Page 12 of The Ragpicker King
“For Esteve, that is the language of love,” said Kel. Ciprian made a disgusted face and shouldered his way into the crowd.
Joss grinned. “I rather prefer these new dye merchants to the old ones. They’re more fun.”
Kel raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t miss Charlon?”
“I’ve had penetrating leg wounds that I’ve missed more than Charlon,” said Joss bluntly. “And the Cabrols seem to have settled in without a hitch. One has to admire the ruthlessness.”
Kel glanced over at Ciprian, who had an arm around his sister’s shoulder—she was dressed all in white and yellow, like a daisy—and was glaring at Esteve. Behind him, someone had begun to tunelessly play a lute. The room was tightly packed, the noise of the construction on stage deafening. Kel caught a flash of red hair in the crowd and thought for a moment:Lin?But of course it was not her. It was Silla, wearing only a number of cleverly knotted violet and silver scarves. She looked like a drawing of a sea sprite, trailing the foam of the waves. She beckoned to Kel with a crooked finger, her head to one side.
“I see you have to go,” said Joss, “which is rather too bad. I was going to ask you when the Kutani Princess is arriving.”
“A few weeks, I think. She is already on the way, but it is quite a sea voyage.” Kel hesitated. He did not want to be distracted by Silla, but he could not push too hard with Falconet on the question of theGray Serpent, either. It would only bring suspicion. Nor did he wish to enter a conversation about Conor’s engagement. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Falconet flicked his gaze to Silla and smiled knowingly. “Of course. Who am I to barricade the path of young love?”
Kel clapped a hand to Falconet’s shoulder and pushed into the crowd.Young love.Silla and he had only ever been commerce, of course, but then love and commerce were nearly the same thing on the Hill. There was no point in being annoyed with Falconet about it.
He reached Silla, passing Gasquet, who was sprawled in a plush chair, a handsome young man perched on the arm. Kel wondered if Montfaucon had invited every member of the Charter Families; certainly he could not have expected Lady Alleyne or Lady Gremont to attend. Lady Gremont was elderly and respectable, and Lady Alleyne took only rich lovers. Both would have felt obligated to seem shocked by the debauchery of the Caravel, though Kel would have wagered they’d both seen more scandalous things in their lives.
Kel realized with surprise that he had forgotten to remove his gloves when Silla made a circlet of her thumb and forefinger around his wrist, where the skin was bare. She looked up at him from beneath silver-and-violet-painted eyes. She had used the paint cleverly, creating the illusion of a shimmering mask. “Come,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”
He let her lead him from the room. As they left, Kel caught a glimpse of Montfaucon, who seemed to have inserted himself into the conversation between Esteve and Beatris, but there was no one with him who could credibly be an ex-gladiator named the Gray Serpent. Where was Montfaucon hiding him?
“Youaredistracted,” Silla said. A little sharpness cut the honey of her voice. “And it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you.”
She’d led them into one of the velvet-lined alcoves in the heart of the Caravel. Each one was no bigger than a closet, but they wereall plushly upholstered, with soft walls and a pillowed chaise. Montfaucon used to joke about these rooms, saying they were for customers who lacked either the cash or the commitment to take a courtesan upstairs.
Silla drew the sheer curtain closed across the alcove entrance and turned to Kel. Violet tapers shed a reddish light, deepening the shadows. “I’ve missed you,” she said, taking hold of his hands and placing them on her hips. “Have you missed me?”
His gloved fingers slipped over the fabric of her scarves reflexively. It was strange, touching her and not touching her at the same time. He could feel the shape of her but not the texture. He let his hands travel, leather against silk, her body curving under his hands. When he kissed her, she was already leaning up into him.
Kel was used to being able to lose himself in a kiss, a touch. The pleasure that caught him up, blurring the sharp edges of thought and memory. He was jolted now by how distant that feeling seemed. He was aware of Silla’s touch, her taste, but just as aware of the fact that one of his boots was laced too tightly and he had a crick in his neck.
His thoughts scattered themselves, following different paths: Was he missing a chance to lay eyes on the Gray Serpent? Were Ji-An and Jerrod outside with the carriage as promised? Should he have left Merren, who should have been with them, on his own? Obviously, he had his sister, but—
Silla drew back, looking up at him. Silver paint made half-moons of her lowered eyelids as she said, “There is something wrong. Kel, Iknowyou. Don’t think I don’t know you. I was your first girl.”
“And you’ll always be that,” Kel said. He still had his hands at her waist. He might as well have been holding a log. He let her go and stepped back.
“Is this because of the Prince?” she asked, raking lilac-tipped fingers through her red hair. “I knew that night I shouldn’t have gone back with him, that you shared a room with him, but—”
It took Kel a moment to even remember what she was talking about. The morning after the Roverge party, Silla creeping out of Conor’s bed at dawn.
He shrugged. “You make your own decisions. You owe me nothing at all.”
“I like you,” she said. “Most customers, it’s a transaction. An investment. But you...” She sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me, but the Prince did not... he did not want from me what most men or women do. He asked only for me to be there and be silent. He did not even say much to me. Only went to sleep, and I watched him until I went to sleep, too.”
Kel sighed. “Silla, don’t you see, that is what makes it strange for me. These things are private to Conor. He would not want me to know them.”
“He called me by a name that wasn’t mine,” Silla said. Some of the metallic paint on her face had smeared; silver tears appeared to be trickling from her eyes.
Kel held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.” This was not entirely true, but he had done enough behind Conor’s back these past months. He did not want this on his ledger, too.
Silla frowned. “I used to understand you.”
Kel almost said,I used to understand myself.It was on the tip of his tongue—and then a hand twitched the alcove curtain aside and Kel found himself staring into the face of Antonetta Alleyne.
She was very pale, almost as if she had powdered her skin the way some of the older women on the Hill did. But there were bright spots of color on her cheeks as she looked from Kel to Silla and said, “Oh, my goodness, I’msoembarrassed.”
