“But why are the dragons your enemies?” Bee asked.

“If we are caught in the tides of their dreaming, we are changed, and lose both our bodily form and the mind that makes us a self. How can they not be our enemies?”

Bee’s smile had the brilliant assurance of the sun flashing out as wind drove off its shield of clouds. “You see! The headmaster must know about dragons, dreaming, and the Great Smoke. Why else would he have tricked us into crossing into the spirit world? Cat, get my sketchbook.”

After wiping my hands, I unfastened the lid of Vai’s chest. Bee had placed her sketchbook at the top, wrapped in an oilskin pouch. As she flipped through its pages, I went through the contents of the chest.

The top was spanned by the length of canvas, sewn with pockets, in which I kept my sewing things and my other necessaries. Beneath the unrolled canvas lay a pretty pagne I had never before seen, a festive gold-and-orange print with smiling suns and laughing moons. I blinked watering eyes, for it was obviously a special gift from Aunty, one the family had chosen for me with affection. Below this I found trousers and underthings and, beneath them, some of Vai’s beautiful dash jackets tucked within clean pagnes for extra protection.

“He can probably describe exactly where and when he got each one,” I said, running my hands along the folds.

Bee snapped shut the sketchbook. “What is it like to love someone that much?”

I glanced up at her. “Did you love Caonabo?”

“In that ridiculously infatuated way you love Andevai? No, thank Tanit, I did not love him!”

“How can you say so? At the academy, you were always droning on and on about Amadou Barry’s beautiful eyes or whichever young man took your fancy that week. You filled your sketchbook with pictures of handsome young men. And you were always talking—”


“Yes, I was always talking. I enjoyed the attention. Who wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t!”

“Yes, dearest. That’s my point. You wouldn’t and never did, because you’re a different person than I am.” She lifted a hand to scrub at her face as if she were tired. “Because I’m beautiful, people expect me to have a romantical disposition. Even you expected it, Cat! But I must say, there is nothing romantical about using cheap ribbons to make an old dress appear newer whenever the family is obliged to appear at a social gathering. Melqart forbid there be any chance we look as poor as we really were, lest people inclined to hire us reject our services due to our wrecked finances! There is nothing romantical about eating tough winter radish or mushy turnips for every meal in chilly Martius and damp April because the root cellar is almost empty, the early-ripening crops aren’t yet at market, and there’s not enough money for meat.”

After a glance at her stormy expression, I pulled a comb out of my sewing canvas and handed it to her. She set down the sketchbook and began to comb out Rory’s snarled hair.

I talked to fill in her silence. “Maybe it’s not so wise to choose a palace of gold and silk over a humble cottage if the first comes with a knife in the back and a foot on the heart and the second comes with a smile and a kiss.”

“Yes, that’s very sweet. I am not so sure the smiling and kissing will survive the dreary struggling day in and day out. Or did you not live in the same house I did, watching Mama and Papa with their polite indifference?”

“Bee…” My voice trailed off as she sniffed down angry tears. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault that we were poor. Especially not Aunt Tilly and Uncle Jonatan.”

“You are so loyal, dearest, that even after they sacrificed you to try to save me, you can’t bear to speak a word against them. I’m not talking about fault, even if they did take uncounted imprudent financial gambles. I’m talking about bargaining my beauty for wealth and position.”

“Was that why you were so angry at Amadou Barry when he merely offered you a position as his mistress? Because it wasn’t a more secure contract?”

“No,” she said softly. “I was angry at myself. I almost said yes to him just because his kisses dazzled me. What a fool I was! Desire is a foolhardy way for a young woman to secure a livelihood.” She glanced at me. “Not that I mean to accuse you of falling into love with Andevai just because of his looks, or his kisses.”

“I suppose I was dazzled by his looks from the beginning.” I tried to stop myself from smiling and could not. “But he courted me with radical principles. And food.”

“This is a new expression for you, Cat. You were always so heartless and sensible before. Now you look absolutely stupefied.”



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