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Chapter 13

Lotte

The uniform was a little tight. But it was still twice as nice as the mud-stained dress that was now crumpled somewhere in the depths of the mansion.

Lotte had lost track of the girl with the red hair almost as soon as they’d been ushered into the bustling kitchens. The whole place was a flurry of identically dressed girls moving around stoves and ovens that ran hot with magic instead of fire. Trays as large as a person glided on rails above their heads. Sparks of unnatural energy ignited below an immense copper pot, and a cook flicked switches rapidly, setting an oven alight. Everything smelled mouth-wateringly rich, reminding Lotte that the only thing she’d eaten all day was the spiced bun with Estelle. A crackling piece of meat turned on a spit on its own, as a woman pristinely dressed in white arranged berries across perfectly iced cakes.

She had done it. She had gotten into the mansion. And she was trying hard not to gawk and get immediately spotted for the country girl she was.

She had to find her mother. She could still feel her heart racing as she thought of Benedict, drawing his sword in the rain. Lotte didn’t know how long he could hold the three other knights at bay. How long before they would come after her. She had to find her mother before they found her.

“You.” Lotte’s head whipped around as an older woman snapped her fingers in her face. “You weren’t hired to stand there. Go with Abigail and collect some used glassware.”

The relief at being granted a way out of the kitchen must have bloomed all over Lotte’s face, because the woman looked at her askance. “You’re going to collect glasses only, you hear me?” she called out. “This isn’t a chance to gawk at your betters up there.”

A girl with chestnut curls peeking out from under her white cap appeared at Lotte’s elbow. Abigail, she assumed. “Don’t mind her.” She rolled her eyes conspiratorially at Lotte. “The folks up there aren’t better than us at anything. Except at being rich maybe.”

“I didn’t know that was a skill.” Lotte’s accent seemed to scrape harshly against Abigail’s own city melodies.

Even her laugh was harmonious as she said, “I think you and I will be friends. This way.” Abigail led her toward the wide hallway leading out of the kitchen.

They had just stepped over the threshold when everything around Lotte lurched suddenly. Instead of a tiled floor, Lotte’s foot hit uneven grass. She stumbled, trying to find her footing, Abigail steadying her by her elbow. The contact of Abigail’s hand broke through the barrier of the hindern, and Lotte caught a brief flash of amusement.

“First time taking a byway?” Abigail laughed again, but not unkindly.

They weren’t in the hallway outside the kitchen. Instead they were standing in a sprawling garden, and as Lotte twisted to look behind, she didn’t see the stoves and army of girls milling around anymore. The doorway behind them showed a grand ballroom. It was like they had passed through the whole house in just one step.

“A byway?”

“Charmed doorway.” Abigail passed Lotte a silver tray. “The Holtzfall mistress doesn’t like us traipsing through the whole house, wastes time on her money. So we take the byways to get around faster . ” She beckoned for Lotte to follow, gathering glasses as she went. Lotte followed the other girl’s example, though her mind was only half on her work.

A full orchestra played somewhere in the garden. But when Lotte looked for musicians, all she could find were instruments floating in the air. Nearby, a fountain spilled out champagne as guests nonchalantly held coupes underneath to fill to the brim. She watched as a woman in a white-and-red gown downed her glass in one before dropping it to the grass. Abigail swiftly stooped to pick it up, her dove-gray uniform gliding in and out of the crowd like a ghost.

There had to be thousands of people in the gardens. And one of them was Lotte’s mother. She didn’t even know where to start looking for Grace Holtzfall. Her eyes dashed across every face as they moved, searching for the woman she had only ever seen in newspapers, her hands moving absently even as her heart pushed her forward.

Which was why she was looking the wrong way when she walked straight into a boy, causing him to spill champagne down his peacock-print suit.

Lotte staggered back. “Sorry.” Then she remembered her disguise. “Sir,” she added hastily. Her thoughts were already tumbling urgently. If she had survived wolves and knights only to be kicked out for spilling champagne…

The peacock-clad boy only grinned as he dabbed at his suit. “No need to worry. I was going to turn this into rags after tonight anyway. But I’ll tell you what, you can make it up by having a drink with me. And please, it’s not sir. Freddie Loetze at your service.” A dart of recognition went through Lotte’s mind. Except that wasn’t possible. She didn’t know anyone in this city.

Freddie Loetze held a coupe filled with champagne toward her expectantly.

“I can’t.” Lotte might be new to the city, but even she knew servants didn’t drink with the upper class. And as she scrambled for an excuse, somehow it was the Sisters’ sermonizing that slipped out. “Indulging in base vices blemishes one’s work.”

Lotte cast around for Abigail. She found her in time to see something unreadable pass over Abigail’s face as she noticed Freddie. Abigail met Lotte’s eyes just for a second. With a hindern on her hand she couldn’t read her thoughts from here. But she thought she saw an apology in her eyes. And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd. So much for being friends.

Lotte moved to follow her, but Freddie’s hand darted out and closed around her wrist painfully, even as his smile stayed intact.

“You must be new.” His bared white teeth reminded Lotte of the mechanical wolf on the road. “No one’s taught you it’s rude to refuse the guests.” And in that moment, Lotte knew why he was familiar. She had seen him in the mind of the redheaded girl. The boy who made her skin crawl. And as his hand around her wrist broke through the barrier of the hindern, Lotte felt his thoughts climb all over her skin too. Her moralizing words hadn’t deterred him. If anything, he was more interested. A holy little lost lamb here in the city. He looked forward to stripping all that righteousness away one piece at a time until she was ruined.

Lotte fought back the instinct to rip her arm from his. The last thing Lotte needed was to draw attention to herself. Even now, she could see a figure in uniform with his hands clasped behind his back, sword at his side, watching the crowd. Whatever danger this boy was, it was less than the knights.

She took the drink.

“Good.” Freddie’s grin widened. “How about we take a turn around the woods?” Lotte hadn’t even noticed the woods until he waved his hand. The dark line of trees was well hidden behind the lights of the party. “They’re teeming with magic, you know,” Freddie said as he led her toward the trees. “That’s where all of this”—he gestured at the lights around them—“comes from. LAO Industries draws the magic straight out of the woods and powers the whole city.” He was pulling her farther from the lights of the party, toward the woods. “See, if you look closely through the trees, you can see some of the silver spikes they use to draw the magic out of the woods. You know Mercy Holtzfall carried those charmed spikes in there herself. The only woman in the city who has proven she is worthy of entering the woods to the creatures in there. Everyone else who has ventured in looking for magic has never come back out. If anyone else could figure out how LAO Industries does it we all could be as magic rich as the Holtzfalls.”

“Your family is running out of magic of its own, isn’t it?” The thought slid from his mind to Lotte’s lips so quickly that she didn’t have time to fully consider what she was doing. She just knew she had to say something to stall him. To keep this boy from drawing her into the darkness of the woods.

It worked.

The shock that rippled through him stalled his fake charm in its tracks. But he didn’t drop her wrist. That was his mistake.

“Your father spent most of it on a deal with the Otto-Raubmessers, which seemed too good to be true. Probably because it was too good to be true. And now it’s all gone. That’s why you like to playact rich boy with girls like me who will be impressed by a couple of cheap baubles, instead of girls who might know the difference. And you promise them you’ll marry them, because you know they’re with you for the money they think you have. But the truth is, you’re the one who is going to have to marry for money one day.” The whole story was cascading freely from his mind right to Lotte’s tongue, all the secrets he’d been keeping for months. “You won’t be able to marry Nora, because she hates you. But if another one of the Holtzfall girls wins the Veritaz, you might have a chance—”

He ripped his hand free, but not before Lotte seized the thread of fear in his mind. “Who are you?” he hissed, his charming facade vanished now.

With his hand gone from her wrist, Lotte felt her own determination roll back over her. “I’ve been sent to find Grace Holtzfall.” Let him think that she was someone who was supposed to be here. “Do you know where she is, or should I start telling everyone the truth about you while I hunt for her?”

She didn’t need to read his mind to see the pure cold fury in him now. Wordlessly, he jerked his head.

And as Lotte turned, she saw her through the haze of gowns.

Everything else dropped away as Lotte moved toward her, unnoticed, through the crowd in her servant’s garb. She’d had this dream before as a child, rushing toward a vague figure that she knew was her mother. She always woke before she reached her. But she didn’t vanish now.

She was about to meet her mother.

Suddenly she was six years old again, and every single one of her childish hopes came rushing back as Grace Holtzfall turned toward her.

She was exquisite. That was the first thing Lotte couldn’t help noticing. Blonde hair haloed out around a delicately featured face, a few short strands falling out of her fashionable bob and into her heavily lidded eyes. Remnants of bright lipstick adorned a full mouth, primed for pouting. The rest of it stained the rim of the nearly empty glass that hung loosely from her fingers. A sweeping feathered dress clung to her like it was made of cobwebs, slinking delicately away from porcelain skin and draping this way and that.

She looked exactly like every woman Lotte had ever seen drawn in a magazine. The kind Estelle would cut out and pin to her mirror and try to emulate.

And Lotte understood now why Benedict had known who she was with such certainty. Why the knights on the street hadn’t hesitated at the sight of her.

She saw her own face in her mother’s.

Recognition broke across Grace Holtzfall’s face too.

Lotte had imagined this meeting a thousand times, but all words seemed to die on her tongue. Everything she had ever thought she would say to her mother seemed unimportant now.

“Darling!” Her mother greeted her as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time. “You’re appallingly late, you know. We had to start the party without you.” Her voice was bright and loud as she waved her drink at the celebrations, as if they were all for Lotte. And then her brow furrowed as she cast around behind her. “Where’s Benedict got himself to?”

Lotte felt her stomach turn as she thought of her last glimpse of Benedict. Fighting to give her a chance to get here. But before she could reply, the last of the sun disappeared from the sky, and the sound of a bell rang, drawing the crowd around.

“It’s time.” Grace’s smile was dazzling. “Are you ready to become the most famous girl in the city?”