Queen of faces, p.28
Queen of Faces, page 28
‘Paragon turned down my research grant,’ said Ori. ‘Said that I was playing with dynamite. That my work could lead to another Khaiovhe. They told me to wait a decade or two, until I’m “properly educated”.’ Until she’s more like a real noble.
My stomach tightened. I thought they’d at least hear her out. If it weren’t for Adam, she’d be the top-ranked student in the whole damn school.
‘And my scorpion experiments have hit a wall,’ said Ori. ‘I’ve read thousands of books in my library clearance, and I’m still no closer to a cure. I thought if I showed enough promise, if I played every instrument and got perfect grades and made the right friends, they might take me seriously. They might give me access to the spellbooks I need.’ She shook her head. ‘So naive.’
‘What about your mother?’ I said. Wes’s mother. ‘She’s the admiral of the Home Fleet. I’m sure she has leverage.’
Ori wiped her eyes, smearing her glitter. ‘She doesn’t even know about my sister. And she’s barely talked to me these last few days. She’s been obsessed with that explosion at the fish market, finding the perpetrators.’ Finding Khaiovhe, I thought. ‘Even if she were on board, she can’t give me what I really need to cure Sarah.’
‘What do you need?’
‘From what I can tell,’ she said, ‘the Aeon Scroll.’ The most well-guarded document in the Eight Oceans, the key to the world’s deepest secrets, if the rumours were to be believed. ‘But they’ll never let me read it. My sister won’t make it.’
‘Did you see her corpse?’ I said. ‘Did you watch her die?’
Ori shook her head.
‘Then she isn’t dead. Not yet.’ I swallowed. ‘I don’t know if any person alive can solve this problem. But if anyone can, you will.’ I stared at the fire. ‘I’ve met clever people. Kind people. Brilliant people. But they’re just candles.’ I let myself get lost in her eyes, bright green and flecked with silver leaf. ‘You’re a star, Ori. You’re fusion and time and gravity.’
Ori’s cheeks turned red, and she stared at her feet.
‘I know how it feels. Bashing your head against a wall, feeling like you’re going to break before it does.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I—’ If the Eldritch Guard found out I was an illegal mercenary, they’d throw me in prison. I wanted to tell her everything. Wes, the fish market, Khaiovhe.
But I couldn’t. Someone could hijack her, rip the secrets from her mind.
And even if they didn’t, could I really trust her?
Ori looked at me, tilting her head. ‘Tell me.’
I tore my gaze away from her. This was pointless anyway. I might still be at Paragon next year, but even if I was, Ori could be gone, searching further horizons for a cure. If she stayed, she would marry Samuel Pakhem, and probably grow out of our friendship. She was just some girl I studied with. Opening up to her, even a little, was dangerous.
Then Ori put her hand on mine, and I stopped breathing.
‘You can’t tell anyone.’ My voice grew quiet. ‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’ She leaned closer. The sitting room had emptied, leaving just us on the couch. The flames burned low in the fireplace.
‘I’m not a boy,’ I said.
Her eyes widened with recognition.
I explained the dam explosion from my childhood. Khaiovhe’s Darkfire. Adam Weaver saving me, my brain infection, and my first body swap. I left out Carriwitch and Queen Sulphur, and my job as a witch of the coin. But I told her my life expectancy in this chassis. Three months or fewer, now. Ori looked at me the whole time, her face still.
Then I turned on Rainbow Veil and made myself look like the girl from my second branch. The raven-haired warrior with lightning in her eye. The Azure Queen.
‘This is my Whisper Codex,’ I said. ‘My face would’ve looked like this. If I hadn’t . . .’ I trailed off.
Ori stared at me for a few long moments. The glitter on her face stopped rotating.
Finally, she spoke.
‘Sublime,’ she murmured. ‘But that’s not quite right.’
She reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny jar of blue glitter. She scooped a layer on to her thumb and leaned forward. The make-up shone in the firelight.
Slowly, gently, she brushed her finger across my eyelids. ‘Perfect,’ she breathed. ‘Now, what do I call you?’
I looked down. ‘Anabelle,’ I murmured, so soft I could barely hear it.
