“He should have told me you were coming. This is a terrible time to be training new help, what with all the commotion in the lower circles, and the new Auction date, and the engagement, and Garnet’s promotion . . .” Cora trails off and picks up a glass of water from the table beside her and takes a sip.
“Your primary function over the next few weeks will be preparing Coral for the Auction and making sure she stays out of the Duchess’s way. It will be her first time attending and she is quite eager about it. Her ladyship does not have the time to waste on frivolous questions, so you must keep Coral occupied. As a lady-in-waiting, you should be able to manage this without issue.”
She says this with such a conspiratorial smile, I respond in kind.
“Where were you trained?” she asks.
“I—beg your pardon?” I thought I’d already answered that.
“Who trained you?” Cora says, exaggerating the words.
“Lucien,” I say, without thinking.
She raises an eyebrow. “Really. I didn’t think he was instructing anymore.”
“I was his last student,” I say, hoping against all hope that that makes sense.
Cora takes another sip of water and puts the glass down. “Garnet is more competent than he seems, it would appear.”
“He’s certainly grown up a bit.” As soon as the words are out, I clamp my mouth shut. What a foolish thing to say. Imogen the lady-in-waiting should not be talking about Garnet so casually.
Cora stares at me for a long moment before answering. “Yes,” she says. “He has.”
“I—I only meant he had quite the reputation, ma’am,” I say.
“I know what you meant. What circle are you from?”
“The Farm, ma’am.”
She taps her finger against the arm of the chair. “Very well. That will be all for tonight. You are dismissed.”
I’m barely able to contain my relief as I hurry to the door.
“Oh, Violet?” Cora’s voice stops me and I turn.
“Yes, ma’am?” It’s only when I see a cruel smile twisting on her lips that I realize what I’ve done. My hand claps over my mouth as if that will help, as if I can change my own body’s reactions.
“I knew it was you,” she says, standing in one fluid movement, “when you talked about Garnet. Your voice changed. Like you knew him. Because you did, didn’t you?”
I can’t move. Where would I go? Cora runs this house. She knows every inch of it. There is nowhere to hide and massive walls surround me on every side. Sure, I could call on Earth or Air, but that would give everything away and I’d still be stranded in the Jewel. I won’t do that to all the Society members who are counting on the Paladin, who are waiting for Auction Day, for their chance at freedom.
I think of Hazel. I didn’t even get to see my sister one last time. This whole plan has collapsed before it had a chance to begin.
Cora saunters over to me with all the confidence of someone who knows she has her prey trapped. When she is close enough, she grabs my face in her hand, much like the Duchess did the night she killed Annabelle.
“How did you do it?” she asks, turning my cheek to the side. “Your eyes, your hair, your face . . . was it the Auguries?”
I nod.
“It’s very well done,” she murmurs. “How did you get back here? Or have you been hiding in the Jewel this whole time?” My eyes widen and she laughs. “You think I don’t know the Duchess is keeping your sister locked up in your place?”
“Please.” The word is garbled through her grip.
“Please what? You came back here to save her, I assume.”
I don’t respond. Her fingers dig into my skin.
“I can help. I can help you save your sister.”
That is not what I was expecting. Cora laughs at my expression. “For a price, of course.”
“I’ll do anything.” The words sound fuzzy.
“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.” She releases her hold a fraction.
“I’ll do anything,” I mumble.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
She lets me go and moves to sit on the couch. “Come here,” she says, patting the spot beside her. I sit in a daze.
“I will not reveal your presence in this palace. I may even be able to help you get to your sister. But you must do one thing for me first.”
I wait. She knows I have no other response to that than yes.
Cora’s smile is terrifying. “I want you to kill the Duchess.”
“What?” I gasp. “But . . . but . . . why?”
Her face goes very still. “Do you really need to ask? She murdered my daughter.”
It takes me a second to wrap my head around this. “Annabelle? I never saw you treat her like anything but a servant.”
“Just because I couldn’t act like her mother doesn’t mean I didn’t love her,” Cora snaps. She turns away, her gaze falling on a small portrait in an oval frame on the mantelpiece. “I remember the day the Duchess came to me and told me I had been authorized to have a child. I was so happy.”
The word authorized makes my skin crawl.
“And when she came out she was so tiny and so . . . silent. At first I was terrified she was a stillbirth, but Dr. Blythe assured me she was perfectly healthy. She just . . . she would never speak a word.” Cora brushes at something on her cheek. “I always wondered what her voice might sound like.” She stands and walks to the mantel, picking up the picture. “Another House might have had her drowned for being defective. The Duchess cared for me, though. She let me keep her, let me train her. As long as she proved useful.”
“She was more than that,” I murmur.
Cora’s head whips up. “You don’t think I know that? I brought something good into this circle. I brought something pure and innocent and it was destroyed. I was powerless to do anything to stop it. She promised me. She promised. And then you came along and fell in love with that stupid companion and got her killed.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words feel hollow, meaningless. Feeling sorry won’t bring Annabelle back. “I loved her too, you know.”
“I know.” Cora puts the picture back on the mantel. “That’s why you will do this for me. For the love you bore her and the debt you owe me.”
