The Mask of Mirrors, M. Carrick; [best books to read in your 20s .txt] 📗

for sale, certainly—but not this kind of event, bringing everyone together to set the tone for the upcoming season.”

“Yes, there are many things on display.” Donaia’s attention flicked briefly to Renata’s bare arms. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. The Gloria was Letilia’s favorite event as well.”

“That’s hardly a character flaw, Mother.” Leato shifted to Renata’s side, forming a wall of solidarity against Donaia’s disapproval. “Otherwise Giuna and I also bear the shame of enjoying it. Giuna, come meet Letilia’s daughter that I was telling you about.”

At Leato’s wave, the girl who’d been standing in Donaia’s shadow hesitantly stepped forward. She was dressed like her mother, in clothes more mature and restrained than someone her age should be wearing. Between that and her timidity, Renata had mistaken her for Donaia’s maid.

There was no missing the resemblance to Leato, however. Or to Letilia, at least as far as features went. Not with all her artifice could Letilia have made that tremulous smile and coltish curtsy seem genuine. “Alta Renata. I hope you aren’t finding Nadežra too strange.”

“Not strange so much as… different from how Mother described it.” She delivered her reply with a conspiratorial air, inviting Giuna to imagine the nature of the difference.

Giuna’s laugh was a startling sound, like finches taking wing. Leato joined in, and even Donaia’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Yes, I imagine she made most of it sound dreadful,” Giuna said. To Renata’s surprise, she nudged Leato out of the way so she could take Renata’s arm. “Why don’t we finish the Rotunda together and you can tell us how this is all hopelessly out of fashion already?”

She tilted her head close for an additional whisper as they began to stroll. “And maybe you can tell me what you were talking about with Master Vargo.”

So he was well-known, even in noble circles. I’m not the only one who leverages the appeal of good tailoring. “He was explaining Nadežran mask traditions to me. Then we realized he owns the house I’m renting, so he bought me a mask as a welcoming gift.”

“Yes, you’ll need a mask if you want to do anything interesting while you’re here. Mother won’t let me wear them outside of festivals.” Giuna sighed, more resigned than rebellious, and picked up a drape reminiscent of the one Renata wore. The wintergreen satin was embroidered with darting silver fish, and its fine weave slipped through her fingers. With another sigh, she carefully folded it and set it back on the display table. “Why did you come to Nadežra?”

Of course Donaia hadn’t said anything to her daughter about Renata’s hope for reconciliation. Donaia was close enough to overhear; should she press the issue? No—if Leato has irritated her by approaching me, I’ll gain more by playing her side.

And besides, if half the point of coming to the Gloria was to be seen, the other half was to start making connections with people outside House Traementis. “I was hoping to see the city, of course. Not just the places, but the people. Mother claimed to know everyone in her day, but I have no idea which names to attach to which faces.”

Sheltered she might be, but Giuna turned out to be a font of useful gossip, orienting Renata with the kinds of details Ren could never have picked up on her own. Donaia fell back, either satisfied that Renata wasn’t trying to suborn her daughter or aware that hovering made her look suspicious. Leato sauntered along with his hands in his pockets, the picture of an indulgent older brother.

It was only when Giuna was pointing out the eldest son of Eret Mettore Indestor that Leato intervened. He took a delicate sculpture of blown blue glass from Giuna’s hands and put it back on the table. “She doesn’t need to know Mezzan Indestor, and you shouldn’t know him, either. Not after what he did to that actor.”

“Actor?” Renata said, turning so she could study the man in question without being obvious. “Do share.”

Mezzan Indestor looked to be a few years older than Leato, with straw-blond hair and a slate-blue coat unsubtly brocaded with five-pointed stars. That was the emblem of the Cinquerat, where his father held the military Caerulet seat. But such stars were also associated with power and leadership… and therefore often worn by people who didn’t understand either.

Leato glanced back at Donaia—now occupied with perusing the glassware—then at Giuna. Renata cocked her head, letting a dangling curl brush her bare shoulder, and Leato gave in. “There was a theatrical that premiered a few weeks ago at the Theatre Agnasce—had Her Elegance’s stamp of approval and everything.” He nodded toward a steel-haired woman and her circle of admirers. Giuna had identified her earlier as Era Sostira Novrus, holder of the Argentet seat in the Cinquerat, overseeing the city’s cultural affairs. Among other things, that meant she ran the office that licensed theatrical performances—and now that Leato had drawn the connection, Renata noted Mezzan Indestor glaring at the older woman, face sour like he’d been force-fed an unripened plum.

Leato went on. “She must have wanted a chance to undercut Eret Indestor, because the show wasn’t subtle in its mockery. There was a whole monologue about Caerulet encouraging graft in the Vigil. When he heard it, Mezzan jumped onto the stage and challenged the lead actor to a duel.”

Renata said, “Perhaps I misunderstand Nadežran etiquette and law, but I thought civilian commoners weren’t permitted to carry swords.”

“You don’t misunderstand,” Leato said grimly. “The actor had a stage sword and no real knowledge of how to use it.”

“That poor man,” Giuna whispered. “Is he…”

Leato shook his head. “Even imbued medicines and a healing numinat weren’t enough. He’s alive, but they say his face is ruined.”

Edging closer to her brother’s side—and putting him between her and Mezzan Indestor—Giuna said, “Someone should do something.”

“Who? What? Mezzan’s father runs the Vigil and grants the charters for every mercenary company and private guard in Nadežra. You think Eret Indestor