Still before midnight, the lobby had filled with guests waiting for the hotel to move. Béatrice stood in the corner dabbing her cheeks with a hanky, whereas Bel leaned against a back wall and pretended not to see me.
The suminaire with her feather blew pink smoke over a row of guests, their ornate gowns rippling through a sunset of hues. Alastair stood with them. He caught my eyes then looked away, as if I were nothing but dirt under his shoe.
I didn’t care.
I would do whatever he asked to stay on. I’d stir soup and scrub toilets until my palms bled. I could race over, beg him. I spun away from Yrsa.
“Wrong way.” Her hand jerked my frock. My heel connected with a tree root and I pitched forward. My knees hit the ground, followed by my jaw, and I spat blood from a split lip onto the roots. Fitting I would leave this place under an orange tree, same as I came. Good thing I didn’t manage to break one.
My eyes widened. Bel’s flippant words about Alastair and the oranges raced through my mind. If he knew you broke one, he’d never let you leave.
When I broke an orange, he’d hid it from Yrsa, taken the blame. I didn’t know if breaking another orange would buy me an audience with Alastair, but if I could touch one, knock it from the branch, it might at least buy me time.
One last tree at the door.
I reached for it, but Sazerat took my shoulders and shoved me. I brought my fist up and watched in shock as it vanished at the line of the doorframe. No, not vanished: a cold, wet breeze skated across my knuckles from somewhere on the other side.
I strained against him, boot heels slipping against slick marble. I kicked out and caught a branch of oranges with my heel. A few broke off, but I couldn’t hear if they smashed because the woman’s obnoxiously effervescent voice said, “Farewell, traveler!”
My eyes squeezed shut.
I smelled it first. Gone was the desert jasmine, replaced with a familiar tang of salt brine. I lost track of where I was in that in-between space. I felt Sazerat’s hands on my shoulders and tasted Durc on my tongue. Bile inched up my throat.
“There’s a girl!” someone shouted in Verdanniere. A southern accent. A fisherman’s accent.
Oh god.
Strong fingers grabbed my sides, pulling me back. My eyes shot open to the slam of a lacquered door in my face. I bit back a sob and looked up. At Alastair. He panted like he’d just sprinted the length of the lobby.
The oranges from the branch I had kicked were smashed across the floor. Bel stood behind the tree, eyes locked on me, horrified.
A satisfied smile curved across Alastair’s lips. “The girl stays.”
Yrsa turned around, seeing the mess of oranges for the first time. “Ma?tre, I didn’t realize—”
“You didn’t.” Alastair silenced her with a single look. “Get behind the bar,” he ordered. “Now.” She nodded and motioned for the twins to follow. But Alastair put a hand on Sazerat’s shoulder. “Report to my office in an hour,” he said to the twin.
“Why?” asked Sido.
Slowly, Alastair turned to Sido, the vein in his forehead visible.
The twin shrank back.
“The girl knocked off an orange and your brother nearly threw her out. I almost lost her because of him. He’ll have to be punished.”
Sazerat was a suminaire with one eye removed. He’d already gotten his first warning. Surely Alastair wouldn’t kill him over me.
“Now out of my sight. Both of you.” Alastair waved his hand. Stunned, Sido took his brother and trailed after Yrsa.
A circle of staff appeared with brooms and dustpans. They ushered upset guests to their rooms and cleaned up the broken oranges. The lobby marble swallowed any pieces they missed.
I didn’t move. My legs felt rooted in place while Alastair’s pale eyes studied me.
“Miraculous that a kitchen maid can cause so much trouble in the span of a single day,” Alastair said. “Did you know?”
“I suspected.”
I whirled around at Bel’s voice. Just like inside the guest suite, I couldn’t read his face, but something in his eyes appeared hollower than they once had, like a bit of himself had shattered along with the oranges.
“You suspected, yet you bargained with me to send her back?” Alastair twirled an orange shard between his fingers. “The marvelous orange trees are unique to the hotel. Long ago, before the hotel existed like it does now, a suminaire created them by enchanting normal orange trees.”
Before the hotel existed. I thought of the society handbook from the map room. The suminaire he spoke of could have been a member.