Chapter 15
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Jinx

of Lords. Unexpected meeting. I’ll return shortly. While I’m gone, I trust you to make yourself comfortable. Wait for me to go to the library together.

Apollo

“Are you upset Pol is gone for the day?” Fey chirped in Jinx’s ear.

Was she upset? Upset wasn’t the right term. Troubled—that seemed more up Jinx’s alley. Her chest unnaturally contracted when she’d awoken to find a note given to her by Apollo’s mother, whose frightening grin hinted that she knew something Jinx did not.

Jinx set the ripped paper back down onto the clothed table. She’d picked it up about thirty times and counting, wondering if there was something else in the note she’d missed. She was most surprised by the notion that he wished for her to wait to go to the Collection with him, like actual partners. Or maybe it was that she just enjoyed analyzing his swirled writing.

Jinx turned the spoon around in her tea. “No. Why would you say that?”

Sitting across from her, Fey inserted a sugar cube in her cup. “Since you’ve sauntered into the family room, your eyes have been fixated on that note.” She took a sip. “What does it say?”

“Nothing of importance, just his whereabouts and so on.” Jinx wrestled all of her willpower not to glance back down at the paper.

She and Apollo were supposed to return today to the Collection. She thought back to the black leather-clad book, its unnerving presence, the strange language inside. After her conversation with Thatcher last night, Jinx had reflected on Somnium’s history. If there was an old language, anyone who knew how to speak or read it had died off by now.

Then again, Somnium’s history made little sense before the plague. Beyond the past twenty years, it was like the past had been erased, its pages purposefully ripped out. Is that what her riddle had to do with? Perhaps she needed that missing piece of history to put it all together.

In the table where five once sat, now sit four

No matter how much you believe, our minds still deceive

It’s a punishment for seeking truth

Knit from people’s worst desires

One who seeks is bound to bloom

In Somnium, there had always been the Seven aristocrats in power and seven governing families. Different families had risen to and fallen from power over the years, but the number had always been seven.

“Veyda.”

“Yes?”

“Your tea is cold,” Fey said as a matter of fact.

Jinx blinked, her thoughts still consuming her mind. “What?”

“Your tea. You’ve been stirring for the past ten minutes.”

Jinx’s eyes focused back on the present. Her tea was, in fact, cold, and her appetite diminished.

Fey set down her cup, perkily leaning over the table. “What are your plans for today, then?”

There was no alternative she had planned in case Apollo left. She supposed that she could go visit her mother, from afar at least.

“Do you want to go to the market with me? I could show you the tailor shop where I got that dress you liked.” Fey rose suggestively. “I need to stop by anyway to get—”

“New ballet shoes,” Thatcher finished for her. He sauntered in with an undone shirt, purple hugging his eyes. He rolled his tense shoulders back as he dropped into a seat.

Annoyance filled Fey’s previously soft features. “Did you stay up late again?”

“Yes.” Thatcher groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Warren’s assignments have been keeping me busy. And that’s not even taking into account my other classes.”

“Are you attending a class today?” Jinx asked, pouring herself a fresh cup of tea. She’d eaten plenty of questionable meals over the years, but cold tea? She refused to indulge in cold tea.

Thatcher’s head bobbed with sleep deprivation. “Perhaps not. I think I’ll stay in and play some chess with Pol when he returns.”

“You can play with me if Fey and I get back before Apollo does.”

Thatcher’s head lifted, eyes sparked in interest. “You play chess?”

“Occasionally. I’m not great; however, my competitive streak keeps me in the game.” She cracked her fingers.

“Alright. I would be delighted to beat you.” Thatcher’s lips tugged into a merciless smile.

A surge of energy fluctuated between them, an ambitious charge anticipating the friendly war.

“Don’t get too comfortable now. I enjoy proving others wrong.” Jinx turned to Fey. “Should we leave now to the market?”

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There were two markets in Somnium: The Tents, which bordered Crosspoint Yard and the Botanic Plaza, and The Dome, which was in the heart of Wateredge. Fey had chosen to frequent the latter. An obvious choice on her part. Those who identified with the upper class chose to shop at the Dome for better quality fabrics, trinkets, jewelry, and so forth. Not to mention the expensive tags on said items.

