Hotel Magnifique(84)

“So he’s been searching for that ring for a century?”

“As far as I know,” she said.

Suminaires were more scarce than they were a hundred years ago. If Alastair used up all the magic in the world, we’d be trapped forever. No more magic to turn feathers to flesh, to retrieve missing memories. Zosa would be a bird forever. Alastair would take us all down with him.

I refused to let it happen.

“Please. How do I find the ring?” It was the only question that mattered and time was running out.

Céleste looked me dead in the eyes. “It doesn’t exist.”





Céleste walked to the back and pulled out a little book bound in green cloth. Gold foil stamped on the top read The Touchard Brothers’ Book of Verdanniere Fables.

I recognized it instantly. Maman had kept a newer printing of it in our bookcase. Zosa and I would pull it out from time to time, but my sister was too squeamish to read most of the bloody stories.

Céleste opened it to a tale called The Fortunate Ring.

I knew that story. It told of a woodcutter who was tasked by an enchantress to traverse the woods he knew so well in search of a ring that gifted great power. If he couldn’t find the ring before the first snowfall, the enchantress threatened to eat his firstborn. Eventually, the woodcutter found the ring. But he didn’t immediately hand it over. Instead, he cleverly thought to place it on the enchantress’s finger upside down. Instead of gifting her more power, the ring took all her power away and made her instantly mortal.

A woodcut illustration was printed beside the story. It depicted a woman’s hand wearing a signet ring.

“I’d searched for that ring for years before I came across this book hidden in a dark corner of the library.” Céleste flipped to the last page of the story. It was covered in tiny writing. “These scribbles are theories about how the fortunate ring might be an artéfact. I thought the handwriting look familiar, and it was. These notes were written by the same person who penned the ring’s entry in the catalogue page.”

“The ring is a fable?”

“Nothing but a fairy tale. Some of the old heads of the society believed that tales from cultures around the world held hidden truths about artéfacts. Some of the stories might have led to real artéfacts once or twice, but I’m fairly certain this one doesn’t. My brother didn’t believe me when I told him. At that point he’d been stealing magic for so long that he refused to accept there was nothing that could help him.” There was a sadness in her voice.

That sadness struck me too, along with a deep sense of loss. It felt like a door had slammed shut before I could step through it.

I escaped Yrsa’s table, the hotel. I came all this way to find something that never existed. The ring was merely a trinket in a children’s story, and it broke my heart. I couldn’t save my sister or use the ring to nullify our contracts.

The contracts.

If there wasn’t a ring to stop Alastair’s ink, perhaps there was another way.

I sharpened my attention at Céleste. “I know Alastair uses powerful magic to void the contracts. But you said you used the inkwell to dole out contracts to the society members before the hotel existed. Is there a simpler way to void them?”

There had to be something this woman knew that could help us. I couldn’t have come all this way for nothing.

“I’m afraid not,” Céleste said. “My brother can only command the ink while his fingers are wrapped around the inkwell. He summons his stolen magic through it to enact any enchantment, including voiding the contracts.”

“What if I could steal the inkwell?” I asked, grasping for anything that might help.

She gave me a skeptical look. “Even if you somehow managed to get your hands on it, I doubt you’d be able to use it. It takes a powerful suminaire to get it to work, along with hours of practice.”

My chest felt hollow. The ring was a fairy tale and I couldn’t void the contracts myself. There was nothing I could do.

Céleste seemed to be thinking the same thing because she said, “I’m sorry.”

“So that’s it? I’m supposed to give up?”

Her miserable look was all the answer I needed.

Céleste shuffled around, preparing to leave. A voice in the back of my mind told me to go, too, but my legs felt leaden. I bent down to Zosa and stuck my fingers through her bars, stroking her feathers.

“Now listen carefully,” Céleste called out. She latched her second hatbox and hoisted both off the counter. “Don’t tell my brother I said anything. You might be a suminaire, but if Alastair suspects I gave away his secret, he’ll do something drastic to you like he did to Issig.”

“Issig?” My eyes snapped up. “What did he do?”

“Issig hated what Alastair was doing and didn’t fear him like the other workers. He challenged Alastair. Even though his contract was amended over and over, his memories taken away each time, Issig kept searching for the truth. Eventually he found a way inside the aviary. When he begged me for answers, I told him a few things I wasn’t supposed to.”

“About the contracts?”

She nodded. “Issig is powerful. I thought he might be able to stand up to my brother. And he did, foolishly. He went straight to Alastair and tried to pry the ledger from his fingers.” She grimaced. “The twins ripped his artéfact away and held him while my brother erased his mind until it snapped, then locked him behind the steel doors of the deep freeze where his magic couldn’t hurt others.”