Page 34 of The Ragpicker King
Lady Alleyne is selling her daughter,Lin thought in disgust. “But surely if she knew how miserable you were, she’d change her plan—”
“She wouldn’t. Besides, it may have begun as her plan, but I have my plans, too.” For a moment, Antonetta’s eyes glittered like a cat’s. “But Gremont is trying to change the game.”
Lin was bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Antonetta shook her head. “Do you have anything with you that might calm me down?”
“Oh—I didn’t bring my satchel. And honestly, I wouldn’t recommend anything stronger than a glass of wine. Stay here; I’ll fetch you one.”
Sneaking back into the party was easier than creeping behind the curtain had been. Peering out from her hiding place, Lin saw that everyone was staring toward the musicians on the stage. She took advantage of their distraction to slip back into the party and saunter toward a servant holding a tray of delicate glasses, each half filled with pale-red liquid.
She’d just taken one when a voice behind her said, “Fancy meeting you again.”
She turned to see a familiar young man. Dark-red hair, black eyes. A bitter turn to the corner of his mouth.
“Ciprian Cabrol,” Lin said. It was Ciprian whom she’d overheard planning to blow up the Roverge ship in the harbor; it was thanks to him she’d been able to convince the Sault that she was, in fact, the Goddess—for had she not predicted the fire, the explosion? Had the flame not seemed to come at her bidding?
Not that there was any reason for him ever to know that.
“How interesting,” he said. “When we first met, I did not realize who you were—the granddaughter of Bensimon. You did not let on.”
“It did not seem relevant at the time. And considering where we both were...” In the Ragpicker King’s mansion. Him seeking explosive black powder; her, illegal magic.
“Indeed,” he said. “A secret we must both keep.”
“I suppose I should at least congratulate you,” she said. “You hold the dye Charter now. You have what you wanted.”
He looked at her narrowly, and she realized that, though he hid it well, he was quite drunk. “Just what I wanted,” he said, “but not in the way I wanted it. I always thought that living on the Hill would be freedom, but it is its own sort of prison. Once they get their claws in you, they never stop squeezing.”
She blinked at him. “Who? The Charter Families?”
But Cabrol did not answer. He shook his head as if to clear it and wandered off back into the crowd, moving carefully.
Very strange,Lin thought, and turned, meaning to return to the curtain and Antonetta. But she had not looked behind her; she stumbled into someone immediately, spilling the contents of her wineglass all over the front of a fine silk shirt.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh—I’msosorry—I—”
“What an interesting way to greet your Prince, Lin Caster,” said a horribly familiar voice.
Whatever words she’d meant to follow her apology died before she could speak them. She looked up into a pair of cold gray eyes, her heart sinking.
It was Prince Conor.
Later, Kel would recall having rushed up to the stage in the Alleyne ballroom in a panic, though in fact he had done his best to saunter aimlessly across the room, attracting little attention. He snatched a glass of green wine from the statue of Turan on the way, admired a few of the draperies, then slid up to the edge of the stage.
“Merren,” he hissed. “Merren.What are youdoing?”
Merren jumped. Clearly he hadn’t noticed Kel approaching; he’d been too engaged in playing about with hislior.At least it was no longer making horrible noises. As a result, the assembled nobility had lost interest in whatever was happening on stage and returned to their drinking and amusements.
Merren knelt, making a show of fiddling with the instrument. Kel saw Ji-An and Jerrod glance over at him; Jerrod wore a hooded tunic of gold linen that half hid his silvery mask. Ji-An, in a jacket and trousers of rose silk, went back to industriously examining her viol.
Merren kept his eyes on thelioras he replied. “What if I told you we were trying to make a few extra crowns on the side?”
“Andreyen pays that badly?” Kel snorted. “I wouldn’t believe you, and you know it.”
“We wanted to clap eyes on the mysterious Magali,” Merren admitted. “Make sure she’s the same person Jerrod knows from the Maze. Since there’s a Magali that works for the Alleynes, it made sense that she’d be here tonight.” He peered into the crowd. “Have you seen her?”
Kel looked upon him darkly. “Aren’t the agents of the Ragpicker King not supposed to be active on the Hill?”
