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CHAPTER 42
“I’ll be fine,” I assure Remi. “You have hours of work to do with the architect’s logs before you can turn in, so you ought to go ahead.”
Remi hesitates. “It’s not safe. Perhaps I can get Oudin to wait for you.” Both the comte’s sons had volunteered to close Mother Agnes’s casket and were now carrying it to the cemetery on the far side of the compound.
I tilt my head to the chapel, where the sisters’ evening prayers drift out of the open doors. “Sunset liturgy has only just started, and I think I’d like to stay for it and the next one tonight.” When Remi’s frown deepens, I gesture to several city watchmen assigned to patrol the convent. “I’ll ask a guard to escort me home afterward, will that satisfy you?”
He agrees, though reluctantly, and joins the crowd filing out of the broken gate. Oudin and Lambert leave shortly after, brushing dirt from their hands. I hide in the shadows of the chapel as they pass. Though Lambert would undoubtedly be concerned for my safety, I don’t think the killer will strike tonight. He’ll want to revel in the atmosphere of terror he’s created for a little while.
I wait for the streets to clear, listening to the sisters sing without Mother Agnes for the first time in nearly forty years. Most of them have never known life without her, myself included. No matter how capable her successor is, Solis Abbey will never be the same.
At last I’m satisfied that it’s quiet enough, though there’s still a pair of watchmen outside. I’d rather they didn’t see me go into the Quarter, so I might have to come up with a diversion. Both guards nod politely as I pass through the broken gate, just as Gregor steps out of an alley across the street in full view.
The men don’t react. I wait a few seconds but they continue as if they don’t see him.
I frown. How is that possible? Gregor isn’t a small man by any standard, and it’s fairly light out. The sun isn’t that far gone yet, and the moon is bright enough that I’m casting a faint shadow.
Gregor catches my confused look and smiles, his white teeth glowing in the moonlight. It’s not a pleasant expression, however. More like taunting.
“Come on then, Little Cat,” he whispers, though the sound is nearly drowned out by the singing from both the abbey and the Quarter. “Your friend is waiting.”
Taking a deep breath, I walk casually down the street, toward the wall of moonflower vines. When I reach Gregor, he holds up a hand to tell me to stop. Then, after a glance at the watchmen, he silently glides two steps forward to block their view of me.
We wait a few seconds until one of the guards speaks. “Well, wasn’t she in a hurry. Already gone.”
The other chuckles. “Girls wouldn’t run from you if you’d bathe more than once a month.”
They still can’t see Gregor—and now me. Baffled, I look down at the ground and realize he casts no shadow.
Nor do I. Or rather, my shadow ends at his feet.
Gregor raises one arm and the cloak with it, indicating I should go into the alley. I slip past him through the opening and he quickly follows.
It’s so dark I stumble several times, unable to see where I’m going, but Gregor doesn’t seem to have any problems. Once we exit onto a proper street, my guide moves past me, signaling that I should follow, which I do, slowly, taking in my surroundings.
The first row of houses is as covered with vines as the Quarter’s outer walls. Five-petaled blossoms glow among the leaves like the night sky sprinkled with stars. Many are fully open to face the moon the way other flowers open to the sun, exposing the veins of purple at the center of the hornlike shape.
Selenae know, home to go
When your face begins to show
I touch a curled head as we pass. The next one I cross is fully open, and I pause to put my nose in the funnel, curious about its scent.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Gregor’s silver-ringed eyes shine with amusement. “If you want to be in any condition to help your friend.”
I frown. “You speak like it will steal my senses.”
“Where do you thinkskoniacomes from?”
I jump back, then rush to catch up with Gregor, who’s resumed walking. Now that I’ve spoken, more questions come tumbling out. “How could the guards not see you? Or me?”
He glances over his shoulder and holds the edge of his gray cloak out like the wing of a bat. “Moonweave. Spun and woven under the full moon.” He smiles coldly. “Invisible as the dark side of the moon to Hadrians.”
Hadrians.I’d overheard him use that word in Magister Thomas’s kitchen. Modern people refer to themselves by nation—Gallian, Prezian, Tauran, Brinsulli, Doitch—but they’re all descendedfrom the old Hadrian Empire which spanned the continent and lands across distant seas. Do Selenae come from somewhere beyond those boundaries?
Gregor drops his arm and continues down the road. Voices float up the cobblestone streets to us from several directions, and I catch glimpses of people going about their business as though it were daytime.
So far the streets don’t look different from many areas of Collis, though perhaps cleaner. The houses are smaller—two stories maximum, with greenery hanging from almost every window, though no more moonflowers.
