Chapter 26 #2
“Come on, let’s give the girl some privacy,” said Mawre, placing the pile of dry clothes by my side. “They’re Rhianne’s, so they’ll be a bit short for you.”
“Only my things survived,” the Sparkmouth said sorrowfully.
“Thank you,” I managed, my face flushing again. Though I knew the old tower’s destruction hadn’t solely been my fault, it was hard not to let Rexim’s harsh words eat at me.
A thought struck me then. “Port Rhorstin,” I said. “The wave…”
“They have Floodmouths,” said Mawre, “employed by the harbormaster. But the island will have taken the wind out of the wave’s sails. I think only our southern boathouse got flooded. You bore the brunt of it.”
One of us had paid the ultimate price.
As they filed out, Catua murmured darkly to Rhianne.
Llir pushed off the wall and headed to the door, then paused for a second, catching my gaze. Eventually, eyes flicking down over my ruined dress, he said simply, a little stiffly, “I’m sorry.”
I wondered if he was thinking of his father’s punishment. Of the fact that this might be the last time we spoke. I half regretted my harsh words of earlier; I supposed I should bid him a final farewell. But when I parted my lips, the words got stuck in my throat.
Instead, I glanced away, fingering the pile of dry clothes, and when I looked back, he had slipped out the door.
—
I was woken the next morning by a loud, insistent knocking. When I cracked an eye open, I couldn’t work out where I was. Then, recognizing my new room in East Tower—pokey, with a whining draft and a drip from the ceiling—the events of the past twelve hours crashed in on me.
Dark thoughts swirled, threatening to pull me under.
Last night, as I’d wound my way up here, I’d known I would need to send word to Kielty, admit I was being banished from the island.
But now, jolted roughly from a dead sleep, I wondered sickly if I’d missed my chance.
Was this my escort fetching me already? A new Egard and Belamy to deliver me back to Arbenhaw?
There were no drapes over the arrow slits here, and a cold, bright light speared through them onto the stone. I groaned and turned over on the uncomfortable cot bed. My limbs were lead weights after the fury of the tidal wave.
Whoever was out there hammering on the door clearly realized no one was going to answer, for they opened it, stepped through, and snapped it neatly shut behind them.
It was Vercha, bundled from neck to toe in a thick riding mantle with white sable trimmings.
“Still abed?” she said, gazing around my sad little chamber.
As I snapped to attention, my blanket fell off me and I realized just how cold it was. The soupy humidity leading up to the storm had sloughed away, leaving a thin, bitter chill.
“No matter,” she went on, stepping toward me.
“Corith, listen. I’ve been talking to Father.
He agrees that he spoke a little too hastily last night in informing you that your service would end.
I’ve persuaded him to allow you one week—no more—to prove yourself an indispensable member of our staff. You’ll have to—Oh, Corith!”
She’d come across my still-sodden dress, which I’d left exactly where I’d stepped out of it: a dark-purple puddle, skirts torn, turning musty.
I jumped off the bed. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Let me—”
She waved me back. “Never mind, never mind. Maybe Debry can work some magic on it.” She picked it up delicately, laid it over a wooden bench.
Turning, she swept a stern gaze over me. “You’re able to crack on with your chores, I take it? I’m aware you were battered around a bit yesterday, but we have work to do if we’re going to convince Father…”
I thought of Rexim’s fond looks at his daughter, how ready he always seemed to agree to her plans. I’d long suspected she was his favorite, and I saw now how much sway she had.
“Of course,” I said. My heart was drumming. One week. “But, Miss, I must thank you—”
“Please,” she interrupted, her smile tight-lipped. “You may thank me by proving I wasn’t foolish to argue for you.”
I met her stare with a frosty understanding.
Vercha had invested time and money into me, paying for my dress, for the new clothes I’d bought. She’d preened me, paraded me, been seen to favor me. Now she was saving face. Smoothing things over. She didn’t want her judgment to appear to have been poor.
I dropped my gaze and set about tugging on some work clothes. Rhianne’s breeches were tight and frayed at the hems. “I’ll report to Miss Haney straightaway,” I said breathlessly.
As I crossed the room, came within touching distance of her, Vercha’s arm snapped out and grabbed my elbow.
“Corith,” she said quietly, a small smile on her face. “You won’t disappoint me. Will you?” Her eyes bore into mine. This close, I saw the elegant sweep of her cheekbones, the sharp cut of her jaw, so like her younger brother’s.
My relief at my weeklong reprieve sputtered out, replaced by a cold apprehension. Her fingers were like pincers where they gripped my arm.
“I won’t, Miss,” I forced out, avoiding that piercing gaze.
She released me, unmoving, and watched me walk to the doorway.
I remembered the fragments of charred paper in her grate. That was one secret I’d decided to let lie. The alternative—crossing Vercha—sent a prickle of fear through me.
I opened the door, my blouse sweaty with nerves, and slipped out, grateful to vanish from her sight.
One week.
Through a window, I glimpsed the glistening mudflats, peppered with gulls delighting in fresh pickings.
I thought of the rebels, somewhere out there on the mainland, plotting and preparing for their foray at pallwater.
The sixteenth of Undalh was far too late now.
In one week, I might be gone from here, unable to pass on the information—the secrets—the Cage would need to “persuade” Rexim Shearwater.
Which meant Kielty’s group would have to come early. I had to send him a summons. Today.
I also had to get Avrix alone somehow. Tell him what had happened, and find out how long he’d be here. With my tools gone, no doubt swept off into the bay, he was now my only means of fully succeeding, of finding out what had happened to Zennia.
Shivering, I remembered the eager-eyed guests at the ball. The stark realization I’d come to after the wave.
I’d demanded that Kielty protect me as a source, ensure the family didn’t know I’d spied, but now the thought of remaining here—if Vercha managed to convince Rexim to keep me—brought an acrid bitterness to the back of my throat.
The alternatives, though—leaving with the Cage, or running, only to be suspected of it anyway—felt weighty, and more than a little frightening.
When Kielty’s group did arrive, I knew I’d have to make a choice. Decide what I wanted my future to be. But I couldn’t bring myself to dwell on that just yet.
In the meantime, I was about to set a fire beneath them.