Page 21 of Chaos and Crowns

“Less.” Antony chuckled, talking about his work bringing a little spark back to his eyes despite the bags beneath them. “It turned into less an exercise in amplifying traits and more a practice of polishing them so they show in their brightest light. Changing traits too dramatically throws off the whole balance of a person’s personality.”

“Thank you for turning off the motion sensors so I can get a better look. Your collection really is magnificent,” Thad spoke in Odelle’s ear, startling her. Her conversation with Antony engrossed her so thoroughly that she forgot she was wearing an earpiece. She nudged Antony.

“Good thing we sent Thad in first,” she commented, lifting the crown off her head and placing it back in the box.

“I have some pieces with me that would add to it nicely. In particular, I’m thinking of a necklace with a Herculean knot. Quite iconic.”

“Herculean knot,” Odelle echoed. “That’s your cue.”

Antony opened the door and heaved himself from the car. He hesitated for a moment, one hand braced on the roof of the car as if he needed it to balance. Odelle grimaced. That wasn’t promising. Then he took a few steps away from the car and wavered.

Odelle only chewed her lip for a moment before jumping out of the car, locking the door behind her. Antony had nearly concussed himself in the Whitehall’s house when he was firing on all cylinders. She wasn’t sending him in there alone when he was barely walking.

Antony shot her a questioning look as she trotted up next to him.

“Give me the replica.” Odelle held out her hands. “You’re dead on your feet. If you keel over in there, the noise will catch their attention.”

Antony hugged the box closer to himself.

“I need to do this job myself. Something about the crown…well— I’d just feel better doing it myself.”

“Yes, I know you don’t think I’m good enough to run with the immortal sorcerers, but I’m not letting you go in there alone and blow our cover.”

Antony looked utterly bewildered, and Odelle threw up her hands.

“We don’t have time to argue over this,” she huffed. “If you insist on doing this yourself, then we’re going in together. You handle the crown; I’ll make sure you don’t collapse.”

Odelle started marching towards the back of the house. There was a moment of silence, and then the crunch of Antony’s boots on the frozen grass indicated that he followed her. Reaching the back deck, they climbed up the stairs leading to the second story balcony. It seemed ostentatious to have this much outdoor living space in a city that spent two-thirds of the year deeply embedded in winter, but Odelle supposed that’s what happened when you had too much money to throw around.

As they reached the balcony, Odelle frowned up at the short climb to the bathroom window. She hadn’t fully considered this part when she insisted on coming with Antony, but she wasn’t about to admit that now. A rustle beside her made her look at Antony, who had tucked the crown into his jacket, and now got down on one knee beside her.

When Odelle stared at him in confusion, he held out a hand.

“Step on my leg, and you’ll be able to reach the windowsill.”

Odelle stared at his thigh. The pants he had bought with Drew did his lean form justice, and Odelle’s boots were crusted with ice and salt. Still, if this expedition went as planned, Antony could be done coming to the city, and Odelle wouldn’t have to worry about his thighs—pants-clad or otherwise—anymore.

Odelle took the proffered hand and gingerly placed her foot on his leg. As she shifted her weight, she wavered. With the build of a cross-country runner, Antony’s thighs were narrow, and Odelle’s ankle on this set of prosthetics only flexed in one dimension, making it difficult for her to adjust her balance.

Antony reached up to steady her, his free hand landing on her thigh. His fingers slid just under the hem of her dress, and she bit her lip. The pads of Antony’s fingers pressed into her flesh as she reached up towards the broad windowsill. She caught hold of it, heaving herself up. She sent a prayer of thanks to her personal trainer for what upper body strength she had, and Antony helped her make up the difference. He stood as she climbed, giving her the lift she needed to scrabble upwards.

Odelle told herself to focus on her grip on the icy sill, and not the fact that Antony could see straight up her skirt at this angle. She struggled to remember what underwear she put on that morning. Plain black. Disappointingly bland but thankfully unrevealing.

She slid open the window—unlatched courtesy of Thad—and tumbled inside as quietly as she could manage. As she leaned back out the window, Antony held the crown up to her so he wouldn’t have to hold it as he climbed. Taking it from him, Odelle nearly turned away, about to dart across the hall to the gallery and finish the job herself. She looked at the salty boot print on Antony’s thigh and the bit of tongue peeking out in concentration as he began to climb and sighed. As he grasped the windowsill, she did her best to help pull him inside. The scrape of his boots on the icy brick grated her eardrums as she listened for any indication that the Whitehalls were upstairs. Still, as Antony hopped down into the bathroom, the only other noises were their quiet pants.

Odelle opened the bathroom door, peaking around the corner to double-check that they were alone. Confirming that Thad had the Whitehalls occupied downstairs, she crept across the hall, Antony on her heels. Her heart jumped to her throat, the same way it had when she was a child, running down the hallway to Irina’s room to escape some nightmare that plagued her.

She was an adult. She could do this. Immortal sorcerers who found her lacking be damned.

Entering the gallery room, they made their way to the plinth with the crown. While it stood in the middle of the room, the way it drew the eye went beyond its prominent placement. Odelle drifted towards it. She reached the latch on the back of the glass case and lifted it open. As she reached inside, fingers stretching towards the incandescent metal, she grew even more excited to hold the original crown. To have such a powerful artifact in her grasp.

“Wait.”

Odelle looked up at Antony in tense confusion, her fingers hovering an inch from the crown.

“Somethings…off.”

Odelle cocked her head in question.