The Midnight Lie (The Midnight Lie #1)(70)

I could have said, I still want this, even if it vanishes like sugar on my tongue.

But I didn’t, and maybe even if I had, it wouldn’t have made a difference.



* * *



The second time I opened my eyes, the house had an empty silence. I was relieved.

I went through my Pantheon winnings, dumping them onto the bed. I set aside all the money for Raven, the jewels and the box with the meowing cat for Annin, and a little knife for Morah, mostly because it reminded me of her. It had a strong and appealingly simple blade, with an edge to reckon with, and a hilt so intricately wrought with gold over steel that it was difficult to follow the path of the pattern. I uncorked the little metal vial, noting the slosh of its contents, and sniffed. It smelled like water. I didn’t see why anyone would bother to put such a small quantity of water in a vial—this was no canteen or flask. It fit in the palm of my hand. After encountering silver wine and pleasure dust at the party, I wasn’t about to taste anything I couldn’t identify. I took it to the bathroom and dribbled some of the vial’s liquid into the sink. It was a faint pink.

I remembered where I had seen something like that before.

I glanced into the mirror. The faded burn on my cheek had returned. It wasn’t a cream or the dressmaker’s mirror that had made the burn disappear for a night. It had been Madame Mere’s pink tea.



* * *



“Well?” she said when I entered her shop. “Was it a triumph? Which dress did she like best? Was it the final dress, right before it came off?”

I held out the little metal vial. “Is this yours?”

She looked at it, then at me quizzically. “No.”

“Is what’s inside yours? What is this liquid?”

She took the vial, opened it, and sniffed. “Oh, that,” she said, and smiled.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because if I didn’t already know before that you were Half Kith, I would know now.”

My pulse stuttered. My face must have betrayed me. Madame Mere said, “Only someone raised behind the wall or a traveler like Lady Sidarine would ask about elixir.”

“You knew?” Fear coursed through me. “Why did you pretend you didn’t?”

“My little kithling. I run a business.”

“You’re saying that you stayed silent in order to keep Sid as a customer.”

“No. I have plenty of customers. I turn many away, and dress only those who intrigue me.”

“Do you intend to blackmail me? I have nothing to give you.”

“I know you don’t. That is why I said nothing, and never will. Have you not noticed that most High Kith do not work, and that I do?”

I felt foolish for having thought she was blind to the obvious—that I was Half Kith—because of her assumptions. I had been the one to miss what was in front of my face.

“I work because I enjoy it,” Madame Mere said. “Everyone loves beauty, but what I love more is making it. I like to map out someone’s desires in pattern and cloth. I like to stitch them together. And if some of my kith think it’s strange for me to do it, they overlook my strangeness for the privilege of wearing my clothes. You, my dear, want more than what life has given you. What is so wrong with that? This is what I want, too. It is what everyone wants.”

“So you won’t tell the militia?”

“That would be a very boring outcome to your unusual situation.”

I was not at all reassured. “That doesn’t sound like a good reason to trust you.”

“I disagree. You have been to one of our parties. Surely you saw how, beneath all the finery, everyone is hungry for something different, something new. You, my dear, are exactly that. Why would I give you up?”

“So I am … your entertainment.”

“You are a story whose end would come far too soon in prison.” She busied herself pouring pink tea. “Would you like some? I can’t tell you what the elixir in that vial does, but it’d be best to pour it out if you don’t know. It could make you weep golden tears, or make what you imagine come to life, though usually only for a brief time. My elixir is very benign. It heals. It repairs scars, as you’ve seen. It fills in the cracks left by age.”

I realized that I had never seen a truly elderly looking High Kith. If I had thought about it, I would have assumed it was because I had been to places only young people frequented, but it seemed that no one here needed to look their age.

I refused the tea. The burn would return anyway. This elixir didn’t strike me as healing, but as an addictive respite from the truth. “Did you make the elixir?”

She took a sip from her cup. “No. It is supplied by the Council. There are many varieties. The price is high, but most are willing to pay, through either gold or pledges.”

“Pledges?”

“Yes. Many parents pledge one of their children to the service of the Council, which is always in need of new members. Few people actively want to serve the Lord Protector, though there are always some who enjoy the thrill of being close to the center of power and voluntarily induct themselves into the Keepers Hall.”

“Why is it called that?”

She shrugged delicately. “I suppose because they keep and control the supply of elixirs. And they keep order in the city. They oversee the militia, who are Middling, and appoint members of the Council to be judges. But I don’t really know why the hall is called that. It has always been called that.”