Page 58 of Play of Shadows

As respectfully as I could, I picked up her hand and placed iton her lap. ‘Putting on a performance instead of answering my questions.’

She sighed. ‘Are all Veristors so dreary? Go ahead then, Damelas. Ask what you will.’

I unpinned the ebony and gold scholar’s mark. ‘Why did you have this sent to me? What was I meant to find in the Grand Library?’

For a long time she gazed silently at a nearby flower bed where butterflies danced among the petals. I had the oddest feeling that for all her game-playing, Kareija wished she could have been one of those butterflies and flown away.

‘An absence,’ she said at last.

‘An absence?’

She turned to me, and for the first time, all her masks– the actress, the seductress, even the noblewoman– vanished. ‘You spent the whole day searching for insight into Corbier’s history, but what did you find? Nothing more than the usual torrid accounts of his villainy: stories copied from other tales copied from rumours until gossip has become legend and legend poured like molten iron and hardened into the very foundations of our city.’

She was right, of course, except for the lone book containing a madman’s rantings against the nobility of Jereste, written not long after Corbier’s death and decorated with illustrations which might be orchids.

‘The second volume of Sigurdis Macha,’ I said. ‘When first you spoke to me, you implied I wouldn’t find that book in the restricted section. Why not? The wardens are merciless when it comes to the theft or destruction of books from the library, aren’t they?’

She stared at me with that subtle, secretive smile, as if the answer should already be obvious to me, but she hadn’t been able to stop fiddling with her hands when she thought I wasn’tpaying attention.

She’s afraid.This whole act of hers, disguising herself to go slumming among the lower classes, the petty seduction when it’s obvious her attraction is feigned – this is what the nobility always do, masking their fear with games of intrigue.

‘My Lady, no one could have walked out of the Grand Library with a volume from the restricted section. Not me, not you, not unless. . . Ah! The diamond scholar’s mark!’

Ever since the warden had mentioned it, I’d wondered who could possibly possess such a treasure. The answer should have been obvious from the start: the one person who could command theentirelibrary to be cleared out any time he wished.

‘But why would Duke Monsegino—?’ I stopped when I noticed the pressing of Kareija’s lips. It wasn’t her nephew who’d removed the book. ‘Yourfather? DukeMeillardstole the second volume?’

She looked displeased. Perhaps she’d hoped I would’ve given up pressing the issue before reaching this point, so distracted was a mere actor meant to be by her charms.

I ignored the warning in her eyes and pressed on. ‘Duke Meillard, ageing, ill, soon to give up his throne, has a moment of doubt. Why– some old rumour, perhaps? A family tale he’s ignored his whole life? But now, so close to death, he comes across Sigurdis Macha’sThe Garden of Majesty– a book filled with illustrations of orchids wrapped around crowns– and he decides to steal it.’

‘Now who’s putting on a performance, Damelas? But please, do continue. I am your most captive audience.’

You’re also far more anxious than you’d like me to believe,I thought.

‘Was it very much later that your father declared Firan Monsegino his heir, my Lady? He’d have had to have movedquickly, after all– the Ducal Mint had already begun pressing coins with your crowned profile on them. But why would he pass over his own beloved daughter for her nephew, who was practically a foreigner?’

‘That’s enough now, Master Chademantaigne,’ she warned, rising from the bench.

I produced the gold coin with the orchid pressed into one side. ‘And the moment Duke Meillard is dead, these “Iron Orchids” go from being ruffian troublemakers to writing and enforcing their own so-called “laws” upon the poor and immigrant population of this city. That’s what’s behind all this, isn’t it?’

Kareija started to turn away from me, but the truth was so close, like a butterfly on a flower, just waiting to be netted.

I grabbed her arm. ‘Your father didn’t turn against you, did he, Viscountess? Duke Meillard knew something about the Iron Orchids, something dangerous. He uncovered a secret in the second book of Sigurdis Macha’s rantings– a book that I’m now quite convinced was not coincidentally titledThe Court of Flowers—’

Kareija pushed at my chest. ‘Unhand me, Damelas! Are you some back-alley thug, to paw at me so?’

I let her go, aware my behaviour would have got me soundly thrashed by my grandmother. ‘Forgive me,’ I said, putting up my hands to show I meant no threat. The coin in my right hand glinted in the harsh sunlight. ‘I meant no offence, my Lady, but I must know – who or what is the Court of Flowers?’

Kareija walked away, but I chased after her. ‘What did Duke Meillard discover about the Iron Orchids that made him so afraid for his daughter that he chose instead to give his throne to a virtual stranger? Please, my Lady, this is my life and the lives of my fellow actors you’re playing with.’

Her pace became more determined. ‘You are too clever, Master Chademantaigne, yet beneath your wit and scorn is none of thewisdom I’d expected from a man with the good sense to flee a duel he knew he could not win.’

‘Which meanswhat, precisely?’

The theatre district’s clock tower struck five. We were only a few blocks from the Operato Belleza, but thanks to her games, I’d missed my early rehearsal with Roslyn.

‘Iwantedyou to uncover Corbier’s absence in the historical records,’ Kareija replied, leading me into the road without looking. I had to yank her back to avoid her being crushed by a horse and cart whose driver reprimanded us with a volley of extensive and descriptive threats.

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