Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(3)

“What gives you that idea?” Cettie said with a small smirk. She decided to change the subject, not wishing to give too much away. “Was it the same for my mother? Was she assigned my father, or did she choose him?”

“That was over twenty years ago, Cettie. I wouldn’t know the story firsthand. I’m not that old!”

“Of course not. But is it common for a hetaera and her kishion to form such an . . . attachment?” Obviously something had happened between her parents that had led to her birth.

“When two people work closely together under circumstances of stress and challenge . . . when they come to trust and depend on each other . . . well, as you’ve learned in your training, those are opportunities for attachments to form. Danger, or the threat of it, can often knit two hearts together. Look into your own past and tell me if you haven’t seen this pattern?”

She blinked in surprise. Yes, they had discussed this in training, how a hostage might fall in love with her abductor. But she’d never tried to make the connection to her own life. Were her past feelings for Adam contributable to this effect? He’d been present for so many of the turbulent moments in her life. Had the fear she’d experienced in those moments biased her feelings for him?

“I hadn’t thought of it that way before. In my own life.”

“Well, I’m glad to have enlightened you. But that’s all I shall say on the matter,” Jevin said apologetically. “I cannot reveal who was assigned to you. But I will say that I think it’s for the best. You tell me, later, if I’m wrong.”

Cettie nodded in gratitude and retreated to the manor, where she intended to bathe and change into a new dress. Fighting for her life tended to work up a sweat. She made her way to the room where all the garments were stored. There were dresses from every country and every fashion. If she showed interest in something that did not fit her, then the seamstresses who worked for the school would make her something new. Cettie, who had never before cared for fashion, now knew all the different styles of clothing, hairstyles, and degrees of embellishments preferred. She could disguise herself so she would be unrecognizable to people who knew her best. Memories of Fog Willows threatened to surface, causing pangs of regret, which she immediately banished with her kystrel. Her feelings began to soothe again.

Opening the door, she walked in and saw a young woman in a shift, holding a dress in front of her while standing in front of the mirror. The sight of the face in the mirror made Cettie stop short and gasp.

“Becka?”

The girl turned in startled surprise. Cettie watched as her face quickly transformed back to that of Shantelle, a younger student.

“No, Cettie. It’s me,” the girl said, smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you knew her.”

Cettie did know Becka Monstrum, who was Sera’s personal maid. Sera, who was now the Empress of Comoros.

Cettie approached her, noticing the dress in the girl’s hands was in the court style of Lockhaven.

“What are you doing?” Cettie questioned.

The girl looked even more embarrassed. “I cannot say,” Shantelle replied. “It’s part of my assignment. I was just practicing in front of the mirror.”

“You’re leaving the poisoner school?”

“I am. Very soon. I’m nervous, Cettie.”

Cettie swallowed. If Shantelle was practicing being the empress’s maid, what did they plan to do with poor Becka? Worse, what would Shantelle be asked to do to Sera? She knew it would suit their purposes if Sera were toppled from her throne.

If only she could get a message to her friend . . .

It would be dangerous to let any of her thoughts or feelings show, even to Shantelle, so Cettie simply told the girl, “You should be more careful. You need to always be on your guard.” The words were accompanied by a little frown.

The girl’s cheeks flamed with mortification. “I understand. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let myself be caught unawares.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Cettie promised, and the girl looked relieved. The poisoner school was not a place where the girls backstabbed each other. They genuinely tried to help one another, when possible.

After Shantelle left, Cettie chose a new gown and then went to the baths and quickly cleaned herself. The whole time, she could think of little else but the mission ahead and the kishion who would be assigned to her. By the time she finished, she had decided to seek out her father again to try to wrest more information from him.

She went to his room and knocked gently on the door before twisting the handle open. There were no locks on the doors, but it was still considered rude to invade someone’s privacy without some forewarning. His was one of the upper rooms at the compound, a tower that overlooked the courtyard. Though the room was empty, she noticed the window was open and heard the creak of timbers overhead. She imagined he was on the roof. She’d been up there with him before.

Had he heard her little knock? Probably not if he was outside. As she cautiously entered, she glanced at the table where he had a haphazard assortment of weapons—including pistols and knives. A sudden sharp pang struck her heart. Was this the weapon that had been used to shoot Fitzroy? The unnerving thought made her clench her fists, but she cast it away to prevent her emotions from reacting. There was a woman’s brooch as well. She fingered it, impressed by the decorative detail. Whom did it belong to? The noblewoman who’d sent him to his death? Biting her lip, she quickly began to search the room, looking for any clues about her assignment. The small details of a person’s life could reveal much about their patterns and habits.