by Lyra Selene
“Not at all!”
“Comportment matters, but only really matters when someone isn’t doing it. Because when everyone knows the rules of politesse, any breach in decorum is always intentional. If I, as the illegitimate daughter of a baronne, know I’m required to curtsy lower to a duchesse, with a deferential twist of my chin, like so”—Lullaby dipped into a graceful, almost obsequious bow—“but I choose instead to curtsy as to a peer, without lowering my gaze”—she adjusted her bow, rising up and adding an insolent inflection to her chin.
“It’s an insult,” I finished. Realization dawned as I watched the subtle effect of Lullaby’s movements. “By going against the protocol of decorum, you’re insulting the person you’re meant to be paying your respects to.”
“Exactly.” Lullaby sank back into her chair, sipping on her fragrant kachua. “But most courtiers learn these subtle rules from birth. So trust me when I say you’re better off watching and listening until, well, forever. The only thing worse than insulting someone intentionally is insulting them accidentally.”
I slid into a clumsy curtsy, trying to mimic Lullaby’s gestures. I felt anything but graceful; with sweat prickling at the base of my neck and unruly tresses slipping out of my careful coiffure, I felt like a dirty swine who’d accidentally stumbled into a stable of fine thoroughbreds.
“Mirage?” Lullaby rolled her eyes at my poor attempt at poise. “I’m going to say that again, in case you weren’t listening. Please, please, whatever you do—don’t insult anyone. Not the empress, not Sinister, not even your servants. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, slowly. But when Lullaby turned away to demonstrate yet another form of social grace, I couldn’t help but catch my lip and worry it between my teeth, fighting a rush of resentment and humiliation that was beginning to feel familiar.
I knew this was where I belonged. But would I ever be able to learn the intricacies of a life I wasn’t born to? And if I couldn’t, how long until the gilded teeth of this opulent court chewed me up and spat me back out into the dusk?
When the bell chimed second Prime and the sweet buns from breakfast were a fond but distant memory, Lullaby dismissed me back to my chambers. Due to my being a shockingly rude and graceless rustic, Lullaby had requested we both be excused from all court gatherings until I was fit to be presented. Which meant we’d be training together, dining together, and—if yesterday was any indication—bathing together.
Lullaby seemed less enthused by the prospect than I was.
“Go explore, or read, or practice your legacy,” Lullaby sighed when I asked what I was meant to do until our next lesson. “Sleep, for all I care. Just don’t bother me.”
So I eased my way along the perfumed paths of Lys toward my chambers. There were signs of life among the residences; delicate laughter wafted from an open window, and more servants flitted between the shadows.
My own rooms were empty save for a breeze sweeping the pale curtains. I let out a disappointed breath; I’d hoped Louise might take mercy on me and unlace the Scion-cursed contraption squeezing my waist into oblivion. I wandered into the parlor area, my heart leaping when I saw the plate of dried fruit and breads laid out on the low table. I sank to my knees, gobbling down delicacies with an aplomb that would disgrace Lullaby.
My chewing slowed when I saw the envelopes laid out beside the decanters of fruit juice. The first was familiar: a small, cream-colored note addressed in a spiky, effortless hand. The delicious bread turned to ash in my mouth when the châtelaine’s words echoed in my mind: Not until the transaction is complete.
Sunder.
I remembered his sharp, aristocratic profile, his slash of white-gold hair. What exactly did he think he paid for? Outrage soured with shame rolled over me, and I scraped my tongue around my mouth. I pushed the envelope away, ignoring the dread coiling in my belly like a poisoned serpent. I had no desire to learn what my so-called sponsor wanted in exchange for the funds he’d promised.
The second envelope was larger, exuding the faint scent of tabak smoke and leather.
Dowser.
I tore open the letter, letting the envelope flutter to the floor. Heavily inked letters stared back at me, and I squinted with the effort of making out the words.
Mirage—
Welcome to the palais. Your training will begin at once. Make your way to my chambers at your earliest convenience.
Dowser
A thread of excitement stitched its way down my spine.
