Hotel Magnifique(53)

“I didn’t ask for a towel.”

“Washroom’s in back.” When I balked, he wiped a streak of paste from my lip. “You look like an overly lavish truffle. Walk around like that and the guests will try to eat you.” He threw the towel at my head and left.





Bel had taken us to Morvay, one of the smaller nations east of Preet. I knew it not from the guests’ flowing robes or understated wealth, but from the cats. Sleek Morvayan leopards, straight from Maman’s bedtime tales, padded though the lobby leashed by ropes of twisted silk.

I hid in the shadows while the leopards drew everyone’s attention, including Alastair’s. He clapped his hands, ordering citrus-infused water to be put out. Staff scurried around setting down trays of raw meat. Leopards growled, fighting for the larger morsels. One fixed its ocher eyes on me. My heart beat furiously. Thankfully, I didn’t pass another leopard before my shift.

“Decided to show after all,” Chef said as I arrived in the kitchens. She placed a silver tray with an enchanted meringue decorated with blooming fondant flowers on the top of a delivery cart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

She fluttered her hands. “Béatrice explained. Don’t know how you’re standing after tumbling down a flight of stairs.”

Béatrice had covered for me. I started toward the soup station when Chef pulled me back.

“No soup. You’ll be doing deliveries all night. Dignitaries from Morvay take dinners in their rooms. Each of them ordered extra food for their pets.” Her mouth turned down in disgust. “I wouldn’t bring a dog to dinner. Now they make us serve steak to their cats? Pomp, if you ask me.”

Plenty of folk revered their pets. There had to be a reason the leopards were treated so well. But Chef didn’t want to hear it. She handed me a delivery ledger and walked away.

“Wait,” I called out. “Does Madame des Rêves have a girl reporting to her called Frigga?”

“Frigga? Reporting to Des Rêves?” Chef barked a laugh. “Hellas would cut off his hair before he’d allow that.”

“Hellas?”

She pointed to my cart, to the jar of dried fruits and seeds destined for the A Verdant Enchantment Suite. “Funny you’ve never heard the name. You’ve delivered to Frigga for the past two weeks,” she said. “Ma?tre lets Hellas’s sister live on the second floor, apart from the other staff.”

I knew that suite. It was occupied by the girl with deep gold skin and hair, but I’d only seen her through a cracked door.

A sinking feeling settled in my chest. If she were Hellas’s sister, Bel had to know who Frigga was, and yet he played her off like she was nothing. But she was responsible for the birds. She had to know a way to Zosa.

If I’d known about Frigga earlier, I would have searched for her. I hadn’t seen my sister in weeks. And Bel knew about her—

Understanding washed through me. Bel wasn’t a fool. He knew that if I’d learned about Frigga earlier, I would have done something drastic to get to her, and possibly landed myself in Alastair’s office. Again. And in the end, even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have made a difference, because we were all still trapped. Bel was only trying to protect me.

But my fingers drummed against my skirts. If Bel kept this from me, there could be other things he might be keeping from me still—other secrets hidden within these walls, secrets that might help me and Zosa get home—and I wanted to know every single one.



* * *





A few hours later, it was dinnertime in the salon. Guests gathered around tables that had been set upright again, and the marble floor appeared whole, or as much of it as I could see through the glass.

Hidden in my alcove, I waited for Zosa to sing, but only piano music drifted out. There was never piano music in the salon. The piano was always saved for soirées.

I peeked inside. The suminaire from that first soirée stood atop her bright red piano. Workers darted between tables. I’d memorized some of the waitstaff’s faces over the past weeks. But these were all strangers.

When a porter walked by, I grabbed his shoulder.

“Let me go.” He brought a carved stone near my chin. Magic sizzled. I ripped it away and tossed it across the floor.

“I was supposed to deliver a package to one of the waitstaff. Minette.” I said the first name I thought of. “She’s not in the salon.”

“I don’t suppose they’d tell a kitchen maid.”

“Tell me what?”

“A bird got loose last night. Caused a scene. The ma?tre demoted all the salon staff.” The boy smiled, smug. “He even reprimanded the Botaniste.”

When he tried to pull away, my nails dug into his shoulder. “What about the birds?”

He was silent.

“Tell me.”

“I—I heard a bird flew out the door and never came back.”

His words made my heart pound. “What did the bird look like?” I never saw Zosa go into the cage. If she flew outside before midnight . . .

He cringed and I realized my fingers were digging at bone. “You’re hurting me, ma’am.”

I let him go and ducked through shadows to the aviary glass, searching for a lock, a door. Anything. “Closed indefinitely!” rang the woman’s effervescent voice.