She snatched a mint chocolate cake from the tower and hummed with delight as she waltzed around the kitchen, buttery skirts fluttering.
“I need some inspiration,” Elara answered. “And I don’t want these to go to waste. Do you think Blai can magie me a disguise?”
“Why would you need that? Your secret’s out.”
“I’m supposed to be secluded, remember?”
Chantal snorted. “You think the other Favored have been abiding by that rule?”
“They haven’t?”
“Of course not.” Chantal took a basket and headed down the hallway.
Elara snatched the other parcel and bolted after her, wrestling with her skirts as she ran—directly into something warm and hard. Her feet tangled beneath her, and she yelped, bracing to hit the floor.
Arms banded around her waist, tugging her close before gravity could even take effect.
She was out of breath.
Nik was frozen, eyes widened with boyish shock. Everything about him was boyish this morning, from the dark curls that refused to be tamed by pomade to the way his lips kept bobbing for words. The same lips she’d wanted to kiss last night.
“Good afternoon,” she said quietly.
“Afternoon. Where are you two headed?”
“I…” Elara had no idea what to say to that. He wouldn’t like the truth, but she didn’t want to lie to him.
“We’re getting some air,” Chantal said, popping her head back into the door. “Want to—Oh!”
They both snapped out of the spell that had wrapped itself around them. Nik released her and took three giant steps toward the kitchen. Elara mirrored him, rushing right out the front door.
Despite the clout that might follow her name, Elara still chose to take her hidden entrance into the Restes. The last thing she needed was to give the Counseil more ammunition when they inevitably came for her. If they learned she’d been here today, they’d use it against her. Or worse, the people she loved.
Chantal fared the treacherous route better than Blai. She leapt the stream and balanced by her toes on the slender ledge, twirling into the narrow alley between the tenements with a flourish of skirts.
“So,” she said, “are we going to talk about it? You and Nik?”
“Nope.” Elara hated how easy it was to flush. She never felt this way with Fernand. “There is absolutely nothing to talk about.”
“Of course.” The grin on her face said she didn’t believe a word of it. Her expression faded as she stopped before the husk of a building, the bricks cracked and the roof collapsed. From a few windows, faces peeked out.
“They live here?”
Elara nodded. “It’s that or in the open where the guards will harass them.”
“What happened to this place?”
“These are some of the oldest buildings in the Restes. The Directeur landlords don’t keep up with maintenance, saying it’s the tenants who need to pay for the upkeep.” She shook her head. “But they don’t have enough money to feed their families, let alone gut an entire building.”
Chantal’s mouth thinned into a grim line. “That’s barbaric.”
“Just as barbaric as forcing a ballerina to break.”
Elara laid her basket upon the stoop and turned away, soul lifting as she heard the creak of a door and the delighted hums of bellies being filled.
As they neared The Market, Elara’s pace slowed to the sound of something foreign.
There was… music. It trilled from bars and joined raucous laughter filling the air. Tables crowded the open spaces, and people sat around them, chattering and toasting. Children raced between stands, ribbons whipping in the air above their heads.