The Dome comprised four neighboring buildings, with the streets in between them covered by a transparent roof; a glass dome held together the central meeting points. Inside the expansive market were shops selling everything from fruits to quills in every corner.

Jinx’s nose caught wind of a buttery aroma, her limbs taking on their own consciousness. Halting abruptly at the door of a bakery, she spotted the cheese danishes on display.

Fey fell gracefully beside her. “Would you like one?”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t,” Jinx said. She also did not have her own money, and she was not about to use her illusions for the coin in front of Fey.

Jinx missed using her abilities. Her magic was itching to be let out. A simple mask, at least. She wanted to keep her powers as sharp as possible, her senses included.

Inside the Dome, Jinx remained on high alert. Her dagger was a split second away from being in her grip. Living out in the open for years taught her that danger lurked in plain sight, no matter how safe a place felt, and as a thief herself, Jinx knew this crowded market would be the perfect place to commit a crime.

Jinx’s stomach gurgled, flipping on its own hunger. Fey gave her an inquisitive look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Jinx lied as her mouth continued salivating at the sight of the pastries.

Fey tucked a stray hair behind her ear, her rounded cheeks tightening. “You’re eying it as strongly a stray dog salivates a meaty bone. Indulge, please. It’s on me.”

Fey pulled Jinx by the hand, weaving through the throng of customers until they reached the front counter of the bakery.

“Two cheese danishes please,” Fey said, displaying two accompanying fingers.

“No, Fey, please do not,” Jinx insisted.

At that retort, Fey shouted, “Make that three!”

Jinx facepalmed. “Do not buy those for me.”

Fey raised a taunting brow, rubbing her shoulder against Jinx. “You are my guest, please.” She dropped coins into the baker’s hands, and the transaction finished. “We are friends, are we not?” Fey then handed Jinx two of the pastries.

Friends? It had only been a little more than a week now since Jinx had arrived at the Voclaine family’s front door. Was that enough time to call Fey a friend? Was friendship about the time spent together or how well a person knows another?

To play it off and give Fey the answer she knew she wanted, Jinx answered, “Yes. Of course, we are.” Her hands sweat at the wrongness she felt in saying those words.

Exiting the store, Fey wove her arm through Jinx’s as they strolled down the cobblestone road. Jinx’s thin boots molded to the rocks beneath them, small pebbles softly poking at the soles.

“Thank you,” Jinx said. “You are too kind.”

“No, I am not. People these days just lack basic manners.” The arm around Jinx’s frosted her into rigid ice. “Have you never experienced any kindness in all of your adventures?”

Jinx scoffed. “No, never.”

“Could you tell me about some of them?” Fey’s blue eyes lightened.

Jinx’s breath hitched. She’d never talked to anyone about her “travels” before, and her core squeezed in surprising excitement at the thought.

“Okay.” Jinx clutched Fey closer. “But I don’t know where to begin.”

“At the beginning.”

Jinx would surely not be starting there. “I’ll tell you only one today. I spent five years as a ballerina in an academy.” If by “ballerina,” Jinx meant “acrobat,” and “academy,” Jinx meant “circus,” she was telling the truth. She’d worked as a member of Akuji’s Cirque, to be exact—the same circus that opened every fall.

Jinx bit into the Danish, now prisoner to its rich and sweet taste.

Fey gasped. Her lace moved, hands covering her mouth. “You were a ballerina?

“Yes.” Jinx chuckled easily as her head fell.

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Well, it’s not exactly something that someone blurts out randomly in the middle of a conversation.” She continued eating her danish.

Fey pulled at her elbow, elongating her pronunciation and tsking at the secret. “It is with me. How rude of you.”

Jinx gave her a false curtsy. “Apologies, Princess.”

“Apology accepted, though don’t think I’ll be so lenient next time.” Fey touched a hand playfully to her collarbone, going along with the joke.

The two laughed at their own performance.

