Hotel Magnifique(83)

She did.

“I heard you when I first arrived. Your voice still greets the guests.”

She laughed to herself. “I didn’t realize there would be guests when I first created that greeting. It took me until Alastair opened the hotel to figure out everything I’d enchanted was for that purpose.”

“He never told you?” She was his sister.

“I found out before he got the chance. At first, I was thrilled. I knew Alastair wanted to find the ring, but I also believed him when he said he wanted to bring magic safely to the world.” She ran a hand over the newspaper on the counter. “When the hotel first grew, I helped him recruit new staff by penning an enchantment that would appear as an advertisement the moment Alastair decided on our next destination.”

She’d created everything, including the advertisement that started this whole mess.

A slight frown tugged down her lips. “A couple years in, I discovered the truth about the birds. I was furious, but I had no power. Once the hotel was up and running, Alastair didn’t need me. Nicole and Yrsa were both powerful in their own way and supported him completely. Everyone who was left were forced to sign new contracts, erasing all knowledge of Société des Suminaires—”

She stopped speaking when the front door opened.

“Hello?” she called out.

A father and his little daughter wandered in.

“Afraid we’re closing early with the hotel in town,” Céleste said. “Come back tomorrow.” The father muttered something, but took the girl and left.

She locked the door.

Such a paltry little lock. If Sido arrived, that bolt wouldn’t make a difference. Neither would the door. Zosa shuffled in her cage as another crowd of people rushed by carrying suitcases, headed in the direction of the hotel.

“Alastair will probably hand out invitations soon,” I said.

Céleste harrumphed. “If the contest is the same as it was when I was there, it’s all a charade.”

“It’s not real?”

“Not a bit. Right before I left, Alastair confessed to me that Yrsa walked through the crowd with an old compass—a finding artéfact. It’s supposed to point directly to suminaires.”

“I’ve seen it,” I said, remembering the magic vibrating off of it. “Alastair said Yrsa can’t use it properly.”

“She never could, so my brother gave away invitations to anyone it pointed to. He said he didn’t want to risk accidentally leaving a single suminaire behind.”

I reeled at her words. “Those are the people who win invitations.”

“If my brother is still conducting everything the same way, then yes.”

“But I’ve never seen anyone turned away after they’ve won. Surely they aren’t all suminaires.”

She shrugged. “I imagine the winners who aren’t suminaires become guests, and if they can’t afford a room, they’re probably offered a job. Because unless things have changed, Alastair would never give out a stay for free. When I was there, he needed every last cent to fund his search for the ring and run the hotel.”

That chest shaped from pink urd . . . “I watched him buy his way into Skaadi.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Céleste said as she latched one of her hatboxes.

It all made perfect sense. Alastair needed the huge crowds. More fanfare gave him a greater chance at nabbing unsuspecting suminaires, along with making everyone excited about magic so the hotel could travel to more places.

This was why all those people in the blue city clamored for invitations, even though many of them had no hope of paying for their stay. Why all the folk in the vieux quais rushed to that alley, wide-eyed. It was why Alastair never turned away a single winner. He needed everyone to believe they had a chance at seeing the world.

The hotel, the contest, the spectacle—none of it had anything to do with keeping magic safe. Everything Alastair did was to trap suminaires and fuel his search for the ring.

To stop his own imminent death.

I thought of his fist smashing against the moon window. His gut-wrenching cry. He was as desperate as me.

That day in Durc, everyone from miles around poured into the old alley. This whole time I thought it was good of the hotel to be inclusive, to conduct the contest and dole out hope to those starved for it.

My god. The winners from Durc, their tears of joy running down their cheeks. That mother with her little daughter. They could easily be rotting away in the aviary as we spoke.

“What happened after you found out what he was doing with the hotel?” I asked.

“I didn’t know what to do. I stayed on for a couple of months until I couldn’t take it any longer. I found the hand mirror and threatened to smash it. Nicole caught me. She brought me to Yrsa.” Céleste tilted her face into a shaft of sunlight. Sure enough, one of her eyes lit up a shade brighter than the other.

“Glass.”

She nodded. “Nicole wanted to kill me. She might have if Alastair had kept me caged as a bird. So instead, he tore up my contract and banished me to this city before Nicole could make me sign a new one. Then he gave me this.” She lifted a tiny spoon from the saucer beside her teacup. It was copper.

“Des Rêves’s artéfact.”

“The woman couldn’t stand to see it anymore. And because it was the most innocuous artéfact in Alastair’s collection, he let me leave with it. Aside from première magie, I’ve had to drink a great deal of tea to keep my magic at bay.” She dipped the copper spoon in her cup and swirled it. A tendril of steam snaked out. “Alastair threatened that if I tried to go back, to interfere, tell anyone . . .”