Violet Shadows

53

"...ou are still with him."

She wasn't paying attention to latch onto John's point, or what he was talking about at all. She smoothed over her expression to supposed interest. "Pray, who?"

"The master of the house, of course." He jeered his head towards Nicol, who abandoned his post and now crowded around a flock of guests dressed in outlandish costumes. One bore a long train stitched entirely of lace and beetle wings, another in a robe made with sheer fabric that shimmered vermillion, cerulean, tangerine, before curling into foils. It wasn't the worst: one guest dressed in a bodysuit made entirely of whalebone, and the only thing underneath was a thin blue slip. "Last time we were together you spoke of your troubles with them. How they drew attention, your unsure friendship with the master and his friends." He shied away from staring at the guests, "I hope I'm allowed to ask for new information."

She was beginning to think that confiding in someone may be better than bottling up her problems until they swallowed her whole. "It's been months since then, but yes. Many things have occurred. Not all bad, but not all good." Her voice tainted with guilt. "Mainly because of me."

"Don't tell me you've pissed the master off." John's demeanor turned apprehensive. "His circus of friends are tolerant enough, but the master is someone you shouldn't mess with. He's a noble. Greedy, vain, selfish, like the lot of them. He'll burn down your family's register and then toss you a penny for good fortune."

How does he know that Nicol is a noble? Setting her jaw, Christine did her best to hide her notice. "Are you two well-acquainted? You give me too many warnings of him to be considered a stranger."

"I'm not entirely well acquainted, though acquainted."

That would explain his discontent, but not the severity of it. "May I ask how?"

John's cheeks fanned as he formed a bitter smile to go along with his story. "He lost my family's profits when he was beginning to enter this line of work. I knew the risk was there given his lack of experience, but I never expected it to be at such a high degree. We haven't recovered since."

"That oddly sounds like him." She said, then realized her insincerity. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

John shook his head, resentment lacing his words."Then you must not know him well. He's as selfish as they come, unable to dissuade his own participation when it comes to failures." He took off the sigils combed throughout his hair and into his pockets with a crispness that meant deterring his anger somewhere else. "He still refuses to compensate us for all that he's done. Seeing him grow more powerful just enrages me all the more."

Christine said quietly, "I'll talk to him about it."

"Don't. He won't bother to listen."

"Trying doesn't hurt." She trusted Nicol deeply, but sometimes that trust overlooked his problems. She was no better: her friendships always bewitched her in a way that seemed to overlook actions. The warmth from Nicol was something she never thought only extended to her, and became callus to strangers. Nicol was always kind to her—teasing and sarcastic—but kind. She had no context with the way he sought others. Only the interactions with Mr. Solamaand battered her mind, and that wasn't enough. She repeated, "Trying doesn't hurt."

"False hope does." Like her, John was prone to pessimism. Though he lifted over those suspicions and changed the topic. "What even happened to you the night of the attack? I didn't see you coming off when the ship banked at the harbor."

"Oh, I fell off." At his wondrous look, she added. "I swam to shore by the time the master had taken care of the attacker. Or any other guards. I wouldn't have known since I wasn't onboard."