Chapter 6
GAbrIEL
I shuffled another ten pages into my leather satchel. Preparation was rarely a bad thing. And lightening charms made paranoia effortless.
Lucian had teased that I would end up with an entire library attached to my back one day. Like a book-beast hauling my scriptorium.
A swish on the boards, a movement in the air.
I tracked the sound of footsteps on wood, measuring pace and weight, knowing what movements were being made without seeing them.
Early training had given me the ability to know before I saw, to always be on alert.
Later events ensured I would never forget to stay that way.
I relaxed my posture, lifted a quill, and angled my body as if I were simply glancing up from my work rather than pinpointing an approach.
Marietta appeared in the doorway looking slightly rumpled, one section of hair listing over its pins, a faint shimmer clinging to an uneven sleeve cuff, her expression suggesting she would fling herself from the room if I said something about any of it.
“Good morning,” she murmured, tugging at her neckline, exposing a swath of skin.
I twirled the quill and returned the greeting, though my voice wasn’t quite as smooth as I would have liked and the quill wobbled on its axis.
She settled down across from me with her plate of food, and I watched her take a bite.
Watched her face transform into the rather passionate expression she always wore when she ate—as if she wasn’t sure she would get another meal quite as good.
The first time I had seen that expression I had paused mid-spell—magic seeping and pooling across a talisman’s lines. Only her eyes lifting toward me had gotten me moving again.
Almost amusing, really, to need to shift in my chair. She was described in gilded circles as plain. Brown hair, brown eyes, and today a brown dress.
Researching her had been easy, but not deep—gathering passing observations from acquaintances who refused to form deeper bonds with mages from diminishing families.
It was obvious why a passing acquaintance would describe her that way.
She had an average sort of face, one that could shift with lighting and cosmetics, transforming under the right tools and magic, becoming striking or forgettable as circumstance demanded.
They wouldn’t linger on the clean lines of her cheekbones, the slight asymmetry to her mouth when she was being self-deprecating, the way her eyes caught light fiercely when she was thinking of ways to save her brother.
Deemed by society as passingly pretty, but not beautiful.
The gilded had always been blind to what mattered.
With an untapped ability to blend or become, she could be anything. She would be an asset in any task, and I planned to squeeze out every drop.
But the spirit in her gaze gave truth to the other part of what society said—a truth I had known the moment I laid eyes on her. Defiance first. Always.
“Will this do for the negotiant’s office?” She pinched the plain brown muslin, hurriedly scraping her bowl.
My eyes narrowed and I whipped the quill into another revolution. “We won’t leave until you’ve had two bowls, if you continue to eat that fast.”
She paused, then resumed eating in a more relaxed manner. “I am going to tell Master Hackenstay exactly what I think of—”
“You will say nothing.”
Her spoon clacked the bottom of the bowl in furious outrage. “I most definitely will. I have plenty of things to say to that cheat. He swindled us. Took advantage of Kennen’s situation. He’s a gin-soaked, criminally incompetent, swill-bottled—”
“A lovely character list, but you will not speak to him.”
“I certainly will. No one takes advantage of a Winters and gets away with it,” she said, shoulders pushed back, chin thrust forward.
“A terrifying threat—what, with your ready blunt, vast network, and prodigious combat abilities.” I twirled the quill again, accomplishing two revolutions in time with the dig.
Color suffused her cheeks. “Revenge is best handled by the creative. Ferris may be insufferable, but he is still growing into maturity. Kennen is a baby. I won’t let them be taken advantage of.”
Even as a woman of society—my least favorite segment of humanity—her loyalty to her brothers was a point in her favor.
“That baby is eighteen.”
“He’s a baby,” she said pointedly.
Having met him, I decided not to argue. Kennen Winters had room to grow, and with a strong mentor there was hope. But Ferris Winters…
“You say your older brother is growing into his maturity? When exactly will that take place?”
“Soon,” she said firmly, her eye twitching only faintly.
“You can’t even say that with a straight face. Your brother is older than I am. I can only hope he reaches enlightenment soon.”
She blinked.
I leaned forward and watched her eyes widen, her breathing quicken.
For once, I felt no satisfaction. “I was scraping and scheming at Kennen’s age.
