Page 57 of Freeing Hook

The only other guest to have arrived is a withered old man whose eyes rake over Lady Carlisle’s form in a way that reminds me of my dance with Lord Credence at the masquerade. Instead of wilting underneath his greedy stare, Lady Carlisle greets himby trailing her long fingernails down his arm with a practiced grin.

Lord Carlisle returns with the remainder of the guests, and a servant shakes his hand with both palms. Odd behavior, for a servant. I can’t help but notice how Lord Carlisle glances at whatever is in his hand, then tucks it into his inner coat pocket when the servant pulls away.

Not long after, Lady Carlisle has the servants show us to our seats. The usher leads us to the far end of the table, but when Astor goes to take the seat beside me, the usher clears his throat hesitantly.

“My apologies, sir,” says the usher. “But it’s the household custom for couples to sit at opposite ends of the table.”

Astor swivels his head toward Lady Carlisle in question, but our hostess just giggles. “My husband and I find dinner parties so much more interesting that way. I hope the two of you don’t mind. It won’t break your Delphian customs, will it?”

There’s a subtle challenge in her eyes, but Astor meets her stare. “No. As long as you don’t escort one of us out of the room, our customs will remain intact. Though I will miss dining with my wife.”

Lady Carlisle doesn’t appear to hear him as she takes the seat next to me at the head of the table opposite her husband. The usher herds Astor to the seat at Lord Carlisle’s right hand.

“What’s wrong, dear?” asks Lady Carlisle in a singsong voice. “I thought I’d be earning you a break. Don’t misunderstand me, Delphian customs are romantic, but woman to woman, surely you’d like a chance to get a breath away from your husband every once in a while,” she says conspiratorially behind the napkin she’s using to dab her lips, despite the fact we’ve yet to eat.

I choose my words carefully as I take my seat, trying to judge what exactly the lady of the house is looking for in my response. There’s mischief in her eyes, a hunger for gossip. I wonderif that’s her personality, or if profiting off others’ secrets has trained her to crave it.

“I do love Cortland’s company above all others,” I say, hesitantly. Lady Carlisle leans in closer. “But I must admit, it is a bit of a relief to get away. Just for a moment.”

“You’re not fond of your people’s customs?” asks Lady Carlisle, as a servant fills our silver chalices with faerie wine.

Charlie’s voice rings in my head, her interrogations coming in handy at the moment. She was smart to drill the facts into my mind, especially with the heady scent of wine threatening to distract me.

“Actually, I’m not Delphian,” I say. I can’t help but notice Lady Carlisle’s face fall when I evade her trap. I suppose it would be more thrilling if she caught me trying to impersonate Lady Rivers. Though perhaps she and her husband set these safeguards for all of their guests. Astor and I can’t be the first people trying to obscure our identities. “My family moved us to Delphi when I was nine. I’m Kruschian.”

“Are you?” Lady Carlisle says, her smile still painted on.

“Surely you knew that. After all, I thought you knew everything,” I say, more pleasantly than I mean.

Lady Carlisle laughs, more pleasantly than she means.

“Anyway,” I say. “Kruschians are much more stoic with our emotions. It’s unheard of for a man and his wife to sleep in the same room, much less never leave the other’s presence for a year. It’s taking…well, I’m adjusting,” I say, glancing down at Astor admirably for heightened effect.

I’m not prepared for him already to be looking at me.

We both avert our eyes. Quickly.

The servants bring the soup, setting it piping before us.

“Early on, being in love still feels a bit scandalous, doesn’t it?” says Lady Carlisle, watching our exchange intently. “Thepassion is so intense, it sometimes feels as if everyone around you can scent it. But I assure you, darling, we can’t.”

My spoon stops halfway to my mouth, until I realize she’s not identifying my name. Just using a common word. I let my shoulders sag with overt pleasure as the hot broth hits my tongue.

“You like it?”

“It’s marvelous,” I say, grateful for something truthful to be coming out of my mouth tonight. The broth tastes of lemon and rosemary. There’s a freshness about it that feels clean. Pristine, even.

“Let me ask you, Lady Rivers,” says Lady Carlisle. “If, by chance, my husband and I are unable to procure the information you seek, is there some other secret I might search out for you in its place?”

I swallow too quickly, the soup scalding my throat. My pulse hammers at my jaw, but I try to contain my excitement by waiting to respond until after I’ve dabbed my mouth with my napkin and set my spoon down. “Perhaps there is a predicament you might help solve. Though I wonder if the answer would be the same for both questions. You see, I have a friend afflicted with a Fated curse.”

The lady’s eyes sparkle. “What’s the nature of this curse?”

I bring the chalice of wine to my lips and pretend to drink, potently aware of the sparkle of the wine swirling in the cup. Down the table, Astor glances at me, a flicker of concern rippling across his jaw. My getting myself drunk isn’t exactly in the best interests of our scheme.

“I’m afraid my friend’s secret is not mine to tell,” I say, ripping my gaze away from Astor’s and back to Lady Carlisle’s. “But if I by any means could find a way to free her of it, that information would be of great value to me.”

The lady sits back in her seat, contemplating. “I could look into it for you. Assuming we’re unable to get the information your husband desires.” I don’t miss the blade in her words, seeking to sever my will from Astor’s. If only she knew how unnecessary such an attempt is. “Though I worry that, too, will be difficult to come by. I’m afraid the Sisters haven’t been known to give up their secrets easily, nor do they make a habit of gracing us with their presence.”

---