Page 80 of The Ragpicker King
She shook her head. “I am grateful to you for helping me, Sword Catcher. But I cannot tell you.”
“You owe me that,” he snapped. “You should have told me you intended to bribe Andreyen Morettus by dangling Prosper Beck infront of him. Are you mad? To insert yourself into the games played between violent criminals—”
“I did not thinkyouwould know who Prosper Beck was.” Anjelica sounded stung. They were wending their way down the Ruta Magna now, returning to the Hill.
“A Sword Catcher must know many things.” Technically true, Kel thought. He hoped he didn’t sound pompous. “And you are playing a game with very dangerous men. Aden among them.”
“I am doing what I have to do.” In the dimness of the carriage, he sensed her looking at him. “But I should have told you more. Warned you. Forgive me. I did wrong.”
Despite himself, Kel softened. An apology from royalty was a rare thing, as he had cause to know. Although he still wondered how she had gathered information about Prosper Beck. Kutani spyworkwasfamous, and perhaps that was all it was, but it bothered him nonetheless—especially as he knew perfectly well that if he asked her, she wouldn’t tell him. Their friendship, such as it was, did not extend that far.
Anjelica glanced out the window. “Is something going on? A festival?”
Kel did not need to look; he could see the light from the naphtha beacons illuminating the inside of the carriage. “It is the Broken Market. Anything can be sold here as long as it is flawed and in need of repair.”
“But why would anyone want such broken things?”
“Some people enjoy the act of repair,” said Kel. “In Zipangu, they mend broken pottery with melted gold, so that the shattered object is more beautiful when put back together. And some, I would guess, merely wish to be assured that nothing is ever ruined beyond recovery.”
“I would prefer it was never broken in the first place,” said Anjelica, after a long pause. She leaned forward. “The Ragpicker King,” she said. “Is that whatyouthought he would be like? You arethe one who grew up in Castellane, hearing stories and legends of Gentleman Death.”
“He is just what I expected,” Kel said lightly. “Save that he did not fly in on magpie wings or dissolve into shadow at the conclusion of our meeting. No”—he added, as they rolled through the Broken Market—“the one who surprised me was you.”
She smiled faintly at that. “I like knowing things. And it does get dull being one of ten daughters in a palace.”
“I see. One must turn to espionage to amuse oneself,” Kel said. He looked at her steadily. “I’ve met him, you know. Prosper Beck.”
A look flashed across her face—real astonishment—just as the carriage came to a stop, lurching slightly as it bumped into a pothole. The door swung open—Kurame, ready to help his sister down from the carriage. His jeweled spectacles gleamed like the carapaces of rainbow beetles, and Kel could not help but be amused, knowing they were a gift from Conor.
They went back into Marivent through the postern gate, all three of them silent. As they passed Benaset, who tipped a polite nod, Kel wondered if he ought to escort Anjelica back to her rooms. It would be the courteous thing to do, but nothing about the night so far had been normal, and she might prefer to be alone with her brother.
In the end, his musings were irrelevant. After they walked through the archway into the garden of the Castel Mitat, Kel saw Conor, sitting alone at the edge of the tiled fountain. Above him was a darkened sundial, a verse from an old song etched onto its face:ALAS,HOW MUCH I THOUGHT I KNEW OF LOVE,AND YET HOW LITTLE I KNOW.
He looked up at their approach and smiled as his eyes met Kel’s. “I wondered where you’d gone,” he said. “My best friendandmy bride-to-be.”
And Kurame,Kel thought, but when he looked around, Kurame had vanished, slipping into the shadows of the night as the Bloodguard seemed trained to do.
Conor looked woeful. “I was so lonely I considered drowning myself in this fountain, but the water is full of frogs.”
“Kellian wished to show me the famous Broken Market,” said Anjelica, settling herself onto the edge of the fountain beside Conor. “Your city is very lovely at night. We also looked at the Night Garden,” she added. “Your mother has excellent taste in flowers.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” said Conor, “as she believes you do not enjoy her taste in anything else. Don’t worry; I don’t, either.”
Anjelica laughed. It seemed like a real laugh—unstudied, bright as silver.
“I saw Lilibet earlier, Con,” said Kel. “She seemed annoyed you and Mayesh were discussing the Solstice Ball without her there.”
“Oh, I know.” Conor yawned, stretching his lean body. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been sleeping on his desk again. Kel felt that familiar sharp pain that he knew was love mixed with remorse. For how badly he wanted to protect Conor. For the secrets he was keeping.
He listened with only half an ear bent to the conversation as Conor explained the Solstice Ball to Anjelica—a yearly celebration of the reign of Aurelian. That it was approaching in a short time, and Conor felt Anjelica should have a hand in the festivities.
Kel wondered if he should go, slip away as Kurame had done. Leave Conor alone with Anjelica. They seemed to be getting along well; surely that should be encouraged?
“It’s a masquerade, is it not?” Anjelica said. “Everyone in costume.”
“And every year a theme.” Conor nodded. “Last year, the theme was the stars and planets. The year before that...?”
He turned to Kel, a question in his eyes.
