Aeralis (14 page)

“And you?” I asked, ignoring her suggestion that I was doomed to fail.

“I know who’ll talk to me. The man who oversees the camps has a little crush, we’ll say. I should have the location of Falcon by midnight.”

“Midnight?” I repeated in disbelief.

Her smirk was back. “We can make it eleven if you want to bet on it.”

“No,” I said. “Just get it as soon as possible. I don’t care when.”

She leaned back with a smile, as if she’d won an argument. I looked out the window and knit my fingers together in my lap. She annoyed me, but still I hoped desperately that she would succeed. Jonn and Ivy needed her to succeed.

We reached a neighborhood in the shadow of the palace. Ornate buildings of thick stone rose from the mists, topped with towers and clocks and lit by gas lamps. The steamcoach stopped, and Raven motioned for me to follow her out. The steamcoach pulled away as soon as we disembarked, leaving us standing on the mist-steeped steps to the vast house. Raven started up the steps, and I followed her.

Light glimmered on the railings and the branches that edged the walk. A servant stepped forward to take our coats, and we were ushered into a room filled with music and light. I followed Raven and did my best not to gawk at the swirling couples, glittering chandeliers, and tables spread with desserts. We edged through the crowd and reached the far wall. Raven paused beneath a vase almost as tall as she was. She studied my expression. “Overwhelmed?”

“I’ve seen more impressive sights,” I said, thinking of Echlos.

She shrugged and smiled. It was impossible to tell if she thought I was lying. After studying me another moment, she turned toward the dance floor. “Remember,” she said over her shoulder. “The coach house at midnight.” With that, she vanished into a sea of men and women dressed in velvet and dripping with jewelry.

I stood alone beneath the vase for the space of a few breaths, collecting myself before plunging into the crowd.

Gabe had explained earlier what I’d be looking for, and it hadn’t sounded easy. I slipped toward the staircase at the end of the room, skirting a group of giggling young women and men with wine glasses in their hands. The music faded behind me as I headed up the staircase and turned a corner. I padded down a long hallway, counting the doors. Gabe had said it would be the sixth one, with a crest on it.

The music faded, and a dust-drenched silence closed around me. I spotted the door Gabe had described and slipped to it.

The room was dark. I fumbled along the wall for the switch for the gas lamps and didn’t find one. My fingers brushed over wallpaper and plaster. The curtains on the windows were open to let in the view of the city, and the faint light from the streetlamps glowed through the rain-studded glass and pooled on the carpet. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the faint, unyielding shape of bookshelves and the soft curve of a chair. The smooth surface of a desk gleamed, seamed with silvery light around the edges. A fireplace stood in the corner, filled with ashes. A study.

I stepped farther into the room. The floor squeaked under my feet, and I held my breath, but nothing stirred. No one came running down the hall. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a box of matches and lit one.

The yellow light flared in the blackness, illuminating one of the bookcases. I knelt before it, scanning the backs of the books, looking for the name Gabe had given me. The book was simply a list of records from three years ago, and I couldn’t guess what Gabe needed from it, or why he felt the need for such secrecy that he dared not confide in anyone but me.

The match winked out, burning my fingers. I hissed in pain and lit another, holding it close as my lips moved silently, reading the titles.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and I dropped the second match and darted toward the window. I managed to squeeze between the wall and one of the curtains before whoever it was entered the room. I heard the soft murmur of voices, and my heart thudded. If anyone looked hard enough, my feet would be visible at the place where the curtain didn’t quite reach the floor.

I heard the rasp of a match striking and smelled smoke. They’d lit cigs. They were settling in for a while, whoever they were.

“Nothing I like better than a few hours of silence. These days, it’s hard to come by,” a male voice said with a weary groan.

A few hours? Panic filled me. I had to meet Raven at midnight.

“Aye, especially with these whispers of Restorationists...” a second voice said, also male. This one sounded infinitely weary.

I stilled. My heart thumped at the mention of Restorationists. What did they know?

“I’ve heard talk that they have a worm in their midst.” A chuckle, low and hard. “If that’s true, they won’t last long.”

