Page 23 of Antiletum (The Nocturne #1)

Shock settles over me when the bloated silence is broken. “ Very good.” The words roll off her tongue with a melodic accent. Obvious praise pitches despite the continued pinch at her lips, the displeased pull at her eyes. What a baffling contradiction. “You feel like power . We like it.”

I’m assuming the collective we are the mysterious woman and her gaggle of smoke pixies, dispersing now that their purpose has been fulfilled, one blowing me a kiss. She dissipates to nothing with a wave of her tiny hand.

Selise’s tension eases noticeably, my own leaching away along with hers. A stream of people bearing trunks and wardrobes flow into my room.

“I am Madame Blair Vescarre. But such formalities are not needed from you, my Lady. You may simply call me Blair.” She dips her head in a show of respect, shocking me further.

It doesn’t seem right that I’m technically of higher rank. The energy coming off of Blair makes me think she should be speaking for our faction, not me—or even Val.

“You know,” I start, my brows pulled in, “I’ve never fully understood what the role of Lady actually entails. Since taking up the mantle myself, I still haven’t quite figured it out. I haven’t… done anything.”

“And you rarely ever will.”

“Then what’s the point of the position at all?”

Blair and Selise share a small smile. The knowing glance gives much away between the two women. Though Selise clearly holds her in high respect, they’re also close. I’m beginning to form a picture of the circle my husband keeps. Mallin and Selise. Alaric. Blair .

“Because, my Lady,” Blair says gently, “your role is mostly symbolic. As I’m sure you learned last night.” I don’t remember seeing her during the celebration, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t there.

Val’s displeasure over Parliament and the way things are run is beginning to make a lot more sense to me.

I was certain he was exaggerating the lack of control anyone outside of Parliament holds.

But our party last night felt like nothing more than ridiculous showboating.

I had a hard time seeing the point at all, other than for appearances.

Blair pulls her cigarette from her mouth and taps it with flourish, allowing a long ash to flutter to my floor.

She notes my disappointment. “Don’t take that lightly.

Symbols have immense power. And you…” She smiles wide.

“You have been the strongest sense of hope the good people of Noctua have had in a very long time. You earned your respect. Take it. Wear it. Use it. You are more needed than you know. And our people already love you. For good reason.”

“I haven’t done anything,” I say quietly, again, pink climbing up my face.

“You and your magic were stifled. Controlled. And you were liberated from your figurative chains. You make finding freedom again seem possible. Your marriage is seen as a sign of change.” Wood clamped between her teeth, she sucks another long draw on her cigarette.

On her exhale, this plume takes the form of honey bees, floating off to every corner of my room, their master following the largest one.

It feels like a bit of a violation.

Protest gathering quickly on my tongue, Selise shakes her head. “Don’t bother. Madame Vescarre is deferred Panthera. ” In a mock whisper she adds, “They’re a notoriously vexing bunch and she lives up to that reputation. ”

That is… Strange. I was under the impression flitting between factions was unheard of.

“Does Parliament not keep you close?” I ask. “Being from a different faction?”

“They do,” Blair answers loudly, bent over my pillow where a cluster of bees have landed.

“I’m what is called a murmurare . The gift is specific to Panthera .

My smoke creatures can read energies. All energies.

And they tell me what they find. There’s no secret that can be kept from me if events are recent.

It’s similar to clairvoyance in a way, but I have to be physically present around the setting or person I wish to read. ”

She pauses her trek through my room, giving a soft shake of her head.

“I digress. Parliament decided my Panthera roots weren’t deserving of a status symbol marriage.

Bach! A privilege, they call it. Pretending it’s a snub to deny me a sanctioned marriage.

I’m free . Or at least, as free as I can be.

To see and hear and feel as much as I want, at my own will.

Take any lover I choose for myself.” She lifts her cigarette holder with a knowing grin. “Unlike you two bonded little birds.”

Selise chimes in, taking us back to the conversation at hand. “Blair is technically one of Noctua’ s top Master of Whispers. Or in her case, Madame.”

Like Val. Or at least until recently, before becoming Lord.

Though most keep their gifts and positions a mystery and on a need-to-know basis, Val and his necromancy have been far too notorious for his name and face to not be tied to his reputation.

Even I had heard murmurings from my father’s associates when they’d visit about my husband and his ability to extract information, none the wiser that he would ever be mine .

