Queen of faces, p.15
Queen of Faces, page 15
Once or twice, Wes took me to the flooded pier, and we worked our way through tentative strategies for the yacht party. None of them sounded good.
On the day of the party, I had a morning study session with Kaplen on the pavilion, but half an hour in, he still hadn’t showed. He’d been out partying last night, so he was probably still hungover. The two of us now studied together for all our classes, except maths and physics, which he worked on with that insufferable girl, Ori. And with his help, I was now getting barely passing grades. For the time being, that was enough to stop Adam from burning off more fingers.
A cheer broke out in the distance. I flinched, ignoring it. Voices shouted on the lawn, and I turned the page of my chemistry textbook.
Another cheer. My jaw clenched, and I glanced up at the commotion.
Two students faced off nearby, playing chess at a table. Lysender Evans – a fourth-year – and Ori Ebbridge.
Her again. She sat before a crowd of onlookers, tall, slender and flawless. One of her pawns had been upgraded into a queen, carving a path through Evans’s pieces. Absurdly, there were still two books floating at eye level beside her, her magic flipping through the pages. She kept reading, even in the middle of a match. The utter disrespect.
Ori moved a rook forward, and Evans hunched over, his face twitching. He stared at the board, chewing his lip.
‘Your game,’ he said through clenched teeth.
The crowd broke into cheers. Ori fished a pomegranate from her bag and twirled it on her finger. She spread her hand, and it broke apart. The seeds floated in the air, separated like purple raindrops by her magic. She plucked one from the formation and nibbled it.
‘I’ve been studying chess since I was nine,’ said Evans.
‘Fascinating,’ said Ori. ‘I just learned it last week.’ She kept reading her floating books.
‘Another,’ he said. ‘Rematch.’
‘I’d love to,’ she said, ‘but honestly, I don’t find this game very interesting.’
Evans scowled. I had no idea how Kaplen could stand that girl.
Samuel was the only one who looked how I felt. He grimaced, standing at the edge of the crowd. Ori had Ousted his old fiancée. It made sense that he might feel some lingering tension towards her replacement.
I shook my head. I’d seen enough. If Kaplen hadn’t shown up yet, something was wrong. Maybe he’d caught a bug or drunk too much. Either way, it would be good to check on him. Anything but more of this.
I slammed my book shut and stood up.
I knocked on Kaplen’s door at Canis Hall, polished oak with a translucent pale window. Silence. ‘Kaplen?’ I called. ‘I brought you sweets. I tried baking them with magic.’ I fished a tin of brownies from my bag, burnt at the edges. Then I eased open the door.
The lights had been switched off. Dim sunlight filtered through the window shades.
Kaplen lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling. An open envelope sat on the table next to him.
‘Kaplen?’ I said.
No response. His hair was a messy red tangle, and his eyes were bloodshot. His arms wrapped round Cardamom, a green ball of fluff curled up on his chest.
‘Are you sick?’ I said. ‘Do you need a doctor?’
‘No,’ said Kaplen.
I set the brownies on the bed, floorboards creaking beneath me. After a moment’s hesitation, he put one in his mouth and chewed. ‘They’re delicious,’ he said. A lie. I’d burned those brownies from top to bottom. ‘I’m sorry you have to see me like this.’ He smiled, avoiding my gaze.
‘What’s wrong?’
Kaplen went to lie back. ‘It’s just exhausting, sometimes.’
‘What’s exhausting?’
Kaplen laughed. Cardamom nuzzled his cheek, and the boy petted him, smiling. ‘Thanks, buddy.’
I looked at the envelope. ‘Did you get a letter or something? What’s going on?’
‘It’s stupid.’
‘Tell me,’ I said. ‘I can help you. That’s what mages do.’
Kaplen sighed. ‘My father works in a ship factory out west. My mother’s an accountant at the port. They both worked ninety hours a week to raise me, to give me an education that was good enough to get me here. They’re checking in to see how the year’s going so far.’
A chill crept over my skin.
‘Early this morning, I had a physics exam. Pendulums and bloody relativity. My worst subject. Last night, I was supposed to study with Ori.’ He stared at the letter, his eyes vacant.
‘And did you study?’
