I stumble back into my bedroom, close the door, and lift my nightgown. A pearl the size of my thumbnail has bloomed in my belly button.
“Eugh.” Somehow it’s worse that it grew there of all places. I let the nightgown fall again and sit down on the raised hearth, resting my head on my knees.
I thought I had a loose plan: Break the curse before Prefect Klemens arrives, swing one last heist before the wedding, and get out of town before anyone can climb from the rubble in my wake.
But Fortune’s been clear enough: The spyglass changes things. If Klemens can catch me mereminutesafter arrival, if he can follow me . . .
If not for the damned curse, I’d already be gone. And if I can’t break it fast enough to get away from not just my godmothers, but the Godly Courts, I may never make it out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hilde
“Ragne.” I stand at the head of the bed, hands planted on my hips.
She’s a fluffy black cat again, lying on my pillow with her paws tucked under her chin. One crimson eye opens as she yawns, “Mmmyes?” “How do I break your mother’s curse?” Ragne stretches, rolling onto her back. One leg twitches in a kick.
“She already said it. Make up for what you took.” “But what does thatmean?” “It means make up for what you took.” I let out an irate half snarl and yank the pillow out from under her.
“Could youtrynot to be completely useless?” “I was already useful last night, and now I am tired,” Ragne says irritably, curling into a ball. “And you are mean, so I don’t want to help
you. Good night.”
She buries her face in her tail, eyes squeezed shut.
I bury my own face in the pillow to muffle a frustrated scream. Then I sputter and pick cat hair out of my mouth once again. Apparently no pillow is safe.
Make up for what you took.
The obvious answer is Gisele. Theworstanswer is Gisele.
I know she made it into Minkja eventually. She’s even come to the castle at least twice, forcing her way through beggars scabbing at the kitchen door for scraps. The first time, I overheard two scullions snickering about the madwoman who’d tried to claim she was the true princess.
The second time she came to my castle, I trailed her out. It wasn’t hard; no one really sees me without the pearls.
I told myself it was to make sure she’d at least managed a roof over her head. After all, we’d been friends once, or as close as you could be to friends with someone who can have you whipped like a dog on a whim.
But there was part of me that reveled in the shake of her shoulders as she trudged over the viaduct and into the run-down Hoenring district. Part of me was glad for every slick glimmer of snot on her tearstained face, every fray in her tattered, too- small dress, every stumble asshehad to move out of someone’s way for once.
And almost all of me rejoiced to see her slink into a shabby, squat boardinghouse. I wanted her to know what it was like, sleeping in moldering straw, having only one tatty, smelly frock to her name, living at the mercy of a world that doesn’t give a damn. I wanted her to know my world the way I knew hers.
It was selfish. It was ugly. And it was true.
I left her in the Hoenring, and I haven’t seen her since.
There’s no guarantee I need Gisele to break the curse. Eiswald didn’t say I had togive backwhat I took, only that I had to make up for it. But I don’t have time to dance around the possibility. Better to rule it out and move on.
I get dressed quickly, picking a plain gown of heavy dove-gray velvet and fixing my hair into an elegant tumble of curls. I have to leave the ruby teardrop exposed, because a bandage on theprinzessin’s face would generate more gossip than the rumor of a tacky accessory. Between that and the pearls, the whole outfit is the sort the wealthy favor when mingling with commoners: simple enough to let them pretend humility, expensive enough to remind everyone who’s going home to a castle.
I also make sure Yannec’s ledger is hidden in my vanity. Once I’ve put a dent in this curse, I’ll see if I can figure out who was buying the stolen jewelry, then take the Eisendorf haul there myself.
I leave Ragne asleep on the bed as I step from my chambers in the riverfront wing. If she gets caught, that’s her problem.
The halls are hushed, a sterile kind of still. My pulse picks up when I realize why: The margrave must be close.
You see, Adalbrecht von Reigenbach doesn’t walk into a castle. He makes landfall. People send warning ahead when they see him bearing down on the horizon, and you can’t figure out why the world suddenly seems so quiet, until you realize every creature with sense has gone into hiding.
I can’t hide from him in his own castle. Luckily, I need to get out anyway.
