“Will you stay with him in his new quarters, then?” I ask, our heads still close together. Will you stay? is the question I truly want to ask, but don’t dare.
He nods. “For now. Even though it’s been his home for two years, he’s ill at ease in that large apartment, all by himself. I don’t blame him. My bachelor lodgings are rather cramped by comparison, but I always know exactly who’s in my house.” He scoffs. “Did you know the Tremain apartments are equipped with seventeen bots?”
A stab of guilt over Molli and her family’s single bot jabs at my heart. I swallow my emotions and try to stay cheerful. “Seventeen bots?” I say with a forced grin. “Only five people lived in that entire household.”
“It’s a large place. I’d never been invited before, naturally.” He shakes his head. “It must have been such a close thing the day of the vote. I can only imagine the influence that kind of money could buy, and you know I’m no pauper. Added to the political sway of their name, the mind boggles. Old family, here since the beginning.” He squeezes my hand. “If Tremain had won, none of this could have happened.”
I think about whom I voted for, and guilt simmers in my stomach. I thought of Saber, not the new duke, and perhaps I also thought about revenge on the King. I hate wondering if I was willing to throw away my friend’s happiness in the name of revenge.
But I didn’t. I was thinking of Saber. Of a new King who would certainly order his release. I was.
I lean closer to Lord Aaron and say, too quietly for Saber to hear from his station guarding the door, “I was able to place your device yesterday.”
“Reginald came to pick up payment?”
“It took some badgering, but yes. I’d like to send one device with each payment, get an idea how his money flows through Paris. It would be nice to attach one to the man himself, but—”
“But you’re not suicidal, I take it?”
I smile. “Can you make more?”
“Now that they’re designed, fabbing them is easy enough. The big question will be how much they use the catacombs. The tracker won’t work underground. I’ve programmed it to hide from bug scanners, but that means it might stay quiet for long periods of time. The power cell should keep it going for a week, ten days maybe. If the first one has checked in at all, I’ll let you know. But I have to go back to my private office computer for that—I didn’t want it routing through anywhere obvious.”
“Speaking of offices, Lord Aaron, where is yours?”
“Business wing. Like most everyone’s. Why?”
“I have some things I’d like to store somewhere…safe…for a few weeks. With your permission, of course.”
“Freely granted. I’ll show you how the tracker works, too, if you like.”
“Why, Lord Aaron,” I say wryly. “I can’t remember the last time you offered to show me your code.”
“Alas, we’ve all been too frequently indisposed of late,” he laments dramatically, and for a moment I remember the feeling of being newly arrived to the palace, fourteen years old and brimming with curiosity, anxious to learn M.A.R.I.E.’s secrets from an impeccably garbed, younger Lord Aaron, who so readily extended me a friendly hand. Once he found out I was good, we used to exchange long lines of code, improving it each time it passed hands.
Simpler times. For all of us.
We stroll out of the King’s Clock Cabinet and must, inevitably, deal with the present and its inhabitants once more. I don’t realize that Lady Cabral has approached our little cluster until I hear her arguing with Saber just behind me.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, turning in annoyance.
The woman straightens, thrusting her hand into the folds of her skirt. After flashing Saber a nasty look—which only makes me want to snub her entirely—she approaches, drops a quick curtsy, and holds out her hand for mine. I feel her tuck quite a large stack of bills into my palm and she says, with a touch of mania, “I just want to make sure I’m first. I’m paying double to guarantee I get a canister next week before they run out. I didn’t get one yesterday.”
I’m stunned, and I know the surprise shows on my face before I get a chance to wipe it away. Reginald told me I’d have no trouble making the million I now owe him for each batch. He knew this would happen, and I suppose some part of me knew it too.
“I merely want a guarantee,” she pleads.
“Saber,” I say, straightening, “make a note, please. Lady Cabral is first on our list.”
Saber glares at me for one beat too long for true subservience, then nods and pulls out his tablet and stylus.
