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

Sibiliat replied before Leato or Donaia could, stroking Giuna’s sleeve. “Not this time, little bird. It’s too rough.”

“I’m willing if Alta Renata is,” Leato said. “You don’t have anything like Vraszenian pattern reading in Seteris, do you?”

“I’ve never even heard of it. Is it like astrology?”

Carinci’s nose wrinkled as if she smelled something foul on the wheel of her chair. “Nothing nearly so sensible. A pack of cards, and some bent old Vraszenian crow claiming the random chance of their arrangement somehow reveals your fate. Utter nonsense. I can’t believe you would waste your time with such things, Sibiliat.”

“It’s for fun, Grandmama. Didn’t you do things for fun when you were our age?”

“I wish I got to do things for fun,” Giuna grumbled, one finger running over the glass sculpture Leato had made her put down. Her voice was soft enough that Renata suspected nobody was meant to hear.

The crystal decorations, the scarf: It was painfully clear that Giuna craved something pretty for herself, and equally clear that her mother had tied the Traementis purse strings tight. It seemed that in all the years since Letilia ran away, Donaia hadn’t changed a bit.

As Giuna reluctantly drew her hand back, Renata plucked the sculpture from the table and selected a green one to match, handing the pieces to the merchant. “Wrap them separately, please.” To Giuna she said, “Those are lovely, aren’t they? The green one is just what the mantel in my parlour needs, and I’m sure you can find a suitable place for the blue one.”

Donaia caught the trailing end of her words and pivoted sharply, mouth open to protest. But it was too late; the merchant had placed the blue crystal in a protective case and wrapped that in an elegant fold of fabric, and Renata presented it to a dumbstruck Giuna. Donaia could hardly refuse the gift now—not without breaking her daughter’s heart and creating a scene in front of the Acrenix women.

Renata felt a warm glow of triumph as the latter moved on a few minutes later, Carinci making no secret of her need to be seen speaking to other people. She’d attracted attention, made progress against Donaia, and now in place of a forbidding Vigil captain she had Giuna stuck to her side like a grateful burr.

Leato led them through the rest of the Gloria, even after Donaia quit the field, murmuring that she needed to rest her feet and have a warm drink. He introduced Renata to people along the way, then stayed with her as she backtracked to purchase perfume, gloves, a kitten-soft cloak. Tess accepted them all without complaint, though Ren could practically hear her crying, The budget!

The budget would survive. Some of these things would be useful in her masquerade, and the rest—like the glass bauble—she intended to pawn. The point was to be seen buying them, so that everyone would know Renata Viraudax had both money and good taste.

When Tess’s arms were full, Renata mimed exaggerated exhaustion. “If I’m to be any use at all tonight, I should go home and rest. Where should I be and when?”

“The foot of the Lacewater Bridge in Suncross. Is second earth too early?”

Renata shook her head. Second earth gave her roughly two hours after sunset. Hopefully enough time for Tess to put together a suitable ensemble.

Leato’s next instructions put that fear to rest. “Wear a mask, but don’t dress too finely; Lacewater isn’t the kind of place you want to draw attention to your wealth.”

Lacewater. Unease roiled in her gut, like Ondrakja’s hand curling languidly around her jaw before digging sharp nails into flesh.

After five years away, Ren was going home.

The Rotunda, Eastbridge: Suilun 4

Grey lost sight of Alta Renata and the Traementis family after they parted ways with the Acrenix. By then he could see the humor in the whole farce. Bad enough having to tolerate Derossi Vargo, when a year ago Grey would have had ample cause to arrest him. But then being caught out by Leato! In the space of a single minute, Grey had blown his cover to Renata and thrown away an opportunity to see his friend. Those had been too scarce, these past months.

He shifted his weight to relieve the ache in his back from standing too long on hard marble and tried not to track the passage of the sun across the ribs of the dome, waiting for this interminable day to end. He’d had to trade several favors to get his unit assigned to the Rotunda; soft duties like this were much in demand. But Donaia had assured Grey that if the daughter was like the mother, Alta Renata would be at the Autumn Gloria.

Perhaps she did resemble her mother in that respect, but Renata Viraudax hadn’t been what he’d expected. Beautiful and elegant, yes—but she was also shrewder than she let on, plucking the strings of the Gloria like an expert harpist.

And he unnerved her. Not as a man or as a Vraszenian; it was the unease of someone being watched by a hawk. She’d hidden it well, even tried to divert him by flirting… but he’d once hidden that same unease, back when he and Kolya first arrived in Nadežra.

Were Donaia’s suspicions correct? Or was something else going on?

The approach of Breccone Indestris pulled Grey from his musings. “Captain,” the altan said, his voice round and polished with self-importance. “I’ve noticed Era Novrus’s wife acting strangely. Someone suggested she may have taken aža before coming here. Please see that she’s quietly escorted away before she causes an embarrassment. I’d hate for someone to have to bring her in for causing a public disturbance.”

Djek. Could this day get any worse? Breccone had been born into House Simendis, but he’d married into Indestor. Clearly, he was doing his part to further Indestor’s ongoing feud with Novrus, their rivals in the Cinquerat. Petty interference at the Gloria might be less destructive than burning each other’s warehouses in Dockwall, but at