Page 97 of Hawk & Sparrow

“I saw you run outside.” There was concern in her friend’s voice. “Are you all right?”

Vesper had no idea how to answer that question. Her heart felt like glass, shattered into a million tiny pieces. After a moment, she shook her head. Ada sighed, then eased down, so that she was sitting beside her.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she murmured. “We can just sit here, if you’d like?”

Vesper nodded, suddenly more grateful for Ada than she’d ever been before. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Ada gave her a soft smile, then reached up and tucked one of her dark curls behind her ear. In the moonlight, something caught Vesper’s eye: the bracelet on Ada’s wrist. It was a simple golden chain with two charms on it, one made of amethyst, and one made of gold. She focused on the latter, then frowned.

“Ada,” she said. “Could I see your bracelet for a second?”

Ada looked surprised. “Of course.” She held her wrist and turned it, so that both charms were more visible. The amethyst charm was carved into the shape of a small heart, but the golden one was carved in the shape of a honeybee. She recognized the design instantly. It was the exact same honeybee she’d seen on the hatpin in Francis’s room.

“Ada…,” she said slowly. “Is there any chance you’re missing a hatpin shaped like a honeybee?”

Ada shrugged. “It’s possible. I have all sorts of bee-themed trinkets. My mother buys them for me as a nod to our surname.”

Vesper frowned. “Your surname?”

“Bickerton.” Ada’s smile was beatific in the moonlight. “It means ‘beekeeper’ in old Victerran. That’s how my ancestors made their fortune actually, beekeeping and honey production.”

Vesper went very still. “I have one more question,” she asked. “How well did you really know Francis Gladwell?”

Ada cocked her head for a moment, then a slow smile spread across her face. “Ah, Vesper, I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

THIRTY-TWO

FRIDAY, 25TH OF NOVEMBER—9:03 P.M.

Vesper stared at Ada, confusion racking her mind. “I don’t understand.”

“You know the thing about honeybees?” Ada said quietly. “They’re small, unassuming, easy to swat at and ignore. No one really notices them, until they sting.” She pulled her wrist back, and examined the charm on her bracelet. “Now, I’ll give you credit. I thought it’d be easy enough throwing you off at first—that’s why I gave you Bess, to distract you—but you proved me wrong. You’re far sharper than I’d anticipated.” She smiled. “The hardest thing about being a smart woman in our world? We’re used to being the only ones in the room. We forget to look around for others like us.” She sighed. “I was hoping you might be scared off, after that mishap with the horse.”

Something dropped in the pit of Vesper’s stomach. “You ensorcelled the horse. That’s why it charged at me during the polo match.”

“As I said, I never had any formal education,” said Ada. “But I learned a few useful things. Not that it worked.” The young woman’s brows knitted. “You never heeded any of my warnings.”

“You released the teratorn too,” said Vesper slowly. “And you sent the newspaper clipping threatening me.”

“Foolish, really. I should have known you and I are too much alike.” Ada shrugged. “You’d never back down from a challenge. I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t either.”

Vesper stared. “How did you do it? How did you kill Francis?”

Ada sat back and stared at the star-speckled sky. She sighed. “Being from a good, respectable family does have its perks. Of course, it meant I received an invitation to the exhibition. All I had to do was wait until Francis was alone, and then convince him to come with me into the maze for a toast. Frank had always been a lush, never one to say no to a beverage, especially if it was expensive.”

“You poisoned him.”

Ada examined her fingernails. “The thing about being an artist? No one notices when you have the things you’re expected to, even when those things are quite dangerous. Did you know paint thinner can kill a man in a matter of minutes? It’s quite efficient, really. All I had to do was invite Francis into the maze, flatter him with a few toasts to his ‘genius,’ then spike his drink with paint thinner when he wasn’t paying attention.

“I thought that would do the trick, but then he went and ruined it by vomiting.” She rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. “I knew then that I would have to do something more drastic.”

“You followed him,” Vesper said. “You watched me while I tried to help him.”

“At first I thought you might prove a complication,” said Ada lightly. “But then you made it easy for me and left. House of Dezimon’s champagne bottles are famously large. They use nice, thick glass.” Her eyes glinted. “One good hit was all I needed. After I killed him, I just wiped the blood off in the grass and slipped back into the party.”

Vesper shook her head. She was replaying everything now, seeing it all through a new lens that had been right in front of her the whole time. “Why, Ada? Why did you do this?”

Ada turned to stare out into the dark. Her smile faded. “Most people know of my talent as an artist,” she said softly. “Ada’s watercolors are so lovely,” she mimicked, “You simply must commission Ada for one of her darling miniatures!” She sighed. “Nineteen years gives you a lot of time, plenty of opportunity to learn how to draw more than landscapes and adorable kittens. I went to the library, checked out books on quantum mechanical theory and industrial engineering. It was difficult, but slowly I taught myself how to draw other things—machines, engines.”