Leaning across the table, Theodora speaks softly. “What did Le Trépas offer you, uncle?”
“Oh, his gifts were quite princely,” the king says, inclining his head so the sapphire in his crown catches the light. A Chakran sapphire. What god’s eye had it once adorned? Still Theodora does not lose her focus.
“Did he give you anything else? A book, perhaps? It’s a traditional gift in Chakrana,” she lies smoothly. “Sometimes the contents are intended to be meaningful.”
The king laughs. “Fitting that the book was blank. Perhaps Le Trépas was smarter than he seemed.”
“Blank?” I frown—that can’t be right. “Can I see it?”
The king cocks his head at me, puzzled. “Why?”
“Superstition,” I shoot back, but he narrows his eyes.
“You must eschew such things,” Le Roi says, taking another piece of cheese from the tray. “They don’t do you or your people any favors. Especially in your new life in Lephare.”
“Lephare? No, uncle,” Theodora reminds him firmly. “As I said before, we’re going back, and I strongly request you reconsider sending ships. I don’t know what my . . . what the general has written to you, but Jetta is right. I don’t think his reports can be trusted.”
“Why not, Theodora?” The king’s expression softens, as though for the first time he is seeing his niece and not a fellow politician—or a rival. “You and Xavier used to hold each other in high regard.”
“There are . . . forces at work in Chakrana,” Theodora says carefully. “Forces that are difficult to explain. The book itself might shed some light on the matters. It’s one reason I came to speak to you in person.”
The king is still watching her with sympathy in his eyes. “What forces do you mean?”
Theodora hesitates, glancing at me, then back at the king. “There may be more to Chakran superstition than we used to think.”
Le Roi frowns at her, then at the cheese he’s holding. “This is troubling, Theodora,” he says, putting the cheese back on the tray. Then he brushes the crumbs from his lap and onto the thick carpet. “Let me think about what to do. We’ll discuss it further in the morning.”
“Another favor, uncle,” Theodora says as the king stands. “Jetta suffers from the same malady you do, though of course we don’t have Les Chanceux in Chakrana. I was hoping you’d be willing to give us some elixir.”
“Elixir?” The king looks from her, to me, then back. “That is a simpler request. I’m happy to grant it in exchange for a shadow play.”
“A play?” I bite my lip, frustrated—this should have been an easy bargain, but I haven’t put on a show in months now, and I am far from prepared. “All of my fantouches are back in Chakrana, Your Majesty.”
“I have an extensive collection to choose from,” he says, waving away my concerns. “I keep my best ones in the Salon des Merveilles.”
The words take me a moment to translate. “The Room of Wonders?”
“One of my treasuries. The book is there too,” he adds with a significant look at Theodora. “I can show you tomorrow, if you’d like.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Theodora agrees, though I can see the impatience in her eyes. The king only smiles.
“If you’re as good as you say, Jetta, I’ll send you home with a ship as well, to carry your supply.” Le Roi gestures to the servants still standing by the hall, and they swing the doors open wide. I am eager to speak to Theodora in private, but to my surprise, the courtiers are still waiting outside, peering at us through the open doorway. “Show my guests to the Chakran suite,” Le Roi adds, and the servants race to obey. “And fetch them a flask of the water from Les Chanceux!”
I stiffen as a dozen voices echo his words: Les Chanceux, Les Chanceux. The courtiers must know what the water is for. Will they be speculating about me? About my malheur? The king might be cavalier about signing his own madness into his name, but of course he could afford to be. As the servant leads us through the crowd, I can feel eyes following me. When we finally turn down an empty hall, I have never been so relieved to be rid of an audience.
Act 2,Scene 11
The square outside the Ruby Palace. In better days, visitors of state would parade past the tall stone statues—dragons and tigers, leaders and heroes, and birds that rise fully fledged from the gilded shells of stone eggs—and up the wide steps, where the carved doors, ten feet high, would be pushed open on silent hinges by guards in red uniforms.
Now the doors are shut tightly, and the guards are nowhere to be seen. Instead, Aquitans pack the square. Businessmen. Sugar barons. Plantation owners. Not men used to waiting on the wrong side of a locked door.
Some hold copies of the Boy King’s recent decree—the demand that all Aquitans leave the city on the next ship. Others have a different letter in their hands: the flyer making the case that all “Chakratans” must stay. It is an unfamiliar position to them. Never before had they considered they might not belong.
As CHEEKY and LEO skirt the edges of the plaza, the Aquitans eye them, suspicious. CHEEKY blows a kiss at a man in a suit, who glares and turns away. The showgirl sticks her tongue out at his back.
CHEEKY: I hate crowds.
LEO: You love crowds.
CHEEKY: I hate this crowd.
LEO: You can still go back to the opera house.
His tone is earnest, but she bristles.
CHEEKY: And leave you and Akra without any moral support?
She winks at another Aquitan businessman.
Or immoral support, as the case may be. But when they’re looking at me, they’re not looking at you.
Indeed, the Aquitans who eye LEO for his mixed features turn away quickly when CHEEKY returns their brazen stares. LEO ignores all of them, craning his neck to scan the crowd.
LEO:
