Keep telling yourself that,a voice in my head muttered sarcastically. I ignored it.
“Ugh. First the harpies, and now you,” Leap said, his voice filled with disgust. “Can you put your tunic back on, Einar, before we all end up swimming in drool?”
“Wait a minute. Harpies?” Mavlyn asked. “You were flirting with harpies?”
Einar shrugged as he pulled his tunic back over his head. “What can I say? I’m popular with females of all races, it seems.”
“I think you’d better tell us the rest of this story, before your dragon friend’s head explodes from his swelling ego,” Mrs. Aeolan said primly. There was not even the slightest hint of a blush in her pale cheeks—her interest in Einar’s tattoos had been purely professional, it seemed.
“So…you’re not going to report Einar to the authorities?” I asked cautiously.
“Radiants, no,” Mrs. Aeolan huffed. “That would bring the wrong kind of attention our way. But it seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite the debacle, teaming up with a dragon of all creatures and going on the run. Mavlyn and I won’t be able to help you if you don’t tell us what happened.”
“All right. But I’m going to need something a little stronger than tea.”
Mrs. Aeolan went to a small side cabinet and fetched a bottle of violet liquor. She poured me three fingers from a crystal glass, and one for Einar as well. “None for you,” she said sternly to Leap, holding the bottle out of his reach. “Just because you’re a delinquent doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to behave as one while you’re under my roof.”
“Squalls,” Leap muttered, kicking at the carpet with his boot.
“And there will be no swearing, either,” she added.
He scowled, but kept his mouth shut this time.
I took a fortifying sip of the liquor, which burned its way down my throat and pooled in my stomach. The warmth eased some of the tension in my limbs, allowing me to steady myself and get my thoughts in order. Over the next hour, I told Mrs. Aeolan and Mavlyn everything, with Einar and Leap chiming in at pertinent moments to fill in their portions of the adventure.
“Fascinating,” Mrs. Aeolan said. Her silver-blue eyes were on Leap now. “So you’ve managed to get these two into even more trouble, under the guise of helping them.”
“There is no guise,” Leap said indignantly, sitting up straight from his perch on the couch. “I’m helping them out of the goodness of my heart! Well, and because they saved Aria,” he added. “But anyway, I definitely wasn’t counting on Storm roping me into a heist. I’m being forced to do this against my will. I’m not even going to see any profit from it!”
Mrs. Aeolan shook her head. “Normally I wouldn’t condone thievery, but Madame Gale is a despicable person, and the fact that she’s been using Onche’s Fan to manipulate things to her advantage really cannot be borne. And aside from that, it is imperative that you see the Oracle, Adara.” She turned to look at me, her expression grave. “We Greater Fae have long been aware that King Aolis has been searching for a child of ice and fire, but we’ve never known why. It is important that you discover the truth about your fate, and whatever role you must play in the future of our kingdom.” She sighed, smoothing the skirts in her lap. “If we had time, I would simply make an appointment to see Quye, but she is booked out months in advance.”
Leap huffed. “That’s cause she only sees one person a week,” he said. “They say its cause they don’t want her to overwork her inner eye, but she’s really just lazy.”
“Hush your mouth, child,” Mrs. Aeolan said. “It’s disrespectful to speak of the Oracle in such a familiar manner, and it gains us nothing, in any case. I have heard that the Oracle is a capricious sort, and if you can gain access to her during the festival, she might grant you an audience. It is certainly worth a try.”
“Will the Oracle be at the ball the temple is hosting?” I asked.
“She will make an appearance to make her predictions for the year,” Mrs. Aeolan confirmed. “Invitations are coveted, and very limited, so I suppose it is lucky your hoodlum friend here has a few in his possession. I am issued a single invitation every year as a courtesy to my family, which I can give to Mavlyn if she wishes to attend.”
“Of course I want to come,” Mavlyn exclaimed. “The Twelve Winds festival is famous! And I want to be there as backup in case you need my help,” she added to me. “It’s not going to be an easy feat to steal the fanandcoerce an audience with the Oracle.”
“Indeed it won’t be.” Mrs. Aeolan said. She rose from her chair and went to a side table, where she fetched a leather-bound book, quill, and ink. Perching a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose, she resumed her seat and crossed her legs, book open and quill ready to go. “Now let’s get to work. We have forty-eight hours to come up with a plan and get you four costumes, and I won’t have you showing up to the festival looking anything less than your absolute best.”
24
Einar
“Hold still,” Mrs. Aeolan ordered. “If you keep fidgeting, I’m going to stick you with one of these pins.”
“You’ve already done that twice,” I groused as I stood atop a crate barely sturdy enough to hold my weight. I was wearing an outrageous pair of golden pantaloons and a matching red and gold vest over a puffy-sleeved silk shirt. Apparently this outfit had been standard air court fashion nearly a millennium ago—just old enough to be considered a historical costume now—and had remained remarkably well-preserved in Mrs. Aeolan’s attic ever since the family had retired it from daily wear.
“My point exactly.” Mrs. Aeolan removed a pin from the clutch she held pressed between her lips—how she managed to speak while holding them there, I would never know—and slid it through the hem by my left ankle. “The masquerade ball is tomorrow night, and you don’t want to show up looking like a porcupine attacked you. Stop moving, and let me finish here so I can hem these.”
I gritted my teeth as she plucked another pin from her mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Adara and Mavlyn at a nearby worktable they’d set up in an attic, working diligently at sewing and decorating the masks we would wear. Leap was nowhere to be found—he was out and about, gathering supplies and information for our venture tomorrow night.
“I am not used to being in such proximity to an air fae,” I said tersely. “At least, not one who wasn’t trying to maim my wings or ground me in some other way so I could be killed.”
“And I’ve never been so close to a dragon who wasn’t trying to burn me into a crisp,” Mrs. Aeolan said matter-of-factly. “I fought in the dragon-fae wars, same as every able-bodied fae back in those days. I’ve shed dragon blood, and watched dragons tear my fellow air fae apart.”
