“What do you think of it?”
“It’s been modernized, but you can see the old bones beneath,” Jubilee said. “Do you see how all the old hearth fires have been covered over? You can see the chimneys when you come in, but all the walls are paneled over.”
“What an astute observation, Miss Accurate,” Venthar said. “Saer Helarel, what do you think?”
A bit overdone, but Saeldian wouldn’t say so. “It must be quite satisfying to live in such a beautiful place.”
“And with your very own collection of art! When you were last here, what was your favorite work of the collection?” Jubilee asked, cheerful and fizzy.
“The fairy ball,” Venthar answered. “It’s so vivid that you expect to puzzle over the brushwork as you come near, but it’s actually embroidered. I’m sure you’ll both like it.”
“That does sound lovely,” Saeldian said, though their eyes were glued to the dance floor. Kell had a new dancing partner. All around him, people watched and wanted to be next.
Kell would have probably been the best dancer in the room regardless, but in ten years, he’d gone from excellent to exquisite. Kell moved like he could climb a glass wall without tools, like he could cross a wire strung between buildings as if it were a promenade not worth noticing. Did anyone else see what Saeldian saw? Did they know mastery when it twirled among them?
Lorzok had been surprised at the idea of Kell singing, when Kell could entrance a listener by drawing them into the emotions of the lyrics. Kell could sing fractious babies to sleep, move a room to tears, inspire them to bravery, set a listener’s skin to thrilling as if their lover serenaded them. Kell never stopped being music; he even sang while he mended socks and had songs that he used to time the cooking of an egg.
But Lorzok didn’t know.
Saeldian took in the whole ballroom and tried to get Kell out of their thoughts. This was a good party. Everyone’s happy smiles were natural, entertained—and entertained people didn’t notice unusual details. The conversation didn’t drown out the music, which was lively enough to fill the dance floor. And if everyone kept watching Kell dance, they couldn’t help it.
He was probably saying perfectly charming things to his partners, picking up exactly the right thread of conversation to pursue as the dance made him change to his second partner.
Saeldian knew they were an excellent actor. But Kell could charm a devil into giving him their soul, if he would just lean in to it. He could make you feel like you were alone together in a room full of people, and he did it just to make other people feel good, feel liked, feel special. But these days, they would still have their gold when he walked away.
“But you don’t sing?” Saeldian muttered, and when Kell looked straight at them, they glanced at the movement at the blurred edge of their vision instead.
Venthar swayed a bit, bumping gently into Saeldian’s shoulder. “Hm?”
Hells. They’d been woolgathering too long. “There are words to this song. I’m trying to remember them.”
The line moved, and Saeldian turned away from Kell to climb the steps to the gallery floor. A tiny flash high on the wall had Saeldian scanning the dentils lining the bottom of the crown molding. They let their gaze rest, and—
Another flash. Miniscule. If they hadn’t been looking…but now everything needed inspecting.
Jubilee kept up friendly chatter with Venthar. Saeldian used his tone to cue which empty bits of politeness would stand in for actually listening. When he laughed, they whispered a word and tapped their eyes.
Spells coated the gallery. Some of the people around them glowed, but they were the royal purple–colored aura of illusions. Saeldian ignored that in favor of magic smeared on the floor, the walls, the picture frames, the pedestals and tables. That turquoiseglow was for divination—cool, pale, looking for the condition that would trigger them. Those ones on the frames and cases were obviously triggered by touch. But the walls…
Nine Hells.
Jubilee kept Venthar talking about himself while Saeldian took careful note of the spells guarding Lady Elezia’s treasures. Saeldian made agreeable noises as they tallied their observations on the slow walk around the gallery’s impressive paintings, sculptures, and even weapons.
Of all the divination magic visible to Saeldian, the spots on the walls were the key. But why so many? If only Saeldian could tell what the spells were meant to do, instead of just the school of magic they were from.
The shadows in between the dentils hid a dozen spots that glimmered with golden-orange transmutation spells. Transmutation? What would that do, turn would-be thieves into toads? Conjuration made more sense, though Saeldian wouldn’t like to be caught in a poison cloud. Evocation would have been obvious—fire, lightning, ice, acid—though a lot of those would hurt the art. But transmutation?
Turquoise divination spells midway up the walls. Periwinkle-blue abjuration spells on the walls and floor. Alarms or warding glyphs, almost certainly. It didn’t matter. Saeldian knew exactly what they had stepped into.
This was a Conundrum Chamber: a complex array of mechanical triggers, magical spells, and swift consequences for mistakes. No one had ever succeeded in robbing one, the legend said.
Saeldian and Kell had posed as servants for a month trying to learn how a Conundrum Chamber worked so they could defeat it and steal House Hullhollyn’s Storm Harp. Briona wanted them to repeat that trick in one night.Hells. Hells! All nine of them, in order and at random!
“Helarel?”
When had they stopped making agreeable noises? “I’m awestruck and quite distracted,” Saeldian said. “I’m so sorry.”
Jubilee fluttered her eyelids and looked down, then at the pillars and posts holding the polite silk ropes fencing away the art.All those mechanical traps too—and they had no idea how they connected to all the spells.
