But this wasn’t my life anymore.
My former home appeared too soon, its scorched walls glaring at me. I felt accusation in its shadow, its gaping windows cold and hostile despite the bright light of day.
This wasn’t my home anymore.
Glancing around, I snuck around back and stepped inside. The streets were crowded enough that no one noticed me, and I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. Every muscle in my body was alert, the memory of that fiery night burning steadily in the corners of my vision.
I moved silently through the hall to Papa’s room, scanning it quickly for any personal belongings. His room was a mess. Clearly the Chameleon had been searching in here for something. My eyes settled on the leather-bound journal peeking out from under his bed, and I was confused. It seemed like something the thief would have wanted.
I picked it up and flipped through the pages, my papa’s familiar handwriting making my heart clench.
It was his work notes. It held nothing of his personal life, which must have been why it wasn’t stolen. Instead it held notes about the masks he’d made, about our clients, and about our work. There were diagrams detailed enough that I’d be able to pick up where he’d left off, even if someone’s mask had been completely destroyed and I had to start from scratch.
This was as much a part of him as his mask.
I tucked it into my sash and scanned the room once more, looking for something I could burn and scatter. I sat on the bed and realized with a start that his pillow still smelled like him—like paint, and the sea, and Papa. I could almost hear his voice, and my eyes watered.
I gathered the pillow up in my arms and fled the building.
Aiden was waiting for me outside.
“Aiden!” I skidded to a stop and hastily brushed my cheeks to get rid of any tears that lingered. “I told you not to come.”
“I know.” He pulled me into a warm hug and didn’t say anything more for a long time.
That night, after darkness fell and most of the palace was asleep, Aiden snuck down to my room and led me out to the cliff behind the palace overlooking the sea. We didn’t say anything as the pillow burned and the wind scattered the ashes. I held the journal over my heart and listened to the waves, letting them carry me away.
=
THIRTEEN
+
Talking things over with Aiden and getting back out into the city renewed my desire to find out more about the Chameleon. Although I felt safe in the palace, I recognized that it could be taken away from me at a moment’s notice as long as the Chameleon walked free. I rarely had enough time to leave the palace on my own for more than an hour or so at a time, and never after dark.
But I wasn’t going to find anything out during the day.
I didn’t really have a plan, but the palace walls suddenly felt suffocating, and I needed to get out. I needed to walk the streets and listen to the stories that weren’t important enough to reach the runners’ ears. I visited their parlor daily now, and I’m sure they were annoyed with my single-mindedness. I’d grown tired of pretending to flirt and so they’d grown tired of me, but still I asked each day if there was any news of the Chameleon. Actually, I didn’t even have to ask anymore, I just stopped by and someone would report the lack of news immediately.
But that wasn’t enough anymore.
The runners’ entrance was technically the least guarded, because no one was actually posted there, but the room was always buzzing with activity no matter the time of day or night, making it difficult for someone to use it for nefarious means.
Fortunately for me, though, I was a familiar mask and could move about the room freely. I’d tested my luck using the door itself during the day, claiming I just needed a quick turn of fresh air, and no one stopped me.
So, one night after dinner, it was easy to drop by for a visit and slip outside with no one so much as batting an eyelash.
“Going somewhere?”
I jumped, then whirled around to see Aiden lounging against the palace wall, watching me, comfortable as you please.
It was too easy, apparently.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, glaring at him. “How did you even know I would be out here?”
He shrugged, then pushed himself off the wall with an easy grace. “You don’t give the runners enough credit. You think you’re the first one to try sneaking out of here? The boys place bets on who will try it and how far they’ll get. You gave yourself away when you gave it a test run this afternoon.”
I scoffed at him and crossed my arms.
“Just what did you think you were going to do?”
“Nothing dangerous,” I said quickly. “Just listen to the talk.”
His eyes flashed. “Walking the streets at night alone is nothing dangerous? Are you crazy?”
“No,” I retorted. “Just desperate for information.”
His expression softened for a brief moment. Then he said, “Come inside, Evie. You’ll find nothing out there tonight.”
“I might have.”
“Or you might have been ambushed, robbed, and thrown into the canal at knifepoint. Or worse.” He stepped close to me, his gaze never leaving my eyes. I could smell the faint scent of mint on his breath from the dessert I’d served only hours before. “Is that really what you wanted?”
I looked away first and sighed. “No.”
“I’m trying to help you, you know,” he said, gesturing for me to enter ahead of him.
“I know.”
He was the only one trying to help.
* * *
“We need to teach you how to fight,” Aiden announced the next night as we sat in my room. He had yet to miss a night of meeting me there after my work in the kitchens was done, even after several weeks.
“What?” I was slightly offended. I knew going out at night on my own had been a bad idea, but I knew enough to defend myself during the day. I wouldn’t be winning any contests or fighting any battles, but I wouldn’t be involved in any street brawls, either.
