“What was the roommate’s artéfact?” I asked, even though I could wager a guess.
“A silver talon.” Céleste shook her head. “I didn’t know what had happened at the time. No one did. The head of the society conducted a search. They found the roommate’s suitcase missing, along with some of her clothes. Everyone assumed she’d taken off. Later, I learned Nicole had locked her in the aviary while my brother staged her things to look like she’d left. Had I known . . .”
Céleste’s lips quivered. I couldn’t begin to understand the guilt she felt. This whole time Alastair and Des Rêves were stealing magic from suminaires then getting rid of the evidence right under guests’ noses.
Under my nose.
I knew how desperate Alastair must feel. I felt that desperation daily. I was forged in it. But he had taken it further than I ever dreamed.
“I’ve been inside the aviary,” I said. “I’ve seen all the birds leached of color. All that magic—”
“Stolen. By my brother. By Nicole. Both of them needed an endless supply of it to continue the lies they’d built—for my brother to remain youthful and powerful, and for Nicole to continue to use the silver talon. Luckily for them, it was easy to hide holes with feathers.”
“But there are so many birds.”
“How many are there now?”
I felt nauseous thinking of the hundreds I had seen. Céleste must have read the answer in my eyes because she said, “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“So he stole from every suminaire he could get his hands on?”
“Not everyone. If you were a suminaire who connected with an artéfact useful in running the hotel or finding the ring, Alastair didn’t turn you into a bird. But those suminaires were few and far between. Most suminaires he found were turned. It worked in his favor. He liked to keep a queue of still-magical suminaires in the aviary because as birds, they couldn’t access their magic. It remained dormant, safe, ready for when my brother and Des Rêves needed to steal more for themselves.”
She was right. I’d seen a handful of birds inside with bright feathers. They must still have their magic. But not for long.
I’d thought suminaires were rarer now than the days when the hotel began. There hadn’t been one discovered in Durc in decades. It must have been because they were all trapped inside that aviary, their magic stolen. “What will happen when your brother runs out of suminaires to steal from?”
She held up the wooden signet ring.
Of course. If he could bestow himself with magic, he wouldn’t need to steal it.
“My brother and I were born well over a century ago. If he stopped stealing magic, I imagine he would age and die almost instantly.”
I blinked, remembering that day in the magic hall. “Once, the skin on his hand looked rippled. And I’ve seen him with a limp from time to time.”
She nodded. “You probably caught him right before he had to steal more magic.”
The cruelty of it all took my breath away. “I can’t believe he can do such terrible things and still look himself in the mirror every morning.”
She grunted. “Oh, he has no problem with that. He told me once that magic did more good keeping him alive than it did inside the suminaires he stole it from. He’d convinced himself the resulting holes in their arms were nothing compared to his own life. He also promised to reverse everything he’d done, gift back the stolen magic, once he found the signet ring.”
“That ring is his answer to everything.”
She gave me a weak nod. “I should have noticed what my brother was doing with Nicole, but I was too busy drawing maps to pay attention to him.” Céleste put her head in her gloved hands, blonde hair spilling over the counter.
“It’s not your fault,” I said as calmly as I could. When I touched her arm, she pulled it away and shot up.
“It is. He’s my little brother.”
The look on her face made my stomach clench. She blamed herself like I did every day for not keeping Zosa in Aligney. “You only did what you thought was best.”
Tears spilled down Céleste’s cheeks. She wiped them away then went back to the hatboxes, talking as she packed. She told me Alastair could use some artéfacts with the stolen magic, but he couldn’t get a feel for as many as Céleste.
“But the inkwell was enough,” she said. “Its written enchantments can be spectacular and addictive. Later, Alastair told me he tried penning a couple enchantments himself at first, but with each one, he felt older, which caused him to steal more magic. An endless cycle. After Nicole’s roommate disappeared, four other suminaires mysteriously left, followed by the old head of the society. Apparently when the old man questioned Nicole, my brother used the hand mirror on him.”