Lili Crow - Wayfarer

“I didn’t know anyone used that word anymore.” Ellie grinned, running her fingers back through her hair. I never liked that hat anyway, but I’m going to have to find something to cover this up. The pale blonde was too distinctive. “What’s up, Miz Toni?”

Antonia had been Ellie’s last au pair, hired before they moved to New Haven. Mom and Dad had arranged for her to get a cook’s certification afterward, sending her to Candide Culinary on a full scholarship with references. Keeping her was keeping status among Laurissa’s fellow charmers, especially if the Strep wanted to throw parties during the social season—or, God forbid, put in the winning bid to host the Charmer’s or Midsummer’s Ball.

It was almost a relief to think Ellie wouldn’t have to go to a ball this year. Dad would have gotten the invitations for Ruby and Cami as well, because Ell would wheedle him into going and using both of their guest slots. If Ellie hadn’t had Potential, Mom’s death could have closed the charm community to them both.

It was never difficult for him to get extra tickets for her friends, but Family and Woodsdowne weren’t strictly allowed in. They could charm, sure . . . but they weren’t quite, well, they weren’t jacks or Twists, but they were different .

Like fey. You didn’t invite them home.

“Pickles,” Antonia grumbled. “Pickled this, pickled that. Well, a pregnant woman, Mithrus bless her. You get beef and barley soup, just the thing for growing girls. Perk you up, pale and peaked as you are.”

“Certified Twist-free meat.” Ellie’s face didn’t feel as stretched and grim now. “And organic barley?” Mom had used to go on organic kicks every once in a while. For just a brief second missing her parents didn’t stab her through the heart . . . then the stab arrived, right on schedule.

“Only the best, and a-marketed for cheap.” Antonia’s grin was wide and white. Her broad dark face was always sheened with a film that was neither sweat nor oil, just a faint moist glow like dew on a healthy orange. “Madam says she plans on changing staff, and during my vacation too. While there’s to be big to-doing at the house, and me not here to make all go smooth.”

For a second Ell was confused, then her brain kicked in again. That party Laurissa’s planning. It must have been some bit of social climbing that couldn’t wait, since the cook wouldn’t be here.

Maybe Toni’s vacation was covered in Dad’s will too, unless the Strep was planning on firing her. Laurissa sometimes complained about how dear Mrs. Cafjil was—it had puzzled Ellie until she’d realized the woman meant Antonia—but how the cook was simply the best, and worth it.

Toni was the only piece of Ellie’s old life left. Laurissa had hired a few new, gray-faced shuffling domestics. Probably at half the usual rate, too, and it looked like she was getting a fresh crop.

So Laurissa was planning a party with cheap day-temp labor. It was a little too early to really be social season, but she obviously intended to get a piece of whatever action there was. Maybe she wanted to launch this sister of hers into New Haven society, even though Rita was obviously no kind of charmer. It didn’t mean she couldn’t marry or contract into a clan, seeing as how Laurissa was Sigiled. Potential moved around in families, sometimes, and the chance that Rita might throw a baby with Potential enough to Sigil might be what Laurissa was banking on to buy an alliance with a clan somehow.

“The party . . . It’s me.” Rita hunched even further. “Tomorrow she’s taking me there. Bianca’s. It’s expensive.”

“Huh.” Well, if anyone could use a makeover, honey, it’s you . “That’ll be nice for you,” she offered, tentatively. Did Rita think she was still mad over the other night?

Being mad at Rita was a bad investment. She was just trying to survive, like Ellie was. If she found out more about the girl, maybe she could make a plan about her. What kind of plan, Ell didn’t know yet.

Still, having a plan was better than just waiting to be surprised. Even pre-plans, or thinking about contingencies, were better than just letting things go their own way. Without plans, Ellie would have been in even worse trouble with the Strep, and far more often too.

Antonia sighed, hefting herself around. Bright silver-scrubbed pots bubbled on the stove, she placed a large stoneware crock on the counter and set about measuring fine-ground salt into it.

More words burst out as Rita stiffened, half-spitting them. “She says I have to not be such a lump. That he won’t look at me.”

“Who won’t?” There was a basket of apples on the steel-shining breakfast bar; Ellie grabbed one even though Antonia would scold her for ruining her dinner.

“The boy.” Slumped now, tired as if she’d used up all her energy for the two words. “The one the party’s for. She’s making a charm.”

What? Ellie went cold all over. Antonia’s gaze came up; was there a warning in the cook’s wide dark eyes? Hard to tell.

“Um.” Ellie bit, hardly tasting the sweet juice, the satisfying crunch, tart white flesh under a thin bloom of red and green.

Cami didn’t like apples. Oh, she never complained, but she got a funny look on her face whenever you ate one around her.

When Ellie finished chewing, she had her wits back. She can’t mean what I think she might mean . “Well, lots of charming goes into parties. Everyone tries to waste it as conspicuously as possible; it’s part of charm society one-upping. Who’s catering the next one?”

“Don’t know.” Rita couldn’t look more miserable if she tried. Which was amazing. It was, Ellie reflected, an achievement in and of itself to look that hangdog. Even her hair drooped, almost touching the counter. She flushed, too, as if the idea of going to a spa sickened her.

“Oh.” That seemed to finish up conversation .

Antonia’s mouth was a thin line. She dumped water from a glass carafe into the crock and stirred it, viciously, with a wooden spoon. Sometimes it seemed like she, out of all the other adults, saw what the Strep was doing.

Other times, Ell wasn’t so sure.

The corkboard next to the door was bare and empty, no fluttering papers with a long list of chores attached. Maybe the Strep had forgotten. Ellie chewed her way through the apple, slowly. Rita’s cheeks were scarlet. She was blinking furiously, and Ellie’s chest was tight. Her throat worked dryly at the last bit of apple, and when she bit the core in half Antonia made a spitting noise.

“Avert!” She grabbed a glass bowl full of long thin green scraps of cucumber peel and thrust it over the counter. Ellie obediently deposited the broken core in its tangled nest. “Bad girl. A charmer should know better.”

“That’s no charm. It’s just superstition. No science to it at all .” Ellie grinned again as Antonia hissed balefully. “Hey, Rita. Do you want . . . you know, we could take a walk. In the garden. Or something.” After I hide all these credits burning a hole in my pocket.

“N-no. Can’t go outside.” Rita shivered. The peach sweater really wasn’t that bad. If only it wasn’t so stretched and faded, it would have been a great color on her. “ She’ll know.”

Not that there was any place to walk to, either, unless they forced a way through the overgrown rose garden. “Okay. We could do something ins—”

“No.” Rita slid off the stool, landing with a thump. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Acting friendly . Trying to get me into trouble. Just like a charmer .” And with that, she stamped away, through the swinging door and down the hall with hard thumping footsteps.