I look away. “So we’re just going to ignore the whole ‘don’t ask questions’ thing.”
“Are . . .” Gisele looks almost afraid. “Areyoua god?”
“If I were, Adalbrecht would be a stain on a floor somewhere,” I retort.
Then I rub my eyes. They’re dry, and they sting in the way that only gets worse after they close, so I leave my palms over them a moment, thinking. There’s really no point in hiding it, not with what they’ve seen, not now.
“My mother thought I was bad luck, because I was the thirteenth child of a thirteenth child, so she gave me to Death and Fortune when I was four. The night the von Falbirgs had me whipped, my godmothers said I was old enough to serve one of them and tried to make me choose. Iwouldn’t. So they said I would serve whoever I asked for help first.”
Someone draws a breath through their teeth.
I lower my hands, blinking until my eyes clear, and say hoarsely, “That’s why I’ve been stealing. If I slip uponce, I’ll be their servant the rest of my life, so I’m trying to save enough money to leave the empire and get away from them.” I huff a bitter laugh. “You know.Justmoney. Anyway, this should take care of you until . . . well, until after I’m gone. One way or another.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gisele asks. She almost sounds hurt.
I stare at her. And then I laugh again, harsh and disbelieving. After all this time, she still doesn’t get it. “This ring a bell? ‘Once upon a time, Death and Fortune came to a crossroads.’”
I see it finally dawn in her face.
“You already knew the first part,” I almost spit. “You got to fall asleep to my story for years. But you didn’t sayanythingwhen I needed you. Why would I tell you a single blessed thing after that?”
Gisele draws back as if I struck her.
I hear the hour-bells chiming. Somehow, it’s not even noon. “I’m going to the castle,” I say, exhausted. “There’s a social and a dinner party tonight, so count me out for the rest of the day.”
I limp for the door. Emeric starts to reach for me, then catches himself. After a beat, he swallows. “I . . . I can walk you there.”
“You have other things to take care of,” I say, pushing the door open. This time Iambeing cold. I don’t know what else to be with him right now. “You have your notes back.”
`
Ragne helps me make it down the waterfall path and up through the servant corridors. By the time I reach my bedroom, I’m practically on my hands and knees.
Now that no one’s hunting me and nothing’s on fire, there’s no distraction from the lingering effects of that drop of witch-ash. It feels like the time I got sick from spoiled meat, like every inch of me turned to jelly just long enough to bruise, then froze over too fast, and my bones will splinter from any sudden moves.
Even without the backlash, as I stagger past the vanity mirror, I see I’m a sooty, bloody, tearstained wreck. My dress is torn in nigh a dozen places, my hat is gone, and my shawl’s been half singed off. Most of the scrapes I can cover, but I’ll have to come up with a story for the spreading bruise on my jaw.
Maybe not.I fell down some stairsis horribly accurate.
“You need rest,” Ragne says gently.
I shake my head. “I need to clean up before the social.” It’s a few hours off still, but moving this slow, I’m not taking chances.
Poldi helps heat the bathwater, no mead required. I need the help, because the bath has to be drawn again after the first round of water goes murky with blood and grime. I fall asleep in the tub anyway. Ragne wakes me an hour before I have to face the guests, just enough time to finish getting ready with the help of the pearls.
The rest of the day grinds by in a grating fog. It’s like I’m moving through a fever dream; people are laughing and smiling and clasping my hands, ladling out gossip and boasts and flattery, sometimes staring at the ruby teardrop with a hungry gleam until I excuse myself. All I can focus on is hiding my limp and not shoving my foot too far into my mouth.
The Wolfhünden will have reported back to Adalbrecht by now, but if he’s galled that Emeric survived, he keeps it under wraps in front of the guests. I still keep my distance. I can tell he likes me like this: saying little and asking even less.
Enough guests have moved into the riverfront wing that when I finally excuse myself after dinner, I have to maintain the gliding walk, the ramrod spine, all the way up to my bedroom. The hallway’s still abuzz with servants and nobles, witnesses all.
Those witnesses work in my favor, though. I see new faces among the castle guards, and flashes of theXtattoo on their hands. Irmgard wanted Adalbrecht to take the first opening to kill Gisele; it seems he’s resorted to moving Wolfhünden into the castle so they won’t miss any chances. I was already careful not to get caught alone as Marthe, but now I’ll have to do it as Gisele too.
As I slip the key into my door’s lock, I spot Emeric coming around the corner. My stomach clenches. His head flies up, then he picks up his pace, but we both know he can’t make a scene with this audience. I hurry inside and close the door behind me. Then I can’t help but lean against it, pulling off the pearls and letting out a breath.
I’m sick, and I hurt everywhere, and I’m sotired. And I can finally stop pretending I’m not.
Quiet footsteps pause by the door. There’s a soft brushing sound, like fingertips grazing the wood—and then it passes. I hear the neighboring door unlock, open, shut.