‘I went to a dancing party in Midtown, where I spent fifty pounds on cocktails.’ His voice dripped with raw loathing. ‘I could barely answer half the questions this morning.’
I fell silent.
‘Do you know what the worst part is?’ Kaplen laughed again. ‘The entire time last night, I wanted to carve my eyes out. I wasn’t even having fun. Something I used to enjoy, and I made it a cage.’ He shook his head. ‘And it wasn’t enough. It never is. I’m a second-year, with no Codex and barely a dozen spells in my repertoire.’
I clenched my fists, sitting on the bed. ‘Kaplen, you’re the brightest soul in here. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it two weeks at Paragon. Let me help you with your studying.’
Kaplen didn’t speak. The smooth floorboards creaked under my feet.
Then he leaned forward and hugged me. I squeezed him back until my arms hurt.
‘If I can make my friend a little happier,’ said Kaplen, ‘then maybe I’m worth something after all.’
He lifted his index finger, and the blinds rolled up. Golden light streamed into the room.
Then he sat up, lifting the droopy Cardamom on to his shoulder. The green cat clung to his tweed jacket, somehow still fast asleep.
‘I screwed up the brownies, didn’t I?’ I said. ‘They look like a coal mine.’
Kaplen laughed. ‘These are a good effort. I’ll teach you the right spell for next time.’ He stood, beaming. In an instant, the boy was back to his usual cheer. ‘Let’s go and study.’ It was like the last twenty-four hours had never happened, like he’d always been this happy. He was the upbeat, sunny baker again, the friend who never stopped caring about you.
As we strode out of the room, I let myself believe him.
That night, I studied Wethers’s file again in the capsule hotel, my jaw clenched. The metal walls of my sleeping pod seemed to close in on me.
Lyna Wethers’s yacht party started in two hours. Our first job. Against a seasoned, deadly ex-spy, with a Whisper Codex that could hijack us in minutes.
Nudging defence or no, we weren’t even close to ready.
Footsteps approached the pod, stopping right in front of mine. My shoulders tensed. I set down the papers and unfolded my balisong knife, taking care not to cut myself.
‘Hurry it up,’ Wes’s voice echoed from outside. ‘Haven’t got all night.’
I swung open the pod door and started climbing out. ‘Finally,’ I grumbled. ‘You must love being fashionably late.’
Then I looked up at him.
Weston Brown was even more stunning than usual. He’d washed and styled his dark brown hair, brushing it into smooth waves. A black suit jacket sat comfortably on his shoulders, with a spotless shirt and a dark green tie. His Voidsteel stud glinted on his ear.
In his normal state, the boy was annoyingly handsome. Dressed up, he looked practically inhuman.
I lost my balance halfway out of the sleeping pod and toppled on to the floor, a tangled mess of limbs and wrinkled pyjamas.
‘Do I floor you so easily, grey girl?’ Wes examined his cuff links. ‘Well, I often have this effect on people. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.’
My neck tightened, and burning heat rose to my face. Irritation boiled in me like a pressure cooker.
Wes extended his hand, and I took it. As he pulled me to my feet, I used Rainbow Veil on his senses, making myself the girl from my second branch, with a flowing blue dress and bright red rubies on her ears. The earth-shattering vision with raven hair and olive skin. I even matched the crisp lavender scent from the mountain, adding it to the illusion.
I rose to my feet, and Wes froze.
He stared at me, silent, his face blank like I’d just given him a concussion. His hand felt like fire in mine, like I was gripping a hot coal.
I gave him a sweet smile, then let the illusion fall.
Wes remained dumbfounded for a few, blessed seconds. Then he shook off his daze and let go of my hand. He flicked his wrist, and a coat hanger floated between us, holding a second tuxedo vest.
‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a party to crash.’
anabelle gage was the most infuriating fool I’d ever met.
Some people just had the perfect rotten mixture of traits: clever enough to be dangerous, and stupid enough to dive into trouble. Gage possessed the skills to chop off my hand and, at the same time, felt squeamish about killing people.
My mind flashed back to her second branch, and the dreamworld she’d swept us into. She’d looked beautiful, a creature forged of whispers and lightning. I had gawked at her like a Humdrum, my skin prickling, my legs like pudding. Illusion or no, that face had felt real. Vivid and electric and true. Then she’d had the gall to show it off again, just to unbalance me.
