Page 4 of Magic of Sins

“Nice and quiet, Tinker, we don’t want to wake Mrs. Hughes.”

Mrs. Hughes owns the building and is Ava’s and my landlady. She doesn’t like it when we come home late at night, but luckily she doesn’t have the best hearing anymore.

I creep along the hall to the door leading to our apartment. Only when I’ve pulled it closed behind me do I dare to breathe a sigh of relief.

That was close. I almost got caught by that guard. And for what? For a glass of alcohol, a dance in that dodgy place, the touch of a stranger?

The touch of a stranger. I can still feel his fingers on the back of my hand. I put my own fingers on that spot and stroke it. But it's not the same.

Enough of this silliness.

I slap myself on the wrist, as one does to a child who heaps one too many spoonfuls of oatmeal into her bowl. Then I march into the bathroom to wash the grime of the day off my face, butthe outrageousness of Hellmouthstill seems to cling to me like a transparent veil.

I look at my face in the mirror. The dark brown hair, the green eyes, the narrow nose. The small scar above my left eyebrow, which I don’t know how I got.

One might call me beautiful. My foster mother always warned me about it.Beauty leads to vanity,she would say.And it makes those around you lustful. Don’t let that face fool you. You’d be better off ugly.I don’t know if I agree with her, but I can’t do anything about my face anyway. It is what it is.

After I wash up, I go back into the hallway to see if Tinkerbell has enough food… and my step falters.

Was the envelope there on the floor the whole time, and I just didn’t notice it? Someone must have slipped it under the door. Perhaps Mrs.Hughes, when she was sorting the post earlier.

It’s made of a heavy handmade paper. I stroke the envelope, I’ve never held anything like it before. My name is on it, written in black, ornately curved letters.Kaya Ashton. Underneath that is the wordConfidential.

With a furrowed brow, I turn the letter around to open it and catch sight of the red seal of the royal house. Instantly my heart beats faster. What does the king want from me? Did the guard report me after all and now I’m being summoned? But how could he have done it so quickly?

Calm down, Kaya. There’s no way this letter has anything to do with what happened tonight.

Still, I feel a little queasy as I break the seal. It comes apart under my fingers and a few wax crumbs fall to the floor, where Tinkerbell sniffs at them curiously. I unfold the letter and read.

Dear Miss Ashton,

It is an unusual request I intend to make of you, and when the time comes, I hope you will forgive my impertinence. It isa matter of the utmost secrecy. Therefore, I would ask you to call on me at the palace tomorrow, Thursday, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon for tea, so that I can present my request to you in private.

Yours sincerely

Princess Ophelia Chastity Temperance Elizabeth

of Richmond

A person with so many names that they take two lines to write probably has to write so cryptically. Again and again I read the letter, but even after the third time I am still dumbstruck. What could the princess want to discuss with me? A matter of the utmost secrecy? It doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with my visit to Hellmouth.

Tinkerbell rubs against my leg and mews piteously. She seems less interested in the letter than in her empty food bowl. I crouch down and stroke her black fur.

“Just think, Tinker, I’m going to have tea with the Princess of Richmond.”

“You’rewhat?” Ava’s voice rings out shrilly from the other side of the door.

She must have tiptoed into the house so as not to wake Mrs. Hughes. She shouldn’t have bothered, if she was just going to scream like that. I hear the stairs creak on the floor above us.

“Is that you, Ava?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you. Please, you can go back to bed.”

I hear annoyed muttering, then Mrs. Hughes’ footsteps move away and Ava yanks open the door.

Her hair is sloppily braided. If you look closely, you can still see the silver strands. Her cheeks are flushed, as if she ran all the way here, but her breathing is steady.

“You’re going to what?” she repeats in a whisper, and I hardlydare to repeat the words.

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