Chapter 10 River
River
“I’ll see you later,” Celine said, almost tripping over a stack of materials she’d checked out from the nearest library. Celine
had procured everyone rooms in a sprawling Vestriyan villa, paid for by Queen Thessia, and River and Celine had spent the
better part of the day and early evening in the study together.
River abandoned her copy of How to Know When It’s Time: The Ultimate Guide to Leaving Organized Crime Behind. Celine had been right. There really was a book for everything.
Not that River was reading it in earnest. She’d come to understand that Celine was not going to let up on the whole redemption
thing. The only way to stop her incessant questioning was to pretend her relentlessness was somewhat working. If River had
to look at the words inside a book every once in a while, it was worth the price of access to Celine’s mind.
“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” she asked as she grabbed Celine’s arm. It wasn’t necessary. But any excuse
to be nearer—to smell the muddy ink mingling with the sweat and salt of Celine’s skin—River had to take. They’d spent entirely
too much time sleeping in the same room on the ship. River had started to memorize the way Celine breathed, and she was very
aware of the quick, hasty inhale Celine had taken when River touched her.
“I’ve found a lead on a Deathrose Guild member who might be stationed here in Vestriya. I’m going to investigate,” Celine
told her.
“Stationed in Vestriya? Our operations don’t leave the realm of Mythria,” River said. She hesitated. “Except for special assignments. But those are always done undercover.”
“Aha. You’ve given me another piece of information.” Celine winked.
This was an accidental game they’d been playing now for days. River kept slipping up, offering up small bits of guild information
she didn’t mean to share. And Celine, being the ever-observant memory master she was, noticed each time.
River tightened her grip, enjoying the way the pads of her fingers pressed into Celine’s soft skin. This was another game
they’d been playing. How many ways could they touch each other? “You think you can just get up in the middle of this study
session that you requested, so you can investigate?”
“Yes. I will try to pick up supper on my way back. What do you think of braised hroxen? It’s quite good here.”
If she wasn’t so smart, so obviously meant to use her sharp mind for writing and observing, Celine might’ve made a good assassin.
That was a bit of information River hoped to never slip up and share. Everywhere she went, she was supposed to be looking for recruits.
Assassinry was a dangerous, deadly business, and the guild always needed new members. River was to observe the people around
her. See if any of them were assassin material.
And it troubled River to admit it, but Celine met the criteria. For all her smarts, she was also alarmingly fearless.
“You must be joking,” River said.
“Does it seem like a laughing matter to you?”
“Am I to believe you found a lead . . . inside a book?”
Celine held her chin up. “You can find anything you need inside a book,” she said.
“But this particular piece of information happened to come from the scribesheet I grabbed on our way out of the library.” She wriggled out of River’s hold and departed, apparently believing there was no other discussion needed on the matter.
River shoved her feet into her shoes and hurried to follow.
It was a balmy evening. A gentle sea breeze whipped through the reckless curls that always managed to escape the bun atop
Celine’s head. She hurried down weathered sandstone paths, moving like she knew exactly where she was headed without needing
to consult a map or ask a local for assistance.
Celine didn’t bother to turn around when she called out, “Will you be joining me, or do you plan to silently follow the whole
way?”
“Silently follow,” River answered. “Until I must rescue you. Which is inevitable, since you’re storming toward some sort of
hideout for a trained assassin with nothing but a notebook and quill to defend yourself.”
“You know what they say about words,” Celine retorted. “They’re the most powerful weapon of all.”
Ghosts. Was Celine . . . teasing her?
River couldn’t help herself. She quickened her pace until they were walking side by side. There was a mischievous smile still
carved into the delicate, swooping planes of Celine’s profile.
“You really believe you can kill a Deathrose Guild assassin on your own?” River asked.
“Why does it always go straight to murder with you?” Celine said. “There are other ways to go about things, you know. And
what information could I gain from a corpse?”
“Quite a bit, depending on what you’re looking for.”
The farther they walked, the more confused River became.
She imagined they’d be cutting down dark alleyways until they ended up somewhere similar to Mona’s place—an inconspicuous front that housed something quite different in its depths.
