City of the Sleeping Gods Page 7

  According to the riddle, she would know when she was near a piece of her soul when it spoke to her like thunder, whatever that meant. Maybe she would actually hear something if she touched that person. She didn’t think it would be external, like kablam, here’s your soul mate, but maybe she would feel it inside like a mighty rumble.

  She sighed, frustrated. Why did the oracles have to speak in such riddles? Why couldn’t they just say, “Hey Sophia, go find so-and-so, he’s got your soul inside him. He’s the soldier who lives in the blue house just outside market square.” She shook her head at her own foolishness. She’d faced the monsters of the Witch Woods alone. Braved countless, dangerous situations and triumphed. She could handle a few randy soldiers and lords while wearing a big, pink, ruffled gown.

  How hard could it be to flirt? She’d watched the soldiers enough times off the training field and in the pubs to know what they liked in a woman beyond the big breasts and wide backend. She’d seen how the tavern maids giggled when the men showed off their prowess. There were coy smiles and long looks from under hooded eyes. Soft subtle touches on arms, or legs. It was also in the way a woman walked and held her body that drew a man’s eye. There seemed to be a thousand, small nuances, but Sophia figured she was a quick learner. She’d have it down pat by the time she needed to use her new skills.

  Begrudgingly, she realized she was going to have to find a few of those frilly dresses she so hated to pull this whole caper off. No one would want to court her looking like a bandit and thief. If it wasn’t for her long hair and womanly curves that she kept hidden, the soldiers might mistake her for one of their own, especially if they put a sword in her hand.

  For the next few hours, she moved around the area near the pretty garden and studied some of the noble houses to get an idea of what she needed to do to achieve her new goal. She watched two girls about her age sitting on one of the stone benches as they gossiped. She overheard them talking about a reclusive duke who never mingled with the other families much but was infamous for his travels across the land.

  “It’s too bad Lord Oxford doesn’t have any sons,” the girl with the big nose and blue dress said, her voice irritatingly whiny. “I’d love to be courted by a lord instead of some of these common soldiers.”

  The other girl tossed her long black braid off her shoulder and gave the other a disparaging look. “If he did, you know I’d be first in line. My father would make sure of that.”

  “I know. I’m just saying.”

  “He does have a few nephews and nieces to marry off, I hear. Although, as far as I know, no one has ever even met one. They could be ugly and boorish.” The girl laughed. “But who cares, as long as he has money.”

  The big-nosed girl said, “My mother mentioned he’s always traveling, and when he’s not, he’s holed up in his parlor, smoking his stupid pipe. I don’t think he’s attended one ball in the past five years.”

  “Well, at least there are quite a few eligible, young men this year. Tonight’s ball should be well attended.” The girl with dark hair searched the garden for any of those eligible men, making eye contact with an older gentleman in a top hat.

  Jackpot.

  That was exactly the circumstance she needed to pull all of this together. A rich lord no one really knew, with no known family to speak of, just some distant nieces and nephews no one had seen or spoken to.

  Sophia was about to leave when the big-nosed girl said something of interest. “I’m looking forward to seeing Commander Axton again. He’s so dreamy.” It looked like she was going to swoon right off the bench.

  Sophia didn’t blame the girl. Edric Axton was extremely attractive, and she definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him up close and personal. Maybe he would be at ball. She wondered if Andreas Hylt, the wraith shifter, attended balls. She wouldn’t mind seeing him as well. He intrigued her on many levels. She could try her flirting skills out on them as practice for the real thing.

  It took all of five minutes to locate Lord Oxford’s estate. There was a gold-plated plaque near the wrought iron gate that said Oxford Manor. And it wasn’t far from the botanical garden. Once she quickly cased the place, she was able to sneak into the house through a poorly locked servant’s entrance at the back of the house. She crept through the downstairs quarters, snagging a ripe, red apple from the kitchen along the way, then up the back staircase to the main rooms. As she tiptoed through the hallways from shadow to shadow, she spotted several of the servants lying about on the expensive couches. One bold lad had his booted feet up on the sofa, drinking tea from the master’s fine porcelain.

  Obviously, the master wasn’t home. Good. That worked to Sophia’s advantage. She hoped he was on one of his long excursions to another country and completely unreachable.

  As she mounted the curved staircase to the upper level of the estate, Sophia eyed the portraits of the man mounted to the wall. Lord Oxford was an old, portly, grumpy-looking man with barely any hair. He appeared dour in every single painting. Not a whiff of a smile or any light of humor in his blue eyes. Because of this, she wondered what his nieces were supposed to look like. There didn’t seem to be any other portraits on the wall, except for Lord Oxford. Hopefully, no one had seen any of his nieces recently, or her mission would be short-lived.

  She scoured the vast upper level, looking for rooms the nieces would have likely stayed in. In one small room with flowered wallpaper, she found a large, prettily painted wardrobe along one wall. Inside, several old gowns hung. There were two blue ones with lots of ribbon; something a younger girl would wear. The pink one was very frilly and puffy, and definitely not something Sophia could see herself wearing. Ever. Not even if someone put a knife to her throat. The only decent dress was shoulder-less, with long, bell sleeves, and a scooped bodice. Thankfully, there was no extra scratchy netted fabric underneath the skirt.

