Her words were a series of punches I hadn’t braced for. She knew more about me than I’d truly appreciated, and when she’d recited her conversations with unCavendish, she hadn’t mentioned any of it—not anything important.
The hard edges in me melted as my shoulders sank.
She might’ve taken the note, but that was as much my fault as hers. In truth, I was a hundred times more angry at myself than I could ever be at her.
She gave a shove before pulling her hand away.
I blinked down at my orrery, which was only half-closed. A crumpled piece of paper fell out.
The note.
She’d kept it, along with my secrets.
Of course she had.
“Shit. Kat, I’m—”
But when I looked up, she was gone.
15
Kat
Yesterday had been doubly bad. First my appointment with Elthea had been nothing more than a checkup, taking my temperature, listening to my heartbeat—that sort of thing. No cure.
Then… Well, whatever the fuck that had been last night.
Bastian truly thought so little of me that he believed I’d given unCavendish his secrets.
I stewed over the way he’d spoken to me as I got ready for another day trawling around jewellers. We would come back here for lunch, when I’d have to see Bastian for my antidote, but otherwise I could avoid him. As I smiled at that and slid a star-shaped comb into my hair, a knock sounded at the door to the suite.
Urien, the same dour guard who’d stopped me getting to Bastian’s apartments back in Riverton Palace, appeared with a chest—my chest. How had that got here from Albion?
“There’s a seal on it,” he said as he set it down. “It can only be opened by the owner. No one’s gone through it.” With a nod, he slipped out just as brusquely.
Sure enough, magic hummed under my fingertips when I touched the lid, and it opened with ease. On top of my belongings sat a note with Katherine in handwriting that made my eyes sting.
“Ella!” I tore the seal apart and perched on the arm of the settee to read the letter.
My dear friend,
You certainly know how to make an exit, don’t you?! Lords and Ladies, you almost gave me a damn heart attack. Kindly don’t do that again.
Asher has told me what happened with the mead and “Cavendish.” I feel sick for you and for myself. But I shouldn’t write too much in here, just in case it falls into the wrong hands. Asher assures me no one else will be able to open this chest, but I’m not sure how much I trust in fae magic.
（As an aside, Perry trusts in it—and him—implicitly. I wonder why. Fairly sure you can picture my expression right now!）
Anyway, I’m being hurried along so this can be sealed and collected. I packed up your things, so you don’t need to worry that anyone else went through them. I included all your clothes （yes, the lingerie too）， just in case…
（Pulling a highly innocent face right now, just so you know.）
By the time you get this, I’m sure you’ll be all healed and well. I hope you’re enjoying all Elfhame has to offer—must say I envy you something chronic.
But most of all, I want to give you the world’s biggest hug. Don’t forget me while you’re swanning around Tenebris-Luminis!
All my love,
Ella
x
My eyes were tear-filled by the end. At her thoughtfulness and from longing for one of her hugs. Instead I had to hug the note to my chest and laugh at the ridiculous idea that I could forget about her.
When I rummaged through the chest, I found all my clothes and jewellery, my pistol, and, at the bottom, the box that I’d kept under my bed. It was still locked, the keys tucked into a pocket in the lining of the chest.
Buoyed by the letter, I washed. When I emerged from the bathroom, I found a bouquet of yellow roses in the vase. Every few days, a new bouquet appeared. Until today, they’d always been clean, crisp white. This splash of colour was welcome, and I couldn’t help smiling at them as I dressed, ready for another day trawling around jewellery shops.
Today I would get some information about unCavendish. If not for me, then for Ella.
But Rose had other ideas—we had to make another stop first.
“Sorry. It won’t take long.” She winced as she led me along a narrow road. “Bastian was annoyed I hadn’t taken you already.”
Shooting her a look, I almost forgot about hiding my frustration at this interruption to my plan. “Did you tell him about the necklace?”
“No.” Her mouth twisted. “He didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer the information.”
I didn’t miss what she left unspoken. Not saying something and lying outright were two different things. For Rose there was a line between them.
But she had kept my secret from Bastian, her employer and friend.
Maybe she could be trusted, even if I couldn’t expect her to lie for me. Ella’s letter had been a reminder of how good it felt to have someone to confide in.
“Here we are,” she announced as we reached one of the city’s tall marble spires. She led me inside.
Instead of an enclosed entrance hall, the tower was hollow right to the roof, with shops hugging the outer walls. Landings marked every floor, and a small child peered down between a balustrade a few storeys up.
Garlands of flowers and dried herbs criss-crossed the space along with shafts of light that lit up motes of dust. It smelled floral and musky—oddly comforting, like one of Ella’s concoctions.
I ached with the wish that she were here. I had so much to tell her. On my bedside table sat a long, long letter to her, and I was still only halfway through describing everything I’d seen.
“Come on,” Rose called, already halfway up the staircase.
I hurried after her, clutching the magic around me. Quiet. Small. Contained.
Off the landing, three doors led to elegant shops with equally elegant signs. A perfumer. A leatherworker. A dressmaker.
“Not the best one in town,” Rose whispered as we passed. “I’ll take you to her later, so you can get something for the queen’s ball.”
The ball in my honour. I didn’t know whether to grimace at the attention it would draw or look forward to the opportunity to dig into unCavendish.
Right now though, I huffed, barely keeping up with Rose’s long strides as she led us up one staircase after another, not the slightest bit out of breath.
“Here we are.” Bright smile in place, she led me into a store whose sign showed a rearing stag. I gave a second glance before I passed beneath it, something about the style familiar.
Inside, various stands held bows of all shapes and sizes. Long and short. Recurved. From dark wood to a material so pale, it might’ve been bone. One even looked like it was made from a silvery metal.
Along the curving outside wall hung dozens, maybe even hundreds of arrows with fletchings in a rainbow of colours. The air hummed with magic, carrying the scent of linseed and cedar.
“Bastian said you need a bow of your own,” she said as she ushered me towards the counter, where a small fae with pale grey hair waited.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” the fae added, spreading her hands. I might’ve wondered whether she belonged to Dusk or Dawn, but now she met my gaze and her eyes…
Black and pupilless, pricked with starry lights. She had to be Dusk.