Rook and Shadow (Salarian Chronicles Book 1) Page 13

  She pulled up the flounces by her hips and pushed her hands into her skirt. I did the same. There were indeed baskets under there.

  Clever.

  Elsie pushed my peasant clothes into the pockets.

  “So you can change when you’re done,” she said.

  I reached into the skirt, rummaged through my apron, and pulled out the opera bracelets.

  “Perfect!” Elsie said. “Jewelry will definitely help you blend in! Put one on each arm. Princess Salara wore a bracelet on each arm in the opera.”

  Well, I could certainly imitate Princess Salara’s look. At least the stage magic charm had worn off. I slid the bracelets on my wrists, and Elsie clasped her hands in approval.

  “You won’t actually steal anything tonight,” Estrella said. “You’ll stay with Shadow and pocket the things he takes. And you’ll distract anyone who gets too interested in him.”

  “How do I distract people?”

  “Tell them stories,” Shadow said.

  I had not noticed him come in. There were no corners in the round room, but somehow he had found the darkest spot. He wore a black suit, cape, and mask. His hair swept over his face.

  “Are you trying to stand out as a thief?” I asked.

  “There are lots of shadows to hide in, even at parties. You were at the opera, and it should still be a topic of conversation. Get people talking about it, and they’ll forget they ever saw me.”

  “I thought you wanted me to blend in?”

  “It is all about the timing,” Estrella said. “Shadow, she has no idea what she’s doing. It would be better to leave her here.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Elsie said. “I put a lot of work into that hood!”

  “No one will take her seriously in that. Who ever heard of a hood on a formal gown?”

  “Rook will be fine,” Shadow said. “Just follow our lead.”

  I nodded.

  Chapter 16

  Shadow opened the door nearest him and stepped into a salt tunnel. Estrella snapped her fingers, and our skirts folded in on themselves so we fit in the narrow space. Elsie and Edsel grabbed full baskets covered with cloth, and we walked into the darkness.

  The stars in Estrella’s hair lit our way. The path sloped uphill. It would have been easier in my peasant clothes. The wide skirt and baskets weighed me down. We walked until we reached a dead end. Shadow motioned for us to stop. Elsie and Edsel exited first, climbing a ladder. Estrella followed them a few moments later.

  “Will I really be okay?” I asked Shadow. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Just act like you’re back at court.”

  He helped me onto the ladder, and I climbed out. The tunnel opened behind a patch of bushes on a hill overlooking the museum. Stars shone above me, but they were no match for the spectacle below. The Salara Museum sparkled with thousands of candles and magical charms of all shapes and sizes. A steady stream of nobles in colorful hooded capes and masks entered.

  This was foolishness! So a few peasants didn’t recognize me. That didn’t mean I could fool nobility! Especially now that my hair was dark again.

  Below, Estrella entered the museum. She walked through the line with her head held high. No one questioned her.

  Shadow snapped the tunnel shut and offered me his arm. I took it, and we walked down the hill. He wore dark gray leather gloves. No one said anything as we approached, although a few people stared at me. I told myself it was the hood. It really was an odd fashion choice. We climbed the stairs and entered the museum. I turned to Shadow, searching his face for reassurance. His eyes remained confident behind his mask. How many times had he done this?

  I shivered, looked around, and gasped. The noblewomen had not been wearing capes. They had hoods on their gowns! Elsie’s design showed my face, but the nobles wore hoods that draped nearly to their chins. Estrella’s starlit blond hair looked out of place in the sea of colorful fabrics. She glared at me and snapped her fingers. The stars in her hair disappeared.

  Nostalgia swept over me as I turned my attention from the guests to the exhibits. Nostalgia and a bit of nausea. Mannequins painted to look like me and wearing my latest gowns stood in scenes around the edge of the room. “Dinner with the Castanian Duke” Salara was having tea with “Last Week’s Garden Party” Salara. Two mannequins wearing my breakfast gowns played cards. At the far end of the room, mannequins in my five most recent birthday gowns played croquet on a fake lawn.

