Hotel Magnifique(37)
As I traced a finger over each purple destination, the woman’s effervescent voice chimed in my ears.
Itinéraire de l’H?tel Magnifique:
The Spit of Malassai.
Hrami, the last outpost on the Crystal Plains.
The Painted Woods of Western Bergerac.
Lestra, the city of bridges over the great Kazan River.
Devil’s Tongue Basin.
Cape Callavez, capitol of the Jeweled Isles.
Palamar, the grandest city in Volis Sound.
The Bin Mar Canal.
The Cloud Forest of Aritangua.
Thank god Aligney wasn’t on the itinerary yet. My heart couldn’t take it if we traveled there when I could only experience it from behind the lobby windows.
Soon Zosa’s voice spilled through the open salon doors.
As a kitchen worker, I wasn’t allowed inside, and the layout made it impossible to see the stage from the lobby. My tiny sister had become nothing more than a far-off ripple of gold behind glass. She performed for Des Rêves nearly every night alongside the two other chanteuses, only to be turned into a bird and vanish as soon as the curtains closed.
When one song ended, Madame des Rêves’s high-pitched voice rang out. “Aren’t my little chanteuses wonderful? What song shall we make them sing next?” I could almost see the smirk on Des Rêves’s lips.
My sides grew hot with a rush of anger, but I knew better than to ever show anyone how I felt. Along with Yrsa, Des Rêves was the ma?tre’s second-in-command. If I did anything to catch her attention, I’d probably be demoted again.
Over the past few weeks, I’d questioned Béatrice about Des Rêves without giving myself away. The woman turned the girls into birds for the spectacle of it and didn’t bother to turn them back until it was time for her next show. Since Alastair approved of anything that wowed the guests, he let her do what she wished. With my sister.
Anxious, I walked the distance to the aviary and dragged my fingers against a section of glass I hadn’t yet touched, searching for a door, a keyhole—some way to know if Zosa was kept inside between performances—but there was none. Alastair and Hellas were the only two who could get inside.
I rapped an angry fist against the glass and the woman’s effervescent voice chimed in my head, “Closed indefinitely!”
“There you are.”
The kitchen worker I’d left upstairs wheeled the delivery cart toward the aviary.
“You were supposed to meet me downstairs. That cart can’t be in the lobby.” I braced my hands on the handle, but he didn’t move, too distracted by something behind me.
The windows.
Outside, the setting sun filtered through palm leaves the size of horses. A golden monkey sat on a guest’s hat, claws peeling a bright blue fruit. The view was astounding, made even more so by the other nineteen identical views.
“They say the windows converse and show the guests the best view,” I said softly.
His lips parted. “Skies above! The windows talk to each other?”
“Part of the magic.” I turned to leave, but something caught my eye. An envelope sat under the delivery ledger. Snatching it, I tucked it in my pocket before he could see. “Was anyone at the cart?”
He gave me a strange look. “Not that I noticed.”
“Are you positive?”
“Do you think I’m a liar?”
“No,” I said.
I didn’t think him anything. To me, this pretty boy with his light-up dimples was as blank as an empty itinerary, and he would remain as blank as an empty itinerary for as long as he worked here.
“Can you take the cart to the kitchens?” I feigned a yawn. “My feet won’t make it.”
He nodded. As soon as he was gone, I tore open the envelope and pulled out a card scrawled with handwriting I’d come to know as well as my own. A shiver went up my spine at the four little words that might mean everything, or nothing at all.
Meet me on six
Five weeks ago, after the episode in Alastair’s office, the twins had dragged me back to my room. I’d kept my mouth closed and my head down, praying they couldn’t tell anything was amiss.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I’d lain awake trembling, half convinced it was all a terrible dream that I’d wake from at any moment; it was hard to believe any of it was real.
In the hour before dawn, someone had knocked at my door.
“Just a moment.”
I’d felt stiff, my limbs too heavy to move. Get up, I told myself. I dragged my body from the bed and staggered to the vanity mirror. A tear-stained girl with big, hollow eyes stared back. I took a moment to compose myself, to calm my frantic heartbeat. It didn’t make a difference; as soon as I turned the door handle, terror gripped me at what might be waiting for me on the other side.
Bel stood across the hall.
I collapsed against the doorframe, relieved it was him and not Sido and Sazerat or Alastair. I waited for him to demand answers. Instead, he held himself at a distance, barely making eye contact. Then it hit me: there was no way he knew Alastair’s ink didn’t work.
He gave me a cordial nod. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m Bel. I’ve come to—”
“You could have warned me,” I choked out.