Chapter Seven

The Ace Up My Sleeve

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“My Lady, there are rays of sun-fading in your hair,” the maid said faintly as she wound several long plaits into a complex chignon. “They are lovely now, but when you've been home longer, the roots will grow and they may become uneven. I can bring some coloring to hide them, if you'd like.”

Kazia's heart twinged in longing for the Caedran sun, and she scowled at the thought of removing any such traces of the country she now called home.

“That won't be necessary,” she replied shortly.

Behind her, the chamber door opened, and she watched in the reflection of her vanity mirror as Kelvaran entered, carrying a covered basket. He hesitated upon seeing the maid, looking askance at her, then took the basket to the other side of the room to deposit it on the breakfast table.

“I've brought supplies for your blood draw, Lady Devratha,” he said coolly.

“Good,” she answered, equally frosty. “We'll do that after lunch.”

The maid paused with a jeweled hairpin raised midway. In the mirror, Kazia caught the girl's barely hidden frown of sympathy. Kazia closed her hand around the pin and took it from her.

“I can finish from here,” she said. “You may go.”

Looking at Kelvaran askance in turn, the maid then bobbed her head as she curtsied before taking her leave.

As Kazia arranged the hairpin into her chignon, Kelvaran approached the vanity, giving her a look-over laden with admiration mixed with wary concern. Kazia glanced at him with a wry smile.

“You don't like it?” she asked. She leaned toward the mirror to give a last bit of scrutiny to the lightly drawn black outlining at the corners of her eyes, the reddened blush of her lips, and the dusting of pale powder, all of which she hoped would lend her face a certain sharp ferocity. She briefly squirmed about in the corset that held her back arrow straight beneath the multiple layers of stiff linen, crisply-pressed wool and starched lace covering all but her face and hands.

“I think I really did become a proper Caedran in these years,” she sighed. “I can barely stand all of these fussy clothes anymore. This collar...” she batted at the lace grazing her jawline, her voice turning petulant, “... is quite itchy.”

“You look lovely,” Kelvaran said, “although a bit unlike yourself.”

“Good,” she answered. “I want to look unlike myself. It may seem that Gorvan values his own control above all, but he admires strength, and discipline. I may not truly possess either, but a decent fabrication might gain some of his confidence.”

She rose from her stool and turned to face him, smoothing down the ruffled drapings of her skirt as she stood.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Will this do?”

The air between them suddenly grew heavy as Kelvaran dragged his eyes over the elegantly severe glamour she had cast upon herself. Feeling his heart speed, Kazia's own heart hurried to match pace.

Kelvaran cleared his throat as Kazia felt him resist the entanglement of their auras. “I should change for lunch,” he reminded her.

“You should,” she agreed a bit dreamily, entertaining the notion of helping him with that task, at least with the removal of his current suit.

Instead, she turned swiftly and swept a glass vial of the Off-Switch from the vanity, hurrying to swallow a few drops while Kelvaran quickly ducked behind the nearby folding screen. Kazia sat back down on her stool, patting at her warming cheeks as she listened to the rustle of Kelvaran's clothing on the other side.

“How did you fare in the lab?” she asked. “Did you see Madame Vysda?”

“I did,” Kelvaran answered. “There was... something strange about what she was doing there. Do you know what is behind the locked doors in the back?”

Kazia froze, suddenly uncertain whether the chill creeping through her chest was from the Off-Switch taking hold, or from his unexpected question.

“Kazia?” Kelvaran prompted.

“You saw,” she replied, her voice dulling as the numbness of the Off-Switch sank into her blood. “In our shared dream. The examination rooms.”

Following a rush of frantic movement, Kelvaran appeared from behind the screen with his collar and cuffs flapping and one brace still draped at his hip, his expression fraught with shock. Kazia gave a glance to what she now saw as the empty shell of her lover and averted her eyes with a shudder.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I should have guessed that. Yilina was in one of them.”

Kazia hazarded another glance at him as he put his clothes in order. “Do you suppose she was preparing it for me?” she asked quietly.

“She said it was nothing to do with you,” he assured her. “Whatever it is, though... something from that room felt absolutely vile.”

Kazia plucked a silk cravat from the corner of the screen and wound it about Kelvaran's collar, still avoiding his gaze as she briskly arranged it.

“Did she have someone in there?” she wondered.

“I don't think so. It didn't feel like another person. I can't say what it felt like, exactly, just... malevolence.” His lips twisted sourly. “She did say that I would have a part in it.”

Kazia's hands paused at his cravat as traces of ethereal energy suddenly danced around her fingers. Kelvaran startled and grasped her hands, looking into her now cold and hollow eyes before she quickly looked away.

“I don't think she would harm me,” he said gently.

Kazia frowned, but nodded as her leaking energy faded. “Perhaps I should take a look.”

“You'd need your Empathy,” he said somberly. “Could you stand to be there...?”

“Gorvan will expect me to go to work eventually.” She stepped away to retrieve his afternoon coat from the screen, handing it over to him.

“But the project you're here to investigate is in another facility -”

“But with the same people who were here back then. The difference is negligible.”

Kelvaran responded with a huff of frustration. Kazia forced a smile, momentarily looking him in the eye as she straightened his lapels.

“At least now I have more resources at my disposal,” she said. “You being the ace up my sleeve.”

Kelvaran returned her gaze thoughtfully before she broke it off and turned.

“Come,” she said almost cheerfully, hooking her arm through his. “Time to play our first hand.”

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