by Kester Grant
The officer sighs. “There’s no proof that this underworld exists.”
She flinches. “How can you say that? You’ve seen the reports. They date back years—”
“Rumors and old wives’ tales. We’ve no solid evidence. And the fact remains that you had a duty to protect the procession, a duty you failed to attend to when you gave chase to a convict. The events on the bridge might have been disastrous. The dauphin was injured.”
An uncomfortable silence follows.
“It won’t happen again.”
“It had better not.” The man shakes his head, and they move away from the door, doing circuits of the room as they speak.
It’s begun to snow. The tiny flakes land on my skin like icy pinpricks.
Montparnasse is still holding on to the gauze of my dress, and I realize I can’t breathe. I’m not sure if it’s because of the inspector or the Assassins—or him.
“The prince was holding my hand because he was about to teach me to dance,” I say before I can stop myself.
His expression is unreadable.
“What are you doing here?” I snap, annoyed with myself for explaining the situation to him.
“Lord Orso sends his regards.”
He looks into my eyes, and I wish I could tell what he is thinking.
“Don’t let her drink anything,” he adds. Then he releases me and is gone.
One thing has become clear: if the Assassins can sneak into the palace unnoticed, then so can the Tiger’s men. Ettie is not safe, not even here.
I have to think. Something will occur tonight. Montparnasse didn’t have to warn me, but he did. Which means there’s still a chance I can find what I came for and sneak away with Ettie before it happens.
I find Ettie and the prince at the back of the ballroom. The music has stopped and everyone is gathered around, talking excitedly.
I get to Ettie and whisper in her ear, “We have to go.”
She starts to follow me, but the prince sees us leaving and grabs my arm, asking where we’re going.
“I must fetch something in my room,” I lie.
“I can send a servant.”
“No. Please. It’s important.”
“But a mesmerist has come. Don’t you want to see her? It was a last-minute engagement, but she’s said to be remarkable.”
I look up. Everyone is on their feet, facing a small stage decorated with exotic objects. A gong echoes through the ballroom, and a hushed excitement steals over the crowd.
“Messieurs et mesdames, please welcome la Grande Meresmo.”
The crowd claps enthusiastically. An eerie high-pitched music begins to play as la Meresmo enters. She is veiled, draped in layers of silk, with a belt of coins around her waist and a turban on her head. Her eyes are blackened with kohl, her hands and wrists covered with rings and bracelets. Nonetheless, there’s no mistaking those eyes. It’s Lady Corday.
“Ettie, we must go.”
“Oh, but, Nina, can’t we watch?” Ettie doesn’t recognize the Lady of the Assassins Guild in her costume.
“You’ve heard of the mystical powers of the mesmerists.” Corday’s voice rings out. “Men and women who studied the dark arts, learning to make others obey their commands. Perhaps we’ll start with a volunteer.” Corday looks around. She crooks a finger. “Madame Langur,” she says.
Madame Langur looks horrified; she turns to the queen, who nods approval, and the lady reluctantly gives in. She goes to the stage and is helped up by two servants.
“Madame, have you ever been a sparrow?” Corday asks.
Madame Langur is confused.
Corday moves her fan back and forth in a slow and steady motion. “No, of course you haven’t.” She fixes the woman with an intense stare. “Look at me, madame. Look directly at me, and don’t look away.”
Madame Langur’s eyes follow the fan.
“Now sleep!” Corday says.
Madame Langur freezes. She remains upright, but her head lolls forward, and in the hush that follows, she starts to snore.
The ballroom erupts in rapturous applause.
Corday waits for it to calm, then says, “When I snap my fingers, you will awake a sparrow. Now…moineau!”
As Corday snaps her fingers, Madame Langur opens her eyes and, putting her head to one side, begins to twitter like a bird. The audience cheers uproariously. The queen looks positively enthralled.
Corday claps her hands and Madame Langur ceases all movement.
“Reveillez-vous.” Corday snaps her fingers.
Madame Langur gives a start, as if shocked out of a deep sleep. She looks around, disoriented.
“Thank you, madame.”
Corday’s servants help Madame Langur back to the audience.
“It’s my pleasure to amaze you. Now, for my next feat, I’ll attempt something quite out of the ordinary.”
A boy brings her a tray, and from it Corday picks up a long chain that ends in a censer, smoking with sweet incense.
“I’ll ask you all to watch this vessel attentively.” She swings the chain back and forth in a repetitive motion.
I look for Montparnasse, but I can’t find him.
“Don’t look away. Look only at the vessel. Keep your eyes upon it. Don’t let it out of your sight.”
“Ettie, we need to go.”
But Ettie’s eyes are glued to the censer.
Corday swings the chain back and forth in large arcs.
“Ettie!”
Corday claps twice. I shake Ettie. She won’t even look at me. I turn to the dauphin, and he, too, is staring, mouth agape. In fact, as I look around, gone are the expressions of merriment and wonder: the whole audience is staring, slack-jawed, at Corday’s censer. Just like when we left her Guild.
The trick, little Cat, is not to look, Corday said to me earlier, and I’ve been looking for Montparnasse, away from her and the swinging chain.
