Page 75 of The Tenth Muse

Selene

I never stolebooks because I needed them. I stole them because theycalledto me. Besides, not every book belonged with who had purchased it. That was most certainly the case withThe Book of Hours. Geyrion Wyndsal bought it in secret during the season, on the black market.The Book of Hourshad last been stolen from the Order of Mysteries’ cloistered library—a place that my family did not have access to—yet.

But when I stole it back, and returned it, it would change everything for us. Luckily, Mother was in residence at Aphelion for the rest of the academic year, and Wyndsal had gone further south to his private island to escape the crowds. His staff had gone with him, and the wards should have been my only problem.Should have beenwere the key words here. The witchlights shining in the Wyndsal villa were another story altogether.

I had enough sense to stay put in my hiding place and watch. It was unlikely that anyone else suspected Geyrion Wyndsal of havingThe Book of Hours, but there were plenty of other things to steal inside the villa. Wind rustled through the palms and I shivered, missing the noisy streets of Nuva Troi. Despite the factthat being here gave me an excellent opportunity to steal theBook, I longed for home.

I’d never liked Nea Sterlis much. It felt like the kind of place where bad things happened. No one else agreed with me, and my last season had been another flop, so here we were. Movement within the house startled me out of my dreamy state. I sat up, peering through the bougainvillea vines I'd tucked myself into in the arbor. A figure moved within the house. They were tall and slender, with squared-off shoulders that looked wonderful in Geyrion Wyndsal's tuxedo.

Whoever that was, it certainly was not Geyrion Wyndsal. Geyrion was reclusive, the last of the Wyndsals, and though he always made plans to attend social functions, his hermetic nature always got the best of him. Thus, he always had the latest styles, but no one ever saw him in them.

There were rumors about distant relatives from Falcyra, but none ever showed. Only his terrible niece, Belle Wyndsal. Even the thought of her ignorant tastelessness brought on a grimace. But that definitely was not Belle inside. She was shorter, for one thing, and the figure was quite tall.

I was too far away to make out the intruder's face, and though I certainly wasn't going in now for theBook, I wanted to know who else knew the ins and outs of Geyrion Wyndsal's movements. I crept past some large agave until I was close enough to the house to see a bit more clearly. The slender figure came into better focus now. They were sitting in the dressing room off one of the guest chambers, reading the social section of Nuva Troi's primary news outlet, theTimes.

That's exactly what I'd do if I were planning some kind of robbery. Which, of course, I actually was, given my current state. Section Seven writers editorialized a bit too much for my taste, but they gave a comprehensive report on where all the elite of the Immortal Orders were summering—who was going to whichparties, who had traveled south from the city for the remainder of the year. The paper lowered slightly as the intruder looked up.

Though she stared straight at the window, I knew I was invisible. Her hair was nearly black, though in the lamplight it had a warm brown sheen, and it had been cut into one of the longer masculine styles popular this season. She had cheekbones that could cut glass, an aristocratic nose, and a wide, generous mouth that would be lovely smiling, smirking or sneering.

There was no good reason that the person foiling my plan to stealThe Book of Hoursneeded to be so handsome, but here we were. I muttered a plea to Akatei to spare me from such nonsense thoughts. I sounded like my mother, who was forever matchmaking.

There was nothing else I could do tonight, but I would remember the handsome stranger’s face. If she entered society, as she clearly meant to, I could target her and get into the house. Slowly, I backed away, back to the safety of the bougainvillea first, and then off the Wyndsal property altogether.

I yawned, checking the narrow wristwatch I wore. It was nearly two. Time to get home, and back in bed, before anyone had a chance to notice that I was gone.

two

. . .

Aurelia

The Kranes had beenin Nea Sterlis since the autumnal Equinox, as they were every year. Like clockwork, they packed up from Nuva Troi to winter in their modest cottage at the beach. They certainly weren't the richest family in the Order of Mysteries, but they had something I wanted deeply: a property on Antiquity Row. The Monas was a failing bookstore, that much was certain. The elder Kranes were practically ancient at this point. Their late-in-life progeny, Selene, was set to take over the business.

From what I could tell, she was a rather annoying society chit. The Kranes didn't have massive bank accounts, but they were more than comfortable. And having both been professors at Acadia in Nuva Troi for centuries, they were well-respected in the Order of Mysteries, but not so far into its upper echelons that they could be picky about who paired with Selene, especially at her age.

Still, I would have to be careful. To get what I wanted out of all this, it was necessary that they never question me. Never question my credibility. I was willing to put in the work, and the years, to get what I wanted most. What was important nowwas that I'd run enough small cons to get my bank account to a respectable state.

As soon as I had Selene Krane wrapped around my finger, I could go legit. From all I'd found out, she was likely an irritating little thing, but I could manage that. To have what I wanted, a respectable family and stability, I could manage one irritating woman. And then I would make the Monas the jewel of Antiquity Row, and the Kranes one of the Order of Mysteries’ sterling families.

The only thing to do now was to meether. I'd considered parties, but in my experience, people were guarded at social functions. Those in the upper echelons of Nuva Troi society were used to evening events being an emotional bloodbath. No, it would be better to meet another way. Some chance meeting during the daytime would serve me better.

And I had to find another place. Geyrion Wyndsal's vast collection of current fashion was helpful, but Wyndsal’s movements were unpredictable. I couldn’t stay here for long. The recluse's wards had been easy enough to break, but I needed another place to stay, and soon. I ventured down to Wyndsal's basement storage, smiling.

The man had ordered a full wardrobe every season of the year for centuries and never worn much of it at all. And what was more, there was absolutely no evidence that he'd ever archived any of it—the fool. When I'd worked my way into his housekeeper's good graces in Nuva Troi, I'd learned all I needed to know. He treated his staff poorly, hated humans, and had a terrible memory. Most of his staff were fleecing him.

Not only would he not miss the clothing I was about to take, his bigoted views made stealing from him a genuine pleasure. I packed my suitcases with a variety of items from several seasons, including ones more than a decade back. Having a mix of thingswas the key to getting this right. Geyrion was a right arse, but at the very least, he had excellent taste in clothes.

I packed six bags' worth of clothing that would get me through the rest of the winter here at the beach, and through a good deal of the season. By the time I returned to Nuva Troi with the rest of the social set, perhaps he would return here, and I might pilfer his townhouse in Nuva Troi if I needed anything else. We were a perfect match for size.

It was a haul to get the suitcases to the garage in the carriage house, but I managed. When my autocar was loaded, I changed into a light sweater and a pair of linen pants. I had one more stop to make before I checked into the Palace.

three

. . .

Selene

My first coffeeof the day was nearly perfect. Perfectly brewed, certainly, but I missed the milk we got in Nuva Troi. Mother and Father reclined in their deck chairs, talking softly to one another. I didn't bother to try to hear what they were saying. It was either something horrifically vicious, or they were plotting about who to auction me off to.

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