‘Anabelle.’ She whispered it like a secret prayer. ‘That’s a good name.’
Then she kissed me.
The world vanished. Where there had once been a room, now there was only her warmth, her hand on my cheek. Her lips, shooting lightning throughout my body.
Panic and joy surged through my mind in unison. I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe.
I kissed her back.
When we separated, it could have been five seconds, or five minutes. ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Ori. ‘I don’t know what that was.’ Her cheeks shone a bright red.
‘Um,’ I said. ‘Um.’ My jumbled lips formed complete words. ‘But your betrothal. Samuel.’ Even if they weren’t on speaking terms, her family had still committed her to someone else. The two of us could never be together.
I wanted to run away from this clubhouse and hide under a table somewhere. I wanted a cold shower to wash away the shame.
But more than all that, I wanted her to kiss me again.
Ori just smiled. ‘It’s a lovely night. For now, let’s not overthink this.’
I nodded, and we walked through the glass doors of the sitting room, out on to the balcony. We leaned on the railing, shielded from the rain by Ori’s magic, and gazed at the floating castle of Paragon, lit a faint blue by the hanging lanterns. We kept talking through the storm, about magic, about Panda Blossom, my stupid romance manga she’d taken a liking to. We talked about everything, except what had just happened on that couch.
It was so tempting to languish in Paragon’s opulence, to hide away from the smoke and the riots and the rising tides. To live in the clouds and pretend that this beautiful castle was all that was real.
With her, I could almost believe it.
I came back to the clock tower late, ascending the hidden elevator in darkness. As I climbed into bed, a thousand fears raced through my mind, but the memory of her kiss drowned them all out. For now, that was enough. Far outside on the ocean, a series of fireworks rocketed into the sky, exploding over the city in a rain of silver.
I fell asleep next to Cardamom, with Ori’s glitter on my face and a light feeling in my chest.
In my dreams, I lay in a meadow. A pale crane swooped on top of me, its feathers stained red. I kissed it, and its beak tore into me, severing my flesh, my spine. I bled on to the grass, torn in two, and the bird drank it up, its eyes white and empty.
I woke in darkness, gasping for breath, my sheets damp with sweat. The rain and fireworks had stopped outside, and a choking silence had descended over the Flooded District. My entire body felt tense, like I was a fraying rope, ready to snap. I crawled out of bed and slid down the ladder to the living room. A cold glass of water could soothe my nerves.
When my feet touched the floor, an icy wind blew through the loft. I whirled round and froze, a bitter cold flooding my muscles, my veins.
One of the four giant windows of the clock tower had been shattered. Glass shards and metal were strewn on the carpet.
Weston Ebbridge stood on the windowsill, his scar gleaming in the moonlight.
‘Ana,’ he said.
I flipped open my knife.
the wind blew through wes’s hair. Moonlight shone off the glass shards on the floor, highlighting his flawless skin and scarred face. He hadn’t drawn his sword, but that could change in a heartbeat.
I flipped open my knife and threw an illusion over his senses, making it look like I was walking somewhere else. Korin slid down the ladder, wearing a tunic and slippers. Nima’s bodies followed soon after. They levelled their guns at Wes, purple light swirling around their wrists.
‘I put up three new layers of booby traps,’ grumbled Korin. ‘You got through them all?’
Wes shrugged.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said with my illusion.
‘I’m here to warn you,’ said Wes. ‘Paragon knows who you are, Ana.’
My stomach twisted into a knot. ‘What?’
Wes held up a shiny blue envelope. The same type of envelope I’d given to Adam earlier tonight. ‘I found this in my mother’s mailbox.’ He floated the envelope to Left-Nima, and she read it out loud. With every word, the bile rose further in the back of my throat.
When he finished, I choked. No. Someone knew about me. That I was both David Chapman and Anabelle Gage. A Grey Coat and a mercenary. And in one simple letter, they’d snipped the tightrope I’d been walking for almost a year.
My life at Paragon. My future. Ori. It couldn’t all just vanish. It couldn’t just die in three paragraphs, with a handful of tiny blue envelopes. My dream was so close, inches from my grasp, and now it was burning like tissue paper.
