Page 13 of Chaos and Crowns

Odelle was disappointed when Antony didn’t retort, instead just dropping his gaze to the tiled floor as she pressed the towel to the wound to stop the bleeding. The resulting silence renewed Odelle’s awareness of their proximity. Unable to think properly while she stood so close, she let Antony take over applying pressure to his head. She backed up and propped herself against the counter, as if maximizing the space between them would drive away the feeling of his hair between her fingers.

“So I take it that crown is an Eteria artifact?” Odelle asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Antony nodded.

“Unmistakably—although the power of it seems different than I remember. It’s unfortunate I didn’t get it out of the case to have a better look at it before…” Antony gestured vaguely at his head with the hand that wasn’t holding the towel.

Odelle folded her arms. “Actually, I’d say we’re lucky I interrupted you. I don’t think the Whitehalls would take very kindly to you handling their priceless antiques without asking first.”

“Eteria craftmanship is very durable. It would be difficult for me to damage the crown even if I wanted to.”

“Yes, but the Whitehalls don’t know that.” Odelle resisted the urge to clap a hand to her forehead in frustration.

Antony frowned. “We came here to find the crown. Now that we know that it’s Eteria made and imbued with powerful light, we can’t just leave it here. It’s a danger. I’m surprised that the Shadow hasn’t outright attacked the Whitehalls for it already,” Antony argued.

“Stealing a priceless artifact is not high on my to-do list,” Odelle countered. “We can’t just waltz out of here with it. We’d be arrested for sure, and as much as I would love to see the legal system try to figure out whose jurisdiction an immortal sorcerer who lives in a pocket dimension falls under, I really don’t want to go to jail.”

“What if we… replaced it?” Antony hedged.

“Ancient artifacts are irreplaceable, that’s kind of what makes them so valuable.”

“They’re usually irreplaceable because the means to make them are lost. That crown is Eteria made though, and I’m a Smith. I could make one that would be indistinguishable to anybody but a member of the Eteria.”

Odelle hesitated, “Didn’t you guys lose your powers after the Defeat? How will you make a replacement?”

“Our powers were only severely diminished, but I won’t need to use them nearly as much if I don’t want to make a crown with magical properties,” Antony explained.

“Well, as long as you can make sure it’s indistinguishable. I don’t want the weight to be slightly different, so when we switch it out, we set off booby traps and poison darts fly at us.”

“The Whitehalls protect their collection with poison darts?” Antony’s eyes were as round as saucers.

Odelle waved him off. “Ask Adam to show you some classic movies sometime.”

“You make a good point, though. We will need to make a plan to switch the crown with the replica without the Whitehalls realizing.”

Odelle glanced around her at the pink marble bathroom that looked like it had been taken straight out of a French chateau.

“Well, I may not be a professional thief,” Odelle admitted, “but I have watched enough heist movies to know that we shouldn’t make our plans while standing in our mark’s bathroom.”

Antony blinked and looked around him, as if he had momentarily forgotten where they were. He pulled the now thoroughly stained hand towel from his head and gingerly prodded his forehead. His fingers came away dotted with some copper flakes of dried blood.

“I don’t think I’m bleeding too much anymore,” he observed. “We can probably make our excuses to head back to the Sanctuary and make plans.”

Antony stood and looked around, holding the formerly snowy towel as if he didn’t know where to put it. Odelle plucked it from his fingers and dropped it in the sink. Mrs. Whitehall could clutch her pearls over the mess later.

Relief washed through Odelle as she opened the bathroom door to find the hallway empty. The Whitehalls overhearing her conversation with Antony would certainly put a damper on their plans. She poked her head into the gallery room and found Mrs. Whitehall inspecting the crown’s case, as if Antony’s head might have been hard enough to dent it, and not the other way around.

Catching sight of them, Mr. Whitehall came to the door.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. At least he had the decency to seem genuinely concerned.

“Oh yes, it doesn’t seem to be a bad cut,” Odelle reassured. “I think I should take him to see a doctor just in case. You know, see if he needs a staple and check if he has a concussion.”

Antony offered a dazed smile that didn’t provide much evidence for him not being concussed.

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Whitehall conceded, beginning to usher them down the hall. Just before she turned away, Odelle caught a last glimpse of the crown in the case. It gleamed brilliantly in the lighting of the display, but something about the way Mrs. Whitehall leaned close to inspect it made Odelle’s stomach clench.

The feeling was quickly dispelled as Mr. Whitehall led them to the door, asking about when they might come back to finish up and send a camera man, impressing on them how privileged he felt to have his collection featured. Odelle reassured him that they would be in contact, reasoning that it might give them an opportunity to switch out the crown. Mr. Whitehall seemed so pleased that Odelle almost felt guilty about misleading him, but she reminded herself that owning an Eteria artifact put him and his wife in danger.