King Of Fools. Amanda Foody
in ruin.
The only thing he should’ve felt was fear.
“I doubt it will be like last time,” Levi answered, even if a small part of him hoped that wasn’t true. Despite his many recent and frightening brushes with death, the thought of failure scared him more. He would rather die a legend than end his life in anonymity. Jac would probably punch him if he heard him say that, though.
Once Levi finished rinsing out the dye, he nervously checked his reflection in the mirror. It was silly to claim he looked drastically different, but he felt like he did. He wondered what his father would say to see him like this. He’d probably grunt that, because Levi’s two talents clashed with one another, Levi had never been much of an orb-maker, anyway.
Without the mark of his blood talent, Levi’s head of tight, short curls resembled those of most people from Caroko, the city where his parents had been born. Levi was actually pleased with his new look. He’d never noticed how closely he resembled his mother.
Jac, meanwhile, appeared nearly unrecognizable. The black hair contrasted harshly against the pallor of his skin, as did the new pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Apparently Enne had provided them with a full dress-up set. The plaid burgundy suit, the bow-tie, the hint of his tattoos beneath his collar—Jac was remade. Something slicker and more wicked.
“How do I look?” he asked, grinning wide enough to show his dimples.
“You look sharp. What about me?”
Jac examined his all-black ensemble. “Like a menace.”
Levi smugly rubbed some hair grease through his curls, then straightened his jacket. He didn’t normally wear this much black, and the platforms on his shoes made him unusually tall, but he did feel good. Fresh. A new look for a new beginning.
Zula’s voice echoed above them. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, sounding annoyed. “You’re asking quite a lot of my hospitality.”
“I thought we were in agreement about Mr. Glaisyer,” the intruder responded.
Levi and Jac warily met each other’s eyes. Levi would recognize that voice anywhere, and sure enough, he sensed the faint wisps of the donna’s green, acidic aura from upstairs. Jac turned a similar shade of green himself.
“He’s downstairs,” Zula told her.
Levi’s skin prickled as the trapdoor swung open and Vianca Augustine descended into the grimy cellar. She scanned the room, narrowing her green eyes—an exact match of her son’s, he realized. She passed over Jac with disinterest, as if he might as well have been wallpaper. Her gaze, instead, fell on Levi, and his stomach clenched.
“You’ve changed your hair.” Vianca pouted. “You used to be so striking.”
Levi rolled his eyes. Dyeing his hair had been a hard decision, but it had nothing to do with his vanity.
“How have you found your accommodations here?” Vianca asked. She ran a finger along one of the liquor shelves and inspected the dust.
“Who wouldn’t want to live in a cellar that smells like muck?” he said flatly.
“Missing St. Morse already?”
Levi would gladly inhale the odors of sewage every night if it meant avoiding her casino. Even if he could barely breathe, he was still breathing somewhat free. And if he had his way, he’d find a more suitable place in Olde Town as soon as possible. Maybe even tonight. As long as Vianca had a means of contacting him, what did she care where he lived? She and Zula didn’t exactly seem like friends.
“Why are you here?” he asked. He didn’t like the idea of Vianca paying him visits whenever she wished, or Jac witnessing exactly how helpless Levi was in the donna’s presence.
“Because I’m in need of you, of course.”
She twisted the emerald ring around her fourth finger, identical to the one Harrison also wore. Levi resisted the urge to wipe his sweaty hands on his jacket; his betrayal was probably written plain on his face.
“I spoke with Miss Salta this morning. Since you’re already so close...” Vianca looked at him pointedly, as though accusing the two of them of something. Perhaps she assumed their relationship was more than a casual acquaintance. The thought didn’t sit well with Levi. All of his weaknesses and desires were Vianca’s to exploit, and he didn’t want Enne to face Vianca’s torment more than she already did. “I thought a joint assignment would be appropriate.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t drag her with you, then,” he responded, even though he wasn’t truly surprised. In Vianca’s opinion, fear was best felt while alone. Having Enne here would have been too much of a comfort.
“I need your undivided attention,” she said slyly.
And then she launched into one of Levi’s most loathed subjects—politics. He was accustomed to her radical monologues, and he was typically well-skilled at zoning out while appearing to listen. Whoever wore the wigs in the South Side had no effect on him.
But since his deal with Harrison, he could no longer ignore news from below the Brint. So he listened. And very quickly, Vianca’s words made his blood run cold.
“Whoever is running against Worner Prescott won’t matter,” she said dismissively. “Séance is going to win him the election, and you’re going to help her do it.”
Harrison Augustine had not yet announced his candidacy, so Vianca didn’t know that the person running against her party was her own son. Levi needed Harrison to win the election, otherwise the hopes he harbored for his freedom were futile.
He was powerless to defy Vianca’s direct orders, but he had no idea how he could follow them and help Harrison at the same time. He swallowed down an urge to throw up. The expression of glee on Vianca’s face and the look of horror on Jac’s hardly helped.
On top of this dilemma, if Vianca forced Enne to become a lord, then Enne would spend more time in the city’s spotlight. She couldn’t afford to risk exposure.
If she were here, if they’d faced the donna together, maybe they could have found a way out of this situation. They’d escaped the Shadow Game after all.
But she was somewhere else, and he was here.
“And what will I be doing to help her?” he managed.
“You had that little gang of yours.” Vianca waved her hand dismissively, and Levi caught her use of the past tense. His stomach sank further. Without the Irons, without the power of being a lord, Levi would have no means of providing information to Harrison. He was running out of loopholes. “You’ll be her consultant.”
“But the Irons—”
“Are a distraction. It’s time to abandon these fantasies and turn your attention to your true strengths.”
“My true strengths?” he gritted out between his teeth. Was she trying to flatter him by taking away everything he’d ever wanted?
“You’re a businessman, not a lord. There’s more than one way to achieve grandeur.”
“If that’s what you think, then why bother making me Enne’s consultant?” Nothing good had ever come to him by angering Vianca Augustine, but he couldn’t swallow down his sarcasm. “If I’m so lousy at what I do, what could I possibly have to offer her?”
“You look unhappy, my dear,” Vianca said, feigning maternal concern. “I thought you’d be thrilled for something to fill your time, as you’ll be spending so much of it in Zula’s basement.” She spoke with delight, as though she loved the picture of Levi locked away somewhere only she could reach him.
“But you wouldn’t have dyed your hair if you intended to stay here, would you?” She leaned forward and smiled, accentuating the harshness of her frown lines. Levi dug his nails into his thighs. He was playing a dangerous game, keeping secrets from