‘Paragon knows,’ said Wes. ‘And they won’t care that we risked our lives to help them. Especially if these were sent to the press as well. We’re illegal mages, killing Humdrums in the streets, worsening the divisions of our nation. They’ll make an example of us.’
‘But they don’t know where we live,’ I said. ‘Do they?’
‘Unlikely,’ said Wes. ‘Not unless someone followed you here.’
‘He could be lying,’ I said to Korin and Nima, hiding my words with illusions. ‘He could be working with whoever wrote those letters.’
‘Give me the word,’ said Nima, ‘and I’ll turn his blood to lead.’
My sweaty fingers tightened round my balisong knife. My heart thumped. He’s a liar. A manipulator, who’d used me, then tried to kill me. I could still see the look in his eyes as he’d beheaded my illusion. Anguished. But resolute.
That fake backstory he’d come up with. Shenti hedge mages. He’d led me through quite the maze of fakery.
This could be just another clever ruse. A half-truth to worm his way into our trust.
I stepped forward towards Wes, hiding my movements with Rainbow Veil. I would go after his leg. A non-lethal strike to incapacitate him.
I raised my knife, aiming it downwards.
And pale light flooded the living room, filling my vision, blinding me.
As one, we all dropped to our bellies, pressing ourselves to the floor.
My eyes adjusted to the glaring light. Floodlights. Someone was pointing intense floodlights at the top of the clock tower, burning like harsh, miniature suns.
Hundreds of feet below, a woman’s voice boomed from a microphone. ‘Anabelle Gage! 516-R! Nima Qasemi! Korin Nameless! This is the Elmidde Police Department! You have sixty seconds to surrender!’
I crawled to the shattered west window and peered through.
‘What’s out there?’ Korin whispered.
My breath caught in my throat. ‘An army,’ I croaked.
Police boats filled the Flooded District, blocking the road to the palace. Blocking the only path out of the district, the only route that wasn’t collapsing rubble. Dozens of officers crouched on the decks, aiming rifles at us. A line of blue-robed men and women flanked the boats, standing on the surface of the water. Every one of them had their knees bent, their hands aglow with flickering light. The Eldritch Guard. At least two squads of trained, lethal battle mages. We would never defeat that many.
We’d helped them at Brenby, and now they were gearing up to throw us in prison. We were too much of a liability now. Did Carriwitch betray us?
Right-Nima sprinted forward, keeping his head low. He slammed on top of Wes, pinning him to the carpet. ‘You pale-faced bastard.’ Nima patted him down, emptying his backpack and his pockets beneath them. ‘Did you set us up?’
‘That doesn’t make sense!’ Wes gasped for air. ‘If I was helping them, why would I warn you? Why would I wake you up?’
‘He’s right,’ I said.
‘Well,’ said Nima. ‘Let’s cut off his thumbs, then. Toss him out the window and give the cops a distraction.’
‘What about the ocean?’ I said. ‘The back way out.’
Korin shook his head, crouching by the east wall. He pointed, and I crawled to the window next to him.
The ruins of the king’s palace stretched before us, a sprawling complex of flooded rooms leading into the ocean. There were no cops, squads or boats choking our escape.
Just a boy. A handsome, brown-haired boy perched on the roof, wearing his Paragon uniform. White flames burned in his palms, shining off his glasses. He looked tiny from this high up, but I still recognised his face.
Adam Weaver.
I felt dizzy. My finger stump ached. If we went towards the city, we would face a small army. And if we went towards the ocean, we would face Adam – even worse. I’d seen that boy crush squads of mages twice as old as him. We didn’t stand a chance.
Especially since both he and the Guard knew my Codex now. They’d keep their distance, making sure I never got within twenty yards.
‘Bombs,’ I said to Korin. ‘How many do you have?’
He shook his head. ‘Just a few. Small ones.’
A crack rang out, and the north window shattered, shards raining over us. Cardamom yowled, darting under a couch cushion. Korin picked him up and pulled a syringe from his pocket. ‘Tranquilliser.’ The needle went in, and the cat went limp. Korin lowered him into a backpack, stroking his fur.
My hands shook. My entire body felt cold, like I’d been stabbed with a thousand tiny icicles.