“There it is. Follow me.” Fey pointed toward the tailor shop, and Jinx’s heart seized, a void of emptiness where it used to beat. A rush of cold nipped at her fingertips. Flashes of her mother sewing crossed her mind.

She swallowed down her thoughts, masking her alarm and magically veiling the drainage of color across her face.

The bell overhead dinged at their entrance. Hundreds of fabrics were on display, ready to be touched and felt. Mannequins were clothed in decorative, elaborate dresses, each hand sewn from top to bottom. Dark wood supported the structures.

Jinx clenched her jaw, blinking back the glossy sheen of tears now coating her eyes.

Logic over emotion. I’m on a mission, not prancing about.

The seamstress rounded the corner, needles pinned in the ball of a bracelet. Considering the lady’s wise and experienced gaze, Jinx deduced she must have been in her fifties. Her hands twined at her center. “Hello Fey, I did not expect to see you again so soon. Is something wrong with your gown?”

“No, not at all, Ms. Cornwell. Actually, Lady Collymore was admiring your design, and I brought her with me to see if she would like a dress of her own.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Jinx ducked her chin.

Ms. Cornwell curtsied in return. “Pleasure is all mine. Please, right this way.” She opened her palms, welcoming the two further into her shop. She plucked several fabrics of several colors from the walls, matching them with Jinx’s skin tone, and then started taking her measurements as if Jinx were a doll, ready to be dressed up to the nines. Jinx winced at the slight prick of a needle against her skin.

Fey sighed. “You are going to look lovely at the masquerade this fall season.”

“What?” Jinx asked in surprise.

“I assumed that you were attending since you are staying with us,” Fey explained as she watched the seamstress fold another layer of fabric across Jinx’s waist.

The masquerade that Fey mentioned was to be held in two months, and only the elite were allowed to attend. By Jinx’s calculations, she would have expected that her deal with Apollo would be well over by then and that she’d be home already. Sure, the fact that they hadn’t found traces of the culprits at the Museum was a setback, but still, the Vessel could not be hidden outside of the city. It was foolish to rely on that sort of hope. Hope that there would have been news of its capture if it had been attempted to export the relic.

Based on the way the two men had spoken to one another that day, the matter seemed urgent. And if it was that pressing and that urgent, the thieves would have kept it concealed in the walls of Somnium, which was why Jinx had continued her citywide scouting most nights after everyone went to bed.

“I had not expected to stay that long,” Jinx admitted.

Fey placed her hands on her hips, face tilting to the right. “Well, now you are. I demand you there.”

There it was again, that sensation of morality bending. This had never happened to her before. Guilt beginning to weigh on her heart for feeding them lies. They were good people, undeserving of her fallacies. She had to shake off this sensation.

“Would you excuse me? I need to use the restroom.” Jinx parted without another word, fleeing to the lavatory and locking herself inside as she’d done so many times to avoid an uncomfortable situation.

A small slit under the window welcomed a breeze inside. She stuck her face by its crack, inhaling the fresh air. The cool wind kissed her nose.

A trio of men walked past the shop.

“Fuck these wretched Cursed,” one hissed.

Another downed a bottle of liquor. “Hopefully, we’ll find out what to do with them by the Autumnal Equinox.”

The third slapped his friend in the chest, right above a pin: a sigil of a blooming flower. The final words of the riddle that had long plagued her suddenly stirred in her mind: one who seeks is bound to bloom. Could the riddle be referring to this symbol, the one that all three men wore?

The first man shot the second a rigid, pointed look, wanting him to shut his mouth. The Autumnal Equinox was in three weeks. Jinx stretched up on the tips of her toes, itching to trail them, eager to know what was going to happen that day.

“This better be worth it,” Jinx muttered to herself. Summoning her magic, she tugged it out of the well of her organ. Tendrils of green snaked out, forming a replica of herself. Frost chilled over, peppering her skin, slowly materializing into the duplicate which would take her place. Jinx’s mind split into two, a piece of herself embedded into this copy. Jinx ushered out the mirror image, who would take on her role.

With the illusion replacing her, Jinx broke off the window screen and slipped through, slithering into the disguise of another woman, changing her complexion entirely.

