Page 87 of The Isles of the Gods
The auto’s door slams, and as the sleek black vehicle pulls out into traffic, before I can even think about it, I’m running.
Seven hells. I should have stuck with my boots and trousers.
But fear is pushing up in my chest now as the auto accelerates into traffic.
How far can I possibly follow them, and who’s noticing me bolting after the ambassador? What am I going to do if she gets away from me?
My breath’s coming hard in seconds—I’m still so tired—but as panic threatens to overtake me, the auto begins to slow about a third of the way around the circle.
When it stops, I halt at a distance, crossing the street to shelter in the mouth of an alleyway and watch. The ambassador emerges from the auto, sleek black hair gleaming in the sun, the beads on her dress catching the light, and joins the group streaming toward the temporary fencing and the tents I saw earlier. She was avoiding the protesters, that’s all. She heads in through the gates, pausing to offer what I assume is an invitation for inspection.
Her auto peels away once she’s safely inside the party, and I’m left staring after her.
The fate of the world is in my hands, and the ambassador I need to help me save it is at agarden partyon the other side of a fence.
She might as well be in Holbard with my father, on the far side of the winter storms, for all the good this does me.
But I don’t have time to think like that.
I slow my breathing and try to still my mind like Leander taught me during my catastrophic attempt to communicate with the spirits. I need to think.
Give them one big thing to notice, and they won’t notice anything else,he said. I don’t think that’s the right advice here. I can make myself as distinctive as I like—if I don’t have an invitation, I’m not getting inside.
What else did he say? I close my eyes and reach for his voice.Nobody here is expecting to see me. People rarely see things they don’t expect.
My lashes lift, and I allow myself a very small smile.
Got it.
It takes only a couple of minutes to confirm I was right about the fence. It’s more about keeping casual intruders out than stopping someone who’s really determined.
I trace a path through the trees, looking for the least observed part of the barrier. It runs through the ornamental lake at one point, and if I could afford to pull this off while I was soaking wet, I’d swim underneath.
Eventually I find my spot, though, and pause to shimmy my dress up to mid-thigh so I can move more easily. I bend my knees and jump up to grab at the lowest branches of the tree that sits against the fence, hidden from inside view by the white tent they’re keeping the food in.
I heave and pull myself up as easy as if I were climbing the rigging, the leaves shimmering around me. I wish I knew how to tell the spirits to hold them still, but I’m not volunteering for another disaster. Instead I edge out along the branch, telling myself it’s just the crosstrees. It’s not the distance to the groundthat’s making me so nervous, though. It’s what I’ll find when I get there.
I drop into the gap between the fence and the tent and pull my dress down into place, waiting for my heart to stop hammering. It doesn’t, so I walk out anyway, like I own the place, and nearly collide with a waiter carrying a full tray of champagne.Really, people? At this hour of the morning?
I take one when he offers, though, and then a second. There’s less chance someone will talk to me if I look like I’m on my way to deliver a drink to a friend.Nobody has any reason to suspect you shouldn’t be here,I remind myself.They won’t see what they don’t expect, and they don’t expect a gatecrasher. This is what Leander would do. Hopefully. Or he’d be having a heart attack right now—who knows?
The guests are milling around like seagulls looking for the best snack—for them I’m sure it’s gossip, but for me it’s the trays with little pieces of food I’m watching go past, regretting the glasses in my hands.
Everyone here is watching everyone else, trying to figure out who they are and what they’re worth. I need to move quickly before I become someone’s mystery.
There are two green sisters here too, and everyone swirls around them like water around rocks, giving way as they move through the party.
They’re both dressed in the same simple green robes as the sisters at the temples, but I don’t think they’re here because they’re regular sisters. The one I’m guessing is senior has sleek black hair and moves so smoothly, it’s almost like she’s on wheels. As I watch, she waves away the offer of a drink, andinclines her head in greeting to a group of women who have approached her.
The women are dressed like a jewelry box, all reds and blues and greens and golds, bangles jangling on their wrists, ribbons woven through their braids. But every one of them lifts her hands to press her fingertips to her forehead, covering her eyes as she greets the two sisters.
My heart skips when I spot the ambassador up ahead, talking to two fancy ladies. She looks relaxed, her head thrown back in an easy laugh.How can she do that when we’re nearly atwar?
She’s a tall woman with an easy smile and long black hair braided up the same way as mine—I guess Hallie knows her fashion. I casually work my way in closer to the trio, debating the best way to get her attention. I’m not going to catch her by herself—that much is clear. There’s an assistant standing nearby, a brunette with a friendly, open face and dimples when she smiles. Whenever one of the ambassador’s companions leaves, the girl feeds in another to take their place, skillfully managing the flow of traffic.
The sun edges its way across the sky as I wait, and my champagne warms, and I know I’m on a countdown until someone notices me. I keep hoping I’ll catch the ambassador’s eye, though I don’t think I know the facial expression forI have a top-secret message to deliver, come this way.
I can feel what time I have left slipping between my fingers, though, so when a man in a finely cut suit leaves her, and she’s down to only one companion, I shove my way into the gap, doing my best imitation of a seagull.
