“Hector,” she sang. “You’re making me blush.”
There was a familiarity between them that made Elara want to step away. It was a reminder of how far out of her depth she was, and it made her think of the mark upon her chest, of Fernand and the people she’d known back in Étoiles.
“Don’t you worry about Berina,” Fiona said. “She’s just grumpy she had to step away from her restaurant for this. She’s such a workaholic.” She set her champagne glass down on the table. “Now. Youmusttell me how you produced that magie at the Exposé.”
Elara opened her mouth. It was a question Chantal had prepared her for, but the chaos of the conversation and the overwhelming anxiety had snatched the answer away. In search of something to ground her, a reassurance of any kind, she found Nikolas standing amid the other patrons, looking just as awkwardly on the outside as her.This is a competition, he would remind her,and you need every edge you can get.
Maybe the edge she needed was the truth. Chantal had said as much.
“Their transformations were real,” she replied.
“And it was based on who they looked at, yes? How did you manage that? Transforming the body is extremely dangerous and painful.”
“Not if you use umber rum and cherry pits.”
They both thought for a moment before Hector snapped his fingers.
“The rum amplifies energy,” he said, “which gives your magie the boost to work quickly, and the cyanide in the pits…”
“Dulls the pain,” Fiona cried. “Genius!”
“It also shortens the duration.” Elara shrugged. “There has to be a way to increase the efficacy.”
“Astonishing,” Hector said, and it felt like he meant it.
“Well!” Fiona clapped her hands in delight. “You’ve certainly got the skill to be here. Let’s catch you up.”
According to Fiona, Directeur Charles Renard was only selected because he was Souverain Lisette Plouffe’s personal chef and to not accepthim would’ve been a slight. However, Hector suggested Professionnelle Manon Gavreau actually had remarkable skill with fish and sharp flavors, though she didn’t have a clue when it came to baking. They both agreed that Aspirant Lyana Bellamy was like Elouise, a wild card. Except they all knew she’d been chosen because of her connection with a powerful Directeur uncle in Arts Manufacturiers.
Elara’s mood darkened. “Was everyone chosen because they had a connection?”
“Unfortunately,” Hector said with a sigh, “it doesn’t hurt.”
The Counseil care about a Favored’s magie and skill with a whisk far less than what they can offer them, Nik had said that first day.
Elara turned to Fiona. “And you?”
“Came from Cael a year ago and earned an apprenticeship with Directeur Hugo Pascal.”
“Of Boulangerie Pascal?” Elara had to stifle a laugh.
“That’s the one.” Fiona beamed, and Elara didn’t have the heart to shatter her pride.
“And you’re from Cael?” she asked. “The main continent?”
For years, Anespérer had struggled to build relationships with the major power across the sea. Cael had their own system for training magied artists, and Anespérer refused to open trade or negotiations with them let alone allow their artisans to apprentice in a Société.
Fiona sighed. “To be honest, I was summoned by Anespérer to try and mend the bond between our countries. Seems your city is running out of farmland, and we have plenty of it.”
“I see.” More power grabs.
“I hate politics,” Fiona lamented. “I’d just rather bake all day, you know?”
Elara found herself giving her first genuine smile in days. “That’s the most sensible thing anyone’s said to me in weeks.”
“Then we should have drinks after this round.” Fiona winked. “To celebrate our successes and get to know each other more.”
Elara’s smile dropped. What the hell could she say to Fiona that would make any sense? Berina was fighting for her country, Fiona was opening trade negotiations, and Elara? Elara wanted free bread. A worthy cause, but not the one she was currently chasing. Which made her the biggest fraud here.
