The eager chatter fell silent, the crowd split and through the midst came a young man with a vast retinue of guards, officers, attendants and hangers-on, sandy hair carefully arranged to give the impression of not having been arranged at all, white uniform heavy with medals.
“Bloody hell,” whispered Curnsbick, gripping Savine’s elbow, “it’s the bloody king!”
Whatever the criticisms—and there were more than ever, regularly circulated in pamphlets revelling in the tawdry details—no one could deny that King Orso looked the part. He reminded Savine of his father. Of their father, she realised, with an ugly twisting of disgust. He chuckled, slapped arms, shook hands, traded jokes, the same beacon of slightly absent good humour King Jezal had once been.
“Your Majesty,” frothed Curnsbick, “the Solar Society is illuminated by your presence. I fear we had to begin the addresses without you.”
“Never fear, Master Curnsbick.” Orso clapped him on the shoulder like an old friend. “I can’t imagine I would have been much help with the technical details.”
The great machinist produced the most mechanical of laughs. “I am sure you know our sponsor, Lady Savine dan Glokta.”
Their eyes met only for an instant. But an instant was enough.
She remembered how Orso used to look at her. That mischievous glint in his eye, as if they were players in a delightful game no one else knew about. Before she learned they had a father in common, when he was still a crown prince and her judgement was considered unimpeachable. Now his stare was flat, and dead, and passionless. A mourner at the funeral of someone he had hardly known.
He had asked her to marry him. To be his queen. And all she had wanted was to say yes. He had loved her, and she had loved him.
Their eyes only met for an instant. But an instant was all she could stand.
She sank into the deepest curtsy she could manage, wishing she could keep sinking until the tiled floor swallowed her. “Your Majesty…”
“Lady Selest!” she heard Orso say, his heel clicking sharply as he turned away. “Perhaps you might show me around?”
“I’d be honoured, Your Majesty.” And the bubbling of Selest dan Heugen’s victorious laughter was as painful as boiling water in Savine’s ears.
It was a slight no one in the entire foyer could have missed. Had Orso knocked her down and trodden on her throat, he could scarcely have done more damage. Everyone was whispering as she stood. Scorned, by the king, at her own function.
She walked to the doors through swimming faces, smile plastered to her burning cheeks, and stumbled down the steps into the twilit street. Her stomach roiled. She pulled at her collar, but she could sooner have torn through a prison wall with her fingernails than loosened that triple stitching.
“Lady Savine?” came Zuri’s concerned voice.
She tottered around the corner of the theatre into the darkness of an alley, doubled up helpless and sprayed vomit down the wall. Puking made her think of Valbeck. Everything made her think of Valbeck.
She straightened, dashing the burning snot from her nose. “Even my own stomach is betraying me.”
A strip of light down the side of Zuri’s dark face made one eye gleam. “When did your menses last come?” she asked, softly.
Savine stood for a moment, her breath ragged. Then she gave a hopeless shrug. “Just before Leo dan Brock’s visit to Adua. Whoever would have thought I’d miss the monthly agonies?”
Probably her ragged breaths should have turned to choking sobs, and she should have fallen into Zuri’s arms and wept at the colossal mess she had made of herself. Curnsbick was right to worry, the old fool. Her judgement had turned to shit and here was the result.
But instead of sobbing, she started to chuckle. “I’m puking,” she said, “in a piss-smelling alley, in a dress that cost five hundred marks, with a bastard on the way. I’m fucking ridiculous.”
The laughter faded, and she leaned against the wall, scraping her sour tongue clean on her teeth. “The higher you climb, the further you have to fall, and the greater the spectacle when you hit the ground. What wonderful drama, eh? And they don’t even have to pay for a ticket.” She clenched her fists. “They all think I’m going down. But if they think I’m going down without a fight, they should—”
She doubled over and brought up more sick. Just an acrid trickle this time. Retching and giggling at once. She spat it out and wiped her face on the back of her glove. Her hand was shaking again.
“Calm,” she muttered at herself, clenching her fists. “Calm, you absolute fucker.”
Zuri looked worried. And she never looked worried. “I will ask Rabik to bring the carriage around. We should get you home.”
“Oh, come, come, the night is young.” Savine fished out her box for another pinch of pearl dust. Just to get over the humps. Just to keep things moving. She headed for the street. “I’ve a mind to watch Master Broad work.”
A Routine
“So… you’re happy here, then?”
Liddy laughed. There’d been weeks when Broad had hardly seen her smile. These days, she laughed all the time. “Gunnar, we lived in a cellar.”
“A stinking cellar,” said May, grinning, too. It was hard to imagine with the sunset streaming into their dining room through the three big windows.
“We ate peelings and drank from puddles,” said Liddy, forking another slice of meat onto Broad’s plate.
“We queued to shit in a hole,” said May.
Liddy winced. “Don’t say that.”
“I did it, didn’t I? Why fuss over saying so?”
“It’s the manner of expression I’m objecting to.” Liddy was getting to act like a proper lady and enjoying every moment. “But yes, we did it. Why wouldn’t we be happy now?” She pushed across the gravy jug. Broad had never guessed there was such a thing as a special kind of jug for gravy, let alone imagined he might own one.
He smiled, too. Made himself smile. “’Course. Why wouldn’t we be happy now?” He scooped up a forkful of peas, even managed to get a few in his mouth before they all fell off.
“You’re not much good with a fork,” said May.
Broad nudged his food around the plate with it. Just holding the damn thing made his hand hurt. Felt too delicate for his aching fingers. “You reach an age it’s hard to learn new ways, I reckon.”
“You’re too young to be stuck in the past.”
“I don’t know.” Broad frowned as he prodded at that slice of meat, a little blood seeping. “The past has a way of holding on.”
An awkward pause at that. “Tell us you’re staying home tonight,” said Liddy.
“Wish I could. Got to head over to the diggings.”
“At this time?”
“Won’t take long, I hope.” Broad set down his cutlery and stood. “Got to make sure the work keeps going.”
“Lady Savine can’t do without you, eh?”
May proudly puffed up her chest. “Told me she relies on him more and more.”
“Well, tell her she has to share you with your family.”
Broad snorted as he came around the table. “You bloody tell her.”