At last, he jerked his front free of Bash, only for his arm to be captured as he managed one step down, nearer to her. Marshall Merridon stopped, a single rigid movement, tracking the grip up to the arm and then the figure holding him. A shocked, incomprehensible look came over his features as if he couldn’t believe his son had the audacity to halt him a second time.
Or maybe it was simply the scorching look of loathing his captain directed at him.
“You are not to defy me! Inanything.It’s right there in your contract.”
“A pity it no longer exists.”
“Marshall! There you are! I’ve been—”
The front doors of Opulence were at once flooded with light and dashed in shadow in a single breath when Madam Feebledire slammed the doors shut at her back. “What is going on here?”she whispered on a strangled cry. “We areopen!”
She focused on each of them in turn. Alora in her sagging, golden gown, Lennox and her handprinted cheek in a plain travel dress, and Bash in none of his usual attire, looking lessand less like their devoted Urchin captain and more like an avenging devil, his eyes entirely consumed.
It was Merridon who spoke first. “Shut up, Patrice. This is a father-son matter.” And then he pulled back his free arm and punched Bash square in the jaw.
“Oh my heavens!” screeched Madam Feebledire a moment before the light broke.
Alora was left outside it, as were Lennox and Madam Feebledire, but only for a few seconds. With a slew of improper curses, Madam Feebledire tossed aside the paper she carried and leapt into the void. Alora lunged for the parchment. Hope was a painful beat in her chest, and it dissolved to relief at finding her contract safe in her hands.
She didn’t waste another second, hurrying to where the torches guttered weak beneath the rain. She shoved the contract inside the flame, waiting for an agonizing amount of time as it slowly ate up the damp paper. The moment the last corner disintegrated to ash, Alora felt it. A stiffness had left her, her body no longer draped in chains. She stopped the rain at once. It’d done more than enough in revealing the wonderland Merridon touted as the fake show it really was.
“Marshall Matthew Merridon! You have extensive explaining to do.”
Alora eased around the disembodied voice of Madam Feebledire until she stood beside Lennox.
“What should we do?” whispered her friend.
“I’m not sure,” said Alora. “I won’t be able to see either if I go in with them.”
They were saved from further indecision when the light returned. It wasn’t gradual, but sudden. One moment there was a black void and the next, she saw all three.
Bash knelt upon one knee. In front of him, sprawled Merridon, his back to Bash’s chest and his neck encircled by Bash’sarm. Merridon fought against the hold, his fingers digging into the Urchin captain’s forearm without avail. Meanwhile, Madam Feebledire crouched, pulling at her brother’s gold-buckled boot. She was even less successful at freeing him than Merridon was himself.
“Bash Merridon, release him at once! He has to answer for what he’s done.”
Bash glared at his aunt, muscles straining in his neck, another feathering in his jaw. “That’s precisely what he’s doing.”
“With words! Not with death!” Her hands slipped on her brother’s wet boot, sending her sprawling onto her backside.
With a growl, Bash flung his father away. “Fine. Have your interrogation. But we get to bear witness.”
Merridon knelt on the slick stairs, wheezing. One hand remained on the step as the other massaged his throat. Alora squinted in the dim light as his hand moved lower, traveling into his waistcoat.
“Wait. What are you—” she choked.
In a single bound, Marshall Merridon was turning on his feet. In his hand was a weapon—a blowgun. A dart stuck in its end. He pointed it straight at Bash, his mouth at its opposite end, and Alora thought she would pass out from the panic overcoming her.
“No!” she screamed, just as Merridon blew with all his strength.
They were all stunned in the aftermath. Alora swayed on her feet, and Lennox gripped her elbow, steadying her. “It’s all right,” her friend whispered in her ear.
But it was not all right.
Because Marshall Merridon was looking at her as if he would kill her.
He blew into the paper tube again to be sure, but same as before, it unrolled, a horn-like noise sounding from its end. A child’s party favor. She’d loved them growing up.
“You meddling bitch,” hissed Marshall Merridon, and flung the toy at her. “How have you used your enchantment without my wishing?”
