Belle Revolte - Linsey Miller Page 0,89

the bed. I raced back outside and redid the tent spikes. Madeline held up Gabriel’s name tag.

“Did we actually get away with this?” she asked.

I grabbed her arm. “We’ll find out in the morning.”

We snuck back to Laurence’s tent, broke the illusion on the walls, and settled down with texts on the noonday arts and anatomy. By midnight, the others had not returned. Madeline slept with her head on Rainier’s bundled-up coat. She took it everywhere now. I nodded off with my back to Laurence’s cot.

I woke up to Charles kneeling before me and tapping my foot. I blinked, sitting up.

“I’m assuming you weren’t caught,” he said, “and you need to go back to your tent, but you’ll want to see this.”

He pulled me to the door of the tent where Laurence and Pièrre were arguing several paces away. I narrowed my eyes. There was nothing unusual.

Charles leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Look for magic, not a poster. It’s too dark to see here and probably until tomorrow.”

There, stuck to Physician Pièrre du Guay’s back, was one of Laurel’s posters.

I had never thought Charles so bold.

I had never thought Charles so reckless.

“Lord, you didn’t.” Except here I was staring at it, and he had plainly done it. “He’ll find out the moment he takes it off.”

“Doubtful. His varlet may panic, but Physician du Guay is far too proud to let anyone know he was targeted,” Charles said, dropping the tent flap and offering me his arm. “I hope the embarrassment doesn’t kill him, though. Someone else deserves that honor.”

Twenty

Annette

Vivienne had given the maids sent with us strict instructions on how each girl was to dress and appear for the party—I still wanted to vomit every time I thought about some comte somewhere tossing Gabriel aside and then getting dressed for a party.

Even Estrel wasn’t exempt from Vivienne’s instructions.

“I’m sorry, Mademoiselle,” the maid said, slicking back Estrel’s hair into a tight twist at the back of her neck. “Mademoiselle Gardinier left me very specific instructions.”

Estrel scowled. “Yes, I got her note.”

Vivienne had left a lovely silver pendant on top of Estrel’s clothes with a note that Estrel had read to me.

“Monsieur le Prince will be scrying from Segance, and you do not want to give him any more ammunition.”

“Laurence du Montimer, despite his many flaws, has enough respect to leave my appearance out of our disagreements,” Estrel had said to me as she set her spectacles atop my nose. “Some people aren’t even worth your time. Don’t bother arguing with the ones who don’t see you as a person.”

I smiled and nodded. “Do I look like a noble?”

“You look far too scared to be noble,” she said, laughing. “Copy my expression and try not to gasp at the food.”

“Plagued with shortages, and they got a whole roast out there I can smell and probably a dozen other things I’ve never even eaten.”

I settled Alaine’s crescent necklace against my throat. The gown Coline had chosen for me was a monstrously lovely thing of pale sea greens and blues, the silk softer than any of Emilie’s other dresses, with pearls decorating the lining and hem, glittering across the turned-up cuffs. The half-moon neckline showed off far more than I was used to, but I wasn’t some sunburned kid anymore. Weeks of Emilie’s soaps and creams and indoor schooling without any of the work I normally did had left me pretty and smooth. Everything fit perfectly to me.

I could see how nobles forgot about important things. This felt like a dream.

I was not announced, my presence too symbolic for that and my importance nothing compared to the rest of the folks here. We’d arrived in Serre after dark, and the city had been nothing but looming shadows and yellow-toned alchemical lamps that made me think of Yvonne. Our rooms were huge, all stone and fur rugs. Estrel had promised to show me Serre properly once this was all over.

The hall, though, was all I’d hoped.

A great dome roof of woven glass and gold cast speckled evening light around us as we entered. Pillars of white stone split the hall in three, and tables spotted the floor. There were people. A lot of people. More people than lived round Vaser, and this wasn’t even the entirety of the court. This was just one or two nobles from the families His Majesty liked.

They swished about, silk rustling over pale skin, and muttered in clipped whispers about how this was such a pity but such

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