AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ah. Well,” she said brightly, “since I’ve already outperformed a platinum-ranked member of the Musicians Guild, I suppose I must be worth it.” The money would go a long way toward making her feel less dependent on the Arrendons. Seeing as how she’d schemed her way into singing at the Rival Theater, she hadn’t actually made any money off that venture, and she hardly had anything left of what she’d earned that first night at the Hawk and Scepter.
She was busy enough running calculations in her head, already weighing necessary expenditures against how long she might need to make the money last, that it took her a moment to realize Marquin and Verol were not nearly so pleased by this offer of employment as she was. Rather, they looked worried by it.
“Is it so unexpected he would make the offer?” she asked. Perhaps she hadn’t expected to go straight to a member of the royal family, but the entire point of her performance last night had been intended to achieve a result similar to this one.
Verol answered. “Prince Tolvannen’s nameday celebration is tonight. And Estrella Vane was engaged to perform at it.”
Clare managed not to laugh, but only because Verol looked so very pained by the situation. “I see. How fortunate then that he bought me a dress and I needn’t find something appropriate to wear on short notice. What time is the party?”
Marquin glanced at the card again. “If you accept the engagement, he will send a carriage for you at the eighteenth bell. That would give you approximately two hours to set up and rehearse before the celebration begins.”
“You cannot be thinking of accepting,” Verol said.
“On the contrary, I cannot well be thinking of refusing. I may be new to this, but even I know you don’t turn down a prince and then sing for someone else. Who am I to work for if I slight the royal family?”
Verol opened his mouth, then clicked it shut.
“Precisely,” Clare said. “You made your opinion of Lord Numair quite clear” —she hadn’t known there were that many creative ways to call someone a drunk, philandering idiot before Verol’s earlier diatribe— “but I assure you I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And unless you intend to renege on an agreement we made only this morning, then it isn’t your decision.”
Verol exhaled audibly. “No, it isn’t. And you are correct. You can’t refuse. That’s what I don’t like about it.” He strode for the door, pulling his coat off the rack as he went.
“Where are you going, love?” Marquin asked.
“To inform Lord Numair of the code of conduct I expect he will adhere to while engaging the services of my apprentice.”
“Since you’re going, do pick up my payment in advance,” Clare called.
Verol turned, his face a mask of incredulity. She gave him her most beatific smile and he shook his head, muttering something about youth and early graves. A second later the door slammed shut behind him.
“You shouldn’t antagonize him so,” Marquin admonished.
“On the contrary, I rather thought I was distracting him from his irritated rage.” That, and she truly did prefer being paid in advance. “Does he often talk to the second prince of Faelhorn in the manner I suspect he is about to?”
“Typically, they avoid each other like the plague. But when they do converse? Yes. It’s about as pleasant to be around as being stabbed in the eye with a needle.”
“And Verol is allowed to talk to him that way?”
“Verol and I are granted a certain amount of leniency given our history of service to the crown.”
She thought of the monikers the shopgirl had called them by—the Butcher and the Barbarian. Not kind titles, even from a girl who had seemed in awe of them. “And that history would be?”
“A tale for another time.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Of course, I might be persuaded to tell it earlier, if you want to tell me what you and Lord Numair actually talked about in Galina’s.”
“Sometimes, a conversation about dresses is only a conversation about dresses.”
Marquin made a noncommittal noise.
“Did he actually see my performance last night?”
Marquin gave her a look that said he knew she was smarter than that question. And she was. But she still wanted to hear him confirm it. She didn’t relent.
He sighed. “Who do you think carried his chair across the theater so he could stare up at you like he just found a god?”
She answered, in order to cover the smile that wanted to break out. “Well, at least he shouldn’t be disappointed tonight, then.”
