Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(20)

“Maybe na?veté is a foreign concept to you,” he said drily.

That thought vanished.

“How dare—”

“If you’re so jumpy answering my questions, how are you going to last one night on the North Side? How are you going to face Vianca Augustine?” He shook his head, and Enne couldn’t decide if she felt ashamed or aggravated. He wasn’t being fair. “I’m just trying to keep you from getting yourself killed.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. It wasn’t as though she was in any real danger. At least, as long as she didn’t speak to any whiteboots again.

He leaned forward and steepled his fingers, his expression grim. “Have you ever heard of the Phoenix Club?”

“Only now, when you just mentioned it,” she answered.

“They’re the most powerful and dangerous people in the Republic. Businessmen, wigheads, scholars...all with a talent for immortality. They’re the ones who orchestrated the Mizer executions. The whole Revolution, even.”

She searched his expression for one of his telltale smirks, but found none.

“There’s no talent for immortality,” she said. “That’s impossible.”

He sighed, cracked his neck and checked his watch. Enne’s nostrils flared. If anyone had a right to feel impatient, it was she. “Chancellor Semper himself is part of the Phoenix Club. He’s their leader.”

She barked out a laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”

Levi stood. “Fine, missy. I was trying to prepare you. But if you’re so sure of yourself, you’re obviously ready for Vianca.”

He walked to his front door and motioned for her to follow. Enne hesitated, wanting to challenge him. But if she kept arguing, she might start crying again. The urge to do so throbbed in her chest, and if she even used enough breath to say fine, it would explode. She’d already cried twice this morning. She didn’t know how she had enough tears left for a third.

They were silent until the elevator reached the bottom floor, where she followed Levi through another hallway lined with portraits of Mizer monarchs with amethyst eyes.

“You should address Vianca as Madame,” he said, more like a warning than a suggestion. “She likes that.”

“I’m more than comfortable addressing superiors.” Her voice sounded steady and precise. The streets might’ve been Levi’s arena, but etiquette was hers. After everything she’d faced so far this day, an interview with Vianca Augustine hardly intimidated her.

Enne held her head up high, smoothed down her hair and focused. She repeated Lourdes’s rules in the back of her mind.

His eyes trailed over her—almost enough to ruin that focus. “I take it you didn’t like my choice of dress for you.”

“It was inappropriate. Particularly for an interview.”

“Maybe that’s why I liked it.”

He smiled, and no, no, she wouldn’t let that smile break her resolve to be aggravated with him. She stared in the direction of her pointed-toe heels, hidden underneath the hem of the dress, and hoped with every fiber of her being she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of blushing like a Bellamy schoolgirl.

“Though I will admit, this dress is a bit long,” she commented, trying to remain aloof.

“Yeah, you should grow some.”

She couldn’t think of a snappy enough retort, so, left with no other options, she let out a hmph.

He snorted, but then his smirk receded. “I’m sorry, Enne. I haven’t been trying to upset you. But this city...it’s rotten, down to its very core. And you need to be prepared for what you might face. Or learn.” He looked away and stared at his oxfords. “I’m trying to help you.”

He was attempting to soothe her, but his honesty made Enne only feel worse. Maybe she was no match for this city. Maybe the North Side would take everything she had and spit her out into the harbor. Maybe the streets where Lourdes walked freely would spell ruin for her daughter.

They walked into a waiting room with several marble busts lining the walls. A pale, fragile-looking woman hunched over a desk in the corner. She startled at the sight of them.

“Levi,” she exclaimed, standing as he approached and even giving a slight bow of her head. She had a pinched nose and a collar so tiny it was a wonder she could breathe. She drank in the sight of him, never once glancing at Enne. “I wasn’t aware you had an appointment.”

“I don’t. Is Vianca available right now?”

“Yes.” She hesitated before adding, “I can announce you if you wish—”

“We’ll announce ourselves.” He grabbed Enne’s wrist and tugged her to the door on the far side of the room. “Here we go.”

He knocked.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice invited.

Before opening the door, Levi bent down, his lips inches from her ear. “Whatever you do, don’t let her see you squirm.”





ENNE

Enne and Levi stepped inside a dark office with emerald velvet curtains and matching chairs. Behind Vianca’s desk hung a mural of another Mizer family: two parents, two daughters and an infant on the mother’s lap—the last royal family of Reynes, executed twenty-five years ago during the Revolution. Mahogany bookcases lined the side walls, filled with more vases, marble busts and antiques than books.