Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf #1)(57)

Nathaniel said, “We can’t dismiss the idea that he could be behind it himself . . .”

“He has no reason to bring down the wall; indeed, the King’s Gate seal requires his death. And despite his overfondness for poppy and port, he does not seem in any rush to die. Even if he found a way around that detail, the landholding lords outside the city are growing more influential and powerful each day. If it wasn’t for the protection of the wall, any number of them could simply decide they were tired of his leadership and launch an attempt for the throne. No, it is someone else. Likely someone with a grudge against the king.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Kate said dryly.

“There is one way,” Nathaniel said again. “Emilie could—?”

“No.” Zan’s voice had gone flinty. “Out of the question.”

“I agree with Nathaniel,” I said from the doorway. “We cannot exempt ourselves from the consequences everyone else has to abide by.” It was a saying I’d learned from my father. That’s not leadership, he used to say. That’s despotism. “You wanted a girl to use as bait. Well, now you’ve got one.”

“And what happens if you die?”

“Then I die,” I said, shrugging in that same flippant way he had before the night on the wall.

“You are not expendable.”

“Everyone is expendable.” The rest I’d taken while they debated had almost erased the last remnants of Thackery’s condition and allowed me to come to terms with what I’d seen in Aren’s vision. I was feeling myself again—?stubborn, determined, and somehow perpetually annoyed at Zan. To Kate I said, “I’m going to need a costume for the ball.”

She looked at me wearily. “I’m not sure there’s time. I’ve got a few other orders, and to make a dress from scratch . . .”

“I saw the dress I wear, and I already have it. It’s one of mine. You don’t need to start from nothing.” I saw the ball again in my mind’s eye. “You just need to make it shine.”



* * *



An hour later I sat on the edge of Kate’s bed with a well-wrapped parcel on my lap, carefully pulling the ties while Kate watched with skeptical interest, one eyebrow up. She’d only ever seen me in plain homespun, not even nice enough to wear to pray at an Empyrean altar, let alone to attend Achleva’s grandest costume ball.

But then I pulled the parcel’s last tie, and the silken fabric spilled out and fanned all around me.

Kate gasped. “Stars above! Where did you get this?”

“It was supposed to be my wedding dress,” I said.

“Wedding dress? Are you getting married?”

“I’m not,” I said carefully. “Not anymore. I don’t think.”

She raised an eyebrow, but when I had nothing more to add, she said, “You certainly are full of mysteries, Emilie.” She turned back to the dress. “It does need some work.” She lifted it to spin it in a circle. “But I think I can do it. Just add something here, and take this up here . . .”

Nathaniel poked his head into the room. “There’s been a report of a prisoner escaping his gibbet,” he said. “Zan has asked me to go see what I can find out. I probably won’t be back until late.”

Kate’s gaze did not move from the dress, and she didn’t offer a reply. Nathaniel didn’t wait for one either. He left.

“Are you two all right?” I asked when he was gone.

“He doesn’t trust me, Emilie.” She looked away; she was still hurting. “He’s never talked like that to me before. Never.”

“He was in the wrong,” I said. “But I’m sure it will work itself out.”

She pasted a bright smile on her face, a poor cover. “I’m sure you’re right.”



* * *



Kate had lied about her skill with a needle. She wasn’t good; she was incredible. Instead of adding the missing sleeve—?a piece of which had become my bloodcloth—?she finished the bodice without it, so that it cut in a fierce diagonal across my chest and joined the single remaining sleeve at my collarbone with a delicate swoop, like the shape of a furled wing. All in less than a day.

In fact, the entire dress had taken on a decidedly birdlike quality; Kate had embroidered the ivy into soft, silver feathers that danced with a swish of the skirt. And she’d crafted a matching mask to go with it, made from intricately braided threads of silver curved up at my cheekbones like the silhouette of a bird in flight. From one angle, the dress glimmered gold, from another, it shone with silver, and the tiny crystals sparkled white with every slight movement. It was moonlight, starlight, and sunlight, all woven into one. And after Kate was done dressing my hair and dusting my face with pearlescent powder, I became a creature as unworldly as my costume.

One of the more practical adjustments Kate made to the dress was the inclusion of pockets, which enabled me to carry my luneocite knife undetected without having to stuff it into my bodice—?a profoundly uncomfortable way to carry a weapon. It bolstered me to have a blade so close at hand.

When my transformation was complete, Kate sat back to admire her work. “What do you think?” I asked, masking my nervousness with flippancy. “Do I look murderable?”