A worm? As in, a spy?

Coldness filled me, spreading from my chest to my extremities.

“Are those
matches
on the rug?” the first voice demanded. “If the maids have been smoking in my study again... I smell smoke! My books!”

There was a pause.

“Nothing is burned, at least.”

“I ought to let them go, all of them. Fools. Look around, see if they dropped any other matches.”

I shut my eyes and tried not to breathe, lest it make the curtain flutter.

“Now, now. Calm yourself. Have a cig.”

“I have a particularly fine new brand from the south.”

A drawer opened and shut.

“Wait,” a voice said. “The box is in the library. It’s just down the hall. Accompany me?”

As soon as the footsteps faded, I slipped from behind the curtain and ran for the door. My heart thudded against my ribs and my vision spun. I reached the doorway and entered the hall.

The voices were a murmur, growing louder again.

I fled down the hall before they returned and stopped around the corner. I pressed my back to the wall. My hands trembled. Below, the gowns of the dancing women shimmered in the light of the chandeliers. Music wafted upward, dulling the sound of my pounding pulse that thundered in my ears. I stepped to the rail and looked over, and my breath snagged. A lean, dark-haired man stood by the door, wearing a dark coat and carrying a hat in his hands.

Adam?

As I watched, a servant took his coat and hat. The man looked up as if he felt my attention, and our eyes met.

It was Adam.

He froze at the sight of me, his eyes darkening and his body going still as the rest of the crowd flowed around him. His mouth turned down, and he started for the stairs.

I descended to meet him, because I wasn’t running or hiding. I wanted that to be clear. We met halfway, he on the step below me. My chin rose a little so I could look him in the eye. His hand curled around my arm, and he leaned in. He smelled of soap and pine. A shiver prickled my arms.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured in my ear. There was an edge to his tone.

I drew back and gazed into his eyes, unwavering in my expression. “I could ask you the same question.”

Exasperation flitted across his face. “Lia,” he said, as if simply saying my name in that irritated voice told me anything.

Guests glanced at us curiously.

The words I’d overheard about spies among the Restorationists still echoed in my ears. I struggled to breathe calmly, to lift my chin as if I knew nothing new. “I hear this house has a beautiful conservatory,” I said. “Shall we find it?”

Adam sighed and offered me his arm. I slid my fingers over his jacket, feeling the warm muscle beneath, and something in my stomach clenched. I let him lead me through the crowd toward a pair of arched doors. We passed a fountain of lemonade and mounds of fruit spread across half a dozen tables. The music grew louder, drowning out the titter of nervous laughter and the hum of voices eager to share the latest news and gossip.

Servants drew the doors to the conservatory open for us. Beyond, a glass ceiling glittered in the gaslight. Branches hung low over the path, obscuring us as we strolled arm in arm like any couple in love. Ferns rustled at my feet, and the air smelled like sweet earth and honeysuckle. It reminded me of the greenhouse in the Frost, the one we’d found when we were starving, and a fierce ache filled me at the memory.

When we’d walked far enough into the conservatory to be alone and out of earshot, Adam dropped my arm and whirled on me. “What are you doing here?”

“Raven is obtaining the information about Borde. I wanted to keep an eye on her.” I omitted the part about my errand for Gabe, because that was not my secret to tell.

“Raven is seasoned at her job. She is used to navigating these sorts of parties. You, on the other hand—”

“Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I’m not a bumbling idiot,” I snapped. “Just because I’m not surrounded by snow doesn’t mean I’m incapable of handling myself. I’ve been here before, and I managed fine.”

“I know,” he said. The admission was soft, almost gentle. I looked at him, but I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

We were silent. Faintly, I heard the music of the party swelling louder as the doors to the conservatory opened and closed behind us. Half of Adam’s mouth lifted in a grimace as he scanned my dress, my jewelry, my hair.

“You do look the part,” he said. He admitted it as if the words pained him, as if he spoke them against his better judgment or even against his will. His jaw flexed, and he looked away. “Like a true Aeralian. Like you belong here.”

