I laughed at them. “Passions don’t pay the rent, Ev.”
They narrowed their eyes. “Humor me. What would you do if you had the choice? If you didn’t do it for the money?” There was something else they didn’t say, but they clamped their mouth shut.
I’d never truly considered that before. And maybe it was because we’d just solved another case in our game—the murder of a jeweler—but one answer immediately came to mind. I’d major in journalism. I’d still be an inquisitor, but I’d travel the real world. I’d go everywhere and uncover secrets and find truth and challenge the lies we tell one another.
I’d be brave.
Still. “Does it matter? I don’t have that choice. And don’t tell me you would do anything different in my shoes.”
They smiled, and it cut straight through me. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I’d take your job. I’d go to college and learn everything I could get my hands on. I’d make sure Elle would never have to worry about food and heat again. And I would eat fresh pears every day.”
With that, they’d gotten to their feet, and I didn’t know if I’d won the argument or lost it.
I kick my shoes under the bed. I take out the various pieces of my costume and dig up my coin-slash-dice purse from my suitcase. Inside are my trusted twenty-sided and thirty-sided dice, in various blues and purples, and a handful of Gonfalon coins, fake golds and silvers and coppers.
I toss it onto the bed and start to peel off my T-shirt, when a loud shattering echoes to my left. Not in here—the adjacent room. Like something—or someone?—crashed to the floor. I pull my shirt back on and dash out.
All the other bedroom doors are closed, and no one else seems to react to the sound, though I can’t imagine I’m the only one who heard it. But the door next to mine is ajar.
I knock and push it farther open. “Hello? Anyone here?”
The door swings open. It’s the bathroom, and it’s empty.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I see movement.
A figure. Watching me.
My heart slams in my throat, and I swirl.
No one’s there.
Just the door of the medicine cabinet. It’s swaying above the sink. When it falls back in place, I laugh nervously. The person I thought I saw was just my own reflection in the mirrored door. But then the reflection fragments into a dozen smaller ones, like my face is cut to pieces, and I realize the mirror’s been shattered. The only thing holding the shards together is the frame surrounding them.
I reach out to touch it, and the reflection of my finger fragments into half a dozen pieces too. Three pairs of eyes stare back at me.
“Bad luck to break a mirror.”
I nearly jump out of my skin. Maddy leans around the door. She’s already dressed and pulls an opera cape around herself. It’s dark green, lush and rippling. Her brown eyes are focused on the mirror.
“I didn’t—” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “I didn’t break it. I found it like this.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, as if she doesn’t believe me. “Get dressed, Carter. You’re late.”
I want to argue that I really didn’t do it, but she’s right. I’ll have to tell Liva about the mirror later.
I push past her and back into my room. Despite the summer warmth, the rooms are uncomfortably chilly, and I make short work of changing into my Gonfalon outfit. I strip down to the linen pants I wore on the way up—they double as fairly fantasy-looking—and pull a moss-green tunic over my head. It’s long, reaching almost to my knees, and it’s worn and faded a bit. But lived in, not old.
Liva made these tunics for us two years ago, for our annual WyvernCon trip. It was the first time we all dressed up, and as our own characters, no less. I told my parents we were going to a convention, but I didn’t give any other details. I didn’t change until I got to Maddy’s house to pick her up, to avoid awkward questions. I didn’t relish the idea of explaining any of this to my parents—and my mother would be certain the tunic was a dress, and then we’d get into an argument about that.
Next up, a leather cuirass that I bought at the following WyvernCon. It goes over my tunic like a breastplate. Although our summers get hot and there’s no way I’ll wear this for long, it’s surprisingly comfortable. More importantly, it looks very cool.
Nothing wrong with keeping up appearances and caring about your appearance, right? Some days, they feel like two sides of the same coin anyway.
Now all I need is my cape. Liva made new overclothes for all of us for the occasion. She texted us the designs a week or so ago. Half capes for Ever and me. Hooded cloaks for Maddy and herself—though apparently that’s changed, given Maddy’s opera cape. And an overcoat for Finn, one that fits comfortably around his binder and won’t get in the way of his crutches.
I purposefully didn’t take a look inside the wardrobe until I’d finished the rest of the outfit, but as I go to reach for the door, it’s already unlocked. I tug at it, and the door swings open, the cape hanging from a hanger.
I swallow a gasp. It’s stunning. Liva has truly outdone herself.
The cape is made from glorious green fabric, shimmery and light to the touch. When I pull it on, it fits around my shoulders perfectly and falls gracefully over my arms.
I straighten, lift my chin, and stare at myself in the mirror. I look—I feel—like some kind of fantasy noble in this outfit.
One last detail left. I turn around and reach for my coin purse, only to find it isn’t on the bed where I left it. With a frown, I scan the room and find it on the very edge of the nightstand. It looks different,