“Why do you need me to do it? Why not some other servant in this palace?”
“Because another servant would turn me in for money or higher status. You don’t have that power. I could have you arrested right now. The Duchess could have your head cut off, or simply tie you up in the medical room with your sister. Either way, you’re dead.”
She makes a good point. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
Her expression is pained. “I can’t. I have been with the Duchess since she was ten years old. No matter how much I might want to, I . . . I cannot kill her.”
I might hate the Duchess, I may want revenge for Annabelle, but cold-blooded murder is not something I can see myself doing either. But I see only one option here—to agree to Cora’s plan. And if I can wait until Auction Day . . . I might not have to kill the Duchess at all.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
“Of course you will.”
“And the Auction will be the perfect time,” I say.
She frowns. “The Auction is a month away.”
“Think about it. She’ll be distracted then. Lots of commotion, dress shopping, dinners being planned . . .” I’m a little concerned at how convincing I sound, even to myself. “You’ve been waiting for months already, what’s one more?”
Cora considers me for a moment. “I always thought you were a bit on the dim side,” she says. “I’m glad I was mistaken.”
“Thanks,” I say, bristling.
“Of course,” she says, taking a step toward me, “if you double-cross me in any way, or fail to complete this assignment, you will not live past the Auction. I may be unable to kill my mistress myself, but I have no qualms whatsoever about k
illing you.”
“Understood,” I say.
“Get some sleep,” Cora says. “You’ll need it. There’s a bell by your bed that Coral will ring when she’s ready. One rings in the kitchen too. You must always be up and ready before she is. She takes her breakfast in bed and then you’ll need to pick out something for her to wear. Make sure she looks classy.”
“I remember some things,” I say. “From Annabelle. She always knew what to dress me in.”
A muscle in Cora’s jaw twitches. “Yes. She was very good at wardrobe.” She sits back in the rocking chair, but her posture is tense, her back ramrod straight. “You’re dismissed for tonight. Try not to speak in front of her ladyship; your voice is altogether too familiar.”
“I will.” I stop at the door. “Cora?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any particular . . . way that you’d like me to kill her?”
Her eyes are black stones, dark and cold. “I want you to cut. Her. Throat.”
I slip out the door, my mind racing.
“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO DO WHAT?”
“Kill the Duchess,” I whisper. “More specifically, cut her throat.”
Raven makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a cough. It’s muffled through the arcana.
“Don’t worry, I told her I’d do it at the Auction, which, if all goes according to plan, should negate any murder pact I’ve made.”
It’s after midnight. I know I should be sleeping, but I stayed up, hoping Raven would contact me. Sil has an arcana similar to Lucien’s—meaning it can contact all other arcanas. Mine is only a receiver. Garnet’s can only contact Lucien’s and mine.
“So the servant is just as ruthless as the master,” Sil says. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“What’s she like?” Raven asks. I know she means Coral.
“She’s strange. Like an overgrown child. She’s demanding and babyish. I don’t think Garnet likes her much.”
“Oh,” is Raven’s only response, but I can hear the tiniest bit of relief in her voice.
“What about you girls? Are you all packed and ready for the final trip around the Marsh?” This day feels like it has lasted a week.
“We’re more than ready.” I can hear the smile in Sienna’s voice.
“Sil is coming with us, to Westgate and the other facilities,” Raven says.
“What?” I sit up.
“I’m not going to wait here with no idea what’s going on,” Sil says. “The Whistler can take care of things in this part of the Farm. I belong with the surrogates.”
“You do,” I say. “I feel better knowing you’ll be there.”
“You shouldn’t,” Sil says. “This whole plan is like a house of cards. We have to rely on the surrogates at the facilities keeping quiet. We have to rely on the royalty to stay stupid. We have to rely on who knows who to plant the key bombs the night before the Auction. We need to rely on you to send up the signal to set those bombs off. Then we have to cross our fingers and hope that eighty-odd surrogates can break down that wall and that the Society forces are already in place on the Bank side, ready and waiting to flood the Jewel. We could all be marching slowly to our deaths.”
Seeing as Raven and I were already labeled to die being sold as surrogates, this idea doesn’t bother me as much as it should. “It’s like Ash said,” I remind her. “I’d rather die fighting the royalty than serving them.”
Sil snorts. “Brave words. Tell me that when bullets are flying through the air and people are dying around you.”
“Is Ash there?” I was too cowardly to ask for him earlier, but I want to hear his voice. I want to know he’s not still mad at me.
So I’m completely unprepared for the silence that follows.
“What?” I ask. My heart kicks into a sprint. “Did something happen to him?”
“Ash is gone,” Raven says finally.
“What do you mean gone? Where did he go?”
“To the Bank,” Sienna says as Sil mutters, “Damned fool.”
It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. The Bank. Ash has gone to the Bank.
“No,” I gasp. “Raven . . . tell me it’s not true. Please. He . . . he’ll die there.”
“He left a note,” she says, and I can hear paper crinkle. Then she reads aloud. “Violet. I’m sorry but I had to try. I hope you can forgive me. I couldn’t just abandon them. I need to be worthy of a place in this new world we are fighting for. I love you more than my own life. I will see you again. I will be there on Auction Day. Stay safe. Ash.”