“You may all sit down,” Corday says.
The nobles collapse like children playing a game. Everyone in the room sits, except for the Assassins, who remain standing, eyes averted. I lower myself as well and watch from the corner of my eye, making sure not to look directly at Corday.
“Now I’ll ask a question.” Her voice has lost its mysterious timbre. This is the Corday I’m used to.
I see Col-Blanche.
“Who gave the order to poison the city wells?” She looks over the crowd. “Rise to your feet.”
An older man rises and stands perfectly still, gazing expressionlessly at Corday.
I bite my lip. St. Juste’s tests must have provided Orso proof of the poisoning.
Col-Blanche takes a bottle from one of the trays and pours it into several glasses.
Corday continues. “Who came up with the idea to put sickness in the water?”
Three more gentlemen stand.
“And who will tell me why it was done?”
The first gentleman opens his mouth and speaks in a cold, distant voice. “Grain was running short,” he drones. “Famine was coming, and when there is hunger, the commoners rise up. We thought to reduce their numbers. Incapacitate them to avoid the uprisings we faced last time.”
“Who else knew this was being done?”
Twenty more rise. Among them are Madame Langur, Monsieur Sagouin, the king, and the queen.
There in the background, Montparnasse is watching me, his face its usual blank mask.
Corday bows to the royals with delicate deference, and as she rises, she looks straight at the queen.
“Your Majesties.”
For the first time in my life, I see Corday’s face betray actual feeling: a brilliant, burning hatred. I shiver. I’d not for anything in the world have Corday look at me like that.
“Messieurs Man
drille, Vervet, and Tarsier, you have no children,” Corday says, turning to the other Lords.
“No, madame,” they drone back at the stage.
“Very well, then. I drink to your health.”
The Assassins disperse and bring a glass of champagne to each of the gentlemen mentioned. Corday mimes raising a glass in the air.
“Santé,” she says, and they drink.
“And the rest of you all have children.”
“Yes, madame,” they reply.
“Then I have a gift for you.”
The Assassins move through the room, handing a small glass bottle with a stopper to each standing person. The queen takes hers and clutches it tightly to her chest.
“You will give it to the child you love the most and make sure they drink the fullness of it.”
I turn in horror to the prince, who is staring, dazed, at the stage. Panic races through me, along with the realization that somehow, I don’t dislike him as much as I thought, since I definitely don’t want him to die.
“Yes, madame,” the queen says.
Corday smiles.
“From this day forth, whoever even thinks of putting death in the waters of this city will cast their own hand into the flames until it is ruined.”
“Yes, madame,” the whole room echoes.
“And when I clap my hands, you’ll awaken and forget all that has been said.”
She claps her hands twice and everyone starts, as if waking from a dream. They murmur and mutter. Then they see they’re all on the floor and begin to giggle like children, pointing at each other. Corday takes a deep bow before disappearing from the stage in a puff of heavily scented smoke. Thunderous applause breaks out all around us.
I shake Ettie and the dauphin. They are slow to wake.
“Get up, both of you. Now.”
They frown blearily at me as I drag them to their feet.
“We have to get out of here.”
Several nobles have been poisoned tonight. Who knows if it is contagious. Who knows what might happen next.
“Ah, there’s my son,” the queen calls over my shoulder.
Think, Nina. Think!
I grab the prince by the lapels of his velvet coat and he blinks at me.
“Don’t drink it,” I hiss urgently in his ear.
His eyes widen in confusion.
“My son!” The queen is before us, the king at her side.
I let go of the dauphin’s jacket, and we bow to them.
“I have something for you,” she says, holding out the crystal bottle to the prince. “I saved it especially for you.” She smiles at him, her eyes soft and kind. “Will you drink it for me?”
The dauphin’s eyes dart to me, then to his mother.
“Come,” the queen presses. “We’ll drink it together.”
I grab the prince’s sleeve and give it a tug.
A servant gives the queen an empty glass. She pours the clear liquid into it and hands it to her son.
He stares at the glass. He can’t refuse. She’s the queen. He’s not allowed to say no.
I catch Ettie’s eye. She’s not a fool. She’s noticed Montparnasse by now, as well as Col-Blanche. Two of the Court’s most notorious Assassins are in the room, and drinks are being handed out. I wink and she nods in response.
The prince takes the glass, and with a last apologetic glance at me, he raises it slowly to his lips.
Ettie gives a giant sneeze and stumbles straight into him, knocking the glass out of his hand. I pretend to stumble too, and step on the king’s foot. He yelps and hops away. I follow, clutching at his sleeve, begging his forgiveness in a manner so obsequious, it would cause anyone who knew me to stare. He shakes me off in annoyance and hobbles away. His snuffbox is now in my pocket.
“Oh, what a shame!” The queen surveys the spilled drink. “I shall find you another.”
I glance around for the Assassins, but they seem to have disappeared.
Our time is running out.
“Don’t drink anything your mother gives you. You must promise me this,” I order the prince in an undertone. Then I turn to Ettie. “We have to go,” I hiss.
