Chapter 9 #2
I reached for my tea and downed half the cup, ignoring the burn and buying time to gather my patience.
Pretoria contemplatively licked chocolate icing off a tiny fork.
“I doubt it was me that drew her. I have befriended half of the Continental aristocracy and only been recognized once. But you? I barely had to lift a finger to find out where you live, work, the fact that you have no friends or sensitivity for fashion—”
“Hush!” I cut in, leaning forward across the table. “Be serious. Where is the damn artifact?”
“Impatient as ever.” Pretoria primly took up a forkful of cake, but stopped short of eating it. “And I see you have expanded your vocabulary to the base.”
“Please be serious,” I hissed. “If you do not give the artifact back, you may find me floating in the river by next week. And if the Guild has caught wind that either of us are here… Pretoria, we are in grave danger.”
Her chin lifted and, all at once, she was perfectly sober. “I know that, little sister. I know that very well.”
There was memory in her eyes, painful and sharp. She did not need to speak Emeline’s name for me to know it was her my sister thought of then.
Pretoria went on, “That is why I left a comfortable position in Lorva just to come fetch you. See how much I love you?”
That took me by surprise. “Fetch me?”
A hard note entered Pretoria’s eyes. “Yes. You should not be on your own, not in a city full of Zealots and the Guild’s watchful eyes.
Even on the Continent people talk about Grand General Baffin’s hatred of Entwined, and prophesy of escalation, particularly as he now has the wealth of The Sarre back at his disposal.
So, come work for me. I have never met a safe that your ilk could not crack.
And the Continental Guilds are so political nowadays, they rarely cause us Harren defectors any trouble.
A bounty hunter here and there, nothing to fret over. ”
I bristled, at first in response to her mention of Baffin, then her invitation and her casual mention of bounty hunters.
“I know there will be more than that. As if theft wasn’t enough!” I leaned forward across the table, delivering my words in a hiss. “You have some scheme, some brick to lob at the Guild, and you will drag me into it.”
Her eyes seemed to glitter then, distant bright stars in a pool of night sky. “I would keep you safe.”
“I do not need you to keep me safe.”
She did not speak, did not so much as flinch, her gaze remained locked on my face.
The moment lengthened, and in that stretch of time, I saw so much in the depths of her eyes.
I saw passion and courage, rage and determination.
I saw a thousand wrongs received, and a thousand more waiting to be returned upon her wrongdoers.
It stirred me in a way I could never pin down.
Was it guilt, for not sharing her conviction?
Was it discomfort, at the boundaries she was willing to cross to achieve her goals?
Or was it simply jealousy, because she had something to devote herself to, something that drove her and fuelled her and filled her eyes with an intensity that bordered on the divine?
I had never felt such a way. I suspected that I simply did not have it in me.
I was not made to reshape worlds. Pretoria was. Madge was. And I? I was forever tugged between the two, forever in their shadows and hoping that someday, I might find my identity in their absence.
“Pretoria,” I began again. “I am not working for you, not in Lorva or anywhere else. You are a thief.”
“My occupation is far more nuanced than that, as you yourself said. But I can see you care not for the details, so I shan’t tell you. Ottilie, you have had two years of independence, and how did you fare?”
I lifted my chin. “I have done very well for myself.”
“You have managed not to die or starve,” Pretoria corrected.
“But if there is anything a proper fugitive learns—and I thought I had taught you—it is not to stay too long in any one place. But you have been here two years, running about with that shoddy detective, dancing on the train of Lord Stillwell’s robe.
He might recognize you from all those diplomatic functions with Mumma and our papas, and then where would you be? ”
I stared at her. What if she was right? What if I had been here too long, and that was why Madge had turned up?
“I know you are waiting about for that mopey Bronze to come back from the war,” Pretoria continued, lowering her voice again.
“But like I said when you and I parted ways, Lewis has a soft side, but he is uncommitted. He is discontent with the Guild, enough to help you escape, but he himself will not leave. He is a smuggler but pretends not to be a thief. He is a fiancé but will never be a husband, using your engagement to avoid any other. I am sorry you fell for him, dear. I did not intend that.”
I raised my chin, emotions cloistered. “I have no desire to marry him. He is not why I am still here.”
Not precisely, anyway.
“Then why?” Pretoria asked, genuine emotion slipping into her voice. “You are an Eventide Adept, my dear, one of a scarce dozen in the City States. No matter how hard you try, no matter where you attempt to make a normal life, the Guild will find you. If Harrow does not kill you first.”
I nearly told her then. Desperate to defend myself and prove my independence, I nearly admitted that I was in the process of fleeing, that Lewis had arranged for new identities and as soon as I was paid, I would be gone.
But I did not.
“Do you know anything about the artifact?” I asked, low and steady. “Anything at all?”
“No,” she replied, matching my expression and tone. “I did go by the office to leave my note, and I did snoop to see what you and that detective have been doing, but the results were so dull that I left within… say, a quarter hour?”
The server, about to stop by our table, saw the intensity of our exchange and abruptly diverted his course.
I stabbed my cake too hard, trying again to decide whether I believed her.
This was Pretoria. She had sent me Lewis to ensure I was not paired with a proper Guild monster and she had arranged my rescue, but I had left her and settled in Harrow for a reason.
She spent her time flitting from country to country, from crime to paramour to gods knew what else.
Emeline’s death had unbalanced her, and for that I could not blame her.
But I wanted a steadier life, one without choking collars at my throat or bounty hunters on my heels.
The Guild had driven Pretoria into a world of shadows, and she had become its queen. But I was not my sister.
“You look as though you are about to cry,” Pretoria broke into my thoughts. “Or vomit; they are similar expressions for you. Let me help you and your Mr. Stoke. Let me prove myself to you. And who is this cretin that has threatened you? I shall pluck out his eyes and replace them with lemons.”
I cringed and scrubbed my forehead. Nearby, the table of boisterous Kessans pushed back their chairs and began to depart.
That was what I should be doing. I should get up and leave, leave Pretoria and this city before Mr. Wake came for me, Zealots strung me up or the Guild dragged me north in chains. What else could I do, alone and without any leads?
That was not quite right though, I realized. I had yet to investigate Mr. Stoke’s house.
“I need time to think,” I said at length. “When can I see you again?”
“Tomorrow?” Pretoria offered, lifting a large, indelicate bite of cake to her mouth. “I am at the Hotel Cherron. We can breakfast in my rooms, and you can meet my husband.”
I choked. “Your husband? Pretoria.”
Pretoria popped the bite of cake into her mouth and gave me one of her disarming, double-eyed winks. “Yes, you heard me correctly. He is very handsome,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Now where is that waiter? Sir!”