better than everyone else,” she said.
“Like you?”
“Exactly.” She laughed. “Order new dresses that fit you.”
“That’s too much—”
“Annette,” she said, plucking an orange from a nearby tree. “This is from the Bèidexīng region of the Hé Dynasty. Do you know how much one of these costs import?”
I shook my head. “A lot?”
“This tree costs more than that dress, and my mother has a whole row of them at home,” Emilie said, tucking the orange into my—hers now—bag. “Order new dresses that fit you. My mother won’t even notice the expense, and if she does, she will be thrilled at the thought of me giving in to her tastes.”
The idea of that much money made me itch.
“Now, we will have to communicate.”
I shoved one of her silver cuffs into her hands. “You’re keeping this, and you’re scrying me with it. We have to talk somehow. I don’t mind if you scry me from time to time to make sure I’m not caught, and it’s certainly faster than letters.”
“Not to imply that’s a bad plan,” she said slowly. “But I can’t scry.”
“Only because you don’t know how.” I gathered magic; it was day and the moonlight mostly gone, but using a tiny bit of Lord Sun’s power wouldn’t ruin scrying. Same power, different source, Solane always said. So long as I didn’t gather as much as most noonday artists did, it would still work. “Focus on what you want to scry, imagine yourself next to what you’re looking for, and want it.”
She frowned but did what I asked.
It was fun bossing a comtesse about.
It took me a painful twenty minutes to get her scrying, but at least she was determined, even if she hated it. I clasped the cuff around her wrist.
“You scry me, I’ll scry you, and we’ll know what’s going on with the other in a pinch,” I said.
She spun the bracelet and couldn’t hide her discomfort. “I have heard the best midnight artists are capable of communicating with scrying silver, though I have never read about how it’s done.”
I’d not either, but scrying was just looking at someone. Only the best could hear what their target was saying, but if you could do that, it couldn’t be hard to communicate. Two people scrying at the same time would be enough.
“Well, let’s hope I get real good.”
Emilie laughed, and I laid my hands on her cheeks. She stilled.
“Let me make you a bit more Annette,” I muttered, and channeled what little magic I could gather across her face and neck. It was easy enough to make her cheeks look sunburned and change the straight edge of her nose to a slightly crooked one. Her teeth, when she smiled, would be yellower. She opened her mouth a few times.
“I think you will get very good,” she said, testing out the magic around her mouth. “How long will this last?”
“Half an hour.” I withdrew my hands, the magic feeling more like a mask of ice frozen to her face than real skin to me. Hopefully, the guards weren’t artists and wouldn’t notice.
Then she was gone, tearing through the garden with a grin on her face and no care at all in her strides. She tore through a thicket, snagging a few branches, and didn’t look back. I tugged at her dress, her life an odd fit, and scratched at the satin against my skin. Didn’t rub but slipped, prettier and smoother than anything I’d ever worn.
“I can do this,” I said, checking my hair. “Please don’t get arrested before you even leave.”
Emilie had felt like a friend when we were talking. I knew what it was like to feel broken and out of place because of what the world told you to want. Desires were complicated, living in a world full of contradicting ones doubly so.
“I belong. I can do this,” I repeated.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of her dress, fingers crinkling over paper in one, and pulled it out, desperate to distract myself from this mess.
“A response to Mademoiselle Estrel Charron on The Price of Clarity: The Effects of Divination on the Mortal Form from a Healing Arts Perspective.” I traced the spiky signature at the bottom. “Laurence du Montimer, premier prince du sang, duc des Monts Lance, Chevalier of the Noonday Arts, and Physician of the First Order.”
What an ass. Estrel Charron was the only bearable artist from the higher ranks because she was common born and kinder for it. She’d tried studying at the university, and they’d made