But Celine seemed to be heading toward the cluster of large, colorful tents pitched in the middle of a wide-open patch of grass.
The tents were surrounded by gigantic orbs of light, magicked to be bright enough to make you squint if you looked at them directly.
It wasn’t that Deathrose Guild assassins needed to hide in the shadows at all times.
The whole point was often to hide in plain sight. But this looked like . . .
Well, it looked like a circus.
“No,” River whispered. It was an unconscious declaration of surprise that she wished she hadn’t made, because Celine looked at
her in that way she was so fond of—the cutting gaze, determined to continue unwrapping River’s psyche like a gift. That first
night on the ship had been an anomaly. River would not share any more about herself.
“There is no lead,” Celine admitted. “But there was a full-page advertisement for the Vestriyan Caravaners in the scribesheet. The realm’s premier traveling circus. Actually,
the advertisement called them the best of every realm. That’s right. Every realm. Not just Vestriya. I found that to be a rather bold claim. I remember seeing your family’s show. And I remember seeing
this show once, a long, long time ago. I don’t feel qualified to say which is more impressive, so I want an expert’s take on the
matter, in case I ever do a write-up. You know, scribely integrity and all.”
“You . . . tricked me,” River managed to get out. She did not know whether to feel betrayed or impressed. Yes, Celine would
make a very fine assassin indeed.
“I knew you wouldn’t go if I asked. But I really want you to see this,” Celine said. Her eyes did that puddly, hopeful thing
that made River’s knees go weak. “Will you please come with me?”
River could hear the circus music now, waltzing and repetitive. It wasn’t the same tune that her family’s troupe played, but
it had the same spirit to it—a relentless, looping brightness that was so cheerful it bordered on eerie.
She formed her lips around the word no. Of course she would not see the Vestriyan Caravaners. She’d go back to paging through that damned crime book, fighting off
a sigh as she read passages like, “The first step to leaving crime is admitting you’re a criminal.”
Instead, River found herself saying, “Fine.”
Fine! None of this is fine! And yet, it was exactly what she told Celine, trudging beside her as they walked up to the ticket booth.
“Two front-row seats,” Celine said.
“Back row,” River corrected. Anticipating Celine’s disapproval, she leaned in to whisper, “It’s the best way to get a full
sense of the staging. Plus, we can decide if they play all the way to the nosebleeds like they should. You know, scribely
integrity.”
Celine’s smile lit up her whole face, and oh, was it dangerous, the way Celine’s visible pleasure made River want to give
her more of it. Worse, Celine seemed to recognize River’s enjoyment. Perhaps something in River’s own expression gave her
away. Instead of dropping her smile, Celine deepened it, her lovely brown eyes twinkling, her gaze full of determination.
For what, River did not exactly know, but she felt it in her bones.
“Let’s take our seats,” she said, breaking the tension.
As they entered the main tent, Celine let out another yelp of delight as she took in the spectacle of it all. “This looks
marvelous!”
“It’s . . . sufficient,” River replied, trying hard not to look too impressed herself.
“I’m going to get us something to eat. Would you like sweet or savory?” Before River could answer, Celine tapped her forehead
and said, “Savory. I remember, of course. I’ll be right back.”
Alone, River couldn’t help but admit that the whole stage did look rather spectacular.
The Caravaners must have had a hand magician in their troupe who specialized in decoration, because the inside of the tent was draped with layers upon layers of sky-blue curtains.
Some sort of effect shone onto them to give the appearance of moving clouds.
The performance floor was a vibrant sea-foam green instead of the practical black River had expected.
Waves of light burst up from beneath it to warble like water.
Put all together, it gave the illusion that the acrobatic troupe would be performing over sea and through sky, though not any sea or sky River had ever seen in real life.
It was a perfectly heightened exaggeration, as sumptuous as it was deceptively simple.
The troupe had plenty of wide-open space to dance and tumble and play.
River could already imagine what kind of moves they had planned. The fabric curtains would likely be climbed up and spun down.
The floor had a fine net over it, with rope that would get raised for tightrope walking. Any troupe worth their farthings
would have a trapeze, too. Sure enough, when River gazed up, she saw it secured to one side of the tent, pinned up until it
was time for that part of the show.