  She took the dress off the hanger and held it up to herself in the floor-length mirror. The red and black silk fabric complimented her pale skin and blond hair. As she swished the dress back and forth, mimicking dancing, she realized it was going to be damn near impossible to scale a building in it. She had to find another place to get dressed and ready for the ball. Somewhere closer to the community banquet hall the ball was being held at, where she didn’t have to climb up walls or shimmy through windows. She would hate to ruin such a pretty frock before she got any use out of it.

  While she continued to look in the mirror at the dress, she instead saw her dirty and torn clothes, braided hair, unadorned face, and she questioned whether she could pull this whole thing off. Even with a pretty dress and painted lips and styled hair, she didn’t look like a young woman from the city, born into wealthy society. Her arms were too muscular, her legs too thick, she looked like she could wrestle a large sow to the ground. The society girls she’d seen looked like they could barely lift a knife and fork let alone a long broad sword. It was too bad she couldn’t engage in a bunch of training exercises with all the soldiers and guards instead to find the piece of her soul. At least then, she would know what she was doing, and would have the upper hand.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. By the varying sounds, she determined that there were two people currently heading her way. She searched the room, spotted a large canvas bag with a drawstring in the corner, scooped it up, shoved the dress into it, a pair of shoes, and a tin of what looked to be lip stain on the dressing table, then slung the bag over her shoulder.

  “I swear I heard someone up here,” came a male voice from the hallway just outside the bedroom door. It was one of the servants from downstairs.

  Sophia silently crept to the bedroom window, carefully pushed the shutters open, and then slipped outside. Grabbing hold of the rain gutter above, she was able to shimmy her way across the wall, and then pull herself up so that she was atop of the house, on the roof, and was able to look out over the garden below again. The two gossipy girls were gone. Sophia imagined they had gone to their respective home
s to get ready for the evening’s festivities. She too had to find a place to prepare.

  There were galas and balls every night throughout the summer. Some at the community hall, some hosted at large family estates. It was prime mating season. And she figured there was no time like the present to join in on the hunt.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sophia

  After finding a place to wash her hair in a stable not far from the hall, Sophia combed it, twirled it with her fingers, and tossed it loosely over her exposed shoulders; a style she’d seen other young women wear. Getting dressed out of sight, but within walking distance of the hall, had proved difficult. She still managed to do it without getting the dress dirty despite the straw and muck.

  As she walked along the cobblestone street, toward the grand hall, among several other young women and men, chamber music wafted from the open doors. Violin and harpsichord and piano met in melodic rhythm that made Sophia’s heart ache. She loved music and never got an opportunity to enjoy it. When she was younger, Grindel tried to entertain her with a few songs with a guitar accompaniment but they were a pale comparison to the beautiful melodies that swelled out of the hall. She hoped she would get several opportunities to engage with the music and dance across the floor. Not that she knew how to dance all that well.

  When she entered the grand banquet hall, with its soaring, painted ceilings and fine furniture, all eyes turned toward her, and Sophia felt extremely uncomfortable. She had to suppress the urge to pat her hair and pull up the bodice on her dress. The lacing had been so tight on the dress that her breasts nearly spilled over the top. At first, she thought maybe the effect was too much, but the appreciative looks she got from some of the young men in attendance was worth the effort. Maybe she knew how to flirt after all.

  Young men and women, scattered through the room and huddled together in corners, laughed and chatted over their goblets of wine, all of them adorned in their best. Even the poorer in the city were dressed in their best clothes. The summer balls were the only time each year that the classes mingled. Sometimes, even matches were made across money lines. But not everyone was okay with the event. Even now, the gossiping young women from the garden snickered behind their hands as they looked at one poor girl’s plain, green dress and made remarks. Quite loudly, by any standard.

  The big-nosed girl, from earlier in the garden, snickered. “Didn’t she wear that last year?”

  “It doesn’t even look washed,” the one with the long, dark hair remarked.

  “I think she gained a few pounds as well. It’s awfully tight.”

  The girl blushed and retreated to the food table in shame. Disgusted by the other girls’ behavior, Sophia joined her at the table.

  The girl picked up a small pastry, then set it back down.

  “Those look delicious.” Sophia plucked the pastry from the silver tray and then popped it into her mouth. She smiled at the girl. Sophia was fully aware that a fine dusting of icing covered her chin.

  The girl giggled.

  “You should have one,” Sophia said.

  The girl shook her head, her hand going to the waistline of her dress.

  “Your dress is lovely.” Sophia smiled at her. “Brings out the beautiful green in your eyes.”

  The girl blushed. “It’s old.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You make it look good.” Sophia gave her a wink.

  “Thank you.” Her gaze drifted to the floor, as if she was embarrassed.

  “I’m Sophia by the way.”

  “I’m Claudine.” The girl smiled and did a little, informal curtsy.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Sophia handed the girl one of the pastries, as she took another for herself.

  They both ate them, and then giggled together like old friends. The sensation was an odd one, but not unpleasant. Sophia had never, ever giggled with anyone before. She’d actually never talked to another young woman either.

