“Have you done this before?” I ask, taking it from her.
She flashes me a bright smile. “I’m well versed in the art of running from my problems.”
“Well, that’s something I can toast to.” I tip the bottle to my lips and draw deep, wincing from the way the sharp liquid pinches the back of my throat.
Gael gets to work on my dress, easing me out of the suffocating bodice in breath-giving increments as we share the wine back and forth until my back feels free and bare.
“I’ll be back,” she says, taking another swig before handing me the bottle and gathering her skirts. “Going to sneak to my room on the fourth floor and find something else to wear while you get changed.”
Stepping out of the dress, I rip one of the long skirt panels free and use it to bind my breasts, then pull on the pair of brown leather pants and the blue shirt I bought at the market. Twisting my hair into a low knot, I pin it close to my nape.
I’m tugging my cap down over my head, my belly warm and fuzzy as Gael walks back in the room wearing a simple hooded cloak that’s a rich shade of azure, her cascade of hair tucked away from view.
“Amazing,” she gasps, taking me in through wide eyes as she closes the door behind herself, two black masks hanging from her other hand.
I tuck some loose strands of hair into my cap. “What is?”
“You look like a boy. A pretty one, but a boy nonetheless. Nobody will ever suspect.”
A smile tips the corner of my mouth.
She tucks the masks in my bag, and I frown, passing her what’s left of the wine. “What are they for?”
“You’ll see,” she says, throwing me a wink. “We’re going to the place I frequent when I want to be free. You’ll love it, I promise.”
I stuff my bag with the rest of my things while she polishes off the bottle, then fiddle with the latch of my cupla, trying to pry it open.
Gael pauses mid-draw, dropping the bottle from her lips. “I don’t think you’re meant to do that …”
“I’m the only one with a lapis lazuli cupla. It could give me away.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know … are you sure?”
“It’s fine.” I battle the clasp, yanking it. “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken it off. It just clips right back on again.”
“What if—”
It comes away at once,a piece of the gold clasp clattering on the stone floor between us.
We look down at the lump of gold, and I break out in a cold sweat.
“Shit.” I slip the cupla from my wrist and study the broken clasp dangling from it. “I thought these things weren’t supposed to break.”
“They’re not,” Gael whispers, and I look up into her wide, fearful eyes. “It’s a bad omen if they do. Really, really bad.”
“I’ll fix it,” I murmur, stuffing it in my bag. “He’ll never know.”
But even as the words tumble past my lips, the echo of hers weave their hands around my throat …
Bad omen.
We enter a tunnel, its entrance hidden behind an empty barrel in the cellar, the exit popping us out along the rocky shoreline beyond the community’s gates. Following the waterfront, we come to the esplanade.
Gael leads us along the bustling streets, through the vibrant, colorful part of town, turning down side alleys that are increasingly quiet, until the lights appear dimmer, the buildings less towering. The deeper we delve, the rougher it becomes; the tighter the streets, the more solemn the atmosphere, and the more people’s stares have begun to stick to the ground rather than ahead of themselves. Men smoke pipes under the shade of weather-worn awnings, women scrub their washing in wooden barrels right in the middle of the street, and kids wear clothes patched up with all different shades of blue, their laughter not as free and wild as the kids’ who live closer to the ocean.
We pass into the shadow of the wall, so tall I have to crane my neck to see the massive turrets dotted along the top that always ignite an hour before the sun goes down and blaze through the night. The mighty barrier that protects the city against the nest of Irilak that apparently dwells in the surrounding jungle.
I jog to catch up with Gael, so busy looking around I’d fallen behind. “Where are we going?”
