Or I can . . . what? Claim a role in the middle of international strife? Openly face down Lord Downpike? Ernest was right about one thing: some voices don’t matter. And I’m afraid mine is one of them. I’m a woman, and a dark-skinned island rat at that. I have no power here.

Feeling bleak and despairing, I write a letter to Finn. No matter how he feels about me, I know he’ll help Jacky Boy and Ma’ati. Once they are safe, I’ll decide what to do about myself.

Now a matter of habit, as I pass the dressing table I grab the top card and flip it over. I stop, card still unseen in hand, a chill surging through my veins.

I knocked all of the cards to the floor before I left my room.

Trembling, I look down. In my hand, the fate card, but altered. This time in the middle of the path is a large black bird, its single yellow eye fixed on me. I pull another—and another—and another—all the same. There is a small calling card on the table next to the deck.

Little Rabbit,

Your friends are my friends. Thinking of you.

L. D.

Twenty-three

LORD DOWNPIKE WAS IN MY ROOM. COLD WITH terror, I run into the hall to check on Ma’ati again.

“Whoa!”

I stumble straight into someone. Strong arms circle me to keep me upright. Heart racing, I look up to see Kelen.

And immediately burst into tears. “Oh, Kelen.” I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.

“What’s wrong? What have they done to you?”

“Nothing, I—they who?”

“These ghost-faced spirit cursers, of course. I knew this would happen. They can’t see us without wanting to destroy us. Tell me who hurt you.”

I step away, wiping my eyes. “I can’t. I don’t want you anywhere near this. I won’t let you get hurt, too.”

“What do you think they can do to me that hasn’t already been done?” His dark eyes burn with hatred. “Was it that man? The one you were with at the symphony?”

“Finn? No. He’d never hurt me.”

Kelen scoffs. “Listen to yourself, Jessa. There isn’t a man on this whole spirit-blasted rock that wouldn’t hurt you if given the opportunity. They hate us, they always have, and they always will. We’re nothing to them.”

I shake my head. I know Finn would never hurt me. Eleanor would do anything to help me, too. “I have friends here.”

He laughs. “Friends? You’re a novelty to them. A pet. They’ll drop you as soon as you fall out of fashion.”

“You don’t know them.”

“I don’t have to. They’re Alben. That’s enough.”

His words strike straight through me. I would have said the same thing just weeks ago. I would have dismissed an entire country of people just because of their birth, the same way I have always felt dismissed.

“Come on,” Kelen says, taking my arm. “Tell me who hurt you and we’ll fix them. There’s no justice here but what we make for ourselves.”

“Kelen, no. You can’t.”

He grins. “You’d be amazed at what I can do. And then we’ll get you on a boat back to Melei, where you’ll be safe. Say the word and I’ll make it all better. You’ll never have to think about this country or anyone in it, ever again.”

And in that moment I know a simple truth: that is not what I want.

I squeeze Kelen’s hand, then step away. “I think I need to fight this one on my own.”

His mouth twists wryly. “You always had to be in control, didn’t you? Clever Jessa. Never could accept help.”

I offer him a regretful smile. “You know me.”

“No, I guess I really don’t.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and, shrugging his shoulders, walks away.

That evening I pace the park, reading passages from my most recent school assignment: one of my father’s books, this one about the colonization of Melei. Little reading is done, though, between throwing it in a fit of rage against a tree and picking it up again to repeat the whole process.

I owe Finn an apology. The problem is that I have no idea how to find his front door. I can see the window where I climbed out, as well as the large oak tree that I jumped onto and scrambled down to the ground. But there’s no door anywhere on that section of connected town houses. I’ve already tried ringing the bell at both adjacent properties; neither was Finn’s. In fact, neither butler knew that Lord Ackerly lived anywhere in the area.

Nothing to be done for it. Tucking my skirts into my boots, I climb the tree. Mama scolded me, but I always knew the hours I put into perfecting this skill would be useful one day. After scooting down the branch nearest the window, I realize I’ll have to throw myself at it. If it’s locked I will be in a rather dangerous scrape.

Leaning as far as I can, I grab onto the sill and push the window open just as I lose my balance. I tip forward, falling into the room and landing with a hip-bruising thud on the black tile floor of Finn’s washroom.

Graceful, no. But effective.

Fixing my skirts and my blouse, I tuck the book under my arm and walk out of the washroom. The hall has more doors than I remember. I look for the library, but the first room I try is wrong. I back out, then stop, and slowly cross the threshold.

The walls are filled with art. More art than I’ve ever seen outside of a museum. And not just Alben art, studies of unsmiling people and unmoving fruit, placid and lifeless landscapes. Some of it is clearly Gallen, some Saxxone, and there . . .