Page 59 of The Iron Dagger
Gideon paused in his pacing. They were in Hara’s room in the middle of the afternoon since Gideon had a gap in his busy schedule. He wore a deep-purple coat with dangling silver pendants and trinkets sewn onto every surface, making him wink in the light like a sugared plum. From what she’d heard, he attended endless ice-sculpture parties, rambling parties, and diplomatic cotillions. He visited factories and ran errands for his father, and it seemed as though he was making up for the lost time he’d spent in Norwen.
Hara watched him as he examined the crystal decanter of wine on her mantelpiece, then flicked her gaze back to the page she was reading as she pursed her lips. She wondered how much time he could be devoting to poring over prison records when he was clinking glasses at a rich courtier’s snow manse.
Hara still searched the records room in the Recruiters’ office, but had found no mention of her mother so far. She was dismayed to find that many of the records were redacted, marked with thick lines of ink as impenetrable as prison bars.
When Geremy was pulled away for an errand, she came across a list of prisoners from the village of Caerwood in Norwen, which was curious. She had helped care for a young group of siblings whose parents went missing when Caerwood was razed, but the children had said it was Lenwen soldiers who had attacked them.
So why was there a record of Norwen prisoners in Montag? These were not magical people of any kind, just village folk. The list made no mention of the fate of the prisoners, but she remembered the orphans’ family name, and there it was on the list: Widderstone. Perhaps their parents lived. If anything, it was a promising find that she could bring back to her village.
Gideon walked back and forth before her hearth, tossing an apple into the air as he did. She would not share this discovery with him. Why would he care? He’d made it clear that he felt no remorse for his part in the war.
“I won’t be able to meet tonight. There is a cotillion I must attend; a distant cousin’s birthday feast,” he said.
“I’m sure you will drown yourself in sparkling alcohol and hate every moment of the attention,” she said dryly, turning a page of the massive book that lay in her lap.
She had found a large tome on the Ilmarinen family in the palace library, entitledThe Rise and Fall of the Last Elemental House. It seemed to be written without the dripping propaganda that most of the historical texts about Montag were saturated with.
Her eyes skimmed over a passage on elemental magic:Unlike other branches of magic, elemental power is purely inborn and cannot be taught. These powers are rare inthe general population of magic-kind, but the Ilmarinen line produced consistent elementalists with unusually strong abilities. For a complete list of elemental abilities recorded in the line, please reference appendix B . . .
Gideon fell into the chair beside her and folded his arms atop the armrest, resting his chin on them.
“You sound like you’re bitter about something. Not jealous that a courtly beauty will catch my attention away from you, are you?”
Hara looked up from her book and furrowed her brows at his playful smile. “You said you would help me research, but it looks as though all you have done since we arrived here is attend parties and swanned about with your admirers.”
“Unfortunately, my return to court has been the most exciting event of the season, and if I decline too many events, my parents will start to notice and complain. My duties as a social butterfly are just that, duties,” he said, tossing the apple into the air again. “But I did learn something. Your mother is not currently in any prison in the city. I was able to find time to speak to the chief warden.”
“Well obviously she wouldn’t be in any regular prison,” said Hara, returning to her book. “She has magic. She would be kept in a place with iron and magical guards.”
“At least it rules them out,” said Gideon. He stopped his tossing and turned to her, his expression sobering. “You are angry with me.”
Hara wished he would leave. She couldn’t concentrate on what she was reading. Gideon left his seat and came to crouch before her.
“I will find time. I’m sorry for leaving you to fend for yourself—I know it must feel as though I’ve abandoned you here. But I’ve not been flirting and drinking and wasting time. I’ve regaled courtiers of my near-death experience and told them ofyour skill and wit. They all would have rejected you on sight, but now, you are mysterious and heroic. You are almost a celebrity at court.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” said Hara impatiently.
Gideon’s tone became gentle. “You say you do not care, but you haven’t seen how bad it could be. I want you to tell me if anyone has treated you unkindly, and I will deal with them.”
Hara considered his words and realized that while her welcome at the Montag court hadn’t been warm, it was at least neutral. Gideon’s influence protected her like an invisible shield. She had been able to walk down the halls without hisses or slurs being thrown her way, or worse.
“I came here to tell you that my mother has set a date for the homecoming celebration. It will be at the end of this month, and she has invited you to dine with her tomorrow,” said Gideon.
“Your mother?” Hara said, her irritation at him giving way to nervousness. “What is she like?”
“She’s easy to please. Tell her how much you adore me, complement her clothing, and act humble.” His eyes flicked over Hara’s plain black clothing and messy braids. “She will love you.”
The following afternoon, Hara stood outside of a charming tea house, the deafening rumble of motors and hooves from the streets of Perule at her back. After a blessedly smooth ride in an autocar, Gideon had helped her step down like an attentive footman. He wore a hat with a severely pointed brim and a cloak with a high collar, making him look imposing even in the bright sunshine.
She crooked her hand around his arm, and she hoped he could not feel how cold and clammy it was through his thickly embroidered sleeve. Gideon’s father had so thoroughlysubverted her expectations that she was unsure what to expect from his mother. What sort of woman would marry such a cold monster?
As the doors opened, Gideon leaned down to whisper, “Don’t be frightened. You look beautiful.”
Hara wore her hair in thick braids that formed a crown about her head, and she spent considerable time choosing a gown from the selections Clementine brought her. She had decided on a pale green gown covered with a matching silky capelet. As they entered the restaurant, she wondered now if she should have chosen a pale yellow or peach.
Hara felt as though she’d stepped into an airy puff of pink candy floss. Golden sunshine streamed from the tall windows and the walls were covered in pale pink paper. Tall white ostrich feathers fanned from golden vases and patrons were clustered at pinched little tables.
Gideon’s mother greeted them with open arms from a table in the corner, embracing her son first and then turning to Hara.