“Maybe don’t tell too many of your friends,” I whisper, giving Lady Cabral a naughty smile. “We can’t be putting everyone first, can we?” I’ve guaranteed that everyone will know by the end of the night. She drops a very low bow, better suited to a formal ceremony than a clandestine drug deal, and rushes off.
“I’m not sure that was your best move, Your Highness,” Saber says, the three of us standing in a triangle as Lady Cabral fairly sprints away, glancing back twice before disappearing around a corner.
“No, it’s perfect. Not everyone can afford the extra, or perhaps will only be able to pay it occasionally. It’ll help everyone cut down.”
“I think you underestimate the pull,” Saber says. “Reginald is hoping you’ll sell more Glitter, not get a higher price on the same quantity.”
“He…told you this?”
Saber shakes his head. “I know how he thinks. He’d rather have more clients hooked. Better for him.”
Well, if anyone would know how Reginald thinks, it would be Saber. “You may be right. But I’ve got to do something to meet Reginald’s new price. Plus, I still owe six canisters to my lever staff, and I’ve promised three particular little bandits their own share, should they desire,” I say with a grin, knocking Lord Aaron’s shoulder with mine. But humor fails to escape the gravity of circumstance. “If they pay double they can get on a priority list. Limit the names to, say, half our usual shipment? If I have to double the price again in a few weeks, then so be it.”
Lord Aaron whistles under his breath and Saber raises both eyebrows. “And if you have to double it in a few days?”
I swallow hard and try to consider whether that could actually happen. My response comes out in a whisper.
“Then so be it.”
“A WEDDING GIFT? CAN I SEE?”
My arms go weak at my husband’s voice—even though he sounds entirely friendly. Too friendly? It’s hard to know where caution ends and paranoia begins. I tighten my grip on the white box. Saber has a similar one, wrapped in fancy paper and tied with an ornate bow, and both are full of hastily stacked euros. The money is concealed beneath fluffy bath towels, but it’s a shallow precaution—toiletries don’t exactly make the cut on gifts fit for a queen. I take the quickest of breaths, then turn to face Justin with a placid smile.
Which almost flips to a scowl. He’s got Lady Cyn on his arm, and she’s sporting an amethyst necklace so shiny it can only be new. I can’t say for sure whether Justin gave it to her or she purchased it for herself to keep up the illusion, but I want to rip it off her skinny neck.
His Highness steps closer and reaches for the lid, but I spin, keeping the top of the box away from his prying fingers as my heart pounds in my ears. “Tosh, it’s not a wedding gift: it’s for me. It’s almost my birthday, as you well know. Lord Aaron has offered to store the early arrivals for me.”
“You do hate to wait for anything,” he says with a laugh, but his tone is sufficiently cool to betray suspicion.
“I’d hoped to have my own private space to store them,” I say, “but I was assured that office space is at a premium just now.”
“So the facilities people tell me,” the King says, taking the bait—at least for the moment. But he gives me a sharp glare, and where my tone was playful, his is inflected with warning. He must see mo
re in my expression than I intended to let slip. “Such a heavy load for you, my love, and a long walk. Allow me.” He reaches out, and though Lady Cyn makes a gallant effort to hang on to his arm, she eventually has to admit defeat and let her hands fall to her sides.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” I say, evading his grasp. “This one is my favorite.”
He peers at the box skeptically. “How do you know? It’s wrapped.”
I rub one cheek against the edge of the satin ribbon that flows over the side of the box. “Yes—but it has the prettiest packaging, and that’s enough for me. Surely you understand?”
The King seems amused by the subtle slight—and more, perhaps, by Lady Cyn’s apparent obliviousness. “If you’re certain?”
“I am.”
He nods and watches as I get my little train moving back down the hallway. Lady Cyn nudges her way back to my husband’s side and casts me a triumphant smirk that I pretend not to see.
“You’re a fool if you think he bought that,” Saber whispers once we’re out of the King’s sight.
