“The old gods are dead.”
“They’re gone from this plane, but that doesn’t stop their ability to interfere with fate.”
She’s not wrong, Grandfather said. She’s actually struck the bull’s-eye.
What do you know about it, Grandfather?
I know you’re exactly where you need to be when you need to be there.
If you’re so chummy with the old gods, then tell them they can fight Le Poing Fermé.
It doesn’t work like that, and you know it. Thrones belong to those who’ve proven they deserve them.
Putting my life at risk is what it takes to prove I deserve Inselgrau and the crown? If so, then I should already be queen ten times over.
To that my grandfather offered no reply. He remained silent, even when I poked him with my thoughts. As much as I liked believing I was my own person, making my own decisions, marking my own path through life, I knew better. Bigger forces were at play and always had been. Unless I wanted to turn my back on everything and take Gideon and go live in a small village in Zhuyueguo like Justina had suggested, I’d have to accept that, to some extent, I was a playing piece on the gods’ game board. My ego rejected that idea, but for the benefit of Inselgrau and her people, I had to accept it.
I released a long, capitulating breath. “A queen is never really her own person, after all, is she?”
“No.” Brigette shook her head. “Not if she’s a good queen.”
And I so desperately wished to be a good queen. “So what do I do next, oh wise Magician?”
“You get ready for the party of the season. Tomorrow, we go shopping.”
My face fell. “I can hardly wait.”
***
That night, despite opening the balcony doors to let in a breeze, I was too hot and too filled with anxiety to sleep. Tossing and turning, I kicked off my covers and considered stirring up a storm to cool the thick, sticky air. A cry of distant, raucous laughter and drunken singing disturbed the quiet. I rolled out of bed, grateful for a distraction. Peering over the balcony, I spotted a group of masked figures making their way down the street toward the waterfront. Gas streetlights illuminated the group, the light flickering on gems and glitter in their masks and costumes. They laughed and sang and passed bottles back and forth.
I watched until they disappeared around the corner of the hotel. As I turned to go inside, something flashed in the corner of my vision, a bright and shining flicker of light. Leaning over my balcony rail, I scanned the streets and spotted a tall figure in a dark cloak staring up at me. He wore a plain white half-face mask that reflected the streetlights, but his hood hid the rest of his features. With a graceful leap, he disappeared into the shadows.
I drew a streak of lightning across the sky, and its brilliant light glimmered over the street, but the mysterious figure had hidden himself well. Breath held, heart drumming, I waited to see if he’d reappear, but he must have snuck away in the darkness.
Was it only coincidence, a man on the street, curious about a lone woman on her balcony late at night, or had he been watching me because he knew who I was?
For the rest of the night I slept restlessly, listening for the sounds of an intruder who never came.
Chapter 15
After breakfast the next morning, I laced up my boots while Brigette changed from her nightgown and robe into something more suitable for a day of shopping.
“We’ve never really established what your duties are, Niffin.”
He sat at the breakfast table beside Malita, sipping coffee as he read the local morning paper. She’d found a bit of scrap parchment and a pencil stub and was sketching Niffin’s profile in the early sunlight.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “I will let you know if I am willing to do it.”
“How do you feel about research?”
He looked up from the paper, arching a scarlet eyebrow.
“A city this size must have a library,” I said.
“Several, I would guess. What do you want me to study?”
“I want to know anything you can find out about the Basilica di Magia, the Council of Magic, the Marenato family, and their Magician in particular. Perhaps the library has old newspapers you can look through.”
He drew his lips into a crooked scowl. “I might have better luck listening to gossip in the pubs and bars.”
“You might be right. We don’t have much time, but if I’m going to this masquerade tonight, I want to go as informed as possible. See what you can find out, will you?”
“That is perhaps more the duty you would assign to your master spy rather than your diplomat.”
“Gideon’s not here, so I suppose you’ll have to do. You’re also the only one besides Brigette who speaks the language.”
“As long as you do not expect me to dye my hair again.” The morning sun made his scarlet hair gleam. I couldn’t blame him for being proud of it.
“Maybe you could just tuck it under you hat this time.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “And wear the tinted spectacles?”
He huffed, but his manner was acquiescent. “I make no promises, Evie. But I will do you as you ask.”
Once she had finished dressing, Brigette took me on another journey through the canals to Isolas’s garment district in search of a gown worthy of a Marenato affair. Though on such short notice, my hopes weren’t high. According to Brigette, most Isolas men and women of means would’ve commissioned their Stagoni di Magia attire months before.
“I’m not much of a fashion follower,” I warned her.
“I’ve seen how you dress, Evie. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
