Page 74 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
Not that it mattered. She had memorized to perfection every incantation that Madame Chastain taught her, every subtlety, inflection, and syllable, even adding some flair. Working a booth at a fair was as much about theater as product, and she loved watching her father entice a crowd, splashing paint over a canvas as they watched with rapt attention, adding in captivating words to cinch the deal. She had acquired some of his knack for drama.
Now when Madame Chastain said she was impressed with Bristol’s diction and passion, there was no charity in her words—she meant them. But regardless of the polished delivery and the flourishing hope that ensued, the ultimate result was always the same. Nothing. Even Madame Chastain seemed puzzled. Polish and flair could only carry one so far—all cons were eventually run out of town—especially when hard results were so vital to a whole kingdom.
From Thistle Lookout she could barely see the distant peaks of Amisterre, the nearest kingdom to Danu. There was no guarantee there would be trows in Amisterre either, but there certainly were none here. Why not take a chance? She had nothing to lose. Danu only offered up dead ends. She needed to go. But therein lurked the dilemma. Madame Chastain’s strategy had worked—Bristol cared about the future of Elphame now. Maybe it was the impressive art collection at the conservatory, the paintings by Degas and O’Keeffe she had never seen before that left her speechless, or maybe it was the stunning vistas, the landscape dabbed with new radiant colors she had no name for.
Or maybe it was all the hopes her fellow recruits pinned on this world, the secrets they confided because she was a friend, the fresh starts they hoped to find, just like her. Or maybe it was little everyday things that snagged some soft part of her, the mischievous sprites who tangled her hair in gusts of wind and fits of laughter, then came, penitent, to smooth it down again and bring her thimbles of nectar as gifts of contrition.
Maybe most of all, it was that this place had taken in her father and nurtured him as one of their own. This was where he learned to paint, perhaps studying with the likes of da Vinci. Where he learned to make scepters of sticks for his daughters and gave them the skills to use them. So much of who he was had been woven into him here and, in turn, woven into Bristol.This world is part of me too.
It was these things that made her reluctant to leave. Even the scowls of lords and ladies seemed like a strange upside-down victory, because whichever of their delicate toes she had stepped on, she had stopped caring. She’d give the trows that much; they gave her a reckless heart and reinforced her back with a ribbon of steel by robbing her of a place to belong. They weren’t going to steal away her father too—not without a fight.
Her eyes narrowed, trying to guess how far away Amisterre was. The human eye could see as far as two hundred miles from high peaks in clear conditions, usually far less—oh, the trivia she learned from her father as he explained the effects and tricks of the atmosphere on the human eye, and how to convey that onto a flat canvas. Step by step, he taught her the mathematics of perspective that the masters used.
She eyed the sun. She eyed the Wilds. Tonight, she would eye the stars. Her mother had loved the darkness of night above all and taught her about constellations and how to chart a path by them. Where did her mother learn such skills when she was unschooled in so many others? Some questions came too late. Some questions weren’t even allowed to be asked. Whatever the answers, they had died with her mother.
Bristol guessed that Amisterre might be as far as two hundred miles away. A long way to go in one night. But there might be ways, and that was something a Keats was good at finding. Ways. Somewhere out there, between all the wild places, her father might be hiding, waiting for someone to rescue him. And that someone was her.
CHAPTER 50
When Bristol arrived at Ceridwen Hall, the door was locked and a note was pinned to it.
No one is late for my lectures.
Especially not you, Miss Keats.
Master Reuben may have thought he was punishing Bristol, but it was a welcome gift instead. She waited in the hall until the other recruits were done with his lecture, and then they walked to the training grounds together.
“Everything okay?” Julia asked.
“No,” Bristol answered. “But I’ll explain later.”
“I wish I would have been late and locked out,” Avery said.
Hollis drew in a shocked breath. “What? And miss Master Reuben’s tedious droning?”
Avery’s eyes became bored moons. “He lectured about dreamwalkers and how to keep them out of our heads—thewholemorning.”
Bristol had heard about dreamwalkers, mostly innocent nighttime wanderers who stumbled into your dreams. She’d take one of them inside her head over Reuben any day. “Sounds like a dreamy lecture. Glad I missed it,” Bristol said.
They all laughed, but when they reached the training grounds, Sashka let out a long miserable moan. The maze was back.
“Not again,” Julia commiserated. “I thought we were done with that wicked beast.”
The recruits climbed the stairs to the observation deck. For the last two weeks, their lessons had involved weaponry and maneuvers on horses, which resulted in fewer scrapes—and concussions. The last time they’d been forced to navigate the maze, Avery was knocked out cold by a swinging tree limb. She had to be carried away.
Avery sighed, and the tangle of leaves in her hair drooped as she took her seat. This maze was triple the size of the others—and more ominous. A twisted canopy of trees hunched over it like conspiring withered crones, blocking much of it from view, but not so much they couldn’t catch glimpses of shadows slithering within.
It ultimately came back to this—finding the elusive door, reaching inside for a stubborn sleeping talent, and coaxing it to life. Nothing was more important.
Of them all, Bristol guessed that maybe Julia or Rose was blood-marked, or—it was impossible to tell really. Each had their strengths and moments they shone. Even the officers, who scrutinized every breath they took, seemed undecided. But they were all still there, so that was something. It boosted their spirits, like they were meant to be together. Like they had become something bonded and unbreakable—though it didn’t erase the worry. Maybe it only elevated hope that one of them had this forgotten ability to find invisible doors to other worlds.
Bristol glanced at Avery and wished she could ease her despair. Avery probably had the least confidence of them all, though she had become whip fast at deploying earth elements—churning up choking whirlwinds of dust and whispering stones to rise up and fly—but so far only enough for a distraction, not destruction. Day by day, they had come to know one another better. Sometimes their late-night dancing together spilled into later sessions in one of their rooms, eating, discussing Elphame, Danu, and, inevitably, the various inhabitants they encountered there.
Bristol discovered they were often just as surprised by this world as she was, even Julia, who had studied Elphame extensively as part of her research at the University of Paris. “Being told about a world and actually seeing it are two very different things,” Julia told them.
They’d all been raised in the mortal world, and though they knew of Elphame, they had never visited. Still, their families managed to instill a reverence for their homeland, and none of them had hesitated to say yes when Eris approached them. Julia had wanted to come since she was a child, and her great-aunt had encouraged her, always claiming Julia was destined to play an important role in Elphame. But between studies, romantic relationships, and responsibilities at the university, time had slipped past her until finally, when Eris asked her to come, she knew the time was right.
Rose was excited by the adventure from the start—and the chance to freely use her shape-shifting abilities at last.To be my real self, as she phrased it. Though she loved to play the piano, flying through the skies was her true passion, and it was never easy to explore the world as a sizable hawk in the heart of London, where she lived. Rose reminded Bristol of Harper in so many ways—from her soft brown skin to her huge dark eyes, to the way she settled into Danu so quickly. A noticeable difference, though, was their voices. Harper had no problem with volume, while Rose’s voice was soft and angelic, and when she was worried, it became a whisper that was barely audible.