“He didn’t,” I reply. “But all I truly needed was to get away. From both of them,” I add acerbically. I wish I’d had time to do—to say—something else. Something to remind my husband of his own repeated insistence that, publicly at least, we must be perceived as a happy couple. A happy monogamous couple. But the risk was too high; I had to retreat. This time.
Duke Spencer meets us at the entrance to Lord Aaron’s smallish office at the far end of the business wing, and even as we exchange pleasantries, I find myself shifting from foot to foot impatiently. Once we’re inside and unburdened of our parcels, Lord Aaron dismisses the bot and closes the door. I collapse against the wall and blot my brow with a handkerchief, wishing I could reach the drips sliding down my back and into my bruisingly tight corset.
“That was supposed to be much easier.”
“Was it not?” Duke Spencer asks, a worried glance at Lord Aaron.
“Ran right into the King,” he answers.
Duke Spencer says nothing but visibly pales, and for the thousandth time, I wish I knew what passed between him and Justin on that day in the King’s office.
“His Highness has displayed an alarming determination to get his hands on pretty things,” I say, removing the tops of the boxes to check that everything is as it should be. When I lift the bath towels, Duke Spencer gasps.
I straighten in alarm but turn to find he’s staring at the money.
“I’ve never seen so much cash in my life,” he says, and shamefully I remember when I was so innocent. This amount of cash is never assembled for legal, aboveboard dealings. Even though I’m sure he’s made purchases far larger than what can be bought for paltry millions, digital currency is less personal, somehow. Less visceral. “How much is in there?” he asks.
“About two million,” I say, angry when my voice cracks. Shame and guilt gnaw at my ribs, though I thought I’d grown numb to regret. I don’t say a word about the other two million Saber and I carefully counted out and left in the largest box in my dressing room to cover Reginald’s next payment. This is only my profit.
“Two million. And you’ve been bringing out similar amounts for several weeks?”
I nod, not wanting him to get too caught up in the web of lies that is my Glitter trade. He’s already in deeper than I’d prefer, and has incurred costs at which I can only guess.
He lets out a soft whistle and shakes his head. “What is this doing to the exchange rates?”
I should have expected such a calculating response from the son of two international business executives. If memory serves, they headed the American agricultural offices until their untimely death—a dark mirror of the tragedy that made Justin a King before he reached adulthood. “How honest do you want me to be?” I ask softly. How embroiled in this do you want to become?
Duke Spencer pauses to consider and I’m again impressed by this somber, thoughtful person who’s such a contrast to my bright, emotional friend. Opposites attract, I suppose. I’m enjoying finally getting a chance to know him, but he reminds me so much of Molli’s gentle nature that I fear I’ll accidentally taint and destroy him, too.
“In this case?” he says, almost brusquely. “Completely.”
I take a deep breath, then stall by reaffixing lids to boxes. “The exchange rate took a beating initially. We drew too much money out too fast. When Duchess Darzi mentioned Duke Florentine’s concern, I encouraged people to pawn their jewels, so most of the cash is coming in from Paris at this point.”
“Ah,” the duke says, running one hand through his golden hair. “That’s what stabilized the exchange rate. At least until everyone starts trying to replace their jewels.”
“Which they might not do,” I hurriedly say. “I’ve always encouraged the courtiers to sell old and unwanted things.” But my cheeks are heating and Duke Spencer gives me a look of skepticism I richly deserve.
“Good thing no one in Sonoman-Versailles is accustomed to buying themselves more than they strictly need,” he says blandly.
I swallow hard and turn away.
“So the kingdom will feel the fiscal results of your little business for years to come?”
“It was only supposed to be five,” I mumble.
“Five?”
“Million,” Lord Aaron answers for me. “Five million to get out before the wedding.”
“Ah—that was this Reginald fellow’s price,” Duke Spencer says, piecing together what I revealed at our dinner.
“Indeed,” I whisper, knowing my voice will shake if I attempt a higher volume. Saber steps up behind me, snaking one arm across my chest, hand cupping my shoulder, pulling me securely against him.