Finally. I hadn’t forgotten that the terms of my arrangement required me to hone my legacy as well as my courtly skills. How could I? Curtsies and niceties would help me fit in at court, but my true worth—the reason I belonged here at Coeur d’Or—lay in the secret of my blood. My legacy—the gauzy visions spilling from my fingers like half-remembered dreams, jewel-bright but whisper-thin.
Dowser would show me how to improve and control my powers.
A different thought brushed chilly fingers against my heart. Dowser also knew why I’d been abandoned in the dusk. Scion, he might’ve even been the one who left me there.
That’s not why you’re here, I hissed at the frigid specter of ancient heartache. Nothing in my past was of any use to me here. I’d come this far using only my wits, my determination, and my legacy. I didn’t intend to start looking backward now.
I paused only to shove Sunder’s hateful note into the pocket of my skirts before striding out into the jardins of Lys Wing, through the shaded grotto and up a shallow flight of stairs, beneath a veiled entryway and toward—
I stopped, my heeled slippers skittering on the slick floor. This hallway looked unfamiliar. I glanced behind me, but I’d already lost sight of Lys Wing. I tried to conjure up memories from yesterday, when Lullaby led me from the Atrium to Lys, but all I remembered was a jumbled hodgepodge of gleaming floors and burnished ceilings and carved reliefs.
I had no idea where I was going.
And there was no one around to ask.
I took a few tentative steps. A pillared arcade opened out to a vast botanical jardin stretching toward the distant roofs of the Amber City. Grassy boulevards bordered glassy ponds. Pruned hedges twisted into shapes so lifelike I could almost believe they were real: a Skyclad chevalier atop a rearing destrier; a dancing maiden; a strange, hulking beast with a nose so long it twisted like an arm. And beyond that, a pretty wilderness of fruit trees and flowering shrubs whispering secrets into the warm air.
I was so enchanted I almost didn’t notice the sound of footsteps behind me. I whipped my head around, eager to find someone who might be able to show me how to navigate this lavish labyrinth. I spotted a slender, velvet-clad back quickly retreating behind the colonnade of tiered archways.
“Hey! Wait!” I gathered up my cumbersome skirts and dashed forward. The loud staccato of my heels on tile caught the man’s attention more than my shouts, and he turned, raising his hands in surprise as I skidded to a halt in front of him.
“Thank the Scion,” I gasped between shallow breaths. The corset was cutting off my air supply, and a wicked stitch sliced my side. I bent over, pressing a hand to my rib cage. “I might have wandered forever in this maze if it wasn’t for you.”
“I beg your pardon?” The gentleman’s voice was tinged with concern. “Mademoiselle, are you unwell?”
“No, it’s just this damned—” The words died in my throat when I glanced up into the face of the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
He was obviously a courtier, dressed in a stylish dove-grey coat over a shirt of dark blue silk. Ambric and sapphires glittered from the hand he extended toward me, and iridescent feathers in green and blue swept from a rakish hat perched on bronze curls. Hazel eyes blinked from a richly tanned face dusted in freckles. Plush lips parted in surprised amusement.
“This damned what?” he prompted, with barely contained laughter. “And is it alone in its damnation, my lady, or can I expect a similar fate?”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have sai
d that,” I managed, straightening to my full height. I pushed back an unruly strand of hair and forced myself to stop staring at his perfect features. “I’ve been admonished that ladies shouldn’t curse. I’ve also been told that ladies oughtn’t talk about their underthings.”
The man stared at me for a moment longer before throwing his head back and letting loose a whoop of laughter.
“Well, aren’t you a fresh breeze in a stuffy room,” he smiled. His eyes skimmed my face before examining my new gown, the cobweb-thin bangles whispering around my wrists, the blunt nails on my tanned hands. “You can only be the new legacy everyone is talking about.”
“Is it that obvious?” I fought the urge to pull an unladylike face, and hid my rough hands in my skirts instead. “Do I still have dirt stuck under my fingernails?”
“Not at all.” His eyes softened on mine. “Rather, I cannot help but remark on such a beautiful new face when I’ve been surrounded by the same hundred people since I was born.”
