by Ioana Visan
Yes, he did. He liked her legs very much. “Hmm?” Nicholas raised his eyes to meet Anya’s gaze. He’d stopped eating while watching her. “No, it’s fine.” He frowned while he cut paths with the spoon through the cream to let the burned sugar sauce invade it. “Anya, why did you come?”
His question made her come to a halt near the end of the table and rest her hip against its edge. “I’m worried there’s something wrong with the Nightingale.”
So this is what it was. He should have known she hadn’t come just to bring him dessert. “What makes you say that?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“I get this hole in the pit of my stomach …” She pressed a hand against her middle. “And don’t you dare make a joke about my mechanical parts!”
“You know I never do that.” His voice softened. “What set you off?”
“The way she sang tonight … She’s never missed a note before.”
“With the recent events, it’s understandable. We’re all under a lot of pressure.”
“No, it’s not that.” Anya shook her head. A short lock of dark brown hair fell over her face, and she pushed it behind her ear. “It was worse in Vilnius when the locals wanted to lynch us. She had no problem reacting then. She scared me.”
“All right. Let’s assume you’re right.” Nicholas paused long enough to hold her gaze. “What do you want me to do?” What could he do? No one stood up to the Nightingale.
“Maybe … maybe she shouldn’t come to the theater.” Anya took a step closer, looking down at him, and propped her hip against the table once more. With her hips tilted like that, her stance resembled Cielo’s, though Cielo’s hips would never reach that high. “She’s not safe there. We can protect her better at the circus.”
“I voted against it when we discussed it, but I was outnumbered.” Nicholas raised his shoulders. “People feel safe with her around.”
“But they’re not, not this time.”
“Maybe they are. What do I know?”
Anya leaned forward. Her sweet perfume, sweeter than the crème brulée, wrapped around him. “You do know. You need to convince them otherwise.”
“It’s one thing to make people think I pull a rabbit out of a hat when there’s no rabbit there,” Nicholas said. “I’m a magician, but it’s different than making people act upon the illusions. The mind filters them and, while part of you believes them, the survival mechanism knows there’s something not quite right about it. That’s why you don’t do anything stupid in reaction to them. So hypnosis won’t work.”
“But there’s more you can do.”
Nicholas didn’t agree. “I’d rather not try something on my co-workers that might backfire on me. We don’t use our skills on our own people. It’s written in the contract.”
“We’re all weird in some way. They’ll understand.”
“Oh, they’ll understand all right.” Nicholas grimaced. “And then they’ll set my car on fire. No, thank you.”
Anya pursed her lips in annoyance. “Then what do we do? Wait for the sky to fall on us?”
“We hope it doesn’t, but if it does, we do our best to keep the tide from washing us away.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was the only one he had. Besides, it was a hypothetical conversation. Chances were that nothing bad was going to happen. The worst case scenario was the townies didn’t like their show and didn’t let them use the theater ever again. It would be a blow for his finances as he tended to do well here, but he would survive.
“I’m not happy with your management.” Anya placed the bowl back on the tray. Nicholas had licked it clean.
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
Ignoring his apology, Anya picked up the tray and turned away from him. “Try to get some rest, Nick. You look terrible.”
Nicholas stretched out a hand to caress her back, but Anya slid out of his reach before he could touch her. Maybe it was for the best. A momentary weakness could ruin everything.
Shaking his head at his lapse of judgment, Nicholas took another look at the blueprints. So, if they entered here, the weak spots would be here and here. Once they went upstairs … Damn, they should get better intel regarding the guards’ schedule.
He fussed over the blueprints of the Hrad for another hour, imagining different scenarios, until his eyes threatened to close by themselves. With the days spent at the theater, the evenings at the circus, and nights making plans, he didn’t get nearly enough sleep. When the fatigue caught up with him, Nicholas stumbled behind the curtain and collapsed onto the bed.
26
What Riella planned was not part of the original act; therefore, it hadn’t received Nicholas’s approval. Yet. Riella hadn’t decided if she was going to ask for it. All she knew was she refused to let Anya steal the spotlight, which would be too easy to do on a real theater stage. With so few lead female roles available during the show, Riella constantly competed with the ballerina. The more gracefully Anya danced, the fewer clothes Riella wore. It usually worked, but not this time. Since no one could compete against the Nightingale, Riella was determined to beat Anya, who used to dance on the famous Moscow stage.
“Come,” she said, and Serioja followed her into the store.
People turned their heads at the tall aerialist, and Riella couldn’t help but feel proud to have him with her—another prize she had stolen from Anya. She wished he’d worn a vest that put his muscles on display, but it was too cold for that. Since they were visiting the city, they wore regular clothes, as close to the local fashion as possible. Still, her fiery curls attracted enough attention, and she was too proud to hide them. So people turned their heads to look at both of them.
