Chapter 5: The Orphans of the Tide

The Quillon hall was lit with four hundred candles and smelled of lilies and money.

Two hundred guests stood among tables of donated things: silver, paintings, a model ship, a pair of carriage horses with ribbons in their manes.

At the front, on a low dais, sat Aurelie in white, with a little bell for the bidding.

Perrine walked in at the back with