I tell her the tale of how I stole the giant sapphire necklace that now hangs about Tomasis’s neck from the prince. I tell her the stories and rumors about Orso and Corday. I tell her about the Merveilles of the Miracle Court—the Fisherman, le Maire, the Gentleman, the most audacious criminals France has ever seen. I talk until the sun comes up and my voice is hoarse, till Ettie’s eyes are bleary and exhausted. Then, holding my hand, she gives in and lets sleep take her.

I should go explore the palace and find what I need, but Ettie’s fingers are curled around mine and I can’t bear to leave her. For once we are not in imminent danger, we’re not starving or hurt; for once we lay together laughing at foolish things. This is how it was with Azelma. To think I’d forgotten what it is not to be afraid.

I lie awake listening to her breathing.

Could Ettie be safe here in the palace? Could she be happy? Surely the Tiger wouldn’t dare take her if she were under the protection of the king and queen of France.

But I cannot feel easy with the idea of leaving Ettie with the royals, not after the story she told and the predatory look in the queen’s eyes. And I cannot leave the palace without ensuring Ettie’s safety from all the Guilds—I must find that grain. But even if such a vast quantity of grain can be taken, will it be enough to stop the Tiger?

She has become a symbol he must destroy. Nothing will stop him … He will have his vengeance or lose the power he holds over us.

What can I, one small Cat, do against a Lord of the Miracle Court with a Guild of henchmen to defend him? Can I ever keep Ettie safe?

22

The Mesmerist

We’re awakened by a maid carrying steaming mugs of melted chocolate and cream. I make the maid take a sip first, watch her swallow it, and then insist she stay for a few minutes. When she doesn’t pass out or die, I let her go.

Ettie gleefully swallows her chocolate. I sip mine carefully. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. The smell reminds me of the prince’s lips, and I feel a pang of guilt mixed with resentment. It’s late. We must have slept the whole day.

Ettie looks better. Her face is brighter, and the shadows are gone from beneath her eyes. She hops excitedly off the bed and reminds me that there’s a soirée tonight.

I purse my lips. I don’t have time for soirées; I haven’t yet been able to slip away to search for the grain stores. And it’s dangerous for us to stay on in the palace any longer. I have to act tonight.

There are two dresses laid out on a chaise longue. A silvery blue crêpe de chine for Ettie, a salmon gauze for me. The maids bustle in and strip us of our clothes, slip on skirt hoops, and tighten corsets with unnecessary vigor. Then our hair is done and we’re adorned with finery. Ettie is given a necklace with a locket, I’m given a bracelet of gold and rubies, and we each get an ornate fan. We slide jeweled slippers over our silk stockings and make faces at one another as we’re ushered out.