“No, no,” I stammer. “Just a—a jeweler. Wanted me to show off his latest.”
I should have a clever jibe, a riposte,anything. I kept my head when Emeric clapped me in irons, when anachtmahrnearly bit my face off, even with a roomful of orphans heckling me. But I can’t do it now. Not for the prince and dame.
Some part of me is still scared of them. And it’s going to get me caught.
The dame takes a delicate sip of her coffee. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss that later.”
“Later?” I croak.
“Your papa and I thought it would be lovely to take tea together after lunch, just the three of us.” She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “As afamily.”
There’s that razor glimmer again, as her gaze lingers on the ruby. It’s drawing out her greed.
I don’t want to be alone with her, I don’t, I don’t—
I gulp. “That would be lovely.”
“So, Gisele,” theprinzsays, leaning forward again. “What have you been up to for the last year?”
I switch the mirror back and trace a single, frantic word on the cool glass:
HELP
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
OldHabits
I mumble some nonsense about charity and exploring Bóern, then try to keep breathing while the rest of the table moves on to something else. I don’t dare check for a reply until they’re distracted.
All the mirror says is:ON IT.
A knot in my chest loosens at that. Then, barely ten minutes later, the mirror pulses again. This time the handwriting has changed.
It’s Gisele.
What do you need?
She steers me through the remaining hour of breakfast, then hands me an excuse to retreat (I need to lie down aftersucha sumptuous meal). It takes everything in me not to bolt for the riverfront wing as the hour-bells ring in eleven o’clock. A minute after my bedroom door thuds shut, I hear the dead roses rattle on the trellis, then a rap at the veranda door. I set the pearls on the vanity and let Emeric in.
“Are you all right?” is the first thing out of his mouth as he steps inside.
I start to say some watered-down nonsense about how I’m fine, just rattled, until I realize I don’t want to lie to him. I’m too tired to keep lying. I can still feel Adalbrecht’s fingers digging too close to my throat.
Instead I let my head my head fall forward until it rests on his chest. Emeric goes still. Then one of his hands settles gently over the back of my head, and the steady warmth of it is as calming as the soft beat of his heart.
“I hate him,” I whisper. “I hate them all so much I can’t think.”
It turns out he handed his mirror off to Ragne, who flew it to Gisele for help. Perhaps it was her parents, or her guilt, or she felt she owed me for finding a place for the Gänslinghaus residents. Whatever her cause, Gisele has agreed to take over, at least for the day.
And when Gisele walks into the room in a hastily pilfered servant uniform a little after noon, I’m . . . actually happy to see her. Ragne pokes out of her pocket as a squirrel once the door is shut.
“Here.” Gisele hands Emeric his mirror back. “They aren’t expecting you until teatime?”
“I said breakfast was too heavy, so I’d skip lunch. Do you need help getting ready?”
Gisele frowns, looking around the room. “No, I can do it myself now, mostly. I may need help figuring out where things are.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” Emeric’s been sitting beside me on the trunk at the end of the bed, but he stands, dusting his breeches off. “Vanja, did you record anything?”