“Teach you how to fight,” he repeated. “I don’t like the idea of you being on your own and you not being able to fight. Especially after you tried to sneak out of here with no one to protect you.”
“I can defend myself just fine. I survived the first time, didn’t I?” I was getting more offended.
“That was a lucky break,” he insisted. “You might not be so lucky next time.”
I snorted. “You sound like a bad storyteller.”
“Hush. I’m just worried about you, okay?”
I softened a little. “You don’t have any reason to be worried. I’m living in the basement of the palace. I work in the Masking workroom, surrounded by dozens of people. No one’s going to attack me there, and no one’s going to find me here. I’m still amazed that you found me.” I paused. “Are you ever going to tell me how you managed to do that, by the way?”
He shrugged. “I told you I would someday. Today is today, not someday.”
“That’s a cheap answer.”
“Cheap or not, there it is.”
I scowled and began planning. “How about this: you actually tell me something I want to know, and you can teach me something you want me to know. A trade of information, so to speak. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve stopped telling me things. Or how when you do tell me something, it only gives me more questions.”
He thought for a moment, looking a bit guilty. “Do I have to answer every question you ask me? Some questions I simply can’t answer.”
“No, I don’t want you to feel like I’m interrogating you,” I tried to explain. “I’m not going to ask you any questions. Instead, you volunteer information. You know exactly what I know or don’t know about you—all my information comes straight from the source. So you can flesh out each area as little or as much as you prefer.”
“And for every area I flesh out, I can teach you a new technique?”
“You’re going to be my teacher?�
�� I cocked my head in surprise.
“Of course.” Now he sounded insulted. “Did you think I’d try to get you to arm yourself if I didn’t know anything myself? I’ll never ask you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “That sounds fair.” I had to admit that it did. Besides, I was hoping that by showing me what he knew, he might explain exactly how he came to know those things. He’d never struck me as a fighter; he was too wiry.
“All right. Lesson one.” He stood from his spot on the bed, but I hurried to interrupt him.
“Wait, right now? Here?” I looked around at the small space. It seemed even smaller when I thought about how much I was going to have to move around in it.
“Why not?” He shrugged. “We’re not doing anything else, and neither of us is expected anywhere for at least an hour. If anything, you’d have to defend yourself in small spaces like this. Unless you’re anticipating joining up with the army after this.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously. I’m only using you for your free labor and training.”
“That’s what I thought. Though as good as my labor and training is, you’re too girly to join the army. There aren’t any ribbons and beads there. Not even feathers,” he teased right back, dramatically gesturing with his arms.
“Oh, shush. Teach me something so I can punch you,” I grumbled.
He grinned at me. The cheeky grin just made me want to punch him more.
“Okay, first, I want to know exactly what you already know.”
“Wait, no! I want you to give me information first,” I insisted.
“I’m not going to cheat,” he said, exasperated. “I’ll talk afterward, while you cool down.”
I frowned.
“Oh, come on,” he insisted. “Don’t you trust me?”
In some weird, twisted way, I had come to trust him. And he knew it. Jerk. “That’s a low blow,” I pouted.
“That’s how I fight, m’lady,” he said seriously. The atmosphere around us shifted slightly, and I was suddenly uncomfortable with the serious twist his mood had taken.
There was clearly much more I didn’t know about him than I realized.
“Now, you have my word that I will talk after.” He lightened up a little and pulled me off the bed. He faced me squarely. “Now show me what you’ve got. Pretend I’m attacking you.”
I eyed him dubiously. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He laughed. “Seriously? You won’t. And if you don’t fight back, I’ll attack you for real. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”
I sighed, exaggerating my frustration. “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You are looking at the only known survivor of a Chameleon attack.”
“Yes, well, they are furious little lizards, aren’t they?” he mocked.
I scowled and dove at him, still not entirely serious. I knew how to not get hauled away, and I knew to aim for the groin or eyes. Or behind the knee. I still didn’t really want to hurt him, but if he was going to make light of the Chameleon’s attack on me, well then, I couldn’t be held responsible for that sort of thing, now could I?
He dodged me easily and laughed. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked.
“I didn’t say I knew what I was doing,” I grunted, circling him. “I said I knew how to defend myself. I’m not usually the one on the offense.”
“Fair point,” he granted. “Then get on the defense, my lady.” He spoke in a deep voice that I could feel in my bones. The vibrations made my body tremble; he had used his predatory voice. I didn’t hear it often, but when I did, I knew to watch out.
He lunged toward me, and then it was my turn to dodge him. We played cat and mouse for a mere moment, before he was too quick for me and grabbed my arm. I tugged away, but he had a firm grasp on my wrist that I knew I’d never shake without hurting myself.
Grinning triumphantly, he said, “I’ve got you.”
“But can you keep me?” I shot back, twisting around him so his arm bent at an awkward angle, trying to force him to let go.
