mess. Hat boxes were piled upon each other in huge piles. Even putting one on top of the pile with too much force might make the whole collection collapse.
Teia backed up and took a running leap and stabbed the costume box toward its spot with a little toss at the end.
She landed on her toes, in the closet, a hair’s breadth away from colliding with the entire stack. She tipped forward. She couldn’t see anything to balance herself against that wouldn’t knock down everything.
But just as the door slid open, she regained her balance and threw the master cloak closed about her. But she stepped on the hem of the cloak as she stepped backward and fell—
Gracefully. She spun, taking the fall on her hip and tucking her knees so the cloak spun around her, covering them.
A servant walked in, yawning. She saw Aglaia’s half-full tray of food.
She sat and ate with gusto. She didn’t even look around. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
Teia took a few deep breaths to steady herself and regain her grip of paryl. She’d come this close to losing it. And that would have meant another dead innocent, another body to dispose of.
While the girl was distracted, Teia stood. Then she got her first look at the hat box. She had left the closet door open, of course, and the hat box was perched at the top of its tower. Precariously.
The air billowing gently into the room from the open door was enough to set the whole stack swaying.
If Teia jumped and missed, it would all come down—and having just jumped, her cloak would be swirling around chaotically at the very moment the servant girl looked toward the sound.
There was nothing Teia could do but pray she didn’t have to kill this pimply sixteen-year-old kitchen girl.
So she did nothing. The girl finished eating in no time and stood. She glanced toward the closet and walked over.
Oh, Orholam dammit, what had she seen?
But the girl just walked to the closet, stood on tiptoe and pushed the hat box back into place, and closed the closet. Then she grabbed the tray and left without a look back.
Teia breathed easily for the first time in many minutes.
She left quietly: out onto the balcony, a quick climb down to the street, and she was on her way to the Order’s meeting to find the priest. It wasn’t until she was halfway there that she realized that with this kill, she didn’t feel damned, she didn’t feel disgusted, she didn’t feel satisfied. She hadn’t felt anything at all.
Chapter 65
“Can someone explain to me again why we drafters are charging toward an enemy that can paralyze drafters?” Winsen deadpanned. “I’m so confused. We are all drafters, right?”
“We’ll get there before they raise the bane,” Kip said.
Of course he and Cruxer hadn’t gone alone. The Mighty had all come. ‘Oh, so if I’m going to be in egregious danger, we all are?’ Kip had asked. ‘We didn’t make it that far in the training,’ Cruxer had said.
Actually, not all of the Mighty had come. Though the new one, Einin, had joined them, Tisis hadn’t. She’d been on a skimmer farther away, already formulating plans for Big Jasper with her own command. Kip hadn’t waited to consult with her, much less asked her to come—but time was of the essence, and she was no good in this kind of fight.
Not that that was why she’d be furious.
Now the Mighty sped across the waves together. Their skimmers were able to interlock together, and with all of them working the reeds, they moved as fast as Izemrasen had.
“And you’re so sure of that why?” Winsen asked.
“Because the White King is greedy,” Kip said. “He likes a big spectacle. At Ru, he triggered the ambush when the bulk of our fleet was centered right over his trap. It destroyed the most ships possible with one stroke, but he’d have been better served if he’d waited until most of the ships were past the trap. He would have sunk fewer in the first strike, but he’d have trapped everyone else in the bay where he could kill them at his leisure.”
“So what’s that mean for us now?” Cruxer asked.
“It means he’ll hold off until the last moment to spring his trap.”
“Isn’t the last moment sort of . . . now?” Winsen asked.
Kip turned on him. “What do you want, Winsen? You want to let all our friends die? I didn’t get the scout’s report until I got it.