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“Come,” Thomas offered his arm. “I’ll walk you to your chambers.”
As we made our way to my room, I glanced out at the water and regretted doing so. At night it was a dark, undulating beast. Light glinted from the sliver of moon—a thousand tiny eyes watching our procession, winking and blinking as we moved along. I wondered what else the silent water might have witnessed tonight and what other secrets it might be keeping. How many other crimes might it have aided by swallowing the bodies whole?
SEVEN
A MURDER MOST BRUTAL
AUDREY ROSE’S QUARTERS
RMS ETRURIA
2 JANUARY 1889
Thomas deposited me at my chambers with a promise to return shortly for our postmortem. When I walked into my room, I found Liza sprawled on the bed, her nose crinkled at one of my forensic journals.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, dearest cousin, but how do you sleep at night?” she asked, pointing to a rather graphic dissection. “This is quite gruesome for bedtime.”
“Liza… what on—”
“Honestly,” she said, lifting her brows at the title. “‘A Case Study of Blunt Weapons and Lacerations’?” She thumbed through the book, stopping on the pages with illustrations. “It’s macabre, Cousin. Even for you. Is that someone’s intestines?” She stuck a finger down her throat, doing her best impersonation of gagging.
“Your mother is an absolute wreck,” I said, not commenting on my normal nighttime reading, though I was impressed by her knowledge of anatomy. She deposited the book on my nightstand, then stood. “She and Father have circulated rumors of you being unwell. I believe everyone’s under the impression you’re recovering at Thornbriar. Though my father believes you might be dead.”
“Couldn’t they have at least come up with something a bit more romantic?” Liza made a face. “Your father’s country estate is grand, but makes a dull story. I should write to Mother and offer up a few suggestions of my own.” She picked up the Ace of Clubs from my nightstand. “Did you know that the four suits are also associated with elements?”
“I did not.”
She grinned—a rare, goofy sort of smile that made me think something especially sugary was about to be served. “Harry is a wonder with creating grand tales. I swear, he makes the most ordinary things seem extraordinary. He claims there’s power in how you sell something. Why call something perfume when it can be a love mist?”
“Harry?” I sat on the bed beside my cousin, fiddling with the folds of my skirts. “About that… what in the name of the queen possessed you to run off with a man you scarcely know? I hope he didn’t spin you a story too good to be believable.”
“Most stories are too good to be true. That’s what makes them enchanting.”
“And dangerous,” I muttered.
Liza laid the card down and leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder as she used to do when we were children playing in the gardens at Thornbriar.
“I have so much to be grateful for—so many opportunities that others will never even know, and yet each time I tried on a new gown for my coming-out ball, it felt as if I were being strangled. Living life, but not enjoying it. I was dressed in silks but might as well have been covered in thorns.”
I sighed. It was a feeling I knew all too well.
She nestled closer to me, voice catching. “Haven’t you ever wanted to be someone else? If only for a short while. Or maybe not someone else, maybe you longed to be your true self. To live exactly as you pleased without consequence or judgment. I know this might all be a terrible mistake—an illusion more elaborate than those in this carnival, but for the first time, I am the master of my fate. I feel as though I’ve been freed from a cage and I can finally breathe again. How can I give up this freedom?”
Guilt sank its crooked teeth into me. I knew exactly what it was like, feeling chained by expectations set upon me by someone else. Everyone deserved to live freely and in honor of themselves. A basic right should not be a luxury. I wrapped an arm around my cousin and leaned my head against hers. “So… tell me about the King of Cards. I want to hear all the details while I get ready for the postmortem.”
“Well, then I suppose I ought to start from the beginning.”
I could hear the smile in my cousin’s voice as she recited all the ways Mr. Harry Houdini had made her senses disappear. I was thrilled for her, though worry gnawed unpleasantly the more she spoke. I did not share her sentiments about a man who’d potentially ruin her on a whim, especially since no promises of marriage had been made. It seemed Houdini had nothing to lose, and my cousin had much to forfeit. I tried pushing my unease away, wanting to be as supportive as she was of me. She talked and talked until Thomas arrived and promised to finish her tale once I’d returned.
I made to leave, then turned around. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Of course it is, silly. I’d wager life was utterly dull without me. Now go on.” She smiled, lifting my anatomy journal as if she intended to study it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I moved to the door, then froze. “Liza? Have you noticed anyone in the carnival troupe acting oddly?”
“You’re not implying one of my new friends is to blame for these atrocities, are you?” She sat up straighter, eyes narrowed. “No. I haven’t heard or witnessed anything except their own terror.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
