He grimaced. “You caught me. And you make it sound so bad.” I laughed triumphantly.
Old money was a funny thing. It was respected only among the elite and noble circles. Among those that made their own livings, those with old money were looked at as lazy, cheating leeches on society. Most of the old-money folks lived up to that stereotype, but in all fairness, some had actually contributed to society. While Aiden seemed to be the latter, he probably couldn’t say the same about his parents.
“So that’s why you never wanted to tell me about your family,” I mused. He grunted his acknowledgement but didn’t comment any further. “All right, I’ll change the subject. Any news from the outside world?”
He relaxed, but only marginally. “No. Nothing.”
=
SEVENTEEN
+
We’d finished earlier than I had expected, thanks to Aiden’s surprising knack for getting the dried-on sauces off plates that I’d struggled with. He followed me back to my room, insisting on the escort.
“You never know who could be lurking in the dark hallways,” he cautioned.
I just rolled my eyes at him.
When we reached my room, he surprised me when he followed me inside. “You up for more training tonight?” he asked.
“Are you kidding me? I can barely feel my arms,” I complained.
“That was actually probably pretty good for you, you know,” he commented. “It’ll build up arm strength. Make your punches actually do something.”
Grinning cheekily, he dodged my halfhearted attempt at slugging him. “You watch out. Don’t forget who won that first day.”
“‘Won’ is a very subjective term with you, I’ve found.”
I rolled my eyes at him, and he made a face right back.
“You never know,” he said. “There was another Chameleon attack last night—you might find yourself in trouble again someday and then you’d be thanking me.”
I tensed. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already heard—either through the gossip in the kitchens or through my runners. “I thought you said there wasn’t any news! Tell me what happened!”
“I didn’t think it was something you’d want to talk about somewhere we could be interrupted at any moment,” he said, and I had to admit he was right. He could have at least mentioned the news, though. “It happened not far from your place, actually. They think they caught him, though.”
“What?”
He fixed an even gaze on me and explained. “They found a man with the Chameleon’s Mark. He was unconscious when a neighbor found him behind the house. He’s in Naked Square now. I don’t know what the final punishment will be. I don’t think it’s been decided.”
“I want to go see him,” I said, clenching my fists.
He hesitated, then asked, “Why? Why would you want to see him again?”
I met his gaze. “You said they think they caught him. I saw his face. I want to make sure.”
He watched me for a long moment before sighing. “I thought you didn’t want anything more to do with him.”
“I want to be sure. It’ll make me feel better,” I added, flexing my hands and looking away. I could go to the Square without him, but I wanted him to come with me. I couldn’t put my finger on why—the Chameleon would be stripped and bound, incapable of physically hurting me.
Perhaps that was what I was afraid of. The nightmares still hadn’t stopped. I didn’t mention them to anyone, hoping that if I ignored them they would go away.
He must have seen something in my eyes, because he placed a hand on my arm. “Evie,” he said with a frown.
I remained silent.
“Evie, what aren’t you telling me?”
I didn’t want him to think I was weak. Instead, I looked up at him pleadingly. “I want to make sure it is him . . . and if it’s not, I want you to help me find him.”
“No. Out of the question.”
“Please, Aiden!” I begged. “I know you’re angry at him too! And you couldn’t have expected me to just wait around here in hiding until someone happened to catch him.”
“I hoped.”
“Are you kidding? When have I ever been the type of person to just wait around for something to fall into my lap?”
“Never,” he said in admission.
“And would you really have me any different?”
“No,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to go hunting for trouble. Have I ever been one to not worry about you? Do you want me to worry even more now?”
“Of course not,” I scoffed. “But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worrying he’ll come after me again.”
His expression softened, and I reddened, clamping my jaw shut. I hadn’t meant to say that. I felt vulnerable and exposed. His hold on my arm tightened as he roughly pulled me into a tight hug, tucking me under his chin. I stiffened, then relaxed as his hold showed no sign of pushing me away anytime soon.
“Evie,” he said softly, his breath warm as it brushed over me. “I will always protect you. You know that, right?”
“I know,” I mumbled softly, my fingers tracing the embroidery on his shirt.
“And you know you can tell me anything, right?”
My Mark burned against my cheek. I didn’t want to tell him. I don’t know why—it was probably irrational—but I couldn’t reveal that part of me to him. It felt too . . . intimate.
Instead, I gently pulled back and said, “I know of a way that you could help me.”
“Name it.”
“Assuming the man they caught is the wrong one . . . find the real one for me?”
He released me and looked at me in horror. “And what do you plan to do with him once I find him, assuming I can find him at all?”
“I don’t know yet,” I confessed. “But I know you can find him. You found me when everyone else thought I was dead.”
“That was pure dumb luck. Well, part dumb luck, part wishful thinking.”
“Regardless, you found me. I know you can find him.”
“I have nothing to go on.”
“You have me. I’m the only one who’s met him and survived. And you know the Mark he bears.”
