Page 103 of The Ragpicker King
“You think she’s saving face?” said Kel. WhatwasLady Alleyne’s plan, he wondered. But perhaps she was just waiting for marching orders from Elsabet. The conspirators on the Hill would have to account for Gremont’s death somehow.
“Well, it reflects on her badly, doesn’t it?” said Cabrol. He wore rumpled brown velvet and a jackal mask. “Or at least—let’s be plain—it reflects badly on her daughter. If Gremont prefers to leave behind his inheritance and escape Castellane in the dead of night instead of marrying Antonetta, he must have found her very unsatisfactory indeed.”
“I rather thought he found her exactly as he’d expected,” said Falconet. “Beautiful and stupid. If he’d thought she was anything but decorative, I doubt he would have gone through the effort of exerting his First Night privilege.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry not to have to watchthathappen,” said Falconet. “Speaking of brides—the lovely Anjelica has arrived.”
Kel glanced over and saw Anjelica standing with Conor near the entrance to the ballroom. Conor had her hands in his and was leaning in to speak to her in a low voice—a picture of young love, Kel thought sardonically.
“It must be odd for Conor, having such a lovely bride,” said Montfaucon cattily. “He’s so used to being the prettiest one at parties.”
Anjelica wore the costume of a swan, her mask a confection of glitter, paint, and satin, decorated with long pale feathers and diamond crescents. Her hair was swept up, coiled at the back of her neck and held in place with ivory pins carved to resemble feathers. Her dress was simple: white silk and seed pearls, clinging close to her body. From her back sprouted two white wings, lavishly appliquéd with feathers and diamonds, making them brilliantly gleam.
Together, she and Conor were stunning to look at. But it was all costume, Kel thought—and not just the masks. They were playing a much more careful part. The way they leaned into each other; the way Conor took Anjelica’s hand as he led her into the ballroom. Each move practiced, studied, and executed for maximum effect.
“Regard Lady Alleyne,” said Falconet, amused. “She looks as if she’s just eaten a lemon.”
“She had always hoped to marry Antonetta to Conor,” said Montfaucon. “But Conor had his sights set higher, and now Antonetta is without any husband at all. It only goes to show that ambition is a vice,” he added pompously.
Cabrol snorted. “Youaredrunk, Lupin. Where is Antonetta, anyway?”
“I doubt she could face the crowd,” said Falconet. “Too many whispers. Some are even saying she did away with Gremont herself, to avoid the humiliation of the First Night.”
“And who could blame her if she did,” muttered Kel.
Montfaucon looked puzzled. “Do you think she killed Gremont?”
“Of course not,” Kel said irritably. “I think he’s probably drunk at the Caravel, and has been for days. I think everyone’s hoping this situation is much more exciting than it actually is.”
“Congratulations, Kel,” said Joss, with a grin. “You have cut to the very definition ofgossip.Besides, our Antonetta is a simple soul. Not bright enough to execute a murder plan.”
Rage stirred in the pit of Kel’s stomach. Before he could respond, a hand fell on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw that Benaset, in gold livery for the occasion, had appeared at his side. “If you would come with me for a moment, Mirzah Anjuman,” he said. “It has begun to rain.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Kel said, utterly baffled.
“You’ll have to ask the Queen,” said Benaset, giving Kel a hardlook.Ah.It wasConorwho wanted to speak to him, Kel realized, and indeed he saw that Anjelica was alone, deep in conversation with Lady Gremont.
To a chorus of amused catcalls from Conor’s friends, Kel rose and followed Benaset into one of the alcoves. This one featured a tree made of metal, its trunk gleaming bronze, its foliage hammered leaves of gold and brass and silver. Beneath the tree waited Conor, who waved Benaset away. He held several long moments before speaking, presumably to make sure Benaset was out of earshot.
“You have your talisman with you, don’t you?” Conor said at last.
“Yes,” Kel said slowly. “Conor, what’s happened? Is there some kind of danger?”
Conor reached up to undo the silk cords that held his mask on. When it fell away, his face looked oddly stripped bare, faint grooves marked beside his eyes where the mask had dug into his skin. His hands shook slightly. “Switch masks with me? It’ll only be for a few moments.”
“Why?”
“There’s no danger.” Conor looked at Kel steadily, and behind his eyes Kel could see the light he had seen when he was a child, the first time he had visited the Palace. The first time he had ever known what it was to want something you had never realized you wanted. “But I need you to trust me.”
“Something’s been bothering you all night.” Kel reached up to unfasten his mask. “I don’t know what it is, but you’ve been troubled since this party began.”
Conor, his mask dangling from his hand by its strings, smiled painfully. “My very observant Kel.”
“Tell me,” Kel urged him. “Tell me what it is. I can’t help you otherwise.”
Conor’s eyes met his. Gray eyes, the same color as Kel’s, though they had not always been the same. “There isn’t time,” he said. “Not now. I won’t make you do it, Kel, but if you trust me—”
Kel held out his mask. They exchanged them quickly, the heavy gold circlet and jeweled lion’s mask thumping into Kel’s palm. It was followed by a dozen small cold circles—Conor’s onyx rings.
