As the door latched behind him, my distinguished forebear stared down at me with disapproval from his gold-framed portrait. Lamplight glistened off the stroke of black oil paint that formed the curve of his whiskers.
“Oh, shut up,” I growled over my shoulder.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Booted footsteps rang out on the polished floor. It was Ma, in the company of Uncle Bolaji. They were deep in whispered conversation, their faces grave. I flattened myself against the glass curio case to let them pass.
Ma barely glanced at me, but hissed out of the corner of her mouth, “Bed. Now. And don’t you dare set one toe out of that room. I’ll be up shortly.”
Uncle Bolaji paused. “Where’s that young courier?”
“A messenger boy come from the docks, and he had to leave straightaway,” I said without hesitation. Lying is easy as peas and pie once you become accustomed to it.
“Ah. Pity. I’ve just thought of something else I wanted to ask him about—Never mind, then.” He strode past me. “We should discuss sending an envoy at once, though it turns my stomach to curry favor from the murderers of children. The Emparch’s daughter was eight.”
My heart lurched in my chest, until I remembered Markos hadn’t even wanted me to know his sister was alive. My uncle had likely made the assumption she’d been killed along with the rest of his family, and Markos had not corrected him. Or perhaps he’d even suggested it himself to put the Bollards on the wrong track.
“We might push for a revision of the Agreement of ’86,” Ma said. “The savings from the tolls alone …” Their voices drifted away down the hall.
I remembered what Markos had said about the Margravina—that she was playing both ends against the middle. If I knew Bollard Company, they would do exactly the same.
I crept up the stairs to the fourth floor rooms where the girls slept, under the eaves with slanted ceilings. I scratched on Kenté’s door, then let myself in without waiting.
“Did you find out what you wanted to?” She was seated upon a velvet stool, turning her head back and forth. Her eyes met mine in the mirror.
“I did,” I said.
“We’re going out.” Jacky set one last pin in Kenté’s braided hairstyle and examined her work. “Of course you’ll come with us.”
“Where are you going?”
“To a party. You can borrow a dress from me if you lace your stays in tight enough.” She glanced calculatingly at my midsection. I wasn’t wearing stays, and she knew it.
“I can’t go,” I said. “I’ve got to be on the river by five. I’m going down through Nemertes Water, and you know the tide don’t wait.”
“True enough,” Kenté said. “The current carries us all. Only I thought you said you were going to the Free City.”
I tapped the side of my nose with my finger. “And that’s a secret for you. So we’re even.”
She pouted. “But it’s not very fun, is it? You just got here.”
Every moment I stayed, I ran the risk of being nabbed by my mother. And Markos was waiting. I said my farewells and slipped down the hall, regret pulling at me. My cousins blithely assumed I’d be back this summer. They had no way of knowing that by then I might be dead at the hands of the Black Dogs.
I turned. “Good-bye,” I whispered at the closed door.
Back in my room, I had to contort myself to reach the laces of that stiff dress, but I dared not ring the bell for the maid. She would want to oil and braid my hair, help me wash up, and all manner of nonsense I didn’t have time for.
A creak on the landing warned me of Ma’s approach.
The maid had laid something on the bed that looked like a bolt of lace had gotten in a fight with another bolt of lace and lost. Mouth pulling to one side in disgust, I flung the gown over my head just as I heard footsteps outside the door. I blew out the candle and dove under the covers.
The door banged open. “All right, Caro, what’s this business with the—” Ma’s strident voice trailed off.
It was impossible that she couldn’t hear the hitch in my breath and the hammering of my heart. I let my lips part slightly, relaxing my fingers where they lay curled on the pillow.
She stood there so long that after a while I thought I must be imagining it. Surely she had crept from the room and gone. I breathed steadily, willing my muscles to go slack. Finally I heard the soles of her boots brush the rug, followed by the whisper of the door hinges.
What was the meaning of it—and why hadn’t she shaken me awake to question me? With Pa, I knew where I stood. But she was … different. Sometimes I wished she wasn’t so good at the bargaining table. I was never quite sure what she was feeling or thinking, and I was her daughter. Ma’s mind was constantly ticking, looking for angles and upsides and ways for Bollard Company to get ahead. To her, revolution in Akhaia meant potential business opportunities.
One thing was certain. I couldn’t trust her with this secret.
A change in the shadows made my eyes snap open. I sat straight up in bed, hand scrabbling on the bureau for my pistol.
Markos squatted on the window ledge, blocking the moonlight. His long coat trailed behind him.
I kicked aside the sheets. “How did you get in here?”
He jumped lightly down. “I saw you cross in front of the window, before the light went out. So I climbed up the trellis.” I could tell he was very pleased with himself, despite the grass stain on his jacket. “What are you wearing?”
I’d forgotten about the monstrosity of a nightgown. “Never mind,” I growled, crossing my arms over myself. “I thought I told you to wait for me in the garden.”
“You said you were right behind me. That was half an hour ago. I got worried.”
“I’m fine, but we must leave Siscema at once. Turn around.” I cast around the floor for my clothes. “Bother it. The maid’s taken my shirt. And my underthings.” My hand came to rest on a pile of bunched-up fabric. “Wait. She’s left the pants. Blessings in small things.”
The ridiculous nightgown hung off my shoulders, its lacy yoke ruffling down my front. I grabbed the hem and twisted it into a thick bunch, shoving it down the back of my trousers. Taking the pistol from the bureau, I shrugged into my oilskin coat.
“All right, you can turn around,” I said. “But know that if you laugh, I won’t hesitate to shoot you and give your body to the Black Dogs.”
Markos’s profile was outlined by the faint light from the window. “Caro, are you sure we’re doing the right thing? The Bollards are a rich and powerful house. They can help us. Why are we running?”
“The Bollards care about profit.” I raised my eyebrows. “How much is an Emparch worth to them, I wonder?”
Uncle Bolaji seemed to disapprove of the Theucinians’ bloody coup, but Ma had been her usual pragmatic self. I didn’t think the Bollards cared who held the throne of Akhaia, as long as the Emparch was favorable to trade.
“You don’t trust your own mother?” he asked.
“She’s a Bollard first and a mother second.” I balanced on the end of the bed, shoving my right foot into my boot.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”