“People defer from their factions?” I question hurriedly, if only to stop my train of thought from that dangerous trajectory. That damning word. Mine. It’s becoming far too enticing.

Blair’s disapproving frown is not directed at me. She has quickly shown that she holds a similar sentimentality to Val’s in terms of my parents’ tactics in raising me: Curse my sheltered upbringing.

I keep reliving my conversations with Val, more easily seeing his points in the glaring, sober light of day. Especially after our more pleasant encounter last night, strolling through the spirlinary . Officially far away from the tinted glass bubble my parents held me in.

When he almost kissed me. And I very nearly let him.

Selise, kind person that she is, doesn’t make me feel small or uneducated in the slightest when she replies. “No, people generally don’t leave their factions. Our Madame Vescarre is a rarity.”

While Blair’s apprentices prepare all the wardrobes of clothing and fabric, Blair peeps through curtains, under my bed, sniffs my hairbrush that Selise abandoned upon her arrival.

All the while, the little smoke bees wiggle and flick their tiny little arms, collecting the energy in my room like nectar.

“Don’t fret, Delaney.” I appreciate Selise’s use of my name, rather than my title, addressing my apprehension of this enigmatic woman essentially stripping my room bare.

“She’s probably sprinkling smoke pollen throughout your room so her little minions can watch you sleep,” Selise informs me as some kind of ill rooted reassurance.

I grumble a quiet complaint about people’s sudden fascination with watching me sleep.

Abruptly, Blair abandons her boundary-crossing inspection of my belongings and flicks her fingers impatiently towards my body. “Girl, what are you waiting for? ”

Paralysis comes over me. That’s a fair question. That I don’t have an answer to. Because I have no idea what she wants from me. She’s given no inkling of instruction. Frankly, this whole introduction has been downright bizarre.

Her now empty cigarette holder cracks against the top of a wardrobe. My whole body snaps back in response.

Deos! That little stick must be diamond moonlighting as wood if it takes such treatment regularly without splintering. Made of much stouter stuff than myself.

Her exasperation is tangible, smokey ants crawling up her neck. Power doesn’t equate to intelligence, and she’s looking at me as if she has come to the conclusion that I am (disappointingly) dense, strong magic aside. “Why are you still dressed, child?”

Ah, yes. That does make sense.

“I’m not a child,” I correct, letting go of the loose bodice of my gown. I hadn’t noticed how tightly I was clutching it to myself like a shield.

Selise shakes her head with doe-wide eyes behind Blair’s shoulder. Don’t back talk, she mouths.

Blair’s shrewd gaze pops to mine. I meet it in stride, not looking away. Half bracing for that cigarette holder to test the mettle of my skull next, Lady or not. The assault doesn’t come.

She scoffs. But I think there’s a new crease at the corners of her eyes. “That’s debatable.”

Impatient, her hands begin ripping at the shoulders of my dress, all her smokey companions wisping away into nothing or being sucked in through her mouth and nose.

I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I even saw a scorpion scurry into an ear.

Harsh scratchiness is expected, given her prickly nature, but her skin is surprisingly soft and supple. Like worn, well cared for leather .

A concerning rip has me yelping, “Hey!”

No thought is given to preserving the gown—or my modesty. Blair tuts, finally pulling me completely free, the dress falling in a sad and dirty heap at my feet, chemise along with it. It’s at this moment I remember I’m not wearing any underwear.

I can’t decide if I should try to cover my naked breasts or the far more intimate parts of myself staring everyone in the face. Neither is the option I choose, arms hanging limp at my sides.

Looks like mine and Selise’s burgeoning friendship has leapt to new levels.

I’ve changed my mind, Blair’s not a mystical butterfly. She is a straight vulture, come to peck at the carcass of my dignity.

“Scraps!” Blair shakes a finger at the mess, ignoring my nakedness.

“I liked that dress.”

“And I like having proper warning to make a true masterpiece.”

That’s right. We left the manor earlier than intended.

It hadn’t even occurred to me that Val had the celebration moved up as well.

Critical thinking skills have taken a step down, thanks to all the change layered on top of my mourning.

I’m barely a functioning thing these days, too dazed to partake in my surroundings.

But everything is starting to become clearer, blurred edges taking a smoother shape.