  Claudine gave Sophia a little curtsy. “I must return to my mother, she will wonder where I went, but thank you for your kindness.”

  “Don’t let anyone put you down, especially not those hideous beasts.” Sophia nodded toward the gossiping girls. “Drink wine, eat sweets, and dance with every young man here, as is your right. I bet you dance like a fairy in moonlight.”

  Claudine wrinkled her nose at that and ran off. Sophia realized the girl had probably not ever seen a fairy, dancing or otherwise. She had to be careful with her words or she’d be found out to be a fraud.

  When she was gone, Sophia ate a few more pastries. She knew she was being gluttonous, but she never got sweets at the cabin. She couldn’t bake, and Grindel never brought home any ingredients for something sugary. It was all meat, not even the good, thick kind, and roots like potatoes and turnips. All day, every day.

  As she went to grab just one more, a young man stepped up to her side. She recognized him from the park the other night. The son of a general, Winston something or other; she didn’t know his family name. He kicked one of the oracles when they didn’t speak to him. Revulsion rose up in her throat when he smiled at her.

  “I saw what you did for that poor girl,” he said. “It was very kind.”

  “It’s easy to be kind. Maybe more people here should learn that.”

  “Yes, I agree. There are some here who can be very rude.” He gestured to the big-nosed girl and the girl with the long, dark hair, then looked at her and smiled again. “You seem like a nice person. I value that in others.”

  She eyed him curiously. Maybe she’d seen him on an off night. Everyone had days where they were not at their best. He was attractive, certainly, with slicked back, dark hair and rich, brown eyes. In her boot heels, they were the same height, and he definitely was fit. She’d seen him work out in the training yard before, as he was part of the guard. But there was something just not right about him, and she couldn’t quite pin what that was down.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  As a uniformed server walked by, Winston grabbed two goblets of wine off the tray, and handed her one. She took it and nodded thanks. She took a small sip and grimaced a little. Wine was not her favorite thing to drink. She preferred mead or ale.

  “I haven’t seen you before. And I would definitely remember,” he said.

  She fussed with her hair, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m from… out of town.”

  He eyed her a little too long on the bodice of her dress, which made her a bit uncomfortable. “I’m Winston Kent.” He offered his hand, and she took it.

  “Sophia.” She didn’t offer the Oxford family name, as she really didn’t want to give this man any more information about herself that was necessary.

  He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back, as was custom she noticed. When he let her hand go, she discreetly wiped it against her skirt. The feel of his lips on her skin made her uneasy and she could’ve sworn that he licked her.

  She took a sip from her goblet as an excuse, then turned her head to survey the gala and the crowd. Her gaze landed on Duchess of Westray, who sat in the royal seats on the balcony, looking very much like a queen in her jeweled tiara and heavy, blue brocade gown even though she was only a steward of the castle until the heirs to the throne were found.

  With the oracles’ words in her mind, Sophia thought about the heirs and her mission to find them. She had no idea how she was going to do that or where to even start. But the oracles were never wrong. She had to trust they would give her the right tools to fulfill the prophecy when the time was right.

  She watched the duchess a little longer as she addressed those who came to speak with her. It was annoying how she was a little too comfortable in her role as acting queen. As if she felt Sophia’s presence, the duchess turned and met Sophia’s gaze. She offered a warm smile and a nod in welcome, before leaning over to whisper something to the servant nearest her.

  Sophia turned back toward Winston, who was still talking. About himself, mostly.

  �
�Of course, my father thinks I’ll be a general someday. Follow in the old man’s footsteps,” he said.

  She gave him a little smile and nodded, trying to be polite.

  “Of course, the other men in my squad are not pleased with the extra attention I get.” He grinned, with an arrogant twist of his mouth. “But it can’t be helped as I am being groomed to take command.”

  At this point, she was not at all interested in Winston or what he had to say. She didn’t feel a pull toward him. Nothing roared at her like thunder. Honestly, she was grateful that he didn’t seem to hold a piece of her soul because she really didn’t like the way his gaze kept drifting toward her chest and the way he boasted about himself was boring her to tears. She wished Claudine would return to the food table, so Sophia could make her excuses to Winston and talk to Claudine instead.

  Tuning him out, she continued to scan the people in the hall, taking in how they dressed and acted, like getting lessons on how to interact with people. Luckily, Grindel wasn’t one for parties, but he might be forced one night to chaperone. So, she would have to keep an eye out for him and for Headmistress Mittle, though the headmistress never seemed to leave the castle or its adjacent academy.

  Taking in a deep breath, Sophia pushed out with all her energy, all her senses, feeling for the piece of her soul. She wondered what it meant for one to speak to her, and if she would recognize it for what it was. Then there was a shift in the room, as if everything went still. All peripheral movement and noise stopped.

  Desperate, she looked over the crowd. Somewhere, in this colorful, streaming sea of people, the piece of her soul existed and was reaching out to her with phantom fingers. She had to tamp down the urge to lift her hand and reach out in return.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Edric

  Edric couldn’t take his eyes off her.