While she talked with the vendor, arguing over the price, she made sure to keep an eye on Serioja, who roamed through the store, inspecting the merchandise. Wrapping paper in all possible colors loaded the shelves. Serioja’s light gaze moved over them, not stopping. He didn’t care for wrapping paper. He had only come along because she had asked him. In fact, he didn’t care for much of anything, other than his trapeze flying. He’d lost all of his Russian accent, a sign he wasn’t totally stupid, but some of his upstairs wiring had to be wrong. Riella had never been able to understand him or connect with him—not a strong enough reason to dump him, but enough to push her into Rake’s arms. Rake didn’t talk much, but she understood him.
When Serioja returned to her side with a bored expression on his face, Riella agreed on an exorbitant price and accepted the box filled with two kilos of wrapping paper cut in tiny pieces. Useless the way it was now, it would triple its value after it passed through Rake’s hands, and then Riella’s act would become the highlight of the show.
Bouncing on her feet with excitement, Riella thrust the box into Serioja’s arms and pulled him out of the store. She had spotted a fabric shop across the street and wanted to see if she could find some new silk sheets. With a little luck, she might find what she wanted. She felt so good today, she wouldn’t have been surprised if everything worked in her favor. It was time for the circus to get a new queen, and she was more than ready to receive the crown.
27
Other than Cole, no one had visited Dale since he moved into the attic two long months ago. The thought that his manners were rusty crossed his mind while he held the door open and frowned at the little girl standing in the doorway. Rosie stared right back, her brown eyes huge on her pale face.
“What is it?” he asked when she didn’t say anything. The kid shouldn’t have been out this late. Then he remembered she lived in the street below, from where she could spy on him, and scolded himself for caring.
Still not talking, Rosie pulled out an envelope from the bag she carried on her shoulder and gave it to him. The matte paper rustled softly as he opened it, and a wave of perfume tickled his nose. The envelope contained a theater ticket to the big circus show. He looked at both sides but found no seat number written on it. A seat reserved in one of the private boxes then.
“Did you read this?” he asked, still trying to decide what to do.
Rosie nodded.
Well, there was that. He stepped to the side and nodded for her to enter if she wanted. Rosie peeked past him at the darkness lingering inside the attic. The light filtering in through the windows barely made the outlines of the room visible. He couldn’t blame her for refusing to go in blind, so he made an exception and switched on the halogen lamp on the table.
When Dale turned around, ready to repeat the invitation, Rosie was already inside, her eyes still inspecting the place, apparently satisfied with what she found. She dropped her bag on the armchair. The fingers of her bandaged hand tapped on the stuffed backrest. At least the prosthetic was functional, and they hadn’t wasted everyone’s time at the circus that afternoon.
“Good.” Dale closed the door. “Don’t worry. I won’t lock it.”
Rosie shook her head.
“Do you want me to lock it?”
She didn’t answer but stared pointedly at the door.
“Okay.” Smart kid. No building was safe in this part of town. Dale locked the door.
As he returned to the middle of the attic, Rosie made herself comfortable on the armchair, putting her feet up and using her bag as a pillow. It looked like she was going to sleep there, and Dale had no other choice than to accept her decision. The bed was big enough for two, even three people—an old piece of furniture from the previous century that, by some miracle, hadn’t collapsed under its own weight—but he doubted she would share it with a man she knew nothing about. Life in the streets must have taught her some tough lessons when it came to that. She did, however, know enough to trust him to sleep in the same room with him.
Dale brought a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over her. “Sorry, there’s no food in here.”
As if remembering something, Rosie sat up and unzipped her bag. She pulled out a rectangular plastic box that she placed on the table near the lamp. It was filled with thick, square chocolate cakes. Rosie slid the box towards him.
“That’s all right. I already ate.” Dale had a sweet tooth but reckoned she needed the nourishment more.
“I can’t possibly eat all this,” Rosie said in a reasonable voice. “Besides, you have no fridge—” she glanced around the attic, “—and it would be a shame if we let them spoil. Miss Aurore always has good cakes.”
Confronted with such logic, and startled by her sudden eloquence, Dale reached for a cake. They ate in silence, licking the insanely sweet chocolate off their fingers, and then each went to his or her corner to sleep.
Shortly after the light coming from the lamp died by itself, Rosie spoke into the darkness, “She said you should get a tux.”
28
The day of the show arrived, and Dale still didn’t know why he had been invited to attend. He hadn’t seen Aurore since taking Rosie to the circus … not that he minded. Rosie had returned the next night for another sleepover, once again carrying a box loaded with cakes, a sign she remained in contact with her benefactor. She was absent this evening, but Dale had arranged for her to see the show. Although the tickets had sold out, Rake and Spinner had taken a liking to the little girl and promised to find her a seat. Dale didn’t worry about it. If anyone could take care of themselves and achieve what they wanted, it would be Rosie.
He did, however, worry when he showed up to pick Aurore up as instructed. The rented suit squeezed him in all the wrong places, reminding him of the parade uniform he wore while in the army before the war got so bad, there were no more reasons for which to parade. He didn’t understand how Renard could willingly wear a tailcoat every day. It was a matter of image, he reckoned. If Aurore needed a suit to hang onto, she should have asked the magician to accompany her. But, of course, the magician was working tonight.
