“The fool will be recognized.”
“He promised to be careful.”
Two hours after Tarwyl’s return, when I was about ready to rip off the green silk gown, I heard a horse and carriage in the cobbled lane. From the window I watched them pull up just outside the tailor’s shop. A light-haired man was driving, and a dark-haired one—MacAllister—jumped down from the box beside him and disappeared into the shop. Moments later Davyn burst through the door. “Time, Lara. The carriage is borrowed and may be wanted.”
The Elhim gave a last touch to my hair that he had piled up on the top of my head like a Florin pudding. I slapped his hand away. “Do you remember that I still have no shoes? I can’t go. I look like a whore.”
“Aidan has them. Come, Lara, you are beautiful enough for any king.”
“Madness.” I grumbled and tried to think of some other reason not to go down. But eventually I gave it up and crept down the tailor’s narrow stair, trying not to trip on my skirts. I hadn’t worn skirts since I was thirteen. I felt naked. In the front the gown fell from a narrow band at my neck to a band at my waist, but it had no back at all. I had been ready to call off the whole thing when I saw it had no sleeves. My left arm was as scarred as my face and my legs, but Davyn had shown me the long silk arm coverings favored by Senai ladies. The sleeves, made separate from the dress and fastened tight about each arm with thirty tiny buttons, left only a narrow band of my shoulder bare, successfully hiding the telltales of fire.
When I turned the corner of the stair, I caught sight of Aidan head-to-head with Mervil. Good. I wouldn’t have to see him laugh at my ridiculous clothes. But at the same time I couldn’t help but notice how fine he looked, as natural in his dark jacket, waistcoat, and breeches, white ruffled shirt with a high collar, black hose, and low black boots, as he had been in the coarse shirts and breeches the Elhim had given him. He wore white gloves, and his dark hair was held back by a green ribbon. Tomorrow he would be dead. I could not imagine any woman in the world who would not walk into the fires of death alongside him.
“I can’t do this,” I murmured and began backing up the stairs. He turned just then, and I closed my eyes quickly so I would not see.
“My lady, you are a vision indeed.” His voice was polite and even.
When I peeked again he was expressionless. Clearly he was forcing himself sober. Well done, though. If his lip had so much as quivered, I would have killed him. He held out his hand for mine, but I stuck out my foot instead. “Tell me, Lord Aidan, how many ladies of your acquaintance go shoeless to royal balls?”
“I’ve only now received the remedy from Master Mervil—and a wonder he’s done with it. Please be seated.” This time I took his outstretched hand so I wouldn’t rip the cursed skirt as I sat down on the stair. He knelt in front of me and lifted my foot onto his knee. I thought it was a necklace that he held, but he twined the simple band of pearls around my ankle and great toe. A narrow strand of fabric stretched beneath my bare foot to hold the loops together snugly, leaving all the pearls exposed on the top of my foot—the most elegant sandal one could imagine. I’d never worn anything so beautiful. His awkward hands rebelled at fastening the gold clasp on the side of my foot, but he set his jaw and accomplished it in only four tries. “This is a fashion that was popular in my mother’s day,” he said as he worked at my other foot. “She would come to my room to tell me good night before going off to a ball, and she would show off her feet. She’d say, ‘Silly, is it not, that we scorn peasants for having holes in their boots, when ladies of fashion have decided it elegant to go dancing barefoot?’ ”
“These are worth a city’s ransom. Where in the name of sense did you get them?” I said.
He finished the second clasp and nodded in satisfaction. “When we were at Devonhill, I retrieved a few things of my mother’s. One was a pearl necklace I’d sent her from Eskonia.”
“Your mother’s pearls! I can’t. Not on my feet.” I’d heard his voice when he spoke of his mother.
He shook his head. “She would think it a terrific adventure. This whole thing.” He stood up and offered me his arm. His dark eyes sparkled with the smile he knew better than to display. “She would be honored to have you wear them. As am I.”
I wanted to say something horrid, to break the spell he laid upon me with his voice and his manner and his teasing. If I could shock him enough, remind him of my origins, of my hatred ... But Mervil bustled over with a lightweight cloak of black, lined with green, while Aidan bounded up the stairs to see Tarwyl. The singer was back in time to hand me into the carriage. I spit on the ground when he offered a quiet suggestion on how to lift my skirt the proper way. Aidan shook hands with Mervil and embraced Davyn.
“Thank you, my true and honest friend,” he said to Davyn, whose eyes glistened in the torchlight. “Regret nothing, whatever comes.”
“The blessings of the One go with you, Aidan MacAllister, and the hopes of the world.”
MacAllister jumped into the carriage and rapped twice on the roof. We started off, rocking gently on the cobbles. The Senai sat opposite me. He propped an elbow on the window and leaned his chin on his hand. After a moment he spoke softly. “The hopes of the world ... It would be a great deal simpler if everyone believed as you do.”
“The only hopes you carry are those of three lunatic Elhim,” I said.
“Then why is everyone so devilish determined to get their hands on me?”
“And what do you do but walk right into their hands? There’s proof of madness.”
He leaned his head back against the cushioned seat and laughed. “Ah, but what else would you be doing on this beautiful summer evening? We are elegantly dressed, riding in a duke’s carriage, and on our way to a royal birthday party—an adventure to be sure for a woman who seems perfectly suited for adventure.”
“I can think of only a thousand things I’d rather be doing. Almost anything.”
As the carriage turned slowly out of the lane, we were passed by three horsemen riding furiously back the way we’d come. Even in the feeble light of our carriage lamps I recognized the leader. “Desmond!”
Aidan rapped once on the carriage roof, and we rolled to a stop. We crowded together to peer through the window back down the dark lane toward Mervil’s shop. Torchlight blossomed in the quiet night. Loud hammering and shouts echoed in the lane, drawing curious heads from every window and door.
“I’ve got to go back,” said the Senai, his easy humor vanished.
He shifted to open the carriage door, but I moved quicker, shoving him back onto the seat and rapping twice on the roof. “We’ve left nothing behind to connect us to Mervil or the others. You’ll do them no service by showing up at their door.” I fell into the seat opposite him as the carriage jogged forward again. “And Desmond will never think to look for me dressed in silk and riding in a Senai duke’s carriage. Wherever did you come by such a thing?”
He kept glancing back uneasily, but I nagged at him until he paid attention to me. “I would rather not have done it,” he said, “but you can’t just walk into a palace ball. So I remembered a man from Aberswyl who once told me he’d do any favor I asked. He’s got no family to reap the consequences, and he happens to drive for the Duke of Tenzilan. He believes I’m a ghost.”
“What did you do for him to earn such a gift?”
MacAllister shook his head. “He owed me nothing. It is I ... I who owe everyone.” He sank into grim silence as we rode through the streets of Aberswyl.
All too soon the carriage slowed, then rolled to a stop, only to creep forward a few paces before stopping again. From the carriage windows I could see nothing but trees and blazing lights. There were voices ahead of us. Roadblock. I felt for the knife I had secured in the waistband of my gown and cursed the lack of a sword. “We need to get out before they search the carriage,” I said.