These weren’t just street thugs and mercenaries. This was the Eldritch Guard. Their raw power and experience dwarfed our own. Nima’s gunfire would curve round their bullet shields like leaves in a breeze.
In the other direction, Adam would be an even deadlier foe.
‘It’s over,’ said Wes. ‘By midday, you’ll all be dead, and I’ll be in prison.’
‘You think you’re too important to kill?’ I said.
‘Obviously,’ said Wes. ‘If they weren’t taking me alive, they would have blown up the loft already. But instead, they’re beating the bushes, waiting for us to panic. Now you three, they might spare, but I doubt it. Rogue mages are dangerous, especially ones with your skills. I wouldn’t let you live. And neither would my mother.’
Something sparked in my mind. My thoughts raced, stitching together possibilities.
Nima looked at me. ‘That’s your planning face. You got a play?’
‘Maybe.’ I took a slow, deep breath, then nodded. ‘Yes. I have a play. We can beat Adam and escape.’
‘Ten seconds!’ shouted the cop with the microphone.
‘But to make it work,’ I said, ‘we need Wes.’
Nima growled.
‘More than that, he and I need to move as one. We need perfect timing, perfect coordination.’
‘Well?’ said Korin. ‘Do you trust him?’
Nima shook their heads at me.
I bit my lip. ‘What was he carrying in his pockets? Anything from Paragon?’
‘Just these.’ Nima held them up, and I froze.
Wes was travelling light. No wallet, no pen. No food wrappers or coins or loose notes.
Just a folded paper sword, and a simple deck of playing cards, with silver crowns painted on the back. My birthday gift, from all those months ago. I thought he’d thrown them away.
Wes thumped his chest twice. The heartbeat salute.
I looked at him. At his handsome, duplicitous face shoved into the carpet. The boy who had lied to me, tried to kill me, and just now, risked his life to warn us.
This play would put me in his hands. One wrong move from him, one mistake, and I was dead.
I leaned down and spoke softly into his ear. ‘If you betray me again, I’ll put you in a coma. I’ll trap you in a labyrinth of your worst nightmares, and you’ll never wake up.’
He gave the slightest nod of his head.
‘Nima.’ I stood. ‘Give Wes his sword back.’
adam weaver had never met anyone as infuriating as Anabelle Gage.
He’d fought stronger. He’d killed Shenti commandos, who could shoot the whiskers off a cat from ten miles away. He’d killed Orchids, Kshatra’s deadliest spies, who could impersonate your closest friends and strike when you least suspected. He’d fought terrors most men could barely imagine. But this withered creature had manipulated him, wriggled into his trust like a burrowing insect. She’d humiliated him at his own school.
And all the while, ‘David’ had been an illegal mercenary. A witch of the coin. A criminal who maimed Paragon students, who made a mockery of Caimor’s laws.
Adam had opened the anonymous blue letter in bed after the party, thinking it was from Paragon. ‘David’ had handed it over himself, not realising he was delivering his own death warrant.
Not his warrant. Hers. David had been the mask. Anabelle was the real enemy.
After reading the letter, Adam had crawled out of bed, choking. He’d thrown on his clothes and sprinted outside, racing across bridges and under blue lanterns. He found Gage boarding the cable car down to Elmidde.
He needed to know if the letter was true. So, he tailed her with his wingsuit, deep into the Flooded District. He watched, as she met up with two hired guns and a terrorist. Adam didn’t spot the former Nell Ebbridge, but she couldn’t be far, if the letter was right. There were rooms in the clock tower he couldn’t see into.
The surprise had been brief, but intense, followed by a cold rage that swallowed his whole body. The temptation had been strong and immediate. Burn them. Flood their rathole with white fire and erase them from existence. Who would miss them? Whatever connection he might have to them, they’d proven themselves unworthy of it.
But those letters were travelling to others in the Guard, undoubtedly, and possibly to prominent Humdrums as well. A cover-up could be difficult. Besides, if he was the one who found them, that made for a tempting public win.
So Adam had quenched his flames, and flown back up to alert the Eldritch Guard. They’d assembled a task force in under an hour.
