Beatriz
Later that night, over dinner, Nigellus is not quite pleased when tells him Ambrose will be joining them on their journey in the morning, though he isn’t exactly upset either. He seems to absorb the story of Ambrose’s fortuitous appearance at the inn, though isn’t sure if he truly believes it or not. His eyes move from , to Pasquale, to Ambrose, before darting back to .
“I don’t suppose you can be talked out of it?” he asks mildly.
“No,” replies. “I’ll also need another vial of stardust and fifty asters.”
That causes a frown to tug at Nigellus’s mouth.
“Why?” he asks.
only smiles. “Debts Ambrose owes, isn’t that right?” she asks, glancing at him.
For an instant, Ambrose looks confused, but then he nods. “Yes, that’s right. I owe Mera…er…the innkeeper.”
“Fifty asters is a lot of money,” Nigellus points out, his voice so flat that isn’t sure what, exactly, he’s thinking. “To say nothing of the stardust—how long exactly have you been at this inn, Ambrose?”
“He gambles,” Pasquale blurts out. “Compulsive gambler. I’ve tried to get him to stop, but since we parted ways, he’s apparently gotten into trouble again.” He affects a heavy sigh, and while he isn’t a great liar, has to admit he isn’t a bad one. Certainly not as bad as he used to be. The thought is a relief, but it also leaves her feeling sad.
“It shouldn’t be much trouble,” says to Nigellus with a smile. “I’m sure you have that and plenty more, even if my mother isn’t funding this particular trip.”
Nigellus narrows his eyes at her slightly before shaking his head. “Very well, I will settle your debts with the innkeeper before we depart tomorrow.”
“No need for that,” cuts in before lowering her voice even though they are the only ones in the public room. “Apparently the innkeeper isn’t supposed to be gambling. She’s terribly embarrassed by the habit. She asked that I bring her the payment in private, tonight, when her husband and children won’t be about.”
Nigellus looks at her for a long moment and now she has no doubt that he sees through her lie—it isn’t a very good lie, after all, but under the circumstances it is the best she can do. In the end, though, it doesn’t matter if he believes her lie, so long as he gives her the money and the stardust, and she knows that for the moment, at least, he’s highly motivated to keep her on his side.
After what feels like an age, he reaches into the inner pocket of his cloak, withdrawing a velvet drawstring bag. watches as he counts out five ten-aster silver pieces.
“And the stardust?” she asks. “You have more, don’t you?”
In truth, it isn’t strictly necessary, but she feels slightly guilty about Violie’s broken nose.
Nigellus lets out a belabored sigh before reaching into another pocket and pulling out a small glass vial of shimmering silver dust. He slides the coins and the vial over to , but when she reaches for them, he lays his other hand on top of hers, trapping her.
“Consider it a loan, Princess,” he says.
doesn’t flinch. “All of this is a loan, Nigellus,” she tells him. “You saving me, saving Pasquale, our passage back to Bessemia, you training me. It’s all a loan. We both know that. Add it to my debt.”
Nigellus doesn’t respond, but he releases her hands and lets her gather the coins and the stardust, tucking them into the pocket of her own dress before she pushes back from the table.
“Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’m not feeling well and I’d like to get a good night’s sleep before we resume our journey north.”
Before she leaves the table, she glances at Ambrose and Pasquale, both of whom give her an almost imperceptible nod—they know their duty: to keep Nigellus at the table by whatever means necessary for the next twenty minutes.
—
Violie answers the door after ’s knock, and a quick glance around the small room behind her confirms that she’s alone.
“Where’s Leopold?” asks, brushing past Violie into the room without waiting to be invited.
“Helping with dishes,” Violie says, closing the door and sealing them in an uncomfortable silence. Her nose is a mottled black-and-blue mess, but if she’s in pain, she hides it well. gets the feeling it isn’t the worst thing the other girl has endured. “It’s still a risk,” she continues. “But Nigellus has met me in person, and Leopold he only knows through illustrations and paintings. We thought it best I stay hidden.”
“I’m sure your nose would raise a few questions as well,” points out mildly.
Violie’s eyes narrow. “Come to revel in it?” she asks, touching her nose gingerly and flinching. “It was a good punch, I’ll admit that.”
“It was well deserved,” volleys back before reaching into her dress’s pocket and withdrawing the vial of stardust and coins. “For your journey north,” she says, pressing the coins into Violie’s hand. “You can book passage to Friv in the Avelene Harbor.”
suspects that if she tried to give the money to Leopold, his pride would force him to refuse it, but Violie takes the coins easily enough. “Thank you,” she says, before her eyes dart to the vial of stardust, though she makes no move to take it.
