Enne fought to contain her surprise. She associated monarchists with arson and vandalism, not cherry cheeks and tea parties.
As they watched, Worner made his way over to Grace and Lola. “He likes to introduce himself to everyone,” Vianca muttered. “He’s a buffoon, but he remembers names and faces. Some people find that charming.”
Enne wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Vianca share such a comment with her, as though Enne were a confidante. It was deeply uncomfortable, especially with Vianca’s hand still latched on her arm.
“You feel so thin,” the donna said, shaking Enne’s skinny wrist. “Don’t tell me the pressure is getting to you.”
Enne considered telling Vianca about how Levi’s ambitions were getting in the way of her own. She couldn’t imagine any real consequence to Levi—after all,hewas Vianca’s favorite. But even if they hadn’t been speaking, it still felt like a line she couldn’t cross.
“Of course not,” Enne answered.
“Then why don’t you talk to Worner?” Vianca suggested. “Feel him out. He’s been terribly awkward around me lately. As if I care about what my son does or doesn’t do.”
Lola had advised her to avoid this subject, but Enne couldn’t contain her curiosity. “So it doesn’t bother you that Harrison is running for the First Party?”
Vianca’s nails dug deeper into Enne’s skin at the mention of her son’s name. “Of course not,” she said, echoing Enne’s own words and tone. Then she released Enne’s arm and carefully tucked a loose strand of white hair behind her ear, gazing into the distance. Enne realized that every few moments, the others in the room stole curious glances at the donna, followed by whispers.
Maybe the pressure was actually getting toVianca.
“I’m very glad you’re here,” Vianca said, surprising Enne once again. She patted the back of Enne’s hand, as though her presence was a comfort.
Enne had never seen the donna betray vulnerability before, but still, she remained wary. After all, it wasn’t as though Enne had a choice about being here.
“What will you get if Worner wins?” Enne asked. “More power?”
“There are a thousand ways to power. You think I’d go to all this trouble if it were that simple?” Vianca’s voice grew colder and colder, and Enne leaned back into the comforting support of the cushions. “Do you know how it feels to have no value? For every person to see through you, no matter what you’ve accomplished?”
Enne didn’t look at the donna when she spoke, in case she saw something common in their expressions. She didn’t want to share anything with Vianca. Not ever. “I might,” she answered carefully.
“I was never supposed to be the donna of this Family,” Vianca said. Her bitterness was so palpable, Enne could nearly taste the vinegar in her words. “A long time ago, when there were still kings, my Family lived like royalty, too. And though Reynes was always a City of Sin, it felt different then, and my grandfather was adept at concealing his secret lifestyle. He spent his nights throwing dice and his mornings clutching prayer beads. He was a self-made man, but he was obsessed with his legacy. From nothing, he had built something. My father, my uncles, my brother—those were his something. I was not.”
Vianca’s voice remained cool, steady. Enne wasn’t sure she herself could speak about the things that had hurt her without them hurting her all over again. Maybe that was weak, but she also felt it was human.
“I was always overlooked,” the donna continued. “Even when my entire Family was executed for supporting the Mizers, I was spared.”
“But you’ve continued to support them. Because that’s what the monarchists want, isn’t it?” Enne asked quietly. “New kings?”
“It was, once. My family died because they wavered in their convictions, not because they upheld them. I am stalwart. The only one whoevercontinued the family legacy. After all, family is everything.Convictionis everything.” Then Vianca laughed under her breath, far too light and cheerful to match their conversation. “I know you believe me to be the enemy, but I do wish you’d told me about the stock market earlier. It’s very clever. And very unfair for Levi to throwyourwork into jeopardy.”
Enne froze. “How did you know about that?”
“It’s not exactly a secret that the lords met in the Catacombs, is it? Everyone in there saw you. Of course I find out these things.” Vianca reached over Enne’s shoulder to a drink tray and grabbed herself a glass. “I think it’s a marvelous idea—both of yours, really. I’d love nothing better than to see the North Side united against the South. I told Levi I wouldn’t interfere—not for six weeks. But the clock is ticking, and...it really isn’t fair toyou, is it?” She leaned down to whisper into Enne’s ear. “Should I punish him for you?”
Enne coughed, startled. “No. You don’t need... I mean...”
Vianca raised her eyebrows and sipped her drink. “I’m surprised by how all this is turning out. I would’ve thought you two would be more than happy to work together. You’re such a pretty set on the front page.”
Vianca still wanted to play matchmaker, for whatever reason beyond her own cruel entertainment, Enne couldn’t fathom. Well, lucky for everyone, those plans had failed.
Vianca removed a pouch from her purse and pressed it into Enne’s hand. Enne felt the shape of glass orbs inside. “Your last gift. No point in wasting it on the boys this time.”
“Thank you.” Enne was horrified to realize she actually meant it.
Vianca smiled. “I always wanted a girl.”
Enne muttered a shaky goodbye and stood up. As she tried to shake off Vianca’s last words, she approached the spot where Worner Prescott was giving Lola and Grace the most exaggerated bow Enne had ever seen, his nose nearly scraping his knees. While Grace stifled laughter, Lola nervously attempted a curtsy of her own. She looked like a crow bar straining to bend.
“Oh!” Worner said, spotting Enne. Lola and Grace turned to her with relief. “Are you all here together?” He extended a hand, pastry crumbs stuck between his fingers.