I didn’t know what to say. His words unlocked something inside me that felt bruised and fragile. The air around us was prickly, fraught with thorny unspoken hurts and tangled intentions. I fumbled for words, any words, as I smoothed both hands over the fabric. “It’s Ann’s.”

“Ann has impeccable taste,” he said quietly, “but I prefer you in your blue cloak.”

This was Adam, my Adam, the same man who had taught me to navigate the Frost and who’d patiently let me sort out my myriad feelings before. Now there was coldness between us. He was looking at me with such sadness now, such confusion.

My throat tightened.

The doors opened, and more guests streamed into the conservatory, breaking the moment. A few of the newcomers glanced our way, and as a new set of music began in the other room, Adam offered me his hands.

“We should dance,” he said quietly, reluctantly. “It will make us less conspicuous.”

I put my fingers in his, and he drew me close as we began to move in a slow waltz. His breath was soft against my cheek; his hands were warm on my back and against my wrist. I didn’t dare look at his eyes. Mine might betray me.

“Why are you here tonight?” I asked to put words in the air between us. “You never told me.”

“Thorns mission,” he said.

“Raven’s mission?”

He didn’t reply, and I remembered that I no longer had any right to that kind of information now that I was out of the Thorns.

An ache started in my chest. Had I made the right decision?

Of course I had. I’d made the only decision I could have made. I’d chosen my family, and that was not a mistake. It would never be a mistake.

Adam’s fingers found my chin and lifted it so my eyes met his.

“I know it’s complicated between us,” he said. “But we need to talk about it.”

I pulled away slightly. “Then talk.”

He shook his head. “Not now. I have the mission. Soon, though.”

I felt no desire to urge him to talk about how he wanted nothing to do with me, how I was reckless and irresponsible, how he was a Thorns agent and I was not, and that was what really mattered. I took a deep breath and let it hiss between my teeth as I nodded anyway. I owed him that much.

The song ended, and Adam released me. Cold air rushed over my skin where he’d been touching me, and I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.

“I have to meet Raven at midnight,” I said.

He pushed back his sleeve to reveal a Farther device—a tiny clock strapped to his wrist, ticking and purring as its gears spun. “You have a little time.” He hesitated. “But I should go.”

I watched as he headed back into the main ballroom, and my whole world was pain as he stepped out of sight and into the crowd.

~

Raven met me as the clock tower was striking midnight. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she was breathing hard. Her eyes sparkled as if she’d just done something she found delightful.

“Did you get it?” I demanded.

“Patience,” she crooned, brushing past me for the steamcoach. “I’ll tell you inside.”

I dragged up my heavy skirts and followed her inside. My stomach twisted with impatience as she sprawled across one of the seats and propped her feet on the other. Raven tipped her head up at me, smirking at my obvious distress.

“Calm yourself, Frostie,” she said. “I have your information.”

I sighed with relief.

“It was easy enough to get,” she continued, “when I asked him sweetly. It’s a good thing you didn’t take that bet. I got it out of him by ten thirty. All it took was a few smiles.”

I didn’t really want to know how she had to flirt with him to get the location of Borde. I shook my head at the impending story and asked, “Well?”

She reached into the bodice of her dress and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I wrote it out for you.”

I snatched the paper, still warm from her skin, and smoothed it in my lap. Raven’s neat penmanship covered the bit of page, giving both the name and location of the camp.

We were one step closer.

FIFTEEN

GABE MET ME in the hall outside my room.

“Did you find it?” he whispered, peering past me to make sure we were alone as he spoke.

“I didn’t have a chance to finish looking.” I explained how I’d almost been discovered in the process of searching, and Gabe’s expression turned to pure horror.

“I didn’t realize you would be in danger.” He paused, his hands curling into fists as he spoke half to himself. “It was wrong of me to ask you to find it. I put you in danger.”

“I managed to slip out unseen,” I said. “But there’s something else you should know. The men in the room were talking while I hid. They spoke of the Restorationists. They said there’s a spy in our midst.”