The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(26)

He stares at me a beat too long, then fishes in his pocket to retrieve a quizzing glass. He scrunches his nose and puts it up to his eye to examine me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? Have you come in my shop before? I never forget a voice.”

My stomach binds itself. “Impossible. My husband and I only just arrived today on the queen’s tide.” Sweat drips down my forehead. My pulse races. “And if you would please, sir, hurry. My pet is ravenous after the long journey.”

He grumbles but shuffles into the back.

I glance at the street thinking I should just run out of here while he’s gone, but the guards are hustling people in lines to check them.

I hold my breath until he returns with a small cage of sleeping mice and a paper-wrapped parcel.

“Thank you,” I say, checking the guard count outside the window again.

“They’ll be quiet for a while. I’ve given them a little lavender-infused cheese.” He eyes me again. “You seem so familiar to me... but I can’t place it. My wife would say it’s the brandy. The weather has me indulging.”

I grab the cage and parcel. I turn toward the door, but he cuts off the path.

“I think I know you.” He scratches his beard. “You have the shape and voice of...”

“Geneviève Gareau. Yes, I know. The famous opera singer. The princess’s—excuse me, I mean, now, the queen’s—favorite artist.” The word favorite almost burns my tongue. The arcana hiss beneath my skin, ready to protect me. My eyes dart all around. “I get that a lot since I, sadly, copy a lot of the most popular beauty looks. I should probably be more creative.”

The door snaps open behind the shopkeeper, startling him.

“I’ve been looking for you all over,” Rémy says. He wears a garish hat that covers most of his head and cups his cheeks. “Please excuse my wife, she has a penchant for teacup pets.” He slides his arm around my waist. Heat ripples out from his touch. “I can’t let you out of my sight, it seems. You’ll get us both fined for being out late, and this poor man will get a business infraction for keeping the shop open to cater to your whims.”

I scowl at him, and he winks.

The man steps to the side and eyes Rémy with curiosity and suspicion.

“Have you spent our entire fortune and gotten everything you need?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“Thank you for taking such good care of her.” Rémy does a little bow and opens the shop door.

“Wait!” the shopkeeper yells behind us.

“Hurry up, wife,” Rémy says with a sheepish grin.

A smile bursts across my face. He can’t see it behind my mask, but I wish he could.

Rémy and I dash out of the shop and into the nearest alley. I suck in a deep breath and hold Maman’s image in my head again. The arcana in my veins turn cold and piercing, worse than the gathering wind around us.

He lifts his mask, his eyes comb over my face as if searching for me.

“It’s still me.”

He shrugs, then peeks out at the street, noting the number of guards.

“Ready?” I say, taking his hand.

He nods.

We lock arms, ease back into the crowd and right past the guards, headed to the pier.





The sea looks almost black from the ship’s portholes. The dark stretches out like a blanket. We could sail to the end of the God of the Sea’s ocean and be in the caves of the dead before we knew any better. Edel and I huddle in our steerage-class seats paid for by three complexion-crèmes we’d stolen from the teahouse. We are desperately trying to hide inside our thick hoods to keep warm. Rémy stands close by, jaw clenched, watching every person who passes.

Edel moans in her sleep, the sea’s rough current making her sick. I pull her hair back and stroke her sweaty neck. The five teacup dragons curl in my dress skirts, the heat of them like tiny coals. I wonder how Fant?me is faring, and I miss her presence. Her being so far away kicks up a thousand worries.

I add another pair of leeches beneath Edel’s jaw, hoping it’ll rebalance her levels and battle the seasickness.

“How long’s the trip to the Silk Isles? I should get her something,” I whisper to Rémy.

“It’s the second port stop. Carondelet is about two more hourglasses,” he says. “We’ll arrive as the sun rises.”

I stand up, steadying myself against the low slanted ceiling.

“I’m coming with you,” he replies.

“We can’t leave her alone.”

Edel swats at me, only semi-awake. “Go. I’ll...be...fine....”

Rémy and I walk slowly through the narrow aisles, trying to hold ourselves straight as the ship rocks like a cradle caught on a stormy current. Cold air blasts me as we reach the top deck. I lift my mask, welcoming the air beneath its lace and velvet threads. It has kept me safe up until now, but it’s starting to suffocate me. The deck spreads out long and flat. Carriage-shaped cabins sit in rows like jeweled plums along a center promenade. Rich courtiers sleep in comfortable beds or peer out of windows through eyescopes at the ocean expanse or the stars above.

A midnight sky looms over us, full of warning and promise.

“Fresh barley water for seasickness,” a vendor calls out.