gasp of horror and delight, told Thalia the candle had done its work at last.
The rope parted.
The thud of the sword overhead made Thalia flinch. From far away, applause told her the curtain had drawn back to reveal the empty throne with the sword lodged harmlessly in the wooden seat, the empty manacles dangling.
Thalia lay there, swiftly becoming aware of her situation. She had arms again, not feathers. She was lying on a mildewed mattress directly beneath the trapdoor in the stage overhead. She was herself again, not pins and needles, not fire, not numbness.
Thalia crawled off the mattress, vomited on the dirty floor, and spat. She drew a shaky breath. What she had seen in that elongated second before she fell had been her own hand transformed into something she could not put words to. Something with feathers. Thalia knew that Traders changed that way, Traded one shape for another, as easy for them as breathing. Thalia knew she was only a Solitaire. Yet somehow, she had changed. What did that mean?
Far above, as the applause died away, the pit orchestra took up Thalia’s music again. Thalia found herself on her feet, staggering toward the door that would take her to the back of the theater. Nutall would be watching for her so he could point her out to the audience.
As Thalia made haste, her head cleared. She found herself counting the bars of music. If she hurried, if she ran full tilt, she could still make her cue. She must not miss her cue.
Chapter Two
Thalia finished the performance only by refusing herself permission to think. She moved as if mesmerized, taking her bows with Nutall, clearing up her props, removing her stage makeup in the dressing room shared by all the chorus girls, and changing out of her costume and into a tan walking dress and her favorite hat.
At last, in the dark street outside the theater, Nutall offered her his arm and an unconvincing smile. “What happened?”
They set off toward the Solitaire boardinghouse where they had rented rooms for the duration of their stay in Philadelphia. It was a chilly night in early April. The air was not precisely fresh but it was cool on Thalia’s face as she matched her steps to Nutall’s. It cleared her head and made her feel more like she was awake and less like she was still lost in a dream.
“What’s wrong?” Nutall prompted.
Thalia cleared her throat. “I Traded.”
Nutall stopped in his tracks. Thalia released his arm and stood facing him, wishing the nearest streetlight were bright enough to show her more of his expression.
“Not here.” Nutall led Thalia back to the boardinghouse parlor. Most of the other residents had long since retired for the night. Nutall turned up the gaslight and gestured Thalia to the horsehair settee while he pulled a spindly chair close. “Keep your voice down and tell me everything.”
Thalia drew back her glove enough to show Nutall her left wrist, swollen, scraped, and already bruised. “I couldn’t unlock the cuff.”
“I saw one manacle was open and the other shut. I assumed you’d pulled your hand through.”
“The lock jammed. I tried to.” Thalia described her experience. “I Traded, didn’t I?”
Throughout her account, Nutall had grown more and more rigid and still. His dark eyes blazed into hers. “Why didn’t you call for help? Why didn’t you stop the act?”
“I didn’t think of it.” Thalia rubbed her wrist. “Are you upset because I Traded or because I didn’t stop the act?”
“I am surprised and concerned,” said Nutall. “Milk bottles are upset.”
Whenever anyone said they were upset, it was a sure thing that Nutall would say that. Sometimes Thalia said it herself without meaning to.
“You may well have demonstrated the ability to Trade. Whether you did or not, I am angry with myself that I didn’t train you better. You should have stopped the act. On that point, I admit I find myself torn between fear for your safety and pride in your courage.”
“Oh.” Thalia took a moment to let that sink in. Fear had ruled her. She’d known Nutall would be frightened too once he saw the locked manacle. It was strange to think he’d felt proud of her for her single-minded stupidity.
“Did you Trade spontaneously after twenty years of Solitaire behavior?” Nutall went back to glaring at Thalia, but she could see the raw concern behind his stern expression.
Into the resulting silence, Thalia ventured a reply. “Yes?”
“Well, good.” Nutall did not seem to think it the least bit