I tell him the whole ugly tale, thumbing through the cards. When I am done, I look up, steeling myself for questions, skepticism, the little rot of uncertainty.
Emeric’s eyes glitter with coldest fury, fists white-knuckled knots on the carpet. “I promise you,” he says, low and unsteady, “I will do everything in my power to keep him fromeverhurting you again. Von Reigenbach will face justice if I have to drag him to it myself.”
You would think the most formidable thing in Castle Reigenbach wouldn’t be a reedy law library incarnate, but in that moment—he is, because Ibelievehim.
He looks away, hands tangling again. “Thank you for telling me.”
And—that’s all.
“Y-you’re taking my word for it?” I stumble.
That’s when his eyes return to me, and they do not waver at all. “Why wouldn’t I?”
It’s not a challenge; it’s a quiet, immovable fact. For all my schemes and façades and artifice, I am not prepared in the slightest for the simple, devastating intimacy of being believed.
I take a shaky breath. “Then, if possible, I would like to kick Adalbrecht’s teeth in.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
We don’t wait for the Page of Grails to take a long drink.
The next round is easier. He draws the queen again and hands her back to me with a sheepish grin. “How did you pull off the Eisendorf heist?”
“You don’t know?” I almost yell, delighted.
“I’m just missing some, somevariables,” he huffs. “You obviously stole the jewelry while you were supposed to be in the guest parlor.
And you fooled the manservant into smuggling the goods out in the toilette bag. But there were guards posted outside thekomteandkomtessin’s chambers—”
“Didn’t check the windows?”
He scowls. “They were locked from the inside. Besides, it would be impossible to climb to their balcony without ruining your gown, and a toilette bag has no room for a uniform.”
I can’t help wiggling with glee as I lean forward, ticking off my fingers. “One: Therewasroom in the ugly cushionsIsent Ezbeta a week earlier. They were stuffed with the servant uniform—”
“No,” Emeric sputters, “they were still in the parlor—”
“Andidentical slipcovers,” I continue with a smirk. “Two:Cushion battingcan condense enough to fit in a toilette bag. And three: Ezbeta got night sweats from the spiced mead Ialsosent. She left a window open, and I bet she was embarrassed and locked it before you could see. It’s all about the details, Junior.” I hoist my mug. “To thekomtessin’s good health.”
Emeric stares at me, cogs turning. Then he clinks his mug against mine. “That’s . . . brilliant. And terrifying.”
I can’t help a wicked smile as I shuffle the cards around on the floor. Emeric goes quiet.
Then he picks the Queen of Roses again.
“No,” I say indignantly. “Three in a row? You’re cheating.”
He raises his hands. “I’m not. You have a tell.”
“I donot!” I gape at him. There’s no guile in his face. “What is it?”
He’s trying not to laugh. “You know the rules. No free questions.”
I’m going to strangle him. Or kiss him like the empire depends on it. Jury’s still out. “Fine,” I grumble. “Ask.”
“Schmidt isn’t really your last name, is it?”
Thatone I didn’t see coming. “How did you know?”