  People in masks and hoods wandered around the room, talking in whispers and studying the gowns. Music echoed from somewhere further in.

  Shadow pulled me forward. I shook myself out of the daze and followed him.

  It was like traveling to the past. I walked by outfits I remembered and outfits I didn’t. In the room dedicated to my hair, sketches and dark wigs on mannequin heads recalled the ghosts of styles past. Was this where the hair I sold Delilah would end up? As an immortalized butterfly chignon?

  “Wait in there,” Shadow whispered. He nodded towards a door and disappeared into the crowd.

  I entered the room and looked around.

  Poetry.

  Books and pages covered tables throughout the room. Quotes from famous Salara poems were painted on the wall. Bold script on the ceiling stated, “Words prevail where images fail.”

  “The Princess is notoriously difficult to paint,” a young man next to me said. He wore the inkwell hat of a poet, but I didn’t recognize him from court. I ducked my head and made my voice as raspy as I could.

  “How do you capture perfection?” I asked.

  “How indeed? The Queen is the only one who does it well at all in the visual arts. That is why I stick to poetry. Do you write?”

  “No.”

  “This is my poem here, in this book.”

  He flipped open a large book titled “Salara around the World: Poems Praising the Princess Salara in Styles of Every Nation.” He pointed at a page headed “Castanian Styles” and read aloud:

  Roses are red, but she on the throne

  is lovelier than the star-lit Ghone.

  “A Rosas Rojas,” I said, tracing the illustration on the page.

  “You’re a poetry fan! No one around here understands the reference. I actually had to explain to the illustrator what a Rosas Rojas is. It is the perfect symbol for Salara, but everyone here is obsessed with salt. So overdone. I think they included this one in the anthology because it compares her to the Ghone. My early work was better, but you have to know your audience, am I right?”

  I nodded and edged towards the door. Shadow would be able to find me in the next room. The poet followed me.

  “I’m published under the name Plume. It would be Sir Plume, but Sir Quill chose that idiot Inkling to be his apprentice instead of me. We were in the same class, you know, me and Inkling. He stayed in Salaria to schmooze, and I studied a year in Castana to better my art. I should have known better than to leave him alone at court. Who knows what he told them about me? I came back months ago and still haven’t had an audience with Princess Salara! I can’t even get a place in the breakfast tour! If I could just see her in person, I would write a poem that would force them to notice me! Of course, she isn’t seeing anyone right now.”

  “No one?”

  I stopped moving towards the door.

  “She hasn’t done a poetry or portrait sitting since the opera. I heard she’s resting. Probably devastated that Divinia didn’t show. She ate breakfast with her parents yesterday morning, and she had a hood on her breakfast gown! Lady Alma is quite the genius.”

  “She appeared in public wearing a hood?”

  “I know! Edgier than Lady Alma’s usual designs, but it really caught on. Well, I don’t have to tell you that. You’re clearly in the know. Who designed your dress?”

  “Um, Elsie. Of Elsie and Edsel’s Cobbler Shop in Salt Spring.”

  “Never heard of her. She must be pretty exclusive.”

  “This is the only one she made.”
<
br />   He nodded.

  “What else have they said about the Princess? Was the opera a success?”

  “Oh, everyone loved it! I heard the masquerade was cut short though. Again, everyone was expecting Divinia. I’m lodging in the same house as Sir Bristle’s brush cleaner, and he told me they haven’t made a new painting in days! Even the Queen isn’t painting.”

  “And Sir Gilbert is gone?”

  “Yes, back to the colonies. I stayed in the colonies for a while on my way back from Castana. The art scene is terrible. No one appreciates poetry. I read a cycle of Salara poems at a pub there. Way over their heads. You’ll appreciate it though!”

  He struck a pose and recited:

  Roses are red, violets are purple

  with your lovely figure you don’t need a girdle.

  Roses are red, peonies are pink-

  “Please excuse us,” Shadow said.

  When had he come back? I slipped my hand over his arm.