“So what now?” Duke Spencer asks. There’s power in his voice. He’s learning more than he expected about how far into the muck I’ve dug myself. Of course he wants to know what my plan is.
Except that I don’t truly have one. Not a clear one, anyway. I shake my head. “I still want to get away.”
“Seems easy enough. You’re nearly eighteen. Aaron has introduced me to some really fantastic people from the Foundation for Social Reintegration—”
“Easy is the wrong word,” I cut in, not particularly wanting to have a conversation about Lord Aaron’s favorite philanthropy. The Foundation does good work, helping former Sonoma employees who are also citizens of Sonoman-Versailles—and thus have salaries tied up in the credit system—transition to noncorporate living arrangements. But the fact remains that their inability to take me away six months ago because of my age is the reason I had to turn to Reginald in the first place. It doesn’t make me love them. “Over the past few months I’ve accrued some…debts…that must be paid before I can leave.”
“Debts?”
“Metaphorically, I mean. People I have to rescue. A few I need to destroy.” I feel Saber shift behind me, and I know I’m going to get an earful later, but in front of Lord Aaron and Duke Spencer he’ll hold his tongue.
“And the money will help you?”
“Doesn’t money help everything?” I ask wryly.
“Point.” Duke Spencer pauses and then reaches for Lord Aaron’s hand, twining their fingers. “Well, I—we—owe you a great debt, Your Highness—”
“Please don’t call me that. Not here.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I like how Lord Aaron also remains quiet, letting Duke Spencer speak for himself. How often did I see either Lady Julianna or the former Duke Tremain speak right over the top of him? “All right. Danica, then?”
“Please,” I whisper.
“Danica, we are in your debt. In settling your obligations as you see them, be assured that you have our loyalty and assistance. For as long as we can give it.”
I don’t bother to hide my surprise. “You intend to leave as well?”
“The court hasn’t been kind to me,”
Duke Spencer says tightly. “This is the first good thing that’s happened since my parents died, and still there are invisible strings attached.”
“Indeed,” I reply, angry on his behalf.
“And you know Spencer was the only thing keeping me here to begin with,” Lord Aaron adds.
“But it’ll take some time to disentangle our interests,” Duke Spencer continues, “so please don’t feel hurried on our behalf. I don’t know what kind of timeline you’re working on, but we’re certainly open to delaying our departure if it means we can be of service to you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I take a long shuddering breath and turn to Saber. “Could you go downstairs to the kitchens and fetch me a bottle of Pellegrino? Please? I’m feeling…unsettled.”
“I’ll help,” Duke Spencer says, stepping forward. But Lord Aaron’s hand stays him.
“I assume I shouldn’t hurry,” Saber says ruefully, rolling a glare my way. He doesn’t wait for a response—simply strides out the door, swinging it closed behind him.
“He’s the one you’re determined to rescue?” Duke Spencer asks. “Ah—just a guess,” he adds when my eyes go straight to Lord Aaron. I really must learn to stop underestimating people’s shrewdness.
“You’re not wrong. But I didn’t send him away to discuss that. I—as the Queen, I’m privy to His Highness’ calendar. In ten days, he’ll leave for just over a week. I’d like to use that time to travel into Paris to chase any leads we’ve gotten from the trackers.”
“Assuming there are any,” Lord Aaron says, digging a battered old tablet out of his desk. “Not a lot of hits so far.”
“Optimism, Lord Aaron, please.” I look to Duke Spencer. “If the three of us go with Lady Mei, everyone will assume it’s a pleasure outing.”
“And your man?” Duke Spencer asks, eyes going to where Saber exited.
“Saber must be involved in these affairs as little as possible.” A long silence follows as Duke Spencer waits for me to expound. Lord Aaron and I have a conversation of hard looks. Duke Spencer has already puzzled most of it out, but Saber’s secrets aren’t mine to tell, and I know what he’d say if I sought his permission. I won’t betray him.