Back-breaking work, no sleep, risky ventures.
” Fear and determination my constant companions.
“I had to endure more than not being able to afford a new pair of boots. Poor Kennen. Poor Ferris,” I said scathingly, allowing a rarely given piece of myself into the conversation.
Not everyone needed the same driving ambition that had fueled me. Becoming one of the richest men in Gildon had given me the power to change other lives, but a person needed to have the drive to change their own.
Ferris Winters was a leech.
Kennen Winters lacked ambition.
Marietta Winters…I was still trying to determine who she really was.
“How can you say that? ‘Poor Kennen’ is locked away and most likely will not be given a fair trial.”
Her features turned angry, color lighting her cheeks like the first tentative bloom of a rose.
“Which is exactly why you will say nothing while I handle your swill-bottled negotiant.” I mixed sugar with steel and watched her hands grip the edge of the table, the color in her cheeks glow hotter.
Rose was good on her, even with her lips pinched and stiff. I absently wondered if I was annoying her just to see the color bloom.
“When do we leave?” she bit out.
“Now. It’s a thirty-minute walk.”
She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back and tucking in the lopsided edge as she smoothed the expression on her face.
She was good, I’d give her that. Her sharp mouth was backed by a sharp mind.
And I had never been against a woman with some vinegar.
It was the sugary sweet ones that made the hair on the back of my neck rise.
With this woman, I would always know where I stood, if I looked quickly enough. She showed everything on her face for a split second before masking.
She might prove to be more trouble than she was worth, as grumpily noted by Edgar, but I would continue to watch, see, and test. To try and understand why my gaze kept following her.
It followed her out of the room as she ran to get her things. I grabbed my satchel and ordered my thoughts.
Stepping into the bright sunlight, I cast a gaze-shading charm.
Marietta did not. Nor did she ask for me to extend the charm.
She raised a parasol, letting the cheap charms in the spines and webs bear the brunt.
It was an upper-class crutch to have items that did the work for a mage—magic that required little skill to raise.
The Midtown working class had taken to copying the wealthy West Enders, bathing in their affectations, so her parasol wouldn’t mark her as out of place unless we journeyed too far east.
Another day of walking, and she hadn’t complained yet. In a test to see how she handled discomfort, whether she would whine or cry, she hadn’t made a peep.
A light breeze lifted pollen from the surrounding gardens, suspending it in midair until it caught the aetheric drift and surged east. All pollution, magical and otherwise, drifted east.
A passerby sneezed.
“You said that you have dealt with Master Hackenstay’s sort before.” She grimaced as a giggling gaggle of girls walked past. “Do you make it a mission to seek out those of disrepute?”
A slow smile spread. I had no hat to tip, but I made sure to nod and smile at each woman we passed. Marietta’s expression battled with ire.
“Gildon is littered with Hackenstays.”
“How can there be so many incompetent, swindling negotiants?”
“Accountants, merchants, lords, gilded. The type to take advantage of a situation without regard to others? They are everywhere—even in one’s own home.”
She shot me an angry look from beneath her lashes. It seemed that only she was allowed to disparage her older brother.
“I don’t know why you’d want to sully your hands with us.”
“Because of what you can give me.”
“I can’t give you anything. Edgar slashed one of his vows by being in a position that helped you. I don’t have that. I don’t have connections that you would want.”
“You are a member of society—you have innumerable connections.”
Her gaze shifted to the row houses on our right. “Not anymore.”
I knew how society worked. I had been raised to know everything about it. “I never said I needed you for your social contacts.”
“Let’s be clear on this, Master Noble. You don’t need me for anything. I am aware of that.”
“Fascinating. You seem to have me all figured out.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “You know I do not.”
“But you just said that I don’t need you for anything.”
“Well, I have ruled out the most vile of suggestions. You obviously have a harem ready and willing to serve any time you bat your lashes.” She made a vague motion at our fellow pedestrians. “I highly doubt even with your insinuations that you need me for that.”
A strange rumbling rippled through my chest. I supposed that I should be outraged over her use of the word vile, my honor scorched, but instead I felt…amused? I hadn’t been this close to real laughter in the presence of a gilded lady in a long time.
“I see. I will let my harem know not to worry about a usurper in their midst.”