  “Hey, the lady and I are having a conversation!” Plume said.

  Shadow did not answer. Plume stared into his dark eyes, and his face paled a little. We left, and he didn’t protest.

  “Any problems?” Shadow asked.

  “Just a poet reciting his work for me.”

  “Was he any good?”

  We both laughed.

  Shadow handed me a book of portraits. I slipped it into my pocket. We walked through the museum until we reached the back. Shadow tapped three times on a wall, and a panel slid open. I squeezed my skirts through just before Estrella slammed it shut. I looked around. Piles of mannequin body parts filled the room.

  “Back here,” Estrella said.

  I tried not to look at the stacks of arms, legs, and heads as we followed Estrella. She led us to a room filled with bolts of fabric.

  “Extras for repairs,” Shadow said.

  Estrella put a bolt of bright pink brocade on a table and unwound it. She cut off a piece and folded it.

  “Put this in your skirt,” she said.

  I pulled up my hip flounce and slipped the silk into my hoop skirt pocket. Shadow and Estrella continued to hand me fabric until my skirts were so heavy I struggled to stand.

  “They’re full,” I said as I stuffed a piece of green velvet into my skirt. “Time to load Estrella up.”

  Estrella tossed her head. Her golden hair gleamed even in the dim light.

  “I had my pockets full before you made it to the poetry hall. I’ll leave first.”

  Music drifted through the secret door as she slipped out. Shadow and I waited by a pile of legs.

  My legs. They were perfect replicas of my legs.

  “Have you ever seen the Princess?” I asked. “In person?”

  “Once.”

  “Do you think she’s worth all this?”

  He shrugged and opened the door in the wall. My skirts were so full of stolen fabric, I barely fit through.

  Instead of walking through the poetry room, we turned left and entered a room full of portraits. I examined them with interest. Only my mother's paintings were displayed in the palace. These had unfamiliar artist signatures in the corners.

  Each painting was beautiful in a slightly different way. The basics of my face were there: pale skin, dark hair and eyes, and delicate features. But one had bigger eyes. Another’s lips were thinner than they should have been. Some faces were heart shaped, others were oval, one looked quite round. I stroked Seda in one of the pictures. While the artist had painted my hair lighter than it actually was, he had captured my kitten perfectly.

  Shadow considered the portraits. They might have been cousins or siblings, but they did not look like the person my mother painted or the face I saw in the mirror. I started to ask his opinion of them, but the expression in his eyes stopped me.

  We continued through the gallery. Music, laughter, and light filtered through a door to my left. I stopped and saw a ballroom filled with dancing couples.

  And tables of food.

  Shadow pulled on my arm.

  “We need to go.”

  “I haven’t eaten since the tunnel, and that apple hardly counts as a proper meal. Just let me grab something.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  I ignored him and entered the ballroom. Shadow didn’t follow. Candles and magic gleamed on mirrors and polished gold on the walls. I ignored the dancers and stuffed a savory pastry in my mouth. I grabbed a napkin and poured a plate of tarts onto it.

  “Hungry?”

  I turned, my mouth still filled with half a pastry. Plume stood beside me, smiling.

  “You disappeared before I could ask you to dance,” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere. Where did you go?”

  “The museum is vast,” I shrugged and swallowed the remaining bit of pastry.

  “The food will be here all night,” he said. “Come dance with me.”

  “I really need to go.”

  His hand clamped around my arm. I resisted, but my heavy skirts hindered my movements. Plume pulled me onto the dance floor just as the musicians began a waltz. The napkin full of tarts in my hand made the movements difficult. I fought the urge to stuff it in my skirt pockets and glanced around the room, searching for a way to escape.

  “The chandeliers are made of her old tiaras,” Plume said. “And the music is from her latest opera. They only play music from Salara productions here, of course.”

  As I danced with him, I glanced at the tiara chandeliers. Most I had worn only once. They caught the candlelight and sparkled with dazzling brilliance.

  “Finally, someone who knows the new style of waltz,” Plume said. “I danced with a girl earlier who was absolutely clueless.”

  I wasn’t dancing particularly well with my skirts stuffed solid, but at least I knew the steps. Plume stumbled and gripped my shoulder to keep from falling.

  “Someone from the palace must have taught you. Do you think they could help me get an audience with Princess Salara or Sir Quill?”

  I shook my head. Where had Shadow gone? I stepped back and tripped. Plume held me steady. I glanced down. Our feet hovered just above the floor on an invisible platform.

  Why were the bracelets working again? At least they weren’t at full strength. We would have been to the ceiling by now if they were.

  “Come on, don’t be like that! Once I’m a court poet, I’ll have a lot of influence. You’re sneaking food out of a party. Clearly you’re not doing so well. I can help you once I’ve beat out Inkling and become Sir Quill’s apprentice.”

  The waltz ended. I pulled away, but Plume tightened his grip as the next dance started. We were several inches off the floor now, but the crowd danced around us as if nothing were wrong. I had to get away without drawing anyone’s attention.

  “I’ll rise to the top once I get an audience. Name your price.”

  “I really don’t know anyone who can help you.”

  I was sweating now. Would the baskets under my skirts hold up to this much motion? How would I explain it if the fabric fell out? What if someone noticed we were floating?

  I took the napkin of tarts and pushed it into Plume’s chest. He gasped as filling oozed out. His grip loosened enough that I could shake myself free.

  Plume fell to the floor as soon as my hand left his. It wasn’t very far, but he slipped on the tarts and landed on his backside. I moved the bracelets to one arm, recovered my balance, and ran.

  Couples swirled around me and bumped into my solid skirts. Plume elbowed his way through the crowd, trying to follow me. I swayed slightly, feeling dizzy.

  “Care to dance?”

  I looked up and took the hand Shadow offered me. We attracted much less attention as a couple and worked our way to the edge of the dance floor.

  “I see you know the new style of waltz,” I said.

  “Oh, these steps are old by now I’m sure.”

  We danced through the crowd and reached the door without trouble. I looked at the food table one last time, but
Plume stood at the corner guarding it. My stomach growled.

  Shadow staggered a little as we left the museum. Elsie and Edsel stood outside talking to a silver haired noblewoman in a dark green gown without a hood. Edsel nodded as we passed, and Elsie pointed me out to the woman. She watched me with a critical eye. I curtsied and hurried away. Plume came out of the museum just as we ducked behind the trees at the top of the hill. I watched him greet the noblewoman and speak to Elsie and Edsel. Shadow stared into the darkness.

  “What took you so long?” Estrella demanded.

  She had already changed into her peasant clothes.

  “Shadow and I stopped to dance.”

  “You went into the ballroom? With all those chandeliers? Shadow, are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He slumped against a bush and rubbed the sides of his head. Estrella watched him with concern.

  “It was nothing,” I said. “We just had a bit of trouble with poets.”

  Estrella turned to me, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

  “Then you’d better let me handle the pirates.”

  Chapter 17

  As Princess, I had been on numerous ships. Mostly for dinner parties, never for travel beyond the harbor. I had danced on vessels of gleaming wood with the decks covered in furniture and food. I had inspected naval vessels before breaking a bottle of champagne over their bows to name them. The Navy ships all looked the same. The nobles’ ships were lavishly decorated to suit their owners’ tastes. They had all been majestic.

  The wreck of a ship currently beneath my feet seemed ready to sink at any moment. The whole vessel creaked and groaned as if protesting the rapid pace as we sailed along the coast. I jumped each time I stepped on a loose board.

  And each time I passed a pirate. The ragged crew scurried around the deck and climbed the rigging. They looked to be in as much disrepair as their ship.

  The moon and stars reflected in the ripples of the sea, the only sources of light. Shadow and Estrella stood beside me, unconcerned. We had stopped in the salt tunnels to change and pack the stolen goods into baskets before traveling to the coast to meet the pirates. Elsie and Edsel were still at the party when we left.