“Yeah, but I can’t exactly use that to find him. It’ll be covered up.”
“I didn’t say I knew how you would find him. If I knew that already, I’d just find him myself,” I said, growing frustrated.
“It’s not that I don’t want to help you,” he pleaded. “It’s just that I don’t want to let you down. Also, I’m afraid of what you’ll do if I do find him. I’m not going to provide you with a way to get hurt. Besides, why are you so convinced he hasn’t already been caught?”
“It seems too convenient, too easy. Do they have any proof aside from the Mark on his face?”
“He was caught at the scene of the crime,” he said. “Other than that, I don’t know. But isn’t that enough?”
“Not for me,” I scowled. We stared each other for a long, tense moment, before he finally surrendered.
“Okay.” He sighed. “I’m only agreeing to do this because I know you’ll go off and do it by yourself if I don’t, and probably hurt yourself more.”
I rolled my eyes at his insinuations but didn’t deny them.
“I do have conditions, though,” he began. “You have to keep me up to date on everything. I don’t want to hear things through the grapevine. If we’re going to do this, I need to know everything. Is there anything else you need to tell me—anything at all—before we go further?”
My stomach in knots, I said, “There’s nothing more.”
* * *
On Mondays, we got a bit of a reprieve from kitchen duties. Since Saturday and Sunday meals were such a grand affair—to impress visiting dignitaries—Monday meals were simple. Staff was cut in half, and the servers rotated which Monday they got off.
Most servers took the day off to laze about in bed or go into town to visit relatives and just generally spend some time o
ut of the palace. Normally, I would want to spend more time working on my mask for Milo, or I might have tried to get some extra time in with Joch, but he was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t trust myself to work alone without burning down the room yet.
Instead, I was spending my day off with Aiden as we headed to the Naked Square. He seemed tense, an odd shift from his usual pleasantness.
“Is everything okay?” I asked him when we’d been walking for a whole five minutes without him saying anything.
He glanced at me. “I hate that I’m taking you to see this rat. I should be doing everything I can to keep you as far away from him as possible.”
“Don’t think about it like that,” I protested. “You’re taking me so I can ease my mind. If it’s him, you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
He snorted. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered under his breath.
I looked at him with curiosity but didn’t push it, and I let him stew as we walked the rest of the way.
The Square was always bustling with activity, but it seemed especially crowded today. “I can’t see,” I complained as we pushed our way through the crowd. Aiden grabbed my wrist so he wouldn’t lose me and weaved through the throng, eventually coming to a stop right in front of the platform where the criminals were held in stocks.
“Can you see now?” Aiden asked through clenched teeth.
The accused man was right in front of me, and I knew immediately it wasn’t the Chameleon. He was too young, his face too round, and his eyes too innocent. My memory might have been clouded with smoke and flame, but I knew this man wasn’t the thief and murderer. My chest felt tight, as if I couldn’t get enough air. The Chameleon was still on the loose, and now no one was looking for him.
“It’s not him,” I mumbled, and Aiden looked at me sharply.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, and he quickly led me away from the Square and the noise.
“Where are we going?” I asked, trailing behind him. We wound our way through the streets before stopping at one of the canal boat stops.
Helping me in with one hand, he answered as if we hadn’t just been face-to-face with the man accused of my father’s murder. Perhaps he didn’t believe me. “You’re going to get the rare pleasure of meeting one of my informants.”
“Really?” I breathed a sigh of relief. Not only did that mean he believed me, but this meant he was going to help me find the real Chameleon. I’d always marveled over his vast knowledge and couldn’t wait to meet one of the people that provided it. That person would have to be impressive indeed.
Unless he is actually part of some underground information ring, I thought suddenly. Maybe that was why Aiden was always so reluctant to tell me where his information came from—it came from illegal or unethical means.
As if sensing my sudden trepidation, Aiden chuckled, and the mood between us lightened. I needed that Aiden right now. “And before your pretty little head goes places it shouldn’t, don’t worry. I’m not involved in any scandals. Yes, I pay for my information, but not like you’re probably thinking. It’s like trading goods. Only instead of goods, it’s word of mouth. Who was seen where, what certain people were seen doing, who met whom . . . that sort of thing. It’s simply paying to have an extra set of eyes and ears. Nothing I wouldn’t know if I weren’t there myself.” He grinned. “Well, most of the time.”
I groaned. I didn’t think I wanted to know what that statement meant. “So where are we going? Or are you going to keep me in suspense until we get there?”
“I’m trying to decide which would be more fun: seeing your reaction when we get there and meet her, or telling you now.”
“Her?”
He shrugged. “Why not? A woman can gather information as well as any man. Better, much of the time. You women have your feminine wiles, after all.”
I turned my head away to hide the blush that was creeping up my cheeks and down my neck, reminded of the way I’d “won” our brawl. I still refused to let him live that down. “Just tell me so I don’t embarrass myself when I get there,” I pleaded.
He apparently decided to have pity on me. “We’re going to the Lace District.”