But it didn’t work. His body mirrored mine—he moved with me and kept my wrist captive.
“That won’t be a problem,” he growled.
Time for Plan B.
I dropped to the floor, making my body into a dead weight and pulling him forward. He lurched with me, taken a bit by surprise, if I did say so myself, and opened himself up perfectly for a groin kick.
I thrust my heel up, not with all my strength, because I knew it wouldn’t take much, but with enough that I knew it would hurt.
It hit with a dull smack, and I grinned triumphantly.
But he continued to move so quickly that I wasn’t sure how he did, and then we were standing face-to-face and chest-to-chest. His arm wrapped around me like shackles, and all I could do was squirm.
“Evie, really? That’s your plan?”
I grunted. “What are you, made of rock?”
He chuckled. “Of course not, my lady. However, my protective gear might as well be.”
“You cheater!” I accused, outraged, still struggling to put some distance between us. “You’re not allowed to do that!”
He laughed loudly. “And why not, pray tell?”
“Because!” I sputtered. “You . . . no one wears that outside of classes! You knew you were going to work with me before I even agreed to anything! And I can’t show you how I work if you’re cheating.”
“I’m not stupid, either, Evie.” He laughed in my face, his breath hot against my cheeks. “I’m not about to let you go crazy at me without some kind of protection.”
I sulked. “That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t have anything right now! I thought this was a spur of the moment thing.”
“What makes you think I don’t wear it all the time?”
“Um, because that’s insane?”
His grin didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Would you forgive me if I gave you a little information now?”
I became aware of how close we were standing, but he didn’t release his hold on me. “If you surrender this round to me, and let me go,” I bargained.
“I don’t think you can win by any definition if I have to ‘let you go,’ ” he countered, not backing up an inch. If anything, I think he tightened his grip.
“Well, I can’t win if you’re going to cheat anyway,” I argued.
“It’s not cheating if this is how’d I be on any random day on the street.”
“Okay, that’s not true.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know?”
He had me there. I had no way to prove it either way, and he knew it. Jerk.
“Are you not going to let me go, then?”
“Do you really want me to let you go? That’ll mean I win, after all.”
“You can’t win if you cheat.”
“Winning is winning.”
“Cheating isn’t winning.”
“I’ve met my end goal. That’s my definition of winning. Do the means of getting there matter?”
“Of course they matter! If anything, they’re the most important part!”
“How do you figure that?” His voice was low again.
“If you don’t play by the rules, you’re missing out on learning how to meet that goal in a way that can be duplicated.” I was strangely breathless. “When you cheat, who’s to say one cheating method will work again? And in the same way? It’s not going to happen.”
“Well, who’s to say the ‘right’ way or ‘playing by the rules’ way would work again?” He was being purposefully difficult, and we both knew it. “Rules change.”
“Are you going to let me go or not?” Our faces were inches apart. I could feel his grip tightening.
“Are you going to be okay with losing?” The smirk was back.
I leaned forward until we were cheek to cheek, and I whispered in his ear, “Never.” I felt him shiver and his grip loosened just enough.
&n
bsp; I dropped to the floor out of his grasp and kicked in the back of his knees, causing his legs to buckle. I slipped around and threw my weight against his chest, knocking him backward in surprise. I straddled his chest. Resting all my weight on Aiden, I grabbed his hands in mine and pinned them above his head.
It happened so quickly that it seemed to be over before it really began. He stared up at me, clearly shocked, and I grinned so big that my cheeks hurt. I leaned over him, so thrilled at my victory that I dropped a light kiss on his mask-covered nose.
“I win.”
He stared up at me, eyes wide, for a long moment. Then the spell broke and he sat up, gently shoving me off as I loosened my grip.
“How on earth is that not cheating?” he accused, ruffling his hair.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said innocently, grinning cheekily. “Now I believe you owe me some information?”
“You’re terrible.”
“But I won,” I sang, dropping onto my bed and leaning against the wall. “Now tell me a story.”
He shot me a dirty look. “Since I know you’ll never believe me, I’ll tell you why I was wearing protection. I used to get into fights all the time, when I was a bit younger.”
“Fights? You?” I looked at him, disbelieving.
“Don’t interrupt. And yes. I didn’t always start them, but really, how they happened is irrelevant.”
“You were a gangly little string bean, weren’t you?” I cried happily. “Oh, I bet you were just adorable. You’re so tall now.” I was getting some wonderful mental images out of this.
“I asked you not to interrupt.”
“And when have I ever done anything you asked?” I replied impudently.
He rolled his eyes. “So there I was. Fighting a lot. And I quickly learned that my opponents were not above cheap tricks and lows blows.”
“So they cheated?”
He ignored me. “And I found out that if I took measures to block their blows ahead of time, they didn’t know how else to attack me. And then it was easy for me to win.”
“Did you fight back? Or did you just run away after they wore themselves out?”
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