Page 31

Chapter 25

Nora

Nora had done a bad thing.

But as she took her breakfast at sunset on the balcony overlooking west Walstad, she wasn’t sure yet whether she felt guilty or just hungover.

She was wrapped in a bright silk robe against the spring chill, her feet propped on the opposite chair with charms around her ankles. Their healing magic worked at the blisters that were either from a day spent traipsing all over the city with the journalist or from a night moving through the upper circles with her own kind. Both she had done in improper shoes for the occasion.

Two days ago, Nora had refused Oskar Wallen’s deal.

No matter who Ottoline’s father was, those secrets belonged to her family. Nora had been raised as the Heiress; she knew the importance of putting the family first.

But there was nothing quite like time to erode good decisions.

Time and watching the whole city fall for Ottoline and her fakery.

That day at Hugo Arndt’s luncheon, Nora had come dangerously close to respecting her new cousin. Even if she was misguided, at least she was honest. And the anger…Nora knew that anger.

But as fast as she’d sparked to life in front of her—that Ottoline was gone. The next day, Gisela Gruessing had held a birthday party. Ottoline had been all doe-eyed innocent while she let Modesty trot her around like a show pony.

She seemed to be fooling the newspapers too.

Ottoline leaving the Paragon, wearing nothing but a robe. The headline gushing that she must be a Holtzfall. Being seen in public dressed so scandalously was just like something Nora might do.

And all of that might not have been slowly eating away at Nora if it weren’t for the waiting and the wanting.

It had been four days since the night of the ceremony and the first trial.

Four days since Modesty had won her ring.

Four days of Modesty gloating and no new trials to equal the playing field.

Four days of waiting for another chance to prove she was the worthiest of the heirship while the newspapers whispered that she wasn’t.

The trials had stalled. The hunt for her mother’s murderer had stalled. Nora’s whole life was at a standstill. And she didn’t like where it stood. The stabbing grief that had pierced her so violently in the days after her mother’s murder had turned to a dull ache that only seemed to ebb when she was with August, looking for answers.

Looking for Isengrim.

But in the quiet moments, Nora’s whole being was made up of rage and grief and the desperate, gnawing need to win. The urgency to be tested again and succeed.

And she couldn’t push that away. Because if she did, all that was left behind was a small nasty voice telling her that none of it mattered. Becoming Heiress again wouldn’t restore things to how they used to be. Neither would finding Verity Holtzfall’s killer.

Her mother was gone. Aunt Grace had a new daughter taking all her attention. Her grandmother’s focus was slowly shifting to Modesty. The newspapers would never admit she’d ever done anything right.

Who was she even trying to prove herself to?

“Are you going to finish that?” August had asked late in the afternoon the day before. “Or does it need more caviar on it?” He meant the half of a sandwich that had been sitting on greaseproof paper in front of her going soggy. They were taking a break in a grimy-windowed café in the 11th circle. It was just them and some factory workers who were on strike, the rain drumming its fingers on the window. “We’d better go if we’re going to make it three blocks and back before curfew.”

“Curfew?” Nora had scoffed disdainfully. “You can’t expect me to be inside by sunset. I only woke up at noon.”

“Sure, no one expects you to obey curfew.” August reached across the table, helping himself to the sandwich. “But we’re below the fifth circle here.”

Governor Gerwald had announced the curfew the same day as Hugo Arndt’s campaign party. To keep the Grims in check, all lower-circle residents were to be off the streets by dusk. Anyone caught out or caught gathering would be arrested on sight.

Hugo Arndt had brought voxes into the ballroom as the governor’s speech was broadcast. He gave a mocking commentary of his political opponent as the ballroom laughed along.

The jails were already filling up by all accounts.

“They’re not going to arrest us.” Nora waved August’s words away impatiently.

“No, they’re not going to arrest you ,” August corrected her. “And until we crack this case open, I’m low on bail money, so unless you want to pull some strings and get the whole curfew repealed—”

“Why does everyone seem to think I can fix everything wrong in the world?” Nora was on edge, Ottoline’s tipsy accusations coming back to her. Or do you just not care because the world is unfair in your favor?

“Because you could,” August said absently, taking a bite of the sandwich. “If a Holtzfall said jump, the governor would say, ‘How high?’ If a Holtzfall said ride through the city naked on the back of a horse, the governor would say, ‘Silver dapple or chestnut?’ If a Holtzfall—”

“Do they pay you by the word at the Bullhorn ?” Nora cut him off. Since turning down Oskar Wallen, she had spent almost every waking hour with August. Hunting for some sign of her mother’s ring. She liked to think she was beginning to know him. “Are you going to pretend to be an idealist now?” Nora asked. “Is that how you’re going to get that pay raise if you can’t make your career off of my mother’s murder?”

You’ll likely wear holes in your shoes before you get any answers.

Oskar Wallen’s parting words were proving true. In a way. Nora’s shoes were too expensive and too well charmed to wear holes in, but her patience was thinning.

“Oh, come on.” August didn’t rise to her annoyance, which irked her even more. “I know you’ll be just devastated to be without me after dark. But there must be something else you’d rather be doing tonight than following me like a shadow.”