“Forgive him?” I spit. “Is he insane? I won’t get the chance! He’ll be dead before he makes it five feet in the Bank. He’ll be—”
“Violet.” Raven’s voice is soft and steady. “He’s gone and all the shouting in the world won’t change that.”
“But he . . . he . . .”
“Ran off without listening to you? Yeah. He did. You two are pretty well suited for each other, to be honest.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I had a plan. I have people helping me. What’s he going to do, bang on doors and ask if any Society members are home? Walk up to Madame Curio’s and ring the bell?”
“We already know he can get into the companion house without being seen,” Raven says. “And as for the rest . . . well, he’s not stupid. Why are you so sure he’ll get caught?”
My shoulders slump. She’s right. I’m refusing to believe Ash is capable of surviving on his own. “It’s just . . . if I lose him now . . .”
“I know,” she says gently. Then she sighs. “You should try and get some sleep. Sounds like you have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I say, but my thoughts are far away, with Ash, wherever he is. Still in the Farm? On a train? In the Smoke already?
“We’ll talk to you again soon,” Indi says, clearly feeling it’s safe enough to join the conversation.
“If you see the Countess of the Rose, stab her for me with a fork or something,” Sienna says, referring to her former mistress.
“If you see the Lady of the Stream—”
“Good night,” I say firmly, before Olive can get started.
“Good night,” Sil says.
The arcana falls with a tiny thump onto the bed and I think of how fragile the connection to my friends is, this little silver tuning fork keeping us together.
“Be safe,” I whisper. Then I settle down into the pillows, sleep taking me quicker than I would have thought, exhaustion overcoming my anger and fear for Ash.
Ten
A BELL IS RINGING SOMEWHERE NEAR MY HEAD.
I swat at it sleepily, wondering why Turnip’s harness is making so much noise. My hand connects with metal and then falls onto something soft.
The bed. The palace. The Jewel.
I sit bolt upright. Coral’s bell is ringing wildly. I scramble out of bed, throw on my lady-in-waiting dress, and shove my hair up into a hasty bun with the arcana inside. I scratch at the lace collar as I run down through the servant’s quarters, slowing my pace when I reach the end of the glass corridor. The halls of the main palace are vacant. I slip behind the tapestry and run down the stone steps, finding my way to the kitchen much faster than I did yesterday. Cora is leaving as I enter, carrying a tray laden with a cup and saucer, cutlery, and a covered dish.
“You’re late,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. She gives me the briefest once-over and leaves for the Duchess’s chambers.
“Sleep late?” Zara says kindly. Her face is smudged with flour, her arms up to the elbows in a giant mound of dough.
“I forgot where I was,” I say in a moment of blunt honesty.
Zara laughs at that.
There are breakfast trays laid out on a counter. I assume Coral’s is the one with the pink cup on it. The nice Regimental, Three, and a footman are standing together by the door to the garden, reading the morning paper with identical frowns. For a moment, I panic. Has Ash been sighted? Caught already? br />
Three looks up as I pass. “Morning, Imogen.”
“Bad news?” I ask casually.
“Those Black Keys killed a magistrate last night,” he says. “One of the top ones, too, in the Smoke. The Exetor will have to replace him quickly.”
“Oh,” I say, grabbing the tray, grateful that Ash seems to have survived the night. It’s only when I’m back in the stone corridor that I realize I don’t know where I’m going. Two seconds later, Mary brushes past me with Carnelian’s tray.
“This way,” she says in a clipped, aggravated tone.
We climb back up the staircase to the tapestry but don’t go through the woven fabric—instead I see that another set of stairs leads up to the second floor of the palace.
We emerge from behind a large pedestal holding a bust of one of the former Dukes of the Lake. I recognize the corridor to the men’s quarters.
I get to the door and pause. Do I knock? I don’t remember Annabelle knocking. Taking a deep breath, I balance the tray in one hand and open the door.
No one is in the blue-striped drawing room but I find Garnet sitting at the breakfast nook in the horrifically pink room. A handsome footman is laying a napkin in his lap.
Garnet gives me only a cursory glance. “Go on in, she’s in bed.”
Coral is still pulling on the fabric by her nightstand when I enter. Her whole face lights up when she sees me.
“Where would you like your breakfast, miss?” The tray is starting to hurt my wrists.
“On that table there. And pick me out a dress. I’m going to visit Mother today.”
I put the tray down and head over to her closets, perusing the various colors and styles. I bet Ash would know exactly what to choose. I see a peach-colored dress that reminds me of one Annabelle put me in, so I grab that and lay it out on Coral’s bed.
“So,” Coral says, crossing her legs and looking at me over her cup of coffee. “What’s the gossip?”
I blink. “I beg your pardon, miss?”
She puts the cup down and begins salting her fried eggs. “From downstairs. What’s happening with the servants? Any trysts? Broken hearts? Fights among Regimentals? Tell me, I must know.” She sighs. “I miss my old home sometimes. My maid would always fill me in over breakfast.”