=
EIGHTEEN
+
My eyes widened. The Lace District was where the Ladies in Lace—often nicknamed the Lacies—lived. These women were trained to entertain in every aspect of the arts. Singing, dancing, drawing—you name it, they were masters of it. Every girl admired them for their abilities, but few pursued the lifestyle themselves.
The Lacies also carried a bit of a stigma. Instead of masks of metals or porcelain, they painted their faces white and lips red and wore strips of lace across their eyes—hence their name. The black lace was a clear mark of their profession, advertising the women’s expertise. Men were enticed by the sneak peeks of a woman’s face that the lace revealed, and many wished they could draw that same attention. In some it turned to awe, and others to envy. You could tell a lot about a person by the way they perceived these women.
I was in awe of the Lacies. From a young age, they were drilled in every aspect of art until they mastered it. Like me and other children who could afford schooling, they were required to study a broad range of subjects until age twelve, and after that, they picked an area or two to specialize in. Unlike me, that range was much broader—mine included mathematics, history, and reading, while theirs extended to literature, sciences, and things I had no grasp of whatsoever. Then the other areas were pushed to the side while the Lacie focused her attention on her specialty. And by the side, I mean only an hour or two each day instead of the former six.
After age twelve, she also learned other subjects, including combat, public speaking skills, extensive literature, and engineering. Not only could a Lacie entertain you, she could also carry on extremely knowledgeable conversations. It was her job to make her companions completely at ease while also providing amusement.
I’d never been to the Lace District, and I’d only seen one Lacie in all my life. It was at a fair, and she was on the arm of a very well-to-do nobleman. She was breathtakingly beautiful, wore a black lace mask, and had ringlets of chestnut hair. Her gown was elaborate and made of deep green silk. It trailed after her, and all in her wake stared at her. I was only seven or eight, but I have always remembered that moment. She had such poise and such an air about her that I’d played pretend in my room for weeks, imitating her graceful stroll in a childish clumsy way. I’d stopped after my father walked in on me bowing to make-believe courtiers. I’d been so embarrassed that I’d stopped immediately and never played that game of pretend again.
The gentle current rocked the canal boat and I turned to stare at Aiden. “The Lace District?”
He laughed heartily. “Now I’m glad I told you in advance. If I’d just shown up there with you, I’d have to keep a straight face, and I don’t think I could. You look as if a fish has just jumped out of the canal into your lap to announce he was your betrothed.”
I was tempted to shove Aiden into the canal.
“Oh, Evie,” he said, chuckling and calming down, “you certainly keep me entertained.”
“Glad to be of service,” I muttered, then added as an afterthought, “Jerk!”
“Aww, don’t be like that,” he said, still grinning. “Imagine how embarrassed you’d be if you went all starstruck like that at her doorstep?”
Begrudgingly, I admitted he had a point. “Just hush up and tell me about her.”
“Her name is Arianna. I met her once . . . when my father, um, hired her to accompany me to a palace event,” he admitted, ducking his head. Now it was my turn to laugh at him. He shoved me good-naturedly. “Be nice!”
“You laughed at me. Turnabout is fair play and all.”
He groaned. “You’re so mean to me.”
“Hey, it’s nothing you can’t take. You big, strong man, you.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, my lady.” The deep tenor in his vo
ice made the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge.
Nervously, I patted it down and said, “So? Tell me more about this Arianna.”
“You’ll like her, I think.” Thankfully his voice was back to normal. “I’ve known her for a long time. Like I said, my father requested her to be my escort to a function. He wanted me to look more sociable, I suppose.” He shrugged. “She wore a regular mask during the affair and hated it. She doesn’t like to blend in.”
I laughed. She sounded like someone I would like.
By this time, we’d arrived to the port, and we got out and walked the rest of the way to our destination. Aiden wrapped an arm around my waist after helping me out of the boat.
“Stay close to me,” he warned. “I can’t have anyone thinking you’re a Lacie in disguise and try to steal you from me.”
I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous suggestion that anyone would mistake me for a Lacie. “And who says I don’t want to be stolen? Or that I’m yours in the first place to be stolen from you?”
He made a sound deep in his throat, not unlike a growl. “Here, in this district, you are mine.”
That got my hackles up. Who was he to say that I belonged to anyone, least of all him? I pulled away from him, offended.
He immediately understood what I was doing and pulled me back, by my wrist this time. Much less intimate. Thankfully. Being in such close proximity to him was starting to do strange things to my body.
“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” he said, though not at all remorsefully. We crossed over the ornate stone bridge that marked the entrance to the Lace District. It was littered with carvings of flowers and dancing figures, all done by those who once lived there. The Lacies who chose to specialize in stone carving were that talented.
“You meant it in a way,” I insisted stubbornly. “And I don’t want you thinking I’m your property.”
“Of course I don’t,” he retorted. “You’re too lively and spirited to ever belong to anyone without having given yourself to them freely.”
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