alone in the room she shared with Bree. There was a long mirror propped against one of the walls, with a crack in the corner. Topaz would stare at her body, trying to figure out how her firm, brown skin could change into all those lithe, scaly little legs and tongues. When she shaped herself small and then big, it felt so right that it filled her head with crazy-making joy. It was better than singing on the stage, better than clean sheets, better than the taste of ciocolata melting on her tongue.
Better than anything.
The lambs had all adapted to being in service to Livilla — it was just another role to play, and they got more rehearsal time than they were used to. Niloh and Zeb got into it most, bringing stolen food and other gifts from the city above in attempts to please their new mistress.
Topaz rarely went up above. Why should she? There was nothing up there but people and things. This was their home now. The lizard part of her liked it underground, the dark dampness of it all. She craved sunshine, but it was winter and there was hardly any to be had, so better to stay down here in the dark.
Seven days before the Kalends of Saturnalis, Niloh brought Livilla a flagon of hot coffee she’d pinched from a stall vendor while Zeb distracted him by pretending to steal a handful of chestnuts. Livilla smiled at both of them like they were sunshine and light. She allowed them to pour her a cup, then called Topaz over.
‘Take this to Garnet, with my compliments,’ she said in a low purr, handing Topaz the mostly full flagon.
It was always Topaz whom Livilla sent to Garnet with messages or gifts. Topaz reckoned she didn’t trust him not to snatch any of the other lambs and hand them straight over to the Orphan — to Poet.
There had been many gifts: many little tokens of food or drink. All props adding to the show that Livilla was subservient to the Power and Majesty, instead of holding him at bay with her powerful fire-lizard. There was no reason why this gift should be any different. But it was. Topaz could tell. She hadn’t seen Livilla add anything to the coffee, but there was a brightness in her eyes, an excitement that was out of place.
That was when Topaz knew she was being sent to Garnet as an assassin.
She carried the flagon carefully down the stairs, her feet heavy, and knocked on Garnet’s door before entering. Perhaps he would be asleep and then she wouldn’t have to …
‘Come in, little firetrap,’ he called in a merry voice.
Topaz kept her eyes mostly downcast as she entered the room. She glanced up briefly to see that Garnet was naked in bed, his skin shockingly pale against dark green sheets. A demme shared the bed with him, but she lay with her face to wall, body held stiffly as if she couldn’t wait to leave.
‘A gift from Lord Livilla,’ Topaz said politely.
She was a mask. She had always been a mask. She could act as if this were any other token of Livilla’s ‘respect’.
‘Another crumb from the table of our landlady,’ Garnet said in one of those voices men liked to use when they were pretending not to be as cruel as they were. ‘Is she not kindness itself, Kelpie?’
The woman in his bed shrugged one shoulder and said nothing.
‘Sit up, sentinel,’ Garnet said sharply.
Kelpie sat up. She didn’t look right. Something about her eyes. Topaz had seen beaten women before — the stagemaster in the place where she was before the Vittorina Royale had been a right bastard to the columbines, leaving them blue and streaky all over when he was in a drinking mood. The sentinel had that look, though there wasn’t a mark on her.
Garnet took the flagon. Topaz couldn’t help wondering how it would happen, what it was, how fast it would be.
‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Cups, woman.’
Kelpie slipped out of the bed, looking more uncomfortable with her nakedness than anyone around here ever did. She found a cup and returned to the bed with it. Garnet poured for himself with great ceremony, eyes on Topaz.
‘My mother always made the best coffee,’ he said conversationally. ‘She was a cook, you know. Head cook of a fine manor house. The Baronne himself said she was a saint in the kitchen. He liked to start his day with a small cup of coffee