Hotel Magnifique(43)

If the hotel opened during the tail end of Renaissance de l’Acier, something clearly happened to it. It could have dismantled, I supposed, or perhaps it existed in secret somewhere else.

I paged through the rest of the handbook, past a section on lorgnettes. They were enchanted so suminaires could study books on magic in languages that weren’t their own, under the belief that the workings of artéfacts shouldn’t be exclusive to geography or culture. After that were various printed portraits of the old society heads wearing hairstyles from a different era.

I stopped at the last portrait of a woman, what was left of it. The top half of the page was ripped out from the nose up, leaving only the mouth, neck, and torso. Her fingers were wrapped around the wolf-capped inkwell. I recognized her mouth.

I held the book up. It was difficult to tell with the eyes gone, but the mouth was identical to the woman in the painting.

If this woman used the inkwell before Alastair, she might know something about voiding our contracts. But she could have died a hundred years ago, for all I knew.

I put the book away and rubbed my face. I thought I’d find answers here that might help me, not more questions. Frustrated, I flipped through the atlas again, letting my palm skim against the magic on each page. I was beginning to calm down until I jerked at a map in the center, and nearly bit off my tongue.

It was Durc.

Of course there would be a map to Durc; Bel had taken the hotel there. I’d hated the place, but right now I’d give anything to be back there with Zosa, pilfering stale kitchen scraps. Bézier was probably sipping afternoon tea in the third-floor sitting room now.

Bézier. If Bel took me there, I could tell her everything. She never liked me much, but she always had a soft spot for my sister. She might help me round up the authorities—

The wall clock chimed. Chef would notice me missing soon. I left the room and started down a dark hall.

“The crown molding on this floor is edged with gold leaf and over four hundred years old,” Madame des Rêves’s voice rang out. “It was excavated from a dilapidated palace in the Topaz Isles.”

“Fascinating,” someone exclaimed.

A large group of guests came around the corner, a cobalt wig bobbing in the center. Des Rêves was leading a tour toward where I stood. There was no reason for a kitchen maid to be on this floor without a delivery cart.

I started to turn until Bel stepped away from the group. A pretty guest with light brown skin and berry-stained lips ran a hand up the front of his jacket.

I shuffled back, into a sideboard. A vase crashed to the ground. Damn it.

Without pausing, I opened the nearest guest room door and ducked inside. Before I could get the door shut, Bel pushed himself into the room. He didn’t look pleased.

“What were you thinking coming up here this early? Des Rêves could have seen you,” he said through his teeth. “Now we’ll have to wait until the tour is gone.”

His tone made my jaw clench. “I was only looking for something that might help us.” Kiss marks snaked up the side of his neck. I thrust my chin at them. “Considering you’ve been preoccupied.”

He rubbed the marks, smearing red across his collar.

“Bel?” said a high-pitched voice from the hall. “Where did you wander off to?”

I shut the door and flipped the lock, too late remembering Béatrice’s warning about locking guest suites.

The room darkened. The floor was covered in plush burgundy carpet. The walls were papered with curling vines and plump roses, but the grand space itself was curiously empty save for an oversize bed fitted with nothing but crimson sheets. I hadn’t caught the title on my scramble to get in. “What’s this room called?”

Bel’s mouth straightened to a hard line. “It’s not important.”

“Look.” I pointed. Glimmering sapphire smoke poured from under the bed and blanketed the carpet. My boots began to sink. I’d heard of rooms changing shapes and sizes, but I’d never heard of smoke.

We both jumped on the bed. A moment later, the floor fell away, replaced with darkness that seemed to go down forever.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“I don’t know. This room is new.”

I ran a hand across the sheets. They rippled under my palm. “Do you see this?”

He studied the surface of the bed. “It’s shrinking.”

He was right. The edges of the mattress were slowly dissolving, the sheets growing smaller by the second.

Bel took off his jacket and tossed it over the side. We both watched in horror as it fluttered down a good two stories before disappearing into the blackness below.

“Do rooms usually harm guests?” I asked.

“Not that I’ve heard of, but Alastair isn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“Make it stop.”

“Trust me, if I knew how, I would.”

The edges of the bed continued to disappear until it was the size of my mattress at Bézier’s. My legs fell over the side. I planted my palms on the edge to shove myself back and cried out when the bed disappeared beneath them. I was going to fall.

“No, you don’t.” Bel grabbed my shoulders, jerking me back.

I landed on top of him, facing him, our arms tangled, and my nose pressed into the crook of his neck. My skirts had pushed above my knees, which were now on either side of his waist.