I ducked my chin to hide the stain heating my cheeks. I assumed it was courtly f lattery, but after yesterday’s dubious welcome, it was more kindness than I’d been taught to expect.
“May I ask what you’re doing out here alone?” He graciously ignored my blush. “And why you feel the need to go chasing after strangers along the Esplanade?”
“I’m lost,” I explained. “I was trying to find the way to Dowser’s chambers, but this palais is a maze. I hoped you might be able to point the way.”
“Indeed,” he murmured. He bowed absurdly low, sending his gaudy feathers flying. “Perhaps the lady will allow me to do even better, and lead her to her destination?”
I stared at the handsome lord, and swallowed hard. Already, Lullaby’s lessons on comportment and decorum had flown from my head, leaving me with the awkward knowledge that I was almost certainly missing important social cues.
“You were on your way somewhere,” I hedged.
“Nonsense.” A broad smile creased his face, displaying a row of white teeth. “Allow me.”
He proffered an arm clad in richest velvet and ringed with jewels. I hesitated the briefest second before reaching out and grabbing his arm with my hand.
“Easy!” he said, grin widening. “I’m not a crutch. Here: lightly, and from the inside.”
Deftly, he showed me how to tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow, drawing me closer against him in the process. A rich, spicy perfume filled my nostrils, along with a subtler scent, like burnt grass. He led me firmly in the opposite direction, away from the open arcade and the sweeping jardins.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted after a few minutes of walking in silence. “I apologize if I’ve offended you in any way. I barely know anything about courtly protocol.”
“I noticed,” he chuckled. “But I find it endearing. It serves to make the rest of us look rather foolish, prancing and bowing and preening like so many perfumed paons.”
“Paons?”
“Ornamental birds we keep in menageries,” he explained. “Slender and serene, with great sweeping tail feathers in kembric and blue. Ridiculous, as they cannot fly.”
“Ridiculous?” I eyed the drooping feathers on his hat, and decided to lie. “Impossible. And I’ve seen the court. I can’t imagine ever being so graceful and elegant.”
“You’re making a lively start, my lady,” he said, with an incline of his plumed head.
A curving staircase choked in wisteria stole my breath for a few moments, and I took the time to mull over my new acquaintance’s words. While his fashion and demeanor marked him as a courtier, he didn’t seem overly concerned with my poor manners or rustic bearing. My behavior in the past few minutes would have sent poor Lullaby into a fit.
“I hate to pry, but you didn’t recognize me when we met back in the hall,” I said. “Weren’t you in the Atrium yesterday? When I asked the empress for a place at court?”
“Ask?” he echoed. “From what I heard, your request took the form of an unmitigated demand, my lady Mirage. But no—I wasn’t in the Atrium yesterday.”
“Why not?”
“We take it in shifts.”
“Why?”
“To better fulfill our great ruler’s demands on us, of course.” The smile on his face remained even despite a sudden tightness around his eyes. “And so she doesn’t grow weary of our tiresome faces.”
“Is that likely to happen?”
“It’s happened before.” He dropped me a sideways wink. “Although with such a face as yours the empress will surely be clamoring to see you more often than the rest of us.”
I frowned, trying to see past the f lattery.
“It’s happened before?”
His laugh was a few seconds too late.
“Of course not. Merely a figure of speech, my lady.” He released my elbow and bowed toward a passage glowing with quartz, where milky statues cupped blazing torches. “I’m afraid I must leave you for other, far less enjoyable pursuits. But Dowser’s chambers are just down this hall.”
“Oh!” A glimmer of recognition sparked in my mind. “Thanks for your guidance. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“No need. Your company is payment enough.”
He dipped into another ludicrous bow, the feathers on his hat dancing. I tried to smile at the handsome man, but the expression felt forced. Beneath his courtly demeanor, I sensed he was avoiding some truth with his careful words.
“Then I am in your debt.”
“And I yours.”
