Read Online So Silver Bright by Lisa Mantchev - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Mantchev
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murmured.
Bertie obeyed, sliding her fingernails under the mask’s knife-thin edge and lifting it as one would the lid from Pandora’s box. There was a blast of frigid air, and the object in her hand was as much ice as it was glass. Fingers trembling, Bertie held it out in offering to Serefina.
The herb-seller hastily wrapped the mask in a length of silk that smelled of sandalwood and secrets. “My thanks.” Her voice was already stronger, clearer, ringing with the brass-tenor of a gong.
In stark contrast, Bertie’s knees wobbled. “My apologies that I couldn’t do more.”
Or wouldn’t.
“This will suffice for the time being.” Serefina tilted her head to one side. “How does it feel to be without your various artifices, wordsmith?”
Bertie lifted her hand to her face, suddenly self-conscious. “No different—”
But she couldn’t finish voicing the falsehood, not when her skin felt softer than Opening-Night roses. There was a disconnect, as if she touched the flesh of another, or perhaps the fingers grazing her cheek were not her own. When she dropped her hand, other sensations rushed at her: the heat from the fire suddenly a dozen degrees warmer; steam from the hissing kettle as moist upon her face as though she’d walked into vapors of the theater’s fog machine.
Raising the mirror to look at herself again, Bertie was somehow unsurprised by the anxiety shimmering on the surface of her skin. Though Ophelia’s eyes yet peered back at her, though her nose had the same impudent tilt at the end, though her freckles were as much in evidence as ever, rising panic revealed itself in the flare of her nostrils and the twist of her mouth. Try as she might to tame it, to shove it below the surface, to smile, to grimace, to summon any facial expression that would have belied her inner turmoil, Bertie couldn’t manage it. There was nothing there behind which she could hide, and the terror of it settled into her very bones.
“I look naked,” she whispered, “like my soul is shining out.”
“That’s because it is.” Serefina rose from her place and removed the mirror from Bertie’s reluctant hand. “Tarry not. The longer you linger here, the more apt Sedna is to discover you. You’ve shed deception and falsehood for the time being, but honesty won’t trick her forever.” When Bertie made no move to leave, the herb-seller gave her arm a shake. “Do you understand? You must get back to your friends and depart as quick as you can. The sooner you’re gone from the Caravanserai, the safer everyone will be.”
“Of course.” Bertie stumbled over her feet as she rose, the hands-not-hers accepting the bundle of packets and bottles of medicine Serefina handed to her.
“Safe travels to you,” the herb-seller said in parting. “Should you ever reconsider, you know where to find me.”
“I do.”
But I won’t reconsider such a thing.
* * *
Ducking into the Performers’ Alcove adjacent to the massive, echoing amphitheater, Bertie came nose to nose with the mechanical horses. Stoic and stalwart, with metal plating and gear-driven innards, the steeds stood ready for departure.
More than a bit damp around the neckline and underarms, Nate now sorted bits of leather straps tumbling out of a broken box and muttered to himself. “This is worse tangled than a length o’ sea-soaked rigging!” He jerked upon the extra reins, setting the silver bells jangling like those of a demented sleigh. “Whoever stowed this needs t’ make th’ acquaintance o’ a cat-o’-nine-tails.”
Half hidden by the caravan, Bertie watched him struggle, his muscles clenched and straining under his shirt. A dribble of sweat worked its way down his cheek, slipping under the strong line of his jaw and down the full length of his neck.…
I bet he tastes salty sweet .
Two seconds later, reality kicked her in the backside.
And the fact that I think that no doubt shows on my face!
Indeed, a hot blush already
Bertie obeyed, sliding her fingernails under the mask’s knife-thin edge and lifting it as one would the lid from Pandora’s box. There was a blast of frigid air, and the object in her hand was as much ice as it was glass. Fingers trembling, Bertie held it out in offering to Serefina.
The herb-seller hastily wrapped the mask in a length of silk that smelled of sandalwood and secrets. “My thanks.” Her voice was already stronger, clearer, ringing with the brass-tenor of a gong.
In stark contrast, Bertie’s knees wobbled. “My apologies that I couldn’t do more.”
Or wouldn’t.
“This will suffice for the time being.” Serefina tilted her head to one side. “How does it feel to be without your various artifices, wordsmith?”
Bertie lifted her hand to her face, suddenly self-conscious. “No different—”
But she couldn’t finish voicing the falsehood, not when her skin felt softer than Opening-Night roses. There was a disconnect, as if she touched the flesh of another, or perhaps the fingers grazing her cheek were not her own. When she dropped her hand, other sensations rushed at her: the heat from the fire suddenly a dozen degrees warmer; steam from the hissing kettle as moist upon her face as though she’d walked into vapors of the theater’s fog machine.
Raising the mirror to look at herself again, Bertie was somehow unsurprised by the anxiety shimmering on the surface of her skin. Though Ophelia’s eyes yet peered back at her, though her nose had the same impudent tilt at the end, though her freckles were as much in evidence as ever, rising panic revealed itself in the flare of her nostrils and the twist of her mouth. Try as she might to tame it, to shove it below the surface, to smile, to grimace, to summon any facial expression that would have belied her inner turmoil, Bertie couldn’t manage it. There was nothing there behind which she could hide, and the terror of it settled into her very bones.
“I look naked,” she whispered, “like my soul is shining out.”
“That’s because it is.” Serefina rose from her place and removed the mirror from Bertie’s reluctant hand. “Tarry not. The longer you linger here, the more apt Sedna is to discover you. You’ve shed deception and falsehood for the time being, but honesty won’t trick her forever.” When Bertie made no move to leave, the herb-seller gave her arm a shake. “Do you understand? You must get back to your friends and depart as quick as you can. The sooner you’re gone from the Caravanserai, the safer everyone will be.”
“Of course.” Bertie stumbled over her feet as she rose, the hands-not-hers accepting the bundle of packets and bottles of medicine Serefina handed to her.
“Safe travels to you,” the herb-seller said in parting. “Should you ever reconsider, you know where to find me.”
“I do.”
But I won’t reconsider such a thing.
* * *
Ducking into the Performers’ Alcove adjacent to the massive, echoing amphitheater, Bertie came nose to nose with the mechanical horses. Stoic and stalwart, with metal plating and gear-driven innards, the steeds stood ready for departure.
More than a bit damp around the neckline and underarms, Nate now sorted bits of leather straps tumbling out of a broken box and muttered to himself. “This is worse tangled than a length o’ sea-soaked rigging!” He jerked upon the extra reins, setting the silver bells jangling like those of a demented sleigh. “Whoever stowed this needs t’ make th’ acquaintance o’ a cat-o’-nine-tails.”
Half hidden by the caravan, Bertie watched him struggle, his muscles clenched and straining under his shirt. A dribble of sweat worked its way down his cheek, slipping under the strong line of his jaw and down the full length of his neck.…
I bet he tastes salty sweet .
Two seconds later, reality kicked her in the backside.
And the fact that I think that no doubt shows on my face!
Indeed, a hot blush already
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