everything.
Nina buried her face in her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.
A sea roared inside her and made demands, but she waded it, she bobbed up, took a breath, and opened her eyes to the cold winter morning. Then she rose because the day was there, the world was there, and she wanted to be part of it.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 1
The best bookshops in all of Loisail were located two blocks from the Square of the Plague. Its formal name was the Plaza Varnier, named after a war hero long dead, but most people remembered it because in the Year of the Plague, many centuries before, this had been one of the spots where pyres were set up to burn the dead. There was a legend that a house across the square, with distinctive yellow tiles decorating its façade, had been spared disease because the owners were pious. Thus, for a time, this had been an informal peregrination spot for the sickly who wished to be cured of impossible maladies.
Nina walked by the bronze statue of General Varnier and peered at his resolute face, arm stretched out toward the heavens, sword in hand. A pigeon sat atop the statue, unaware that it was lounging on the head of a historical figure who had helped topple cities.
“Miss Beaulieu, how do you do?” a male voice asked, and she turned her head.
It was Luc Lémy, dressed in a blue jacket that brought out his eyes. He took off his silk hat and pressed it against his chest. Nina extended her hand in greeting, and he kissed it.
“Mr. Lémy,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise. What are you doing in Loisail? Have you come for a few days of shopping?” he asked.
“I’m staying with my great-aunts this spring.”
“Not with your cousins? I was thinking of paying your cousin Gaétan a visit this week.”
“No,” Nina said simply, and focused her eyes on the pigeons milling about the square, looking for crumbs.
“I understand completely,” he replied, smiling at her, a conspirator. “It is easier to give the elderly relatives the slip and seek excitement, is it not? Drinks and billiard games kept me entertained when I visited with my grandfather two summers ago. Have you been going to a good many parties?”
Nina had to admit her great-aunts were more lax than Valérie and Gaétan ever were. They did not go out often, most of the social functions Nina had been subjected to last spring were out of the question, and though in theory they were supposed to accompany her as she went around the city, her great-aunts both complained of aches and pains and had let Nina do as she willed. There were also no reproaches about Nina’s clothing and shoes, which was how she was walking around Loisail in a simple cotton dress without the ruffles, flounces, and pearls Valérie adored.
“I’m sure I do not seek the same excitement as you do, Mr. Lémy. No, I haven’t gone to parties,” she said, but her voice was pleasant. She did not think she had any business chiding him, and Luc had a sunny disposition—it would have been difficult to chastise him even if one wanted to.
“No parties? During the Grand Season?” he said, frowning, as though this were an alien concept.
“I’ve been in the city only for a few days.”
“That’s plenty of time to go to parties. Do not tell me you are one of those women who spends her days at sewing circles and organizing charity bazaars? I detest such things, and you are far too young for that nonsense.”
A pigeon approached Nina’s foot, bobbing its head up and down, but a dog, let loose from its leash, began chasing it and sent it flying off. The pigeons atop the statue ignored the ruckus and stayed in their place.
“I sew poorly,” she said, watching as a heavyset matron in a heavy pink hat picked up the dog and shushed it.
“Good!” he exclaimed. “You ought to be dancing.”
Nina couldn’t help but laugh at that. He seemed to take games and balls rather seriously, Mr. Lémy. It was endearing.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“To look at books.”
“By the gods, surely not on a pretty day. Are there books around here, anyway?”
“Past the street of the perfume-sellers,” she said, glancing in the appropriate direction. “There are a dozen shops. You haven’t noticed?”
“No. I am headed to the Philosophers Club and I should warn you, despite the name, there are no philosophers there. It’s a drinking den.”
“Where?”
“Up