The doorman made him wait in the lobby until Aurore came downstairs a few minutes later. A long black cape covered her from head to toe, hiding everything except her face. She wore little makeup, and inside the loose hood, her blonde hair fell free.
“Should I go change?” Dale asked when Aurore’s light blue-gray eyes lingered on him a second too long.
“No, it’s fine.” She smiled. “I would have given you the address of my tailor, but Rosie insisted you could handle the matter by yourself.”
Dale made a mental note to thank the girl for sparing him the torturous experience.
“I’m ready. Let’s walk,” Aurore said, barely giving the doorman time to open the door for her.
Years of hiding his emotions helped Dale cover his surprise. He had never seen the Golden Lady walking alone in the street, and he had made sure to keep a discreet eye on her once they became business partners. An armored car always waited for her in front of the building. Someone with a high profile like her was bound to have enemies, so why take the risk now?
“You’re wondering about this,” Aurore said while they walked together on the sidewalk.
People parted in front of them as if they knew who was hiding inside the cape. They probably did, especially those living on this street. Heads bowed, eyes looked away, no one attempted to speak or nod at her. Several couples followed the same route, apparently also heading to the theater. Aurore ignored them all.
She walked with confidence on the cobblestones, the setting sun casting a glowing light on her delicate features. Well? she seemed to ask as she watched him from the corner of her eye.
“You want something from me,” Dale said. This wasn’t a courtesy call.
Aurore nodded, and a small smile twisted the corners of her lips. “I want you to do me a favor.”
It wasn’t the answer Dale had hoped for, but he repressed the impulse to grab and shake her. He doubted it would have helped. The woman was like a rock. So instead of assaulting her in the middle of the street, Dale inhaled deeply, only to grimace the next second when the smoke rising from the kiosks on both sides of the street filled his lungs. It got worse in the square they entered next. Aurore walked as fast as her high heels allowed, but Dale was used to walking faster and still getting a headache from the smoke. This was going to be a big one.
He cast a glance at her. “Then I guess this isn’t the right time for me to say I’m getting sick of this game.”
“It’s not a game,” Aurore said. “But we’ll talk about this after the show. There’s a reception after it, so this will be a long night. I hope you didn’t make any plans.”
Just to return to the deserted attic. A small diversion from the daily routine was welcome but, at the same time, the idea made him wary. He was a man with a mission, and if anything happened to him before completing it … He didn’t want to think about that. Too much depended on his success.
“I don’t have any plans until next weekend.” He had to meet with the circus crew and work on the strategy some more, but other than that, he felt like he would die of boredom if she didn’t put him to work.
“Hopefully, it won’t take that long.”
Those were the last words she spoke until they reached the long and narrow theater square. Cars, dropping off passengers, stopped briefly in front of the Renaissance building, but it wasn’t as crowded as Dale had expected. “We’re late.”
“We’re fashionably late,” Aurore said.
When they reached the steps, Dale offered her his arm and she gracefully took it. Her light touch on the sleeve of his coat told him she didn’t need the support.
Those must have been some awesome prosthetics, even more so as they were invisible once she handed her cape to a member of the staff.
Several of the people present in the lobby stared discreetly at her. Aurore’s burgundy dress fell to the ground, leaving her shoulders, arms, and back bare. White gloves stopped above her elbows. With the slitless dress, her only visible glitter came from the necklace. The usual leaf-shaped crystal lay at the base of her slender neck. It was the only jewelry she wore, and Dale couldn’t imagine how much it cost or why it was so special to her.
“Nice dress,” he said, and Aurore arched an eyebrow. The dress was simple, with no decorations, perfectly hugging her lean figure. “Very … effective.”
“If people are going to stare, better give them a good reason to do it,” Aurore said. “Ready to make an entrance?” She reached for his arm again.
Compared to her simple attire, Dale felt overdressed, but there was no going back now. They crossed the lobby, heading for the stairs. All the while, Aurore exchanged small nods and smiles with people passing by. She knew everyone, or at least everyone knew her. However, she showed no interest in stopping to chat. She stumbled at the top of the stairs and looked as surprised as Dale when her grip tightened on his arm. He reconsidered his initial impression of her again, but Aurore didn’t acknowledge the slip.
She led him to a door on the first floor, close to the left side of the stage, and opened it. Dale had expected a private box, but someone was already inside—an older man with a porky figure who didn’t bother to get up. He turned in his seat and smiled widely.
Dale froze, recognizing the face—the face of a man too greedy to think about the greater good. This man was the reason Dale was here—to steal from him.
“My dear, I thought you abandoned me here. You’re never late,” the man spoke to Aurore, ignoring Dale.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Aurore said with a thin smile. “Dale, this is Mayor Ternchiev, my former tutor. He’s been lonely since poor Aunt Olivia passed away, so we’ll keep him company this evening.”