PULLING HIS STRINGS
The Republic of Virdei takes honor and tradition seriously. Especially when we’re being observed by outsiders who hate us and want nothing more than to take our land and resources.
Which is why the General of the decurio insisted we use ceremonial robes for Eteria, to be tailor-made for Kaidren Vale by the official seamstress of Widow’s Hall.
I’ve never met the woman, but Sef is skilled at making friends.
The hall leading to her work chambers is wide, quiet, and empty. Clearly, she doesn’t get many visitors. Sef and I peer around the open door into her room.
It’s huge, with jagged stone walls and clothes everywhere. Some are hanging on wooden racks, some are folded, and some are draped over wooden figurines molded into the shape of human bodies.
Kaidren’s robes for Eteria are proudly displayed in the middle of the room, laid out over a stone table. They’re impossible to miss. Black with shimmering gold-threaded trim, an emerald green lining, and a sash of the same color around the middle.
The seamstress flits about the room, not watching the door. She’s a short and solidly built woman. Her hair is in locs that fall to her hips. The hair at the base of her skull isdark brown, and the ends are dyed silver and studded with dark blue beads.
She wears a pin cushion dotted with needles attached to a thick leather bracelet, and at least two pins stuck in her hair.
Sef enters the room with a cheery smile. “Hey, Novi.”
The seamstress looks up in surprise that swiftly melts into happiness. “Sef!” She moves in for a hug, taking care to hold the arm with the pin cushion bracelet out and away. “What are you doing here? You haven’t come to see me in weeks.”
“I know, I know,” Sef says sheepishly. “You know my mistress. She keeps me busy.” She and Novi fall easily into conversation. Sef is a natural at this. Effortlessly charming, casual, and cheery.
As she and Novi talk, Sef slowly shuffles to the side. Novi turns with her, not breaking their conversation or even noticing the subtle shift. In a few moments, she’s facing away from Kaidren’s robe, and her back is to the door.
My eyes narrow on the robes. I rise on my tiptoes and slink across the room. Sef raises her voice, just barely, to mask any noises I hope I’m not making as I grab one of the robe’s sleeves. My fingers work quickly, pinning a rectangular scrap of fabric to the inside lining. I pin it on three sides, leaving one open. The end result is a makeshift interior pocket. Into it, I slide a hollow tube made of tshira.
I lift the sleeve, ensuring the tube doesn’t fall out. It stays.
Perfect.
I’m back out the door before Novi the seamstress knows I’m there.
Every single seat in the arena is filled and every single person is screaming at the top of their lungs. I feel the reverberations oftheir cheers and the tangible excitement of it all as I enter the spectator stands.
My eyes immediately find Luc. He’s hard to miss. His seat is in the front row and it’s built into a throne, complete with plush cushions and armrests. Most of the benches are already filled, but there’s a gap right next to him. He saved me a spot. He said he would, but it’s not until he catches my eye and waves that I believe him.
I can’t help smiling. I push my way through the stands toward him. A foot slams into the bench, right where I was planning to sit.
I trace the shoe up to its owner. Yelina. She’s dressed in yellow and black furs and wears a short black wig. She gives a smile, sickly sweet enough to make me ill. “Remira, dear, I am so sorry, but there isn’t space for you.”
My eyes narrow. I glance at Luc, but the cheerful expression he gave before has fled, and he’s no longer making eye contact.
I bite the inside of my cheek to fight a scowl. “Luc saved this seat for me.”
“Yes, he told me. But unfortunately, Mrs. Night needs this spot. Her husband is already seated. You wouldn’t want to separate a husband and wife, would you, dear?”
Lorwen Night despises the mountain air. I’ve been eavesdropping on her since she first arrived, and I’ve heard every rant about her hatred of Virdei, listened to her complain about how she hasn’t felt warm in weeks, and heard her whine endlessly that she didn’t even want to come to Eteria. “I was under the impression Mrs. Night wouldn’t be attending.”
“She wasn’t, but there’s been a change in plans. I think it was her husband who changed her mind.”
I’m warmed with a lie, confirmed by Yelina’s tiny smirk.
Taelon didn’t persuade his wife to attend—Yelina did. Shewants me to know it without her having to say it aloud in front of witnesses.
Steel and ice. I’m made of steel and ice.
I bare my teeth into a smile. “Of course. If Mrs. Night needs a seat, I’m happy to give her mine.” I don’t even bother glancing at Luc again. There’s no point. I already know he’s silently watching his feet, like always.
