The Everlasting Rose (The Belles, #2)(48)

Camille,

All post-balloons are now subject to monitoring if they leave the city of Trianon. The air-postmen have been given strict surveillance orders. They collect them and transfer the messages into ledgers reviewed by the queen and her staff. If approved, the post-balloons can be released for travel. At night, they’ll be using sky candles to illuminate the entire kingdom to watch for any alternate forms of communication.

The Minister of News has even developed weather balloons, which release rain down over cities and reveal invisible post-balloons, so don’t risk using the ones we purchased. Send all messages with Or using her claw.

I’m still trying to find my way into the palace. Your note was extremely helpful, and I avoided making a huge mistake trying to use the old tunnel network.

My family is being held in apartments rather than dungeons. The Minister of War ensured that, and I am forever grateful. I’m going to break them out in three days’ time, the same day as the coronation. I’m putting the pieces together.

Once I secure my family, I will come back into Trianon and wait for you. The festivities will have just begun, and it will be chaos—which is a good thing. Oftentimes, things are missed in a storm. Use the maps!

Be safe.

Rémy

“What does it say?” Edel tries to take the parchment from my hands. “Is it from Rémy?”

“Yes.” I pull away. “It was for me. He told me that post-balloons are being monitored and not to send them in the direction of Trianon anymore. To send Or only.” I tuck the parchment into my dress pocket, and it feels like a warm bayou rock through the fabric. His words run through my mind.

I will come back into Trianon and wait for you.

Be safe.

She frowns, her mouth pursed with confusion and irritation. “You’re being strange.”

“Fine.” I take the letter out again and shove it at her.

She reads it. “I’m glad he’s all right.”

“You suddenly like him?”

“I don’t dislike him.” Her eyes burn into mine. “I don’t love him like you do.”

“He’s been good to us. He was there for me at the palace, even when I didn’t realize it,” I admit. “He’s important.” The words I love him tuck themselves deep down inside me, afraid to be exposed to light and air once again.

The teacup dragons squeak.

“They need to be fed,” she says.

“And we should write to Arabella about what happened with Valerie. She’s probably heard about the Silk Teahouse burning already.”

Edel feeds them salted pork, then hands me my quill, ink, and a small piece of parchment.

I scribble quickly.

Arabella,

Valerie is dead. The Silk Teahouse has burned down. But we’ve located who we were looking for, and are on our way there. We’ll be with you, soon.

Love,





Camille I read it out loud to Edel, and she grunts her approval. I put the dragons, except for Fant?me, in their cage and drag a cloth over its bars.

“You’ve got a journey tonight,” I say.

Edel feeds her another cube of salted pork. I fish out one of Arabella’s sangsues from our jars. Only two remain.

“Stay low.” I kiss Fant?me’s warm head and send her out the window.

Footsteps draw near to the door. A newspaper slides beneath it with a whoosh.

I grab it—the late-night edition of the Herald. The front page shows Sophia and Auguste at the Royal Opera under the headline: TROUBLE BEFORE MATRIMONY. She’s all grins and her teacup monkey, Singe, hangs off her tall hair-tower like it’s a low-hanging tree branch. Auguste grimaces, his long, tousled hair pulled back. He’s grown a full beard and his eyes look sad.

I wonder if soon I won’t think about him or remember him, if little moments like this will stop making the cut reopen, spilling fresh blood and pain. His picture stirs memories I’d worked hard to bury deep inside me, rattling and shaking them like sand in a flipped hourglass. How can I still feel this way about him when the thought of Rémy makes me smile?

I close my eyes and imagine arriving at the palace and facing Sophia. I see her surrounded by her pets—both human and animal—wielding her power, and him sitting on the throne beside her, slumped in the chair with a perpetual scowl on his face. I wonder what will happen to him when we stop Sophia from becoming queen. Has he grown to love her? Has he grown to support her?

The boat jerks.

“Drop your anchor,” a voice commands.

I peek out from behind the drapes. A sleek black boat slides up beside our watercoach.

“Edel,” I whisper hard.

She doesn’t stir.

I jostle her arm.

She jumps.

“Someone is outside.”

I whistle. All the teacup dragons wake up. I slip them into my pouch, where they curl back together and resume sleeping. I scramble to repack our things. My skin, my heart, my bones all thrum with panic.

There’s a rumble as feet hit the ship’s deck. Edel and I move to the center of the chamber, standing back-to-back, bracing for whoever comes through the door.

I place my hand on the knife Rémy gave me. Still spotted with Valerie’s blood. My fingers buzz with the tingle of the arcana rising inside to protect me.

The door opens.