The Mask of Mirrors by M. A. Carrick;

Author:M. A. Carrick; [Carrick, M. A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2020-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

The blues warmed to rich amber and brown, the wheels of the Indestor seal shifting to form the crossed triple feathers of the Traementis.

And there was a second Ren in the chair.

No, not Ren—Renata. Dressed in all the splendor Tess’s needle could achieve, without any need for scrimping or trickery. The bronze wool of her underdress was so finely woven that it shimmered like brushed silk, and her surcoat was encrusted with rubies. A fire blazed in the hearth, a crystal wineglass stood at her hand, and she smiled with the satiety of a woman who wanted for nothing.

Donaia hunched over a small table in the corner. Her dress was thin cotton, mended and stained, and her hands were knobbled claws from clutching a pen. She was scribbling in a ledger, and even from where she stood, Ren could see the numbers there were enormous.

She didn’t spot Giuna at first. The girl knelt near the desk, in a cheap imitation of the dress Renata had worn to the Gloria—sleeveless and daring, but on Giuna it draped like a banner of sale.

Giuna kept her eyes low as she spoke. “Sibiliat said she wasn’t in the mood for my games. I failed—I’m sorry—but I’ll do better next time, cousin, I swear it.”

Renata studied the wine in her glass. “You’re calling me cousin again. Need I remind you that you lost that privilege the last time you failed?”

The hand crushing hers brought Ren back to herself. “What have you done to my sister?” Leato hissed.

“I—” Ren stared, unblinking. “I know not what this is. I only wanted money, I swear—not to make your family my servants!”

The study door opened, and Leato—another version of him—entered. Gone was the bright-haired, laughing, gallant young man who’d offered Ren his glove and kissed her so softly only a few hours past. This Leato had more in common with Vargo: hard-faced, scarred, and ruthless.

He tossed a cloth bag onto Renata’s desk. The blood soaking through it smeared the shining wood. “That’s the Rook taken care of.” His voice grated, no more a light tenor. Something had broken inside.

“You took his head?” Renata eyed the bag with a moue of distaste.

“His hands. This city will think twice before challenging you again, cousin.”

Casting a poisonous smile at Giuna, Renata said, “You see? Your brother knows how to please me.”

Leato—the one standing beside Ren—went slack in her grip. “What did you do to me?”

The answer drifted out of Ren, a hollow whisper. “I turned you into my Fingers.”

And turned herself into Ondrakja.

She’d been in the imaginary Giuna’s place too recently to hide from the truth. Now the other half of the coin was right there in front of her. The satisfaction in her tools, the way she’d molded them to serve her purpose. Her approval was the music they danced to, because she had manipulated her way not just into House Traementis, but all the way to the top of the city. She’d felt the seed of it when she faced the statues in the Charterhouse.

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