“As I said, your nose will raise questions and draw attention,” says. “Have you used stardust before?” When Violie shakes her head, sighs. “It’s important to phrase it right or it won’t work. I’ll help you.”
Violie stares at a second longer, a frown creasing her brow. “Why?” she asks.
It isn’t a question wants to answer. “You tried to save her,” she says after a moment. It isn’t a question, but Violie answers regardless.
“Yes,” she says, her voice hoarse. “She didn’t want to be saved, not if it meant Leopold died.”
chews so hard on her bottom lip she worries she’ll draw blood. “She was a fool for him before they even met, you know,” she says before laughing. “I’m sure you did, actually. That’s part of why my mother sent you.”
Violie doesn’t deny it.
“I heard he was an idiot,” continues. “He ran Temarin into the ground.”
“He did,” Violie agrees tentatively. “But it was a bit more complicated than that. His mother was—”
“Yes, I know,” interrupts. “Sophie told me all about how Eugenia was using Leopold’s throne to ruin the country. Sophie thought she was working with King Cesare, but she was working with Pas’s cousins instead. Still, Leopold isn’t blameless, is he?”
Violie considers the question for a moment. “No,” she says. “But for whatever it’s worth, I believe he loved Sophie as much as she loved him.” She pauses. “When he arrived in the cave we were supposed to meet in, alone, he was screaming her name. Despite the danger of it, he insisted we return to Kavelle, determined to save her. We arrived just in time to watch the blade fall.”
closes her eyes tight, breathing suddenly an effort. “You saw it, then,” she says quietly.
“Yes,” Violie says.
forces her eyes open and looks at the other girl. She doesn’t want to ask the next question, but she needs to hear the answer. “I still can’t believe she’s truly dead. I keep thinking that maybe it’s a trick, that she escaped, that they executed the wrong girl, thinking it was Sophie. It’s not logical, I suppose, but I didn’t see it, so I can’t help but think maybe…” She pauses. “You saw it, though. She really is dead? There is no miracle waiting to be revealed?”
“No,” Violie says quietly, a shudder wracking her. “No, she’s…I saw her die. There is no mistaking that.”
nods, pressing her lips together tightly. She won’t cry, not here in front of this stranger who is, by her own admission, partially responsible for Sophronia’s death.
After a moment, speaks. “My mother always said Sophie was the weakest of us, but she was the best,” she says, her voice coming out quiet. “And I won’t stop until my mother pays for what she did.”
Violie nods slowly. “I’m with you,” she says. “Leopold will be too. And when we get to Friv and speak to Daphne—”
interrupts her with a laugh, cold and hard-edged. “I asked Daphne for help already,” she tells her. “So did Sophie. But Daphne’s a ruthless bitch and her loyalty is to our mother. Seek shelter from her, she’s the only hope you have now, but for the sake of the stars, don’t trust her.” She pauses, turning the vial of stardust over in her hands and weighing her next words carefully. “My mother recruited you for a reason,” she says. “Clearly you were good at going unnoticed, at gathering information. You know how to code?”
Violie nods. “I had the same lessons you did, albeit truncated versions,” she says.
“Good,” says, pursing her lips as she uncorks the vial of stardust. Without warning, she smears the black dust over the back of her hand. “I wish Violie’s nose were no longer broken. Try not to scream.”
“Wha—” Violie begins before breaking off with a sharp gasp, her hands flying to her nose once more as she lets out a string of curses in both Bessemian and Temarinian. says nothing, waiting for the other girl to get ahold of herself. After a moment, Violie goes quiet and her hands drop away from her face, revealing a nose that, while still mottled purple, is straight once more.
“By tomorrow, it should be back to normal,” says. “And you work for me now. I want you to keep an eye on my sister. I want to know everything she’s doing. If you can intercept letters between her and my mother, all the better.” swallows, thinking of the Daphne she’s known her entire life, the one who drove her mad but who she loved anyway. The one she always believed, deep down, would be on her side to the end. The one who did nothing and let Sophronia die.
“But when the time comes, if she proves to be a threat, you will stop her. By whatever means necessary,” she finishes, the words coming out cold.
Violie’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “You want me to killher?” she asks. “She’s your sister.”
“She is,” tells her. “And I love her, but I don’t trust her and I won’t make the mistake of underestimating her.” It isn’t only ’s life at stake now, it’s Pasquale’s and Leopold’s as well, it’s Ambrose’s and Violie’s by extension, and so many others. “My mother sharpened us into weapons, you understand that better than most. I won’t let her wield Daphne to hurt anyone else I care about.”