An older girl with smooth brown skin said, “We must be inside by midnight.”
“What happens if we’re caught out?” asked a pale-faced porter.
“At the entrance is the hotel’s demarcation: the boundary between inside and Elsewhere. If a guest or staff member with a signed contract is caught outside when the hotel moves at midnight, they disappear. Unfortunately, they don’t reappear anywhere else. It’s a side effect of the powerful magic that keeps everyone safe inside the hotel.”
The room went deathly silent.
Zosa had signed a contract.
In Bézier’s kitchen, Bel was adamant about taking her. I’d assumed there was some selfish motive behind it. He’d saved her life, I realized, whereas I’d tried to stop him with that miserable knife. If I’d had my way, Zosa would be gone forever, and it would have been all my fault.
Standing on my tiptoes, I tried to look for her again, but there were too many workers. My pulse spiked. Stop worrying. She’s probably behind someone, I told myself, but it was no use.
Zosa squeezed beside me, and I took a shuddering breath. “Where have you been?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued to a beautiful woman with flawless light-colored skin near the mirror. She wore the same velvet uniform as Yrsa, but hers hugged each of her curves, giving way to a plunging neckline. Periwinkle curls bobbed from an enormous wig perched atop her head.
“Who do you think she is?” Zosa asked, awestruck.
“Someone who spends all her time in front of a vanity.”
Zosa snorted.
“Hush,” I said. We both giggled until Zosa tugged her shirt—the same blouse she wore earlier. Everyone wore uniforms except her. “Where’s your uniform?”
“They said I would get it later.”
“They?”
“Other performers. I still can’t believe I’ll be singing.”
I was happy for her, I was, but for some reason, I had to force my lips into a smile. “Did they say when you’d start?”
She shook her head then elbowed my side as the ma?tre’s reflection cleared his throat. Candles flickered and everyone stilled.
“Now I’ll have to warn you,” the reflection said, that eerie smile as wide as ever. “Each of you is lucky to have your job, but the guests’ experience is more important than any position here. If you break any rule, we won’t hesitate to dismiss you. There are endless candidates vying for each of your places. Please remember that.”
I squeezed Zosa’s hand. The last thing I wanted was to be sent back to Durc.
“But,” the reflection went on, “follow the rules and there will be nothing to worry about.”
“What rules?” someone asked.
“You’ll learn them from your supervisors in the coming days. They’re merely precautions I take to keep magic safe. If you follow them, you will earn the privilege for trips outside where you’ll experience for free what our guests pay dearly to see. However, if you can’t wait, I’ll void your contract and you can depart whenever you wish.”
My heart thumped. That meant we could return to Aligney when the hotel got close. But we could work for a bit first, see some of the places from those itineraries. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“Now prepare yourselves for the most wondrous job you’ll ever have.” The ma?tre’s reflection swept a hand through the air. Glittery flecks shot from the mirror, landing across our noses. When they fizzled away, his reflection had disappeared.
Workers began gathering into groups by uniform. We couldn’t find another performer, so Zosa stayed with me. Soon I spotted Béatrice standing in the center of a dozen new maids, young women with skin colors and body shapes as varied as the guests.
Béatrice pulled out a book titled Monsieur Valette’s Rules for Hotel Housekeeping, 4th Edition. “？Mornings are reserved for tidying guest suites,” she read aloud.
That meant changing linens and scrubbing floors until they gleamed. Then I would spiff the candlesticks, dust the furniture, comb the carpets, and beat the rugs.
“After a quick lunch, you’ll pick up where you left off. Of course, there are always odd tasks here and there. Cleaning ballrooms, sprucing lavatories . . .” Béatrice smiled sweetly. “Scrubbing toilets.”
Zosa snickered and I poked her in the rib.
Béatrice described pre-and postdinner duties. She then gave a quick rundown of the guests, a dizzying plethora of nationalities. I learned the only similarity between them was their pocketbooks; the prized invitations were good for two weeks at a time, and those two weeks cost them dearly.