He turned to go. And as his velvet-clad back disappeared between the crystalline chancels edging the luminous hallway, I remembered my vow to do whatever necessary to earn my place in this court of wagers and intrigue. As Lullaby had pointed out countless times, I was an unsophisticated gamine with no skill for secrets. I could use a friend like him. Someone shrewd, and glib, with a skill for flattery and a notion for guile.
It also didn’t hurt that he hadn’t been expressly ordered by an empress to treat me with civility.
“Wait!” I called. “One more thing!”
He spun, hazel eyes ripe with cautious curiosity.
“Your name,” I said. “You never told me your name. I ought to know who to ask for when it comes time to repay my favor.”
“Ah.” The perfect smile faltered once more. “Of course. The empress and her court see fit to call me Reaper.”
“Reaper?” I frowned. The name seemed uncharacteristic of the smiling, flattering young man standing before me. What could such a name represent? I imagined shining scythes cutting through fields of golden wheat, stealing plenty from the earth. My palms itched, scored by invisible blades.
“But since we’re friends,” he continued, reading the uncertainty on my face, “I hope you’ll call me by my given name—Thibo.” He brushed my chin with soft-gloved fingers. “Our little secret.”
I meandered toward Dowser’s rooms, lost in thought. I’d only spoken to a few courtiers at the Amber Court, but both Lullaby and Reaper seemed consumed with an inner turmoil I found puzzling. In the bloom-beribboned Atrium, everyone had seemed content in the luxury of the palais. And why wouldn’t they be! Coeur d’Or was like paradise, glittering with wealth and magic and the promise of a thousand sun-smeared spectacles.
I was overlooking some intrigue or scandal. But did I risk my future at court by prying into business not my own?
Dowser’s door of darkened wood snapped open of its own accord. The heavy scent of tabak underlaid with the tang of kachua assaulted my nostrils. I sneezed, wincing when the stays of my corset dug furrows between my ribs.
“Come in.” His voice was as inscrutable as the layers of shadow swathing the study. I squinted, and stepped into the dimness.
“You’re late,” Dowser said. He leaned on a desk laden with dusty scrolls.
“I was busy,” I said, cautious.
“Nothing you could have been doing is more important than learning to master your legacy,” Dowser said. His voice was free of i
ntonation. “Isn’t that why you came? Or did you just want a new gown and a few spans of good feeding before crawling back to the Dusklands?”
“No!” My hands twisted into hard pebbles. “I want nothing more than to master my birthright.”
“Birthright,” he repeated, stepping closer. The light at the edge of the shrouded windows striped my gaze and hid Dowser’s expression in silhouette. “Do you truly believe you deserve a place at court, by blood alone?”
“You tell me.” The old familiar cinder of resentment flared to life, heating my blood. “You’re the one who signed that writ, transferring my guardianship to the Sisters. You clearly know more about my past than I do.”
“So you want to uncover your parentage,” he said, shrewd. “You came here to find out if you’re highborn, if you belong to a noble family. To claim a dowry? To marry a lord?”
“Frankly, I don’t care about my parents.” The ember burst into a bonfire, crackling through my veins and spinning runnels of smoke through my thoughts. “They abandoned me, discarded me at the edge of the daylight world like so much refuse. Even if they were still alive, even if they wanted me back, I wouldn’t care. They don’t deserve me.”
“Deserve.” Dowser tasted the word, rolling it on his tongue. “And what, lady, do you believe you deserve?”
My breath caught. Staring around Dowser’s closed-off chambers, I felt suddenly imprisoned within my own anger, a being of smoke and shadow trapped behind heavy curtains of resentment and humiliation. I scrubbed my aching palms down the front of my dress, fighting the sudden press of unpleasant memories: stinging slaps from children who could have been my friends, detached stares from women who should have been my mothers. I reached for the certainty I had riveted to my bones with each toiling step away from the Dusklands.
“I am a legacy of the Amber Empire.” I forced my voice to stay calm. “You said so yourself—my bloodline is true. I may not have been born in a palais, but my bones were forged in the dusk and my veins are alight with dreams. Do not ask whether I deserve a place at court. Ask whether this court deserves me.”