“Then it seems like Luca’s theory provides better means but less motive.”
Nicoleta has voiced exactly what I have been struggling to put into words. “Exactly. I don’t know which theory I believe more,” I say. “When I’m with Villiam, I agree with him. And then the opposite is true when I’m with Luca. I’m easily persuaded, I suppose.” I wait for Nicoleta to voice her own opinion, but she doesn’t. “Do you think I should be working with Luca?”
“I think both theories are valid, and I also think you would wound Villiam by telling him now. Temporarily keeping Luca a secret is not a terrible idea.”
“You’ve never been an advocate of sneaking around.”
“The past few weeks have been terrible. I think we’ve all changed our tunes a bit.”
As we approach the tent, the guards outside come into view. They’re dressed all in black, with swords tucked into their sheaths. Menacing, tall and muscular—these are the men I want protecting my family while I cannot.
Inside, we find Chimal, Agni and a few other men I don’t recognize. It seems my father has yet to arrive—probably because he insisted on walking by himself this time. Chimal straightens when he sees us and leaves his conversation with Agni.
“Sorina, Nicoleta, these are the men and women who will be assisting you next week.” Chimal introduces each of the individuals, but I forget their names almost immediately after he says them. There is a woman who is an expert in Up-Mountain politicians. She’ll be able to give us information on the people we might encounter. There’s also an apothecary to supply us with the drugs we’ll use to knock out the Alliance’s leader.
“Agni will be helping, as well,” Chimal says. “We’re hoping to take advantage of his fire-work to serve as a minor distraction to any officials there.”
Even though we’ve been planning this for several days now, it hasn’t felt real until this moment, when the men and women who will be working with us stand before me. Nicoleta and I are going to kidnap an Up-Mountain archduke. I shiver at the idea of returning to an Up-Mountain city, considering what happened while Luca and I were in Cartona. If all goes well, no Up-Mountainers will notice me. I will be merely a moth. But I’ve never needed to maintain an illusion for so long under pressure.
Then there is the question of whether Nicoleta’s abilities will pull through. We’re all counting on her.
Chimal rests his hand on my shoulder. “Sorina, why don’t you go with Villiam and practice maintaining your illusion-work? I know you said you’re concerned about how long you can maintain the image of the moth. We want to have a good sense of your limit.”
I whip around to face my father, who stands in the doorway leaning on his crutches. Despite his injury, his strong posture and confident smile make it clear that he’s in his element. He’s not simply a proprietor. He’s a general.
Before I leave with him, I turn to Chimal. “I want to ask something of you,” I say.
“Anything,” he answers.
“My family is restless now that we have arrived at a new city, as new cities have lately brought tragedy. I would appreciate it if you could spare a few members of your guard to watch over them. More than there already are.”
“Of course. We have a few men stationed in your neighborhood, but I can absolutely add more. Escorts, too.”
“Thank you.”
I follow Villiam outside, onto the uneven ground of the dunes. I feel almost naked being out on the beach, unprotected by Gomorrah’s smoke. Anyone traveling from far away would spot us as two dark flecks on the shoreline.
“Is it safe to be out here, in the open?” I ask him.
“No one will notice one man walking along the beach.”
“There are two of us.”
“That person would have to have spectacular vision to notice a moth from such a distance.”
I take that as my cue to concentrate on my illusion. I’ve used this image so many times that it appears naturally, the way muscles remember repetitive motions. The two of us walk closer to the water’s edge. It froths white along the sand and shards of broken shells. What a peaceful spot to plot a battle.
“Your footprints are showing, Sorina,” Villiam says.
“The wedding will take place in a church, won’t it?” I ask. “I won’t need to worry about sand.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about the concentration. Any jynx-worker improves through practice.”
I begrudgingly cast illusions to cover my footprints. As we walk, the images become more difficult to conceal. The weight of the jynx-work makes my thoughts trip, as if I’m drunk.
Within moments, my exhaustion takes a toll on the illusion. The fluttering of the moth’s wings fades, and gradually, more details disappear. The smell of me—smoke, like everyone in Gomorrah—returns.
“I can see your silhouette. It’s barely been three minutes,” Villiam says. “That’s unlike you.”
