shiver. She leapt to dig for his corruption, but it was too quick of a touch. He grinned at the vendor and then at Lux. “She’s quite interesting, isn’t she? And like the loveliest doll in that gown.” Lux’s mouth fell wide in outrage at the same moment her head alarmed with the dream she’d suffered earlier that day.
Corvin drank from his goblet, and his lips came away stained red. When the music softened, his gaze flicked around the room. “Dinner is about to be served. Lux, would you do me the honor of claiming the seat beside me?”
Collectors and investors moved toward the dark tables, their lacquered surfaces dimly lit. The air she breathed felt heavy. But it was the shadows that bothered her most. They were both too many and too deep. She felt at any moment, something would burst from them and drag her away.
“Of course. Though, I need to excuse myself to the lavatory first.”
Mistress Farrentail’s small smile and warning eyes was the last Lux saw of her before the vendor melded into the crowd.
She wished the woman wouldn’t have gone as Corvin’s head lowered near hers, and he said, “Don’t tell me you plan to run away.”
Lux drew a sharp breath. “No, why would you say that?”
He held out his arm. “Maybe I misread that determined set to your mouth. Come. Sit. Surely, the lavatory can wait until the honoring of all these important minds is through?”
Lux thought about claiming some emergency—a woman’s monthly woes to be precise. But seeing Corvin’s own determined expression, she felt nearly positive he would have followed her out.
He suspected her.
From the moment he’d spoken of Silas’s findings, she knew he did. How much of what she’d done at the cliffs could she blame on a nightmare of his own creation?
Lux had no choice but to take his proffered arm. The tables were arranged into one half of a severed square, open to the floor and the dais of musicians, and her stomach dropped at where he led her.
An attendant drew back a chair at the front table’s center. “You may sit,” he said, dully.
By the time Lux sat, nearly the entire room had as well. Her breaths quickened and she dropped her eyes. But the stares—they were relentless. She could feel their pricks plain. What had they been told?
Get a hold of yourself,she scolded.You have a purpose, and you’re not alone, no matter what anyone else says.
When she lifted her eyes again, her gaze met Shaw’s. He’d taken a seat farther from her than she’d like, but still her body quieted.Distract them,she yearned to mouth. Only, too many paid her attention. She glanced to the mustached man seated beside him.
His stare, acutely familiar, speared her in return, frostlike and hard. A man whom she’d been told was dead. The “brilliant stone mason” possessed irises of the same shade as Corvin’s. As Kent’s. Even Silas and Artemis.
