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Back The Midnight Lie
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. EPILOGUE
  57. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  58. Also by Marie Rutkoski
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

It was too dark to see her ship set sail.

50

MADAME MERE SHOWED DISCOMFORT at my request, but she was tempted when I promised her a rare elixir. “I haven’t seen it used at any party.” I offered the dressmaker the little stoppered vial I had won at Pantheon. This time, it was filled with my own watered-down blood. I’d had to guess at the ratio of blood to water. “I don’t know how strong it is.”

“What will it do?”

“It will make you remember something you have forgotten.”

She gave the vial a wary glance, but curiosity eventually stole over her features. “Indeed, I have never heard of such an elixir,” she said. “Fascinating.” Her hand claimed the vial. She gave me the address, then said, “Councilmen have been asking about a girl who looks like you.”

“Oh?” I kept my voice careful.

“Why don’t you let me freshen your look? That black hair has a nice wave and shine, but really, my dear: it’s far too natural. Even, I would say, noticeable.”

“I can’t pay you.”

She waved an impatient hand. She led me into a back room, where she painted my hair with stripes of blue and green and purple. She dyed my eyelashes a shocking teal and patterned my cheeks with swirls of gold that she swore would last for days.

“There,” she said. “No one will know you.”

I was touched by her kindness. “Why would you help me?”

“Maybe it helps me, to help you.” She smiled gently. “The gossip in the High quarter is that Lady Sidarine has left the city.”

I bit my lip. I looked at the panoply of fabrics stacked along the walls, the brightly wrapped bolts, and tried not to think about her. I thought: Azure. Canary. Persimmon dotted with pink. Violet. I tasted blood in my mouth.

The dressmaker patted my hand. “The first heartbreak hurts the most. Every day it will be easier, and soon you will forget her.”

But of course, I never could.

“Well,” Lillin said imperiously, when her Middling maid showed me into the parlor. “Who are you, and what do you want?” She had exquisitely delicate features: an oval face, slender lips, gray eyes so pale and clear that you could see faint stars of blue around the pupils. I thought of her with Sid, and Sid with her, and wished I had never succeeded in convincing Madame Mere to give me her address.

“We both know Sidarine,” I said, and Lillin’s face flashed with understanding. “We saw each other at the party with the ballroom that rained.”