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

paid for the chair.” She dropped onto the kitchen bench and eased her shoes off with a silent curse. Fashionable shoes were not comfortable. The hardest part of this con was going to be pretending her feet didn’t hurt all day long.

Although choking down coffee ran a close second.

“Did he, now?” Tess settled on the bench next to Ren, close enough that they could share warmth beneath the cloak. Apart from the kitchen and the front salon, protective sheets still covered the furniture in every other room. The hearths were cold, their meals were simple, and they slept together on a kitchen floor pallet so they would only have to heat one room of the house.

Because she was not Alta Renata Viraudax, daughter of Letilia Traementis. She was Arenza Lenskaya, half-Vraszenian river rat, and even with a forged letter of credit to help, pretending to be a Seterin noblewoman wasn’t cheap.

Pulling out a thumbnail blade, Tess began ripping the seams of Ren’s beautiful surcoat, preparatory to alteration. “Was it just idle flirtation?”

The speculative uptick in Tess’s question said she didn’t believe any flirtation Ren encountered was idle. But whether Leato’s flirtation had been idle or not, Ren had lines she would not cross, and whoring herself out was one of them.

It would have been the easier route. Dress herself up fine enough to catch the eye of some delta gentry son, or even a noble, and marry her way into money. She wouldn’t be the first person in Nadežra to do it.

But she’d spent five years in Ganllech—five years as a maid under Letilia’s thumb, listening to her complain about her dreadful family and how much she dreamed of life in Seteris, the promised land she’d never managed to reach. So when Ren and Tess found themselves back in Nadežra, Ren had been resolved. No whoring, and no killing. Instead she set her sights on a higher target: use what she’d learned to gain acceptance into House Traementis as their long-lost kin… with all the wealth and social benefit that brought.

“Leato is friendly,” she allowed, picking up the far end of the dress and starting on the seam with her own knife. Tess didn’t trust her to sew anything more complicated than a hem, but ripping stitches? That, she was qualified for. “And he helped shame Donaia into agreeing to see me again. But she is every bit as bad as Letilia claimed. You should have seen what she wore. Ratty old clothes, covered in dog hair. Like it’s a moral flaw to let a single centira slip through her fingers.”

“But the son isn’t so bad?” Tess rocked on the bench, nudging Ren’s hip with her own. “Maybe he’s a bastard.”

Ren snorted. “Not likely. Donaia would give him the moon if he asked, and he looks as Traementis as I.” Only he didn’t need makeup to achieve the effect.

Her hands trembled as she worked. Those five years in Ganllech were also five years out of practice. And all her previous cons had been short touches—never anything on this scale. When she got caught before, the hawks slung her in jail for a few days.

If she got caught now, impersonating a noblewoman…

Tess laid a hand over Ren’s, stopping her before she could nick herself with the knife. “It’s never too late to do something else.”

Ren managed a smile. “Buy piles of fabric, then run away and set up as dressmakers? You, anyway. I would be your tailor’s dummy.”

“You’d model and sell them,” Tess said stoutly. “If you want.”

Tess would be happy in that life. But Ren wanted more.

This city owed her more. It had taken everything: her mother, her childhood, Sedge. The rich cuffs of Nadežra got whatever they wanted, then squabbled over what their rivals had, grinding everyone else underfoot. In all her days among the Fingers, Ren had never been able to take more than the smallest shreds from the hems of their cloaks.

But now, thanks to Letilia, she was in a position to take more.

The Traementis made the perfect target. Small enough these days that only Donaia stood any chance of spotting Renata as an imposter, and isolated enough that they would be grateful for any addition to their register. In the glory days of their power and graft, they’d been notorious for their insular ways, refusing to aid their fellow nobles in times of need. Since they lost their seat in the Cinquerat, everyone else had gladly returned the favor.

Ren put down the knife and squeezed Tess’s hand. “No. It is nerves only, and they will pass. We go forward.”

“Forward it is.” Tess squeezed back, then returned to work. “Next we’re to make a splash somewhere public, yes? I’ll need to know where and when if I’m to outfit you proper.” The sides of the surcoat parted, and she started on the bandeau at the top of the bodice. “The sleeves are the key, have you noticed? Everyone is so on about their sleeves. But I’ve a thought for that… if you’re ready for Alta Renata to set fashion instead of following.”

Ren glanced sideways, her wariness only half-feigned. “What have you in mind?”

“Hmm. Stand up, and off with the rest of it.” Once she had Ren stripped to her chemise, Tess played with different gathers and drapes until Ren’s arms started to ache from being held out for so long. But she didn’t complain. Tess’s eye for fashion, her knack for imbuing, and her ability to rework the pieces of three outfits into nine were as vital to this con as Ren’s skill at manipulation.

She closed her eyes and cast her thoughts over what she knew about the city. Where could she go, what could she do, to attract the kind of admiration that would help her gain the foothold she needed?

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Tess,” she said, “I have the perfect idea. And you will love it.”

The Aerie and Isla Traementis: Suilun 1

“Serrado! Get in here. I have