The chatter dies, four pairs of eyes pivoting to my entrance. Mistress Lavender pales to a watery gray, her teacup frozen in mid-sip. I see myself in the silver of her gaze. Wild-eyed and hair flying. Teeth bared. A monster.
Laurel sets down her biscuit.
“What’s happened?” she asks, unnervingly calm as her gift of wisdom guides her.
My magic is ready to explode. Ready to unleash my worst on these women who have caged me in this house my entire life and have now ruined my only means of escape.
“Someone has been spying on me. They’ve taken my earnings.” I launch the words like daggers, watching carefully to see who bleeds. “Everything is gone.”
Mistress Lavender lowers her cup, the soft clink of china like a thunderclap in the charged silence. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, I’m certain. It was all there a few days ago, more than twenty thousand gold, and now it isn’t.”
“Perhaps you miscounted.” Rose remains stoic, unruffled. My first and only suspect.
She’s jealous of my power, which will always be stronger than hers. It’s not hard to guess that she’d be prowling about the house, watching me and reporting back to the king. And she’d been in my Lair the night of her accident. Had she seen where I kept my gold? But how? The questions trip over one another until I can’t tell one from the next.
“Or she spent it.” Marigold nibbles a scone. “Honestly, between you and Laurel, you spend your coin on the strangest things. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you lost track.” She titters, but no one joins her.
“Twenty thousand is quite the sum.” Mistress Lavender’s brows draw together, and I can almost see the numbers running through her mind. “We are, of course, happy to search the house. The servants’ quarters. And why don’t you let me count what you have and compare it to our ledger? Just to make sure you’re not mistaken. That’s such a large amount, Alyce.”
“Did you not hear me? I have nothing. All of it is—” My mistake registers like a shot firing. The twenty thousand included the king’s payments. If she tallies up my earnings for the past years, even if I never spent a copper, she’ll know I claimed more than I’m supposed to have. Panic douses my wrath. I’m such a fool.
“What a good idea. It should be easy to prove it that way. Unless you did spend it.” Rose adjusts her necklace—a string of rare pink pearls only found on the shores of Cardon. “Or unless you’re taking on unreported patrons.”
Even Marigold gasps at the implication. Under the Grace Laws, patrons and earnings must be reported. In theory, this is to ensure that the Graces receive their rightful coin and to prevent anyone from abusing the system, as when Graces were bought by the nobles. But really it’s to make sure that the Crown always gets its share of Grace profits.
Worry purses Mistress Lavender’s coral-painted lips together. “Alyce knows such a practice is illegal.”
So that’s what Rose thinks I’m doing. Taking extra patrons to earn more money because my gift doesn’t Fade. And so she betrayed me to Tarkin to punish me.
“She knows.” Laurel pins me with a knowing look. “This is all a misunderstanding. A mistake. Alyce, why don’t you look again?”
She’s rescuing me. I can see it in the subtle lift of her eyebrows. I should be grateful. But resentment burns through me, turning my blood to liquid wildfire. I am trapped, my one escape route blocked forever. And I can say nothing. Because this is not simply a case of taking on illegal patrons. This is the Briar King keeping me in his clutches. I might as well be Narcisse, my magic available to be tapped at his pleasure.
A memory swishes at the edges of my mind, like a bright flag in darkness.
“You can’t leave…If my father finds out—and he will…”
Dragon’s fucking teeth. There’s one other person who knew I wanted to leave Briar. Who saw where I kept my gold, how much I had, and knew what I was planning to do with it.
Aurora.
Understanding hits, swift and brutal. I have to grip the doorframe to keep from falling over. What a stupid, stupid wretch I am. I remember the creases of sadness on her face the last time we met. Were they traces of guilt because she had already betrayed me? Did she know what her father was about to do, but didn’t stop him—the same way she didn’t stop him from bleeding Narcisse dry?
“Alyce?” Mistress Lavender’s voice cuts through my spinning thoughts.
“I will look again,” I hear myself say. “As Laurel suggests.”