Gold coins glittered between her fingers, then jumped as she flipped her hand over and bounced the coins, three of them, across her knuckles. “I am.”
Javier clapped his hand to his purse. “Eliza!”
She laughed, popping the coins over to land stacked in her palm. Javier picked them up, scattering them across his own palm; they were all faceup, all imprinted with the same year. “How do you do that?”
“Practise,” Eliza said with a shrug. She bent her wrist in and fetched a fourth coin from inside of her sleeve, holding it up between two fingers. “Practise and a healthy disregard for other people’s belongings.”
Javier snatched the coin out of her fingers, grinning. “Are there more?”
Eliza spread her arms. “You’ll have to look.”
“Eliza….”
She dropped her hands and shrugged. “It’s your coin, Jav. I don’t mind making it my own. Call it the cost of setting me on your lover.”
“You’ll do it, then.”
She eyed him, turning back to the river. “Sacha told on me, didn’t he. He told you my father found out what I’d been doing.”
“Yes.” Javier put his backside against the railing and studied his feet.
Eliza’s mouth quirked and she shook her head. “Darling Sacha. I don’t need your protection, Jav. I have enough money hidden away to make a fine life for myself.”
“And yet you don’t do it.”
“Of course not. Your mother would never approve.”
Javier frowned. “What?”
“Come on, Jav. Your streetside friend suddenly makes good? All of Lutetia would think I’d given into your wiles and you were putting me up in style. The prince’s mistress.”
“Is it such a terrible facade?”
“No.” Eliza pressed her lips together, leaning more heavily over the river. “But I won’t climb the ranks on rumour of royal bed, Jav. I’ll find a way by myself or not at all.”
“Let me help. Take the position in Beatrice’s house. It’s a place to begin, Liz.”
“You’re a hard man to say no to, Prince Javier.”
“I know.” He bumped his hip against hers, smiling. “And you won’t, will you?”
Eliza’s shoulders dropped. “I’m not a lady, Jav.”
“You will be.” Javier twisted to put his arm around Eliza’s waist, kissing her temple. Belinda felt a sigh go through him, relief that the argument had ended without him making his plea an order. Below that lay gladness, not just that Eliza had agreed, but that he’d spoken earlier with Belinda, choosing his battles in the right order. Not, Belinda knew, that she could have refused the prince any more easily than Eliza could have. “I have to get back,” he murmured against Eliza’s hair. “Someone will miss me.”
“She’ll miss you.”
“No. I only spend the night with one woman at a time. She’s not in my chambers tonight. Tonight was yours.”
“Charmer.” Eliza turned her head to kiss his cheek. “Good night, my prince.”
Javier left her on the bridge, less alone than either of them might think.
* * * *
Eliza watched the river until the bells tolled the half hour after Javier’s departure, nothing of her emotions readable to Belinda’s weary investigations. Only when Eliza slipped away did she let the power go, staggering under the onslaught of stars after so many hours hidden in shadow. She reached for the railing, leaned heavily on it, forcing herself to shallow gasps when she wanted to drag in half-panicked lungsful of air. It would not do, would not do, to show weakness from use of power. Belinda curled her lip, barely an expression on the outside, but focusing all her remaining strength through it, forcing all her disdain at her own faltering vigor into it. A lifetime’s training straightened her spine, steadied her breathing even when her legs trembled and her heartbeat scampered with speed and lack of air. This was what the stillness was for: to forbid anything external from seeing her frailty. The stillness had nothing to do with the power she’d used to excess; it was her own gift to herself, studied and learned. The witchpower might enhance it, but the stillness was not born of the witchpower, and Belinda would not allow herself to soften in its use now. She spread her fingers against the bridge railing, light gentle touch that forbade her leaning, and slipped a smile into place as she gazed out over the quiet water.
No wall stood in her mind any longer, the odd, inexplicable flavour of her father washed away, his barricade destroyed. The desire to act was no longer separate from the ability to do so, golden strength finally her own. What was left of it?