The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (different e readers txt) 📕

take Renata’s maid to the kitchen? Have the cook put together a basket to take back with her. At the very least, we can make certain she’s comfortable.”

“But—” At Donaia’s quelling glance, Giuna nodded meekly. “Yes, Mother. Come along, Tess.”

Renata clutched briefly at her maid’s hand, as if her one security was leaving. Tess brushed her thumb across the inside of Renata’s wrist, then left with Giuna.

Donaia could see Renata marshaling what remained of her strength. “You asked something. I’m sorry; my mind is like a sieve. What was it?”

This time Tanaquis waited for Donaia’s nod before proceeding. “I’ve already calculated your birth chart at Donaia’s request. And it was… odd. Do you have it to hand, Donaia?”

“Of course.” Releasing Renata’s hand, Donaia fetched it from the locked drawer of her desk. Tanaquis rolled it out and walked through the calculations briefly, but by the glazed look in Renata’s eyes, she might as well have been speaking Enthaxn.

Finishing up, Tanaquis said, “So it seems… I don’t know how to phrase this delicately. It seems highly unlikely to me that you were born in Colbrilun. Is there any chance you might be mistaken?”

“Colbrilun?” Renata frowned. “No—I was born in Equilun.”

“Does that mean you were conceived in Nadežra? Before Letilia left? Perhaps during Veiled Waters?”

The rapid volley of questions disoriented Renata. “Conceived in— I— What? Yes, of course I was.”

Donaia’s grip on her hand tightened. Tanaquis was right.

But she knew that look in Tanaquis’s eye. At moments like this, she reminded Donaia of an osprey, swooping for the kill. She was going to ask who Renata’s real father was, at a moment when the girl was too weak to dissemble. And Renata, by her sudden shallow breathing, realized she’d given something away.

It was clear she’d lied to Giuna about her birth date. Donaia didn’t know why—and right now, it didn’t matter. Protective instincts roared to life. “Tanaquis,” she said sharply.

She could see the question poised on Tanaquis’s tongue, but after a heartbeat the astrologer reluctantly swallowed it. “On the twenty-ninth? During the day?” At Renata’s unsteady nod, Tanaquis scrawled several more notes in her book. “I’ll recalculate the chart immediately.”

She was halfway to the door before she seemed to recall the problem at hand. “Oh, and I’ll send some remedies for you to try. No one else has yet mentioned these symptoms, but I’ve been learning as much as I can about ash. Can your maid read and write? Good. I’ll include instructions on when and how much to take. Tell her to keep notes on your reactions. I’ll be in touch again this evening.”

She left, neglecting to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” Donaia said, stroking Renata’s arm. “She can be very… focused. Which is usually a good thing.”

“Thank you.” It was nearly inaudible, and not a response to what Donaia had said. “I—I should have told you sooner, but—” One hand scrubbed across her cheek. “I’m not used to having… help.”

Donaia had long hated Letilia for her own sake, and for Gianco’s. Easy enough to hate her for Renata’s sake as well. How anyone could have a child and not treasure them was beyond Donaia’s understanding.

Wrapping her arms around Renata, she pulled the girl close. “Of course you should come to us. We’ll take care of you.” Leato had been so welcoming, so happy at Renata’s arrival in their lives. Donaia was ashamed it had taken her so long to agree with him.

She stroked Renata’s hair, biting down on tears. “I’m not going to lose you, too.”

Isla Prišta, Westbridge: Cyprilun 21

The world was growing more and more unreal, more and more distant, like she had to reach across miles to touch the nearest object. When Tess appeared in Ren’s field of vision, her voice seemed to come from the far end of a tunnel. “Captain Serrado’s at the door. I told him you’re sick, but he says it’s urgent.”

Serrado. Terror choked like a noose around her throat—he’d come to take her to the Aerie. But Tess talked her down, the lilt of her Ganllechyn accent buoying Ren up. She pushed herself upright with one trembling arm, dragging herself closer to the world by force of will. “I’ll see him. Where’s that snuff Sedge stole?”

Tess had to half carry her to the front parlour, because Ren kept lurching sideways into walls. When Tess let the patient captain in from the front step, the crispness of his dress vigils felt like a threat. Not even his frown of concern could assuage it.

“Donaia warned me you were ill, but I…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll keep this brief, I promise.”

Standing at attention as though giving a report, the captain said, “Era Traementis told me you aren’t able to sleep, and I’ve confirmed the details with Meda Fienola. For the past several months, I’ve been looking into something similar. People—children—unable to sleep.”

Like the one she’d seen on the Old Island. Hope stirred in her heart. “Do you know how to fix it?” She’d spent months speaking in Renata’s voice more often than her own; it stood her in good stead now, making the words come out in Seterin accents without any effort.

The lowering of his eyes answered before his mouth did. “I… don’t.”

She sagged back into the sofa. No one does. “So I’m just fucked.”

Serrado didn’t flinch at the profanity. “You’re much healthier than the other victims. That has to be good.”

Other victims. A hand snagging on her gown, bruised eyes in a hollow face. An equally hollow voice saying, I can’t sleep.

Serrado, cradling the dead child on a Lacewater stoop.

For a moment that child was Tess, or Sedge, or one of the other Fingers, and Ren was thirteen, or ten, or eight, looking at death coming for her. She couldn’t sleep because she was a child of the streets, and she’d betrayed her knot. This was the doom that should have fallen on her for that, striking home at last.

Serrado’s voice broke through the hallucination before it could really