The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (lightest ebook reader txt) 📗

minor cousins who would make acceptable matches for your son. Based on what I hear of his recent activities, I believe his tastes incline toward women, but if he would prefer to be contracted to a man then I have no objection; there are numerous Indestor children suitable to be adopted as his heir.

The contract is already drafted, only awaiting your approval. Betroth your son to someone of my house before the summer solstice, with his inheritance to pass down through the Indestor line, and I will forgive all your debts. Your family will stop sinking under its current burdens, and no one will think anything amiss. Taspernum, Persater, Adrexa… Nadežra’s history is full of noble houses who had their day in the sun, then faded.

One way or another, House Traementis will join them. You have the power to decide whether it will do so gracefully, or with public shame.

Mettore

Eret Indestor

Caerulet of the Cinquerat

Ren started to flip to the next letter, but a door shutting in the distance told her she was out of time. She shoved the papers into the drawer, locked it, and flung herself back to the far side of the desk just as Donaia entered the study.

Isla Traementis, the Pearls: Equilun 12

For all her fury—or perhaps because of it—Donaia took her time preparing herself to confront Letilia’s snake of a daughter. She powdered her cheeks so her tendency to flush wouldn’t give away her emotions, and donned the surcoat and underdress she’d been married in—reworked several times over, but still her finest. Embroidered with a Tricat star pattern picked out in seed pearls, it felt to Donaia like a genteel sort of armor, the better to do battle in her house’s name. The pebbled texture was comforting as she smoothed her hands down the garment a final time before entering her study.

“Alta Renata—”

“Era Traementis, thank you so much for being willing to see me.” Renata’s curtsy was hastier than usual, as if she could barely contain her excitement. “I’ve been looking into Derossi Vargo as you asked, and I recently uncovered something that might be of great interest to you.”

Donaia didn’t give a rat’s tail about Vargo, but before she could reveal that she had also uncovered something of great interest, she found herself neatly strong-armed into a seat.

Renata perched at the edge of her own, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with her news. “His proposal to restore the cleansing numinat in the river. I’ve been investigating like I promised, and I’m very pleased to say that all the evidence I can find points to it being exactly what it appears to be. But that’s not why I was so eager to meet with you.”

Somehow Donaia had lost control of the conversation. Just like she did when Leato was excited about something and oblivious to the currents around him—including Donaia’s disapproval.

And just like Leato, Renata failed to notice Donaia’s frown. “I was the one who asked you here.”

“Yes, of course. I was just so glad you wanted to see me, and privately, too. There’s a matter I’ve been wanting to bring up, but I wasn’t certain how… Am I right in guessing House Traementis has some sort of rivalry with House Indestor?”

Donaia’s spine straightened another notch. “I see Leato has been gossiping,” she said, cold as the Dežera in winter. That boy had been too welcoming by half. “I’ll remind you that Traementis concerns are not yours, Alta Renata Viraudax.”

Renata didn’t even have the courtesy to look cowed. “I don’t wish to get him in trouble, but I’m glad he did. If I hadn’t found out, I might have abandoned any notion of working with Master Vargo. But if our enemies are his…”

Calm overtook Donaia, her anger hanging on a hope. “Derossi Vargo has something against Mettore?”

“How else could he have gained so much power over the Lower Bank, and in such a short time?”

Donaia toyed with a pearl that was coming loose on her surcoat. “I assumed he was Mettore’s creature.” Graft and corruption were the order of the day at the Aerie. Mettore saved his clout to strike at those he couldn’t control: the Stretsko gangs, the Stadnem Anduske, the Vraszenians as a whole. Vargo’s blood might be mixed, but in Mettore’s eyes, he would be a useful tool against the alternative.

“Or Master Vargo has something on him,” Renata said, leaning forward as though someone were around to hear her whisper. “Something damning enough to keep him at bay.”

A useful tool against the alternative. That could be as true for the Traementis as for Indestor. But wasn’t allying with someone like Vargo akin to asking the fox to guard your chickens from the wolves? “Why, pray tell, would someone like Vargo share such information with us?”

“He approached House Traementis for a reason,” Renata said. “He wants this charter, and you’re his only means of getting it. If neither of you is a friend to House Indestor, perhaps he’s using this to test whether you might be allies instead.”

“Then the man’s a fool. You think I haven’t tried to improve our fortunes through new charters?” Compared to the flash over Renata’s deception, this rage was an ever-burning ember. “Any proposal I take to the Cinquerat will be laughed out of the Charterhouse. Politely. With many apologies about what a grand old house Traementis is—or was. Mettore Indestor isn’t the only one who wants to see us fall. He’s just the most direct about it.”

May the Lumen burn Gianco to dust. Donaia had loved her husband, but he was like a Vraszenian deity: equal parts smiling Face and scowling Mask. For members of his own family, he would do anything—often more than he should. But outsiders were another matter. The moment anyone crossed him, he didn’t just revenge himself on that person; he took out their business, their family, anything he could destroy.

Nor was he the only one who behaved that way. It was a family trait, banding together against