Mask of Shadows (Untitled #1)(10)

She came back as I was getting dressed. Her sleeves were rolled up, bruises from cleaning dotting her arms in fading shades of blue and yellow, and a large basket dangled on her arm. She locked the door behind her.

Smart.

“I’ve got what you wanted.” She set down the basket and rubbed one of the callouses on her palm. “I will not deal with the mice. They are yours to care for.”

“Deal.” Mice were better poison testers than Maud anyway. I nodded to the door and held out my hand—might as well make working together official. “You don’t get in my way or get me killed, we’ll get on fine. And you’ll get your five pearls.”

Maud smiled, more bared teeth than grin, and bowed instead of taking my hand. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Doubtful.

I nailed the door shut behind her. She was serious, and money was a good motivator. If the Left Hand said she wasn’t part of the audition, she wasn’t. I’d have to trust her not to poison me. The moment she got nosy about my clothes, she was gone. Wasn’t like laundry was a necessity.

Sliding the lady’s ill-fitting silver ring on for luck, I lined the window with nails and laced the shutters with wire and bells. Least I’d have time to wake up before they broke in, and if they did, there was no dodging an ax in this small room.

“First night,” I said to the mice. I tipped the dirty bath water down the drain in the corner, made a person-shaped bump in the bed, and leaned against the drying tub. The ax was heavy in my hands. “Think they’ll come?”

Let them. They’d get an ax in the face and a handful of pain.





Seven


The bells rang once that night, soft and chiming beneath the screams echoing down the halls. Someone’s hand plucked the wire, but the bells sent them back into the night. I spent the morning removing nails from the door.

“There’s blood,” Maud said when she entered, shuddering with each word. “You’re expected at breakfast if you can walk.”

I snatched up a roll from her small—thankfully covered—tray and squished the thick yellow butter between the two halves. “You get sick at the sight of blood, we’ll have problems.”

“Breakfast will be served every morning, and you’re to attend so the Left Hand can do a head count.” She frowned, ignoring my comment about blood. “I won’t bring you anything again unless you ask for it.”

I nodded. “Where’s it at?”

Maud led me down the hallway, servants bowing out of the way.

Food, a room, and no fear of getting robbed the moment I turned my back—I could get used to this. Should get used to this. It would be this way till I died, no matter if that was tonight or twenty years from now.

Might get stabbed to death at any moment, but that could happen anywhere.

Maud had slipped a long black dress with thick leggings into the basket for me this morning. With a quick twirl, flaring the dress out around me, I nicked a plum from a wide-eyed servant’s tray and slipped it under my mask. If we were eating with the Left Hand, we were eating well. I needed to take full advantage of it, gain some weight so I could stand against the others. Maud wrinkled her nose.

“Breakfast.” She opened a door at the end of the hall and opened her mouth again, but a soft voice cut her off.

“Can’t imagine you sleeping in with those bells.”

I spun, plum flying out of my hand. Four, a boy about my age with curly black hair peeking out from the back of his mask, leapt down from a hallway rafter. He was stout and muscular and barely made a sound walking next to me. His hands were a map of pitted scars.

“Don’t worry—loved those bells.” He followed me into the breakfast hall and held up a freshly stitched arm, the catgut neat and white against his dark skin. He was handsome and he knew it, flashing me a smile when I only glared at him. “Told everyone where I was. Clever, clever.”

I rolled my shoulders back and tried to take up as much space as possible next to this firm powerhouse. “I figured I’d get one night of sleep before the real competition started.”

“You’d a better night than Twenty-One.” Four winked and wandered to the far side of the table, sitting next to Two and Three.

The tall long-nosed auditioner was out then. Of course, the ones I couldn’t tell apart didn’t have the decency to die first and make it easy on me.

I dropped into a chair near Two, Three, and Four. They had come to breakfast together and Four kept calling Two “Lady Luck.” She waved him off each time with a bandaged hand.

Most of us were young, no wrinkles around the eyes or spotted hands. All the easier to mold us into the assassin The Left Hand wanted. If we lived.

Nine auditioners were missing. The only invited auditioner not at the table was One, and I’d no idea if Ruby would be impressed or disappointed.

Didn’t matter much either way. I was here and nine of the others weren’t. Only fourteen left.

Five snapped at a passing server. His hands—the blistered pink of sun-seared white skin—cut through the air, fingers pointed and straight as knives, and jabbed at the servant as he whispered. He rudely pointed at what he wanted and where he wanted it. No one else paid him any mind.

Five definitely grew up with servants.

Four too. At least he spoke to his servant like they were a person and thanked them for the little mug of fruity red tea steaming up our end of the table. I clasped my hands.