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A swarm of anxious hornets fills my stomach and I wonder if I have taken the lie too far until a proud smile graces her ruby lips.
“You’re doing even better than I expected,” she praises
I swallow the relief that courses through me as she hands me the vial.
“Thank you, Mother,” I say, taking the tonic from her.
My voice sounds more confident than I feel, and it takes everything in me to force a smile to my lips as she runs her frigid hand down my cheek once more.
“I’ll send for you when I need you again.” She dismisses me with those words.
“Yes, Mother,” I say one last time before turning on my heel and walking away.
It’s an effort not to run, not to feel like my lies and her threats and the undeserved pride in her eyes chase me the entire way home.
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
AIKA
The next two weeks pass in fits and spurts, both too fast and entirely too slow, filled with myriad things I can’t yet begin to process.
First, Remy brings me my fiddle.
I’m almost speechless when he hands me the case. It feels like a lifetime ago since I played. Hell, it practically was.
Back when I spent most of my time as Gemma.
Pushing thoughts of her from my mind, I wordlessly unclasp the case, removing my fiddle. My fingers move over the strings and pegs, tuning it on instinct. Remy watches me the entire time. I don’t know why, but I hold my breath with the first drag of the bow over the steel strings.
The sound reverberates through me, calming me in a way I didn’t realize I had missed until now. This piece of the person I used to be, in the rare moments that I escaped the expectations of that role.
When I close my eyes, I’m back in King’s Square, playing while listening to gossip. I’m back in Delphine, playing along with Zaina on the piano. Mel is dancing. We are happy, free, or as close to it as we ever came.
When I open them again, I’m here, in the palace with Remy and a monkey named Pumpkin staring at me, waiting for the next note.
Without thinking, I put the bow and fiddle back into their case, feeling uncomfortable with an audience for the first time since I can remember.
A slow exhale escapes Remy’s lips, and he steps closer. The warmth of his body transfers to mine, his hand brushing against my arm. When he speaks, his voice is sure and steady.
“You don’t have to leave your entire life behind,” he says. “You don’t have to be just one thing.”
His words echo through my mind again and again as we go through the motions of setting our plan in place. It feels like he’s talking about more than me walking away from the room above the bar.
And I want to believe him. I’m tempted to, but it’s not easy when there are so many parts of me I know he doesn’t approve of.
Although, my revised role as the vigilante, surprisingly, doesn’t appear to be one of them.
He only warns me, without judgment, to be careful each time Zaina and I get ready to leave to eliminate the next target we’ve all decided on.
Remy offsets the fires by planting articles in the paper about how the crown is combatting the vigilante’s work by ramping up their own efforts to stifle crime in all of Bondé. The nonexistent battle of wills is a perfect cover for the strategic arrests he’s making.
It was his idea to frame things that way, and I have to admit, it was a good one.
Crime actually is lowering, and the citizens, therefore, are happier. And Madame won’t immediately notice that it’s her people that are being targeted.
Hopefully.
Between Zaina and Einar’s war tactics, Remy’s politicking, and my information, we are dismantling Mother’s—Madame’sempire, brick by brick.