She nods, and we wait till the queen’s back is turned before we flee, leaving the prince watching his mother with fear in his eyes.
* * *
A well-timed crash on a lower floor is enough to send the guards racing away from the door with many locks, the one we passed on the way to the queen’s chambers yesterday. Then it takes only a moment of concentration for me to pick the locks.
We step inside and are stunned motionless by the sight of les Diamants de la Couronne: the crown jewels of France.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” Ettie says in awe.
I ignore her and step forward.
There are Fabergé eggs, heavy scepters of ivory, orbs of pure obsidian. The largest diamond I’ve ever seen adorns a hat belonging to a dead queen. A heavy, ancient crown of brutish gold embossed with a fleur-de-lys motif sits on an ermine cushion. There are rings, necklaces, and earrings of every stone and pearl imaginable.
“That’s the Grand Sapphire.” I point to a giant blue stone. “They say it’s without flaw.”
And then there’s the king’s crown. Its gold brocade cap, arches, and circlet are adorned with diamonds and colored gemstones set between two rows of pearls.
“Those are the Mazarin stones. That’s the Sancy. And the Regent Diamond,” I whisper.
There’s also a large Bible covered in jewels, and several items of weaponry. I pocket a small dagger with a ruby in its hilt before moving on to the stunning collection of crowns, tiaras, and diadems. I reach for one.
“Nina, you can’t steal a crown!” Ettie is aghast.
“Why not?”
“Because they’ll notice.”
I go to the largest tiara, with blue and white stones, and I pick it up.
“Nina, we can’t!”
“Are you stealing from me again?” asks an amused voice.
I freeze. “These belong to your parents,” I say carefully, “so technically I’m stealing from them.” I turn slowly to find the prince behind us, relieved to see that he is alone.
“I can’t let you take that,” he says.
I feel my temper fraying; I’m running out of time. “This is just another piece of jewelry to your family, but it means everything in the whole world to me, because with it I might be able to keep Ettie alive.”
He shakes his head.
“Give it to me,” he says.
“Take it then, Votre Altesse.” I thrust the tiara at him. “But know this: If anything happens to Ettie, I’ll come for you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. Nothing will keep you safe from me. Not the high walls of your palace, the number of your guards, or the riches of your parents. I’m the Black Cat of the Thieves Guild. There’s nowhere I can’t enter. I’ll come for you in the night, and I’ll cut out your tongue so you can’t cry for help. I’ll cut you open so you bleed slowly, and I’ll leave you to die just as you lived—all alone in your beautiful golden palace.”
I’m trembling as I finish, the words of my oath heavy on my tongue. Ettie is behind me. I can practically feel her cowering.
The prince’s eyes never leave my face. He doesn’t seem frightened or upset. He looks thoughtful.
He takes the tiara gently from my hand and looks at it appraisingly. He walks past me and goes to put it back.
I close my eyes; so be it. I can knock him out and take the tiara. I’m sure he won’t fight me, not the way I fight. I ready myself, dagger in hand, just in case, but when he turns around, he’s holding another tiara. An older one with even bigger stones, all pure white and glimmering.
“Take this one,” he says. “It belonged to Margaret de Valois. It’s worth far more tha
n the other, and Mother hates it. She might not even miss it.”
I stare. Ettie sobs and throws her arms around him. He seems bemused but lets her hug him and blushes when she kisses his cheek. Then he notices the dagger in my hand.
“Were you going to stab me?”
“Maybe,” I say quietly, putting the dagger away.
I take the tiara and pry Ettie from him.
“We have to leave. We must find Corday and the others. They’re our best chance of getting out of the palace.”
“I’ve organized a carriage,” the prince says awkwardly.
I nod.
“I’d have given you the tiara even if you hadn’t threatened me,” he says.
If I knew how to apologize, I might do so. But words of regret don’t come easily to my lips. Instead, I say in a shaking voice, “Don’t drink anything she gives you. Ever. Promise me.”
It’s the best that I can do.
“I promise,” he says.
We find Corday near the stables, where a retinue of carriages stands waiting. Corday motions to Ettie and me to join her. We slip into a carriage after her and are joined by Montparnasse. I sit poker-straight and alert as the carriage starts to move, still marveling at the implications of Corday’s performance tonight. Ettie, however, is so exhausted she doesn’t even seem worried about sharing a carriage with the Lady of the Assassins Guild.
She curls up and starts to fall asleep, her head resting on my shoulder.
I stay awake because no one in their right mind falls asleep in a carriage with two Assassins. For a long while we are silent. My stomach is all knots. I have failed to get the bread price.
I can feel Montparnasse’s eyes on me, watching with the long silence that the Death Dealers have perfected. It sets my teeth on edge.
Corday clears her throat and I tense.
“I think you could go far, little Cat,” Corday says. “I think you could in time be the Lady of Thieves.”
I frown darkly. “I have no desire to be Lady of Thieves,” I say, though I recall my conversation with Tomasis.
Corday’s lips quirk slightly at the corners; she is amused at my reaction. “All Guild Lords in their time must also lie down to die. We’re not immortal.”