I’d been stunned into silence by her Codex. But that hardly did it justice. Her Codex was nothing short of breathtaking. The girl was too foolish to realise just how far her potential went. Carriwitch had seen it too. With the right training, Anabelle Gage would be lethal. It would almost be a shame to cut her down this early.
But her weaknesses were equally pronounced. The girl couldn’t fly, and could barely manage a Water Walk. Her Whisper Codex fell off after twenty yards, and she had zero training in close quarters, which meant her knife would be next to useless. And her trust. Gaining it had been easy. I’d just needed a relatable sob story – gender troubles, rejection, running away from home. Add in the tongue-tying beauty of this chassis, and she was helpless before me.
Controlling her would be more difficult. But if I mastered her puppet strings, I would have the perfect, pliable weapon to get close to Khaiovhe. We’d bring down the Black Wraith, and my mother would be satisfied. I could go home, be with Samuel again, and have a real future.
Only, of course, after I’d ended Gage as well.
‘Ugh.’ Gage squirmed in her tuxedo, biting her lip beneath her black party mask.
I scowled at her. I’d gone halfway across Elmidde to steal her this outfit, and not a lick of gratitude from her. I wore my usual ensemble, my dress shirt and waistcoat with my dark green rain jacket on top. Black leather dress shoes gleamed on my feet. I’d also bought new trousers that were so expensive, I’d left the tag on. I’d tucked it into a back pocket, so I could return them after the party.
This impostor’s body, though irritating, made for a glorious door into the world of men’s fashion. With this dress code, I couldn’t bring the knapsack with my wings, but I didn’t mind. Gage still didn’t know about them, and I liked having a trick up my sleeve. I’d been drilling my flight manoeuvres on the roof of my new house, a filthy wooden shack I’d found to rent in Lowtown.
‘Prophets.’ Gage stared at her suit. ‘This is ugly.’
‘How can it look good?’ I snapped. ‘You look like a prisoner in a straitjacket. Do you wear anything other than baggy shirts and your rain jacket?’
Her brown hair dye looked good, at least, as did the concealer I’d smeared on her neck, masking her grey bits. Gage was nowhere near as ugly as she imagined. With luck, she would look like just another Edgar.
Tragically, even an Edgar looked out of place here. A line of gorgeous figures stretched before us on the pier, all wearing the latest fashions under their party masks. Sultry lamplight shone over their sculpted cheekbones, their tall frames.
A few partygoers stared at us, the sharp contrast of my star-woven face and her short grey Edgar. Some of these nobles had never seen a pimple in their lives. Behind us, a woman whispered to her date, a sentence ending with ‘baboon in a waistcoat’. They laughed. Gage stared at her feet, shoulders curling forward.
My throat clenched, and I leaned next to her, holding her gaze. ‘They’ll always despise you, grey girl.’
‘What?’
‘They’ll always despise you. You can shower them with warmth. You can grovel and bleed at their feet. It doesn’t matter. They hate you because you’re you.’ I lowered my voice. ‘But make them taste fear, and they’ll stop laughing.’
I extended my Pith towards the couple behind us and pushed the man’s shoe with my magic. He tripped, tumbled into his date and knocked both off the side of the pier. A splash rang out, and the onlookers gasped. Below us, the couple floundered in the waves, their silk clothes ruined.
Gage gave a little nod. ‘Thanks, paperboy.’
‘Paperboy?’
She smiled at me, and I rolled my eyes.
The girl would trust me now, even more than earlier. And frankly, I couldn’t stand watching nobles snigger at her like they’d sniggered at me. My mother’s great embarrassment. The scatterbrain.
Once, in response to a barb, Samuel had shoved one of my bullies into their own giant birthday cake. Then he’d cut off a slice and handed it to me as we strode out of the party. Pistachio sponge. Best dessert I’d ever had. My chest ached at the memory. Gage deserved someone like that, irritating as she was.
We reached the yacht, a towering white boat the size of a small mansion. Three floors were stacked on top of the deck, and a waterfall poured into a swimming pool at the front.
At the gangplank, two security guards patted us down. Both carried pistols, and dozens more stood on the boat. Don’t get into a fight, said the Samuel in my head. You never learned the spell for a bullet shield.
Mercifully, they let me keep my wallet with my sword inside, and the metal pillbox of Kraken’s Bone. ‘Medication,’ I lied, ‘for my panic attacks.’
Masked partygoers filled the deck, laughing, sipping wine and nibbling on lamb sliders. Jance Sitani, the third-wealthiest stockbroker in the world, lounged in a hot tub with a pair of tuxedo models. Next to her, a Kshatran gun mogul puffed a cigar on the lap of the prime minister’s son. Radio stars in flapper dresses twirled on the dance floor, and a live band played a raucous swing tune.
An attractive brown-haired man leaned on the first-floor balcony, wearing a dinner jacket and a bow tie. Gabriel Heywood. The official host of this party. A shipping magnate who’d made millions transporting goods from Caimor’s old colonies. He was the richest Humdrum in the country, which wasn’t saying much. And according to my mother, he was known for hiring assassins to take out his competition. Mercenary mages like us. Gage knew him as well, apparently, from her former boss, though he’d never recognise her generic face here.
Heywood clapped his hands twice. The propeller churned the dark water below, and the yacht glided through the ocean.
‘Stick to the play,’ muttered Gage. ‘Isolate Wethers, knock her out, then get her off the boat.’
Or we could just kill her. A few more pills in her drink, and this mission would get a lot less complicated. I glanced at Gabriel Heywood. He leaned against a statue of Westyn Aethelyn, chatting with real estate moguls. If Wethers had helped throw this party, the host might know where she was. But three guards surrounded him, placed far enough away to avoid Gage’s illusions. ‘Let’s blend in. If the guards loosen up, we can move on Heywood.’
Gage nodded, and the two of us mingled with other guests. I did most of the talking, slouching on deckchairs and enduring drunken rants on coal percentages. As we talked, the orange lights of Elmidde shrank in the distance, leaving us alone on the Eloane Ocean. I maintained my sanity with a tray of salmon roe on deck one. Briny, but smooth. I’d missed Hightown food.
The boat stopped, Elmidde a faraway glimmer. I tore myself away from a tedious real estate heiress and found Gage leaning over a railing. The moon hung in the starless sky, shining on a squat structure jutting out of the ocean, a stone’s throw away from the yacht. One of its iron walls had crumbled into the water, exposing the rusty frames within.
‘Is that a shipwreck?’ said Gage.
‘It’s a tower,’ I said. ‘A giant forged with magic, tall enough to pierce the clouds. The legacy of the Star Prophets.’
I stared over the edge, into the endless black ocean. The Shenti had a saying: The sea remains. Their unofficial motto, after the Babel Curse had erased their entire language. No matter what victories you had, no matter who you loved or what you built, it would all sink beneath the waves in the end. Gage turned back to the party, her forehead sweaty. The grey girl still feared drowning.
Then her eyes widened, and she swallowed, at a loss for words.
I followed her gaze. Two boys in masks sat by the appetiser table, wearing beige suits. It took me a few seconds to recognise the first one, with his red-orange hair and round cheeks. A Paragon student from my class.
Gage choked, her face going pale, her eyes unblinking.
Why was Kaplen Ingolf at this party?
The other boy grabbed Kaplen by the wrist, leading him downstairs to the lower decks. Kaplen stumbled drunkenly on the carpet, bumping into people.
Gage stepped forward, her skin clammy, her breaths shallow.
‘Do you know that boy?’ I said.
‘I—’ She swallowed.
As we spoke, a woman descended from the first floor, wearing a shimmering green dress and a blue party mask. In an instant, I matched her features to Carriwitch’s photograph: her tall frame, her blonde hair.
Lyna Wethers.
She strode downstairs, following Kaplen.
Gage pulled the metal pillbox from my pocket. ‘I’m going after them.’ Her gaze was steel, but her hands were shaking.
‘Lyna Wethers is dangerous,’ I said. ‘We can’t rush in, or we’ll get hijacked too. You can’t save everyone.’
‘For every minute we wait, she butchers another soul.’ Gage walked forward, jaw clenched. ‘You can come with me or not.’
