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I have yet to revisit the menagerie or any of its latest creatures since Louis died, but from everything I have heard about this monkey, it is nothing more than a pest. More like a thieving mouse than an actual primate.
The man goes on to explain the things I already know, tales of it escaping, stealing, wreaking havoc, and making their lives, in general, complete hell.
“Well, then,” Aika begins, a false note of concern coating her words. “Perhaps we should return to our rooms if such a dangerous creature is on the loose. We wouldn’t want to interfere with your heroic efforts to protect us from such a beast.”
I am tempted to roll my eyes in response, but that would hardly be conducive to our façade.
Not that she’s bothering with subtlety.
Even if I hadn’t studied the minutia of her expression, hadn’t made an artform of memorizing her tells, I would still know she was hiding something.
Possibly quite literally.
“Indeed, my darling,” I say with equally false solicitousness, gesturing back toward the way we came. “Let’s get you somewhere you feel more safe.”
Aika twitches abruptly to the side before she nods her head, her expression the mere portrait of innocence.
It’s a look that doesn’t suit her at all.
* * *
Once we’re back in the apartments with the doors shut tightly behind us, Aika lets out a long, exhausted sigh. Moving over to the settee, she sits down, sliding off her shoes as gingerly as possible.
Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall, staring her down and waiting for her to reveal herself. She’s too obstinate for that, though, so she observes her fingernails instead, picking at some feigned imperfection on her cuticle before I finally break the silence.
“Would you like to tell me where the monkey—” I don’t have time to finish my sentence before what looks suspiciously like a tail peeks out near her ankle.
“What monkey?” she asks with a deadpan expression, not deigning to acknowledge that her skirts are now moving of their own accord.
I raise my eyebrows, but she crosses her arms, buckling down.
Then a small golden-orange head peers out from her petticoats. Two wide brown eyes look from me, back to her, and around the room, as if assessing the situation for danger.
Aika does an admirable job of pretending she doesn’t notice until the monkey deems it safe enough to climb up the fabric of her dress and situate himself in her lap. Its long, fluffy tail wraps around her wrist, and its tiny hands grip her fingers, examining the black paint on her nails.
“Oh, this monkey,” she says with all the nonchalance of someone who hasn’t just been caught in a half-hearted attempt to lie. “I don’t think it’s the same one they’re looking for.”
She isn’t even trying now.
If I wasn’t so exasperated with her already, I would be tempted to laugh at the image she creates—sitting casually on the small, antique sofa, a tiara that weighs nearly as much as her entire person nestled into her ebony locks, rich emerald fabric clinging to her slender frame…and a monkey on her lap.
“Of course.” I massage the bridge of my nose, ready to be done with this entire day. “Because there is an infestation of little orange hybrid pygmy monkeys running rampant in the palace. This must be one of those.”
The little ball of fur looks up at her with pure adoration, but her features remain unaffected.
She only blinks at me. “Listen, I’m not some sort of genius who can tell one stray, non-menagerie monkey apart from a real menagerie monkey. How am I supposed to know where he came from?”
I shake my head, letting out a slow breath. Somehow, in the light of her being The Flame, it had been easy to forget the girl who left money at the orphanage.
Of course, she stole that money first.
And now this monkey, the diminutive menace to society, which she’s apparently decided to add to her list of questionable crusades.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, quirking an eyebrow at me in a challenge. “I’ll tell you about the monkey when you tell me about the fire.”
A bitter laugh escapes me in a single huff of air. I should have seen that one coming, and I absolutely do not want to talk about whatever role I played in that bit of arson.
“You’ll have to ask your sister about that one,” I say, and she nods, as if she expected as much.
