Page 3 of Hawk & Sparrow

The server lowered his gaze. “Sorry, miss,” he muttered. “That’s above my station.”

Vesper studied the server more closely. He was young, too skinny for the uniform he’d been given. The edge of some crude black tattoo peeked just above his collar. The longer he stood there, the more he fidgeted.

“I understand,” she said. “Thank you anyway.”

The server ducked back into the crowd, and Vesper’s eyes wandered. A few feet away, several glasses filled with a sparkling golden beverage were floating in midair. She watched as a pretty, brown-skinned young woman in a red silk dress helped herself to one of the enchanted glasses. Even from a distance, she exuded an effortless poise that made Vesper slightly self-conscious. As though she’d felt eyes on her, the young woman glanced over her shoulder. Vesper tried to look away, but clearly she’d been spotted. The young woman plucked a second glass from the air, crossed the atrium, then offered it.

“Champagne?”

Vesper hesitated, then accepted the glass. “Thank you.”

The young woman smiled. “I’m Ada. Ada Bickerton.”

“Vesper.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Ada. Up close, she was even prettier than she’d seemed from afar. She had a heart-shaped face, painted red lips, and bright mahogany eyes. While she and Vesper had the same coily black hair, Ada’s was pinned into a sophisticated updo Vesper knew she’d never achieve with her own.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” said Ada. “Are you with the museum?”

Vesper shook her head. “I work for the Globe. My editor asked me to cover tonight’s exhibition.”

“How fascinating.” Ada’s eyes danced. “Have you talked to anyone of note?”

“I just interviewed Francis Gladwell,” said Vesper. “But I was hoping to get a quote from someone at the Basalton Coal Foundation too.”

“Ah.” Ada sipped her drink. “You’ll want to speak to Maximilian Kite, then.”

“Kite?” Vesper knew little about high society, but she knew that surname. The Kite family was among the oldest and wealthiest in the city. Their forebears had arrived in Basalton a century ago, when it had still been a small mining town, and established the Basalton Coal Company, which remained the cornerstone of a multimillion-gild empire. Their descendants were notoriously reclusive, and rarely seen in public. Vesper certainly hadn’t expected to see one of them tonight.

“What interest do the Kites have in an inventor?” she asked.

Ada shrugged. “When you’re bored and rich, you can dabble in all sorts of peculiarities.” She pointed. “I just saw Mr. Kite over there. Good luck with him. He can be … eccentric.”

“Thank you.”

Vesper headed in the direction Ada had indicated, eyes peeled. She’d never met Mr. Kite, but she could imagine what he was like. Probably just another rich old snob. She had no real interest in speaking with him, but there was no doubt that a front-page story featuring a quote from one of this city’s most powerful men would sell more copies. The Globe could use that kind of win.

Vesper reached the other end of the atrium. There was no one in sight, but there was a table laden with several desserts. She noted a tray of powdered coffee cake squares, another filled with glazed vanilla petit fours, and a third covered in glittering golden candy apples. She peered down at the gilded fruit.

“That’s real gold, if you’re wondering.”

Vesper started. The young man standing at the other end of the dessert table was tall and lean. He had a fair, angular face framed by crow-dark curls that brushed the top of his collar. Vesper made a few quick deductions. The young man was probably close to her age, no older than twenty. His tailored blue suit and clean-shaven face suggested he belonged with this crowd, and she guessed he might be the son of some well-to-do banker or lawyer. A small smile touched his lips and Vesper realized, with some embarrassment, that she’d been staring. She cleared her throat and gestured toward the candy apples.

“Did you say real gold?”

The young man nodded. “That’s what I heard. One hundred percent edible gold.”

Vesper shook her head before she could stop herself. “That’s…”

“Innovative?”

“I was going to say indulgent.”

The young man shrugged. “Indulgence isn’t always a bad thing, is it?”

“I wouldn’t know. I rarely indulge.” Vesper couldn’t rationalize it, but the longer the young man stared at her, the more self-conscious she became. His eyes were the deep, fathomless blue of a lake in summer, and he was looking at her with unmistakable curiosity. “Can I help you?” she finally asked.

“Only if you can answer a question.” The young man was still smiling. “Why do I know every face at this party except yours?”