TRISTAN

"Be prepared to shop for a couple hours," Mr. Almers said as I nodded, hoping he'd hurry up with his instructions. "Reinier's got an appointment around two. They should kick you out about an hour beforehand. Stick around the area and window shop. The moment he shows up, you make your way to the Arlotto mansion. If the others aren't outside by the time you reach the alley, scream or something."

I held back a scoff. "Scream? Am I expecting to be raped in this back alley?" I asked flatly. I still thought the whole plan was stupid. It wasn't even much of a plan beyond smash and grab.

"What? No. Just give them a signal—"

"Into a room with no windows." If I could get away with using magic, this would be so much easier. Had I known a couple more days ahead of time, I could have come up with something. A pair of rocks that glowed when they were near each other would have worked better than the nothing we had.

"Something to distract the guards! Just in case they're having a hard time getting out. Stop being belligerent."

I would stop being belligerent when this plan made more sense. "Fine. I'll think of something. Maybe I'll start a fire."

The tension left Mr. Almers's shoulders. We were all stressed, and we all knew this was a joke of a last minute, unorganized plan.

"Perfect," he said with a kind smile.

"Self-immolation is sure to draw a crowd."

His smile dropped, and he shoved me out the door, tossing my cap after me.

Shopping for jewelry, even just pretending, was dull. They were all shiny rocks being held in place by shiny metal. Maybe if they had some magic to them, I might be able to show more interest. If only to dissect the spells.

My disinterest seemed to play to my advantage, since one of the ladies behind the counter felt the need to tell me all about what girls liked these days. I wasn't taken by most of what she had shown me, and I doubted Olwen would care much beyond the pricetag.

There were so many delicate chains that would break if they caught on something and tangle if they weren't properly stored. A decent leather cord or piece of twine would work better—even more so if spelled for resilience.

My preferences most likely came from my mother. She rarely wore jewelry for fashion. That was Dad's thing. He wasn't happy without a few pounds of rings on his fingers and sparkling clips keeping his hair in place. Mom thought he looked like a lion trying to be a peacock.

The only thing that caught my eye was a piece of howlite carved into the shape of a spiral. It was a stark white with nearly black veins running through it.

It reminded me of the Weather Tower of Astraea. It could be seen for miles before it was destroyed. I used to look at it from my bedroom window when I was child, hoping it would glow with the icy blue that preceded snow. Snow brought mugs of hot chocolate and blankets spelled with warmth. There would be snowball fights with my siblings and lopsided snowmen.

My pocket watch held a sliver of what remained of the tower. It could predict the weather by about an hour. It was completely useless, but it reminded me of happier times. Times that had been less than half my life.

"Out!"

I jumped at the sudden shout and shrank away from the guards who now stood in the doorway. They were early. I sighed and headed to the front door. One of them blocked my way and pointed to the back.

"Through the back," he said.

The shop owner hurried around the counter and waved at the girl who had been attempting to help me. "Yes, of course. I'm so sorry. I had been expecting His Excellency much later. Elsie, if you could show our customers out."

My fellow customer, an older woman whose white knuckled grip on her cane tightened, glared at the guard. "I am on a tight schedule, Malinda."

"Yes, Mrs. Craftstone. I am aware. I can offer you a discount for the inconvenience."

She sniffed and gave the owner a curt nod before being ushered to the exit by another shopgirl.

"You as well, sir. We look forward to your patronage," the shop owner said to me.

I nodded awkwardly and felt a little bad that I had no intention of returning.

"May our Blessed Lady Below bring what is earned," Mrs. Craftstone hissed under her breath as she crossed the threshold leading to a back hallway.

"Earned and Cleansed," I murmured in agreement.

She glanced at me with a raised brow, looking me over.

I ducked my head, avoiding her gaze. Now was not the time to be drawing attention.

"Blessings upon the Orphans," she whispered before turning away.

I hunched my shoulders and glared at the ground as she left. It was always the little things that gave you away.