She smiled faintly as her brows rose. “Sure. That is all that will happen.”
Chapter 8
The plain, black carriage bounced along the uneven cobblestones. That’s how I knew we’d entered Croft’s Cross.
Sitting across from me, Ezra frowned over her shoulder at the driver’s seat where Lady Marisol Faber sat, cloaked and unrecognizable. I imagined she must be suffocating in the godsforsaken heat.
Waving a hand in front of my face, I knew I was. I wanted to unhook the lightweight, hooded cape and throw it aside. Tendrils of hair had plastered themselves to the back of my neck.
I had no idea how long Marisol had been assisting Ezra in her many endeavors to aid those most endangered in Carsodonia. They had been friends since Ezra’s father married my mother, and she came to live here. But I hadn’t become involved in what they were doing until three years ago. I’d only discovered what Ezra was doing when I saw her at the old fortress while leaving behind a bushel of potatoes Orlano had left out for me to do with as I pleased. When we spotted one another, we pretended as if we had no idea who the other was. Later that night, I’d waited for Ezra to return from her walk in the gardens. It was then that I learned why she spent so much time beyond Wayfair grounds.
I looked over at my stepsister, studying her. There wasn’t even a sheen of sweat on her features. Unreal.
“How are you not hot?” I asked.
She pulled her attention from the window. “I think it’s comfortable,” she said, her brows pinching as her gaze dropped. “Your gown is…well, it should do the job.”
I didn’t need to look down to know that she was staring at the delicate, white lace of the low and very, very tight bodice of the sage-colored gown. If my chest managed to remain in my gown throughout this adventure, it would be no small miracle. “I think this used to belong to Lady Kala.” Which also explained why my boots were clearly visible since the hem only reached my calves. “There weren’t many options.”
“Ah, yes. I suppose there aren’t.” The skin puckered between her brows as she looked back out the window. A moment passed. “Do you need gowns?” she asked, looking back at me. “I have some that would surely be of more comfort to wear.”
I stiffened, feeling my cheeks start to burn. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Are you sure?” She leaned forward. “My gowns will not put you at risk of bursting the seams across the chest.”
“I have other gowns—nicer ones than this,” I told her, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “This was the only one I thought would be enticing.”
Ezra sat back. “I think the enticing part is the limited amount of time you have before your breasts break free.”
I snorted.
Her smile was brief. The look that settled on her face made me more uncomfortable than her offer of the gowns. It wasn’t one of pity but of sadness, and she looked as if she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Ezra always had words, a plethora of them, but she never spoke of the curse. The question rose to the tip of my tongue. I wanted to ask if she still believed that the Primal of Death would come for me, but I stopped myself. Her answer wouldn’t soothe me when I knew the truth.
Instead, I asked, “How did you sneak away without any Royal Guards following?”
One side of her lips curled up. “I have my ways.”
I started to ask about said ways when the carriage slowed. I glanced out the window. A mass of people hurried along the crowded street, heading toward the small shops and into dark, winding alleys under rickety metal staircases attached to narrow buildings that rose several stories. Many of them, faded to a dull yellow and drab brown, were packed side by side. Somehow, the proprietors managed to cram twenty or more rooms into those buildings without electricity, and in some instances, plumbing. It was irresponsible to allow anyone to live in these so-called apartments, but the people and their families would be on the streets without them. However, it wasn’t like there were no other options.
“The land that has been ruined by the Rot… It can still be built upon, can it not?” I asked. Ezra nodded. “I don’t understand why new homes aren’t being built on those farms. Small ones, but at least places where you don’t have to risk your life climbing stairs that could give out from under you at any moment.”
“But what of the farmers once the Rot is dealt with?” she countered.
Well, I had asked my answer, hadn’t I? If she believed the Rot would vanish, then she must be holding onto some kernel of hope that I would be able to fulfill my duty. “What if it doesn’t?” I asked.
Ezra knew what I meant. “Mari’s father is determined to discover the cause. You and I both know he won’t, but his mind is brilliant. If anyone can figure out a natural way to end this, it will be Lord Faber.”
I hoped she was right, and not just to alleviate some of the guilt I felt. “Could the farmers not become proprietors then? Gaining their income from leasing the homes?”
“They could.” Her nose wrinkled. “But there is the question of where the materials to build the homes would come from.”
And there was the flaw in my idea. The rock deposits in the Elysium Peaks used to build much of the buildings were mined and paid for by business owners or landowners. The stone had a cost, as did the labor it took to build the homes. The Crown should pay for it, but the Crown’s coffers were not as abundant as they once were since they paid for more and more food and goods from other kingdoms.
And yet, there was somehow still enough for a new gown for the Queen.
“The home Nor is in has red shutters over the windows. I believe it’s to our right,” Ezra said as the carriage jerked to a halt. “He is on the first floor—the entirety of the first floor. His offices are right inside.”
I nodded, reaching for the carriage door. “Do you know the son’s name?”
Ezra looked down as she pulled the rolled letter from the sleeve of her coat, unfurling it. “His name is…Nate.” Her gaze met mine. “Far less confusing than Nor.”
“Agreed.” I lifted the hood of the cape. While it was unlikely there would be much involved in this event, the paleness of my hair was noticeable, and I would rather not take the chance of someone recognizing me in case things, well, ended poorly. “Stay here.”
“Of course.” She paused. “Be careful.”
“Always,” I murmured, cracking the door open wide enough for the noise of the street to seep in and for me to slip through. Refusing to think about whatever liquid I stepped in since it couldn’t be what fell from the sky, I walked to the front of the carriage. “Marisol?” I whispered. The hooded head turned in my direction. The Lady knew exactly who I was, but like Ezra, her treatment of me whenever I saw her was the same as it had been before the curse. We weren’t close by any means, but she wasn’t cruel, and she didn’t behave as if she were afraid of me. “Make sure she stays in this carriage.”
She glanced up at the already-full streets. “I will drive around to prevent her from doing something idiotic.”
“Perfect.” I turned, stepping onto the cracked stone sidewalk and into the throng of people.
Knowing better than to breathe too deeply or to linger in any one spot, I waited only until the carriage pulled away from the curb before heading right, giving the pigeons having a party in the filth a wide berth. I moved among men and women returning from work or heading to it. Some wore capes like mine to shield their faces from the sun or to keep from being recognized. They were the ones I kept an eye on. Others stumbled out of pubs, their blouses and tunics stained with beer and who knew what else. Vendors shouted from nearly every building, selling questionable oysters, flat muffins, and cherries on sticks. I kept my arms to my sides, ignoring the lingering stares and the lewd, drunken comments from males leaning against the front of buildings.