Fola smiled back at her. “Something like that.” Evie’s face stilled; she looked like a mouse caught in a trap. “Why were you up here, anyway? There’s a perfectly nice guest bathroom downstairs,” Fola said.
“I prefer the one on this floor. I needed to fix my hair and this one has a larger mirror,” Evie replied.
“Could have gone back to the staff quarters, you know… the place you were dismissed to hours ago… where youactuallylive,” Fola said, pausing for a beat to look between Evie and the space around them. “In fact… if memory serves me right, you have a perfectly sizable mirror in your bedroom.”
The corners of Evie’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Evie said.
“That you have a mirror?” Fola asked, even though she knew it wasn’t what Evie was referencing.
One of Evie’s eyebrows arched curiously. “No, I didn’t think you’d remember my room,” she said, saying very little but, with that, saying a whole lot.
Fola folded her arms. “Well, I do,” she replied sharply, only somewhat acknowledging what had trespassed between them one fateful day when Fola was thirteen. They’d never actually spoken about it before; Evie had left for Italy shortly after, and so there had been no need to. Besides, as her father always reminded her, emotions were the foil in every genius. The more you pushed away these unnecessary feelings, the sharper, the more focused, the more brilliant you could be.
“Anyway,” Fola continued, brushing off the memory of brief adolescent passions. “I actually came to get you because Henry was calling everyone to the dining room for dinner. Your mom made a casserole. I guess they wanted to make sure everyone had eaten before the arrest. Give my father’s murderer one final meal. How nice of them.”
“Oh, right…,” Evie said, and Fola could see the cogs turning behind her eyes.She’s going to try to get out of this.“I’m actually not all that hungry. I’ll probably just have leftovers.” Fola noticed Evie’s gaze shift down nervously, and her right hand rest on her back pocket where something small and square appeared to be poking out.
“Are you sure?” Fola asked, not buying it for a second.
“Yeah, I’m feeling kind of dizzy, actually. I can feel a headache coming on. I might just stay up here for a while.”
“It wouldn’t be good to stay here alone when you’re unwell. Come, follow me. Henry will help.” Fola’s voice was firm.
“Honestly, I’m fine here—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, this is our house and you’re a guest here. It would be impolite of me to abandon you,” Fola said, forcing a smile.
Evie did not look so convinced, but nodded anyway. “Okay,” she said, and then followed with, “I happen to have always liked your impolite nature,” in a low mutter.
Fola pretended not to hear that last part, mostly because she did not have the time to decipher its meaning. Fola’s focus was razor-sharp, settled on her main goal of getting Evie into the foyer for the next stage in their plan. The plan that involved conveniently revealing all they had discovered about Evie to a roomful of eyewitnesses and officers. Fola knew it was ruthless of her, but she had no loyalties to anyone here but her family.
Fola gestured for the ballerina to go ahead of her down the east wing staircase that led to the foyer.
When they got to the foyer, Fola guided Evie toward the drawing room instead, where her other siblings were waiting. As they entered, she saw Romeo standing next to Perdita and Thorin, and Octavius on the floor by the fireplace, seemingly playing himself once again in a game of checkers. Her gaze swept over the small handful of final suspects dotted around the periphery. Everyone in here seemed to be reaching their breaking points. No one even seemed to notice that one of the prodigies, the world-famous fifteen-year-old puzzle master Franco Demorphus, appeared to be curled up on the sofa in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. The rest looked equal parts exhausted and irritated. Fola wouldn’t be surprised if a revolt started any moment now.
“Where’s Bilal?” Fola asked the room, noting his absence.
“He’s having a… crisis. Henry’s dealing with it now,” a voice answered from behind her. She turned and found Bilal’s little literature-obsessed boyfriend standing there.
“Is he okay?” Fola asked.
Anwar nodded. “Yeah… I think so.” She could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but decided to investigate that later. She had bigger fish to fry right now.
Fola turned around to face Evie, who was peering around the room with an odd look in her eye.
“I thought we were going to dinner?” she asked.
“In a moment. How’s that headache of yours?” Fola asked.
Evie shrugged. “I’ll live,” she said.
“Will you?” Fola asked, and Evie looked at her with a frown.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I just… I imagine it must be difficult, carrying the burden of so many secrets,” Fola started, raising her voice a little so that she could be heard by all. “I mean, getting removed from your ballet company, leaving Italy, dealing with the mysterious death of your former colleague and principal ballerina Adelina Toscano… I’d have a terrible headache too.” Fola felt a thrill wash through her at the brief flash of surprise in Evie’s eyes.
Got you.