She lurked behind the men, watching the direction of their feet and expected movements, studying their marked path. Then, Jinx swept into the shadows, intending to intercept them through a shortcut of back alleys.

She ran ahead of them, holding a position in the corner. Seconds before she predicted their arrival, she weakened her voice, luring them over to her with a cry: “Help!”

The trio reacted immediately, seeing her alone in the darkness. Jinx forced tears, reddening her eyes. “Please help.”

The three glanced at each other, a malicious glint in their stares, which were now directed at her. She’d expected no less. The one with the bottle of liquor lowered his voice an octave.

“What happened?” The other two shadowed behind him, cornering her.

Jinx let them surround her, her back coming into contact with the granite of the wall. She pleaded, sniffing. “They attacked me, stole my purse.”

The one on the left called out, “It’s alright, we are here now.” He reached out to touch her hair, stroking it as if it were his own.

Rage burned hot underneath her cool skin. There was one thing Jinx disliked more than spiders. And it was men like this.

Jinx could now smell the burning of alcohol in the man’s breath. She relaxed, dropping the act. Tone sultry, she replied, “Thank the Virtues.” She carefully reached for the twin-throwing blades hidden in her corset, the men too enthralled with her face to notice.

With a casual flick of her wrist, she impaled the one on her right, who sunk to the ground. Then, she threw the other calculatedly into the shirt of the one who bore the pin of the blooming flower, fastening him to the wall.

The intoxicated one flinched, holding up the bottle to use as his weapon. Jinx smirked.

He swung left and right as she dodged his attacks. Jinx swerved, locking his free arm behind him and twisting his wrist. He released the bottle, yelping in pain. Jinx caught it before it shattered on the ground, smashing it on his head. His body collapsed on impact.

She removed her throwing knife from the dead man. Upset by the blood on it, she nevertheless tucked it back into its assigned spot on her thigh. Then, Jinx turned toward the man nailed to the wall.

Curling her fingers around the dagger at her leg, she fished it from its sheath, flipping it in her palm. “Has no one taught you to not corner a lady?”

The man stuttered in response. Jinx caressed his jaw with the dagger, the cold tip bending into his skin. “It’s a very simple question.”

The man swallowed a dry gulp. “Yes. I have been taught.”

“Hm.” She eyed the freshly polished pin. “That’s neat. I have a few questions that need answering.”

“We’re in public. You really think you can hurt me?”

A maliciously sharp smile gripped her lips as her eyes hollowed, molding into an unhinged expression. He trembled under her scrutiny. Jinx pressed the dagger into his chin, drawing out a bead of crimson blood. “I don’t think that will be a problem. It’s never been one for me before, anyway.”

She knew she had to hurry, otherwise Fey would become suspicious. With her thumb and index finger, she pried the flower pin from the man's chest. He whimpered as though she had fractured his bone. The pin is almost an extension of him. He was so prideful to have that glinting over his heart.

“What’s the Autumnal Equinox assembly?”

The man sucked on his inner cheek, sweat trickling down his forehead. Damn the Virtues, there was no time for theatrics. Her patience was thinning. “How should we begin: by extracting your nails or teeth?”

Jinx proceeded to get information out of him. Anyway, she saw fit.

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Upon her return to the bathroom, Jinx summoned her replica and reeled it back into her body, morphing the two back into one and lowering the casting of her alternate illusion. Jinx did her best to rid her dress of the bloodstains upon it, covering them up with patches of magic.

The well of magic inside her felt exhausted. She was waning, having expended too much of her magic for a while.

She crammed the pin and the address of the autumnal meeting between her breasts. Jinx then patted down her sweat and red cheeks. When her appearance had calmed back down into her normal graces, she stepped out of the lavatory.

“Ready to go home?” Fey asked, handing the seamstress the deposit for the dress.

Jinx pat down the front of her gown. “Yes.”

The bell announced their departure. As soon as they set foot outside the shop, a group of authorities ran past them. Jinx yanked Fey out of the way.

Fey yelped, arching back. “What could have happened?”

Jinx shrugged her shoulders, nudging Fey in the opposite direction. “Not a clue.”