“Tomasis, the Lord of Thieves,” Femi says, nodding toward the man.
Standing beside the Lord’s chair is an older gentleman. His face is a map of heavily powdered wrinkles, his hair is hidden under a wig, and he is shod in the worn, gilt-edged finery of a noble gone to seed.
Femi inclines his head toward the powdered man. “There are only three Merveilles—Wonders—still living in the Court. They are criminals of such fame and notoriety they’ve become living legends. The most any child of the Court can hope for after their death is that their songs will be sung, their stories told over and over again. But the Merveilles—their exploits are recounted to every child of the Court while they still draw breath. The three remaining Merveilles are le Maire, the Fisherman, and the Gentleman. Le Maire is a member of the Guild of Letters, and he’s been missing for more than a decade. The Fisherman is Nihuang, the Lady of the Smugglers Guild. The last Merveille is the man standing beside the Lord of Thieves. ‘Gentleman’ George, infamous highwayman. And if you earn his favor, there is much that he can teach you.”
The Gentleman spots us and inclines his head to whisper something in the ear of Tomasis, the Lord of Thieves, who turns to glance lazily in our direction. Femi squeezes my arm.
“It is time, Nina. Remember all I have told you. There is no going back.”
Femi marches me toward the men. People move away to let us pass, looking at me with a hungry interest that I can’t quite like.
We reach the throne and Femi drops to one knee, pulling me with him. “Monseigneur. Vano, Lord of the stolen, Father of thievery and plunder…”
“I’m listening, mon frère,” Tomasis says.
I find myself pulled back to my feet as Femi rises.
Tomasis glances at the powdered gentleman, who nods at Femi.
“Messenger,” the man says in a honeyed voice.
“Gentleman,” Femi replies with a slight incline of his head; then he turns back to Tomasis.
“I have a new child for you, Monseigneur.”
I immediately lower my eyes to the intricate silken rugs that cover the floor. Femi has told me that I must be prepared to watch much of the proceedings from beneath lowered lashes, but I risk a glance up.
Tomasis smiles a leathery smile, taking a sip of wine from a jewel-studded goblet.
“A child?” he asks, placing the goblet on a delicate mother-of-pearl table beside him before pinioning me with his eyes.
Had I thought his eyes lazy before? They positively eat me whole now. Beside him, the Gentleman tilts his head at me like a bird, considering my potential.
“She is a Cat, Monseigneur,” Femi says.
Tomasis considers Femi, and I can’t help but see the clear resemblance between them: they must be brothers.
“Isn’t recruiting kittens the role of the Master of Beasts? Last I checked, you were still Aves, the Elanion—Messenger to the Miracle Court. Strange, then, that one who carries messages should suddenly take on this new responsibility, especially when you have never shown particular interest in the Cats of this Guild.”
Tomasis is famously suspicious, Femi told me as we crept along the rooftops. You have to be suspicious to become a Guild Lord, and you have to continue to be suspicious if you want to remain one.
Tomasis focuses on me, and when he speaks, his words are deceptively gentle.
“And who are you, little one, that the Messenger of the Miracle Court himself pleads for you?”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Despite the swarming buzz of conversation around me, I feel the burning of hundreds of eyes on my back.
“My name is Eponine Thénardier,” I say.
Around us, surprise makes the volume of conversation raise.
Tomasis narrows his eyes at this, taking in the lines of my face, reading me as if to see a resemblance.
“Thénardier is the Master of Beasts of this Guild. He rules beneath me and manages all my children, Dogs, Cats, and Horses. He knows all my business and holds tremendous power within the Shining Hall.”
Power he won after several other Masters died in frequent and mysterious succession, Femi told me. Thénardier has never been shy of slitting a throat or two when needs must.
“Explain what reason I might have to take his own kin from him behind his back?” Tomasis turns to Femi, his gaze burning bright.
Femi doesn’t flinch. “Thénardier has been using his own flesh and blood to perform his best takes—perhaps all of his takes—for the last two years now. The offerings he presented to you were not his to give.”
“A thief, then? Is that what you accuse him of? Thievery is quite a common practice between these walls.”
The hall comes alive with laughter at that. Tomasis smiles pleasantly, but there’s no denying the hardness to his eye and the grim line of his lips.
“And if the offerings he gives me are ample tithe,” Tomasis continues, “what is it to me how he came by them?”
“She is not of the Wretched. She is no child of the Miracle Court, bound by no Guild, bearing no mark—”
“You avoid the question. Why would I insult the Master of Beasts before the whole Guild by taking a Cat, his own flesh and blood, behind his back?”
“Ask her what she has for you.” Femi’s voice is barely a whisper, yet it resounds in the hall.
I reach into my coat and pull out the chain with trembling fingers; the heavy stone follows.
“Rennart’s balls! Is that the Talisman of Charlemagne?” The Gentleman steps forward and lifts the stone delicately from my palm. He fishes a monocle from his waistcoat pocket and inspects it, turning it over before setting it once again in my hand.
“This stone is one of the crown jewels,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, even though I had no idea.
“They are kept at the Palace of the Tuileries.”
I nod.
“Where was the stone?”
“Around the neck of a boy.” I try hard not to let my voice waver.
The Gentleman starts at that. “A boy? The Talisman is currently worn by the dauphin of France.”
So that’s who the boy was: prince of the realm. Future king, heir to the throne of France. I let out my breath heavily. I kissed the future king, and he tasted of chocolate….
Tomasis laughs, a tremendous sound bursting with warmth and humor that fills the hall and bounces off the walls and ceiling. “The Talisman of Charlemagne, stolen from the neck of the dauphin. It is worth a sight more to me than Thénardier’s pride,” he says, wiping his glittering eyes.