His words landed harder than he knew. When she’d been the next Heiress, she was the sun that the rest of the world moved around. So bright that everyone else became her shadow. But now she felt like a shadow of her former self. The main purpose of her life had become waiting for some immortal being to test her in some abstract way to prove her value to her family and the city.

“Since you mention it, there is somewhere I need to be.” Nora was too rich to storm off. Instead, she hailed a taxi, paid it triple, and found her way to Aleksandra Flipp’s birthday party.

Aleksandra had flooded the ballroom of the Flipp mansion and set several small ships afloat on it. One that served champagne out of the portholes. Another that fired sweet bonbons out of its cannons to the crowd.

And once again , amidst it all, was Ottoline. Never mind that Ottoline had never even met Aleksandra before and Nora had known her since they were both infants. The fact that Nora had nothing but disdain for Aleksandra and her tendency to open every conversation with ebullient flattery was beside the point.

And as the night wore on, the artificiality of it all, of Ottoline and the fact that her little act was working , began to eat away at Nora until she couldn’t think of anything else.

It was a few hours into the party when Nora found that she had drifted toward Modesty through the shallow waters at the edge of the ballroom. Nora’s dress had been charmed to billow around her in the water and dry the moment it was out. The beginning of an idea was dancing across her mind. Suppose she did want to know who Ottoline’s father was. Aunt Grace wouldn’t tell Nora the truth. But if her own daughter asked about her father…“So what’s your endgame when the newspapers lose interest in her?”

Modesty glanced up from the tart she was picking berries off and throwing in the water, where small fish were eating them. “By the time the papers lose interest, I will be the next Heiress.” It was meant to needle at Nora. Obviously. But she decided to let that go for now, since she was working an angle here.

“ Whoever the next Heiress is will be stuck with her one way or another. Another family member begging for handouts, just like your mother always did.” To Nora’s surprise, Modesty didn’t bristle at that . Perhaps all she and Modesty had needed all along was a common enemy.

“So what are you suggesting?” If Modesty was suspicious of Nora’s sudden interest in their new cousin, she didn’t show it. “Arsenic?”

“Or,” Nora replied drily, “she becomes the problem of her other family.” Modesty wasn’t as bright as Nora, so she gave her cousin a second to catch up.

“Eudora Binks started a rumor that her father is an immortal.” Modesty eyed Ottoline across the artificial sea. She was nursing a glass of champagne. Clearly she’d learned her lesson about overindulging at the campaign luncheon. “Allegedly, she was born nine months after their Veritaz Trials.”

“Please.” Nora’s scoff was genuine this time. There were still parts of the world where half-immortal children were common, but Gamanix wasn’t one of them. “No one is ever going to accuse Aunt Grace of being so worthy and virtuous that a forest spirit fell in love with her.”

“Then why hasn’t someone tried to claim her? For the money or the fame or any other number of reasons.” Modesty had clearly thought about it. Nora hated when the worst person she knew made a good point.

“Well, since you two are so close ”—her tone was mocking—“perhaps she’ll tell you who he is.” Nora raised a shoulder carelessly. “Perhaps it just hasn’t occurred to her she has a father yet.”

Modesty had only managed to use her gift on Nora once, in a moment of carelessness when they’d been children. They’d been playing a game of rounders in the garden of the mansion. Nora had been winning. Modesty had bumped against Nora, bypassing her hindern. And suddenly it had occurred to Nora that she shouldn’t win. She ought to lose. Modesty deserved to win instead.

It was only when the game was over and Modesty was victorious that Nora realized her cousin had used her Holtzfall gift to plant an idea. It had felt like a violation of the thing Nora held most precious in the world: her mind.

And now she was going to inflict the same on Ottoline.

Nora was powerless to move the trials forward, but if she could find out who Ottoline’s father was…She had told Oskar she wouldn’t trade her family’s secrets for his information. But that was days ago. Things had changed.

Modesty understood her. Wordlessly, she sailed across the ballroom toward Ottoline. And Nora watched as Modesty pulled off a glove, casually dropping her hand against Ottoline’s arm.

No matter what her bloodline was, Ottoline wasn’t family. She didn’t deserve Nora’s loyalty.

Still. If Oskar Wallen was in fact a test sent by the Huldrekall, she knew she had failed.

The coffee was going cold in Nora’s hands now. She sparked a ring on her hand, warming it even as she let the chilly spring air pull her hair off her face as she looked out over the balcony.

The skyline blazed in the setting sun over the city that sprawled around her, seeming to set the city on fire. Except…Nora drew to attention as something in the distance caught her eye—the illusion of the city being on fire didn’t usually come with smoke.

Nora rose, her healing feet hitting the tiled floor of the balcony as she pressed against the wrought iron barrier. The smoke was rising in a column from somewhere west. Near the 6th circle.

Nora was moving before the police sirens wailing on the street below even reached her. Her whole being sparking to life with anticipation.

What was that old expression? Where there was smoke, there might be a trial that would finally allow her to prove her worth to an immortal being.

She was sure it went something like that.