Page 46 of My Noble Disgrace

An unspoken secret hung in the air between them. I wished I knew the story of how they met, but I was beginning to think Zenitha had spent some time there herself. If she had, it must’ve been something minor in order to own such a respectable shop in the Class A Quarter. Either way, I wouldn’t ask. I only wanted to know what she chose to reveal. She’d respected my story, even with the details left unsaid. I’d do the same for her.

Sittingin front of the mirror in the shop, I gripped the arms of a chair, my speeding heart betraying my nervousness. Zenitha held scissors in one hand and my hair in the other. In a few clean snips, she cut the long braid from my head and held it up like a prize, smiling at me through the mirror.

I gasped when my chopped hair fell around my face. I’d never had short hair in my life—and it was about to get even shorter. She continued with a precise hand, continuously clipping the shears with one hand while holding a whalebone comb in the other.

Little by little, my hair was shaped into an aristocratic work of art. By the end, my blonde strands had been smoothed with wax into a wavy side part and the short sides were combed toward the back of my head, complete with a sharply trimmed neckline.

I hardly recognized myself.

And then came the mustache. Using some adhesive and a light brown weft of hair with sculpted ends that curled upward, Zenitha stuck the itchy horror to my face.

I stared at myself in the mirror, pleased and appalled at the same time. “Oh no. I look like Cael.”

Cait laughed hysterically.

“Indeed,” said Zenitha, smiling at me through the mirror. “Cael Ruskin was the inspiration. He’s a powerful man and power creates influence over fashion. You look exactly the part.”

My sad Cael face looked back at me in the mirror as Zenitha pulled out some makeup and thickened my brows, then shadowed my nose and jaw, making me look even more masculine.

I wanted to cry, but I’d achieved my goal. No one would recognize me like this.

There was a knock at the front door, though the curtains were drawn.

Cait immediately jumped up in terror.

“I’m sure it’s just the papers,” said Zenitha, heading for the front of the store. She pulled back the curtain and opened the door just enough to grab the newspaper from outside.

“What does it say, what does it say, what does it—” Cait said.

“Calm down, darling,” said Zenitha, handing it to her. “It’s all yours.”

Though I kept myself composed, I felt the same eagerness. I couldn’t wait to see what it said about Keane, my father—and everything else.

Chapter

Fourteen

While Zenitha ran her shop,Cait and I hid in the bathroom, hungrily reading the news. I had begged Zenitha for all the newspapers she still had, and she’d provided. Today’s featured story was the capture of Keane and the Ash Island outlaws.

The Academy's pursuit, under the leadership of Immortal Cael Ruskin, culminated in the apprehension and confinement of the outlaws guilty of murdering several Enforcers. Among these criminals was Kenneth Pearce, son of Sir Cardiff Pearce, a nobleman believed to be deceased. The prompt action taken by Immortal Ruskin averted potential infiltration and violence from these individuals, thereby preserving the safety of our city. However, the whereabouts of one Enforcer, the grandson of Sir Pearce, remain unknown, along with the purloined vessel. It is suspected that he was killed by his father, the leader of this violence.

My nose wrinkled. True, Keane and his men hadn’t been innocent, but there was no acknowledgment of the weapons the Enforcers had used against them, and Cael was being praised with such bias that I knew his influence lurked behind this story. I hadn’t understood how he’d kept his power, but the way he was painting himself made it clearer. He knew exactly what thepeople wanted him to be, and he was stoking their fear while simultaneously soothing it.

My blood chilled as I read further down the page:

The usurper, Mara Stroud, and the criminal, Caitria Farrel, were in league with the men, though the two remain at large. Citizens are advised to remain vigilant and promptly report any potential sightings of the women.

Cait swore under her breath.

“Do you think anyone recognized us last night?” I asked.

Cait shrugged. “No idea, but the best thing we can do is get out of this quarter as soon as possible and trust that our disguises will do their job. I can’t get Zenitha in trouble.”

I agreed, hurrying up my scan of the papers. From past news, I learned that Maeve Brennin had been absolved of any suspicion in Graham’s disappearance and seemed to be viewed by all with compassion as the glorified grieving mother. With her word and Patrick's against me—not to mention all that Cael had said to distance himself from me and maintain innocence—it was only my father and me being blamed for Graham’s suspected murder. However, the accusations against my father appeared to be mild, ready to be withdrawn at a moment and placed entirely on me. Cael had been named as the supervisor of my father’s house arrest, which made me suspect Cael was protecting him.

There were many articles about me, speculating on more than I thought they’d possibly dream up. Some said I was innocent, murdered, simply a young woman caught in a battle for the throne. Others said I was the orchestrator of high treason, a disrespect to the Immovables, and a threat to the very foundations of the kingdom.

And then there were the accusations I had to laugh about—I was an impostor who’d replaced the real Mara Stroud some years back, which explained why I hadn’t been seen in publicuntil my coronation. Or, even better, I was the secret scorned lover of Graham Brennin and had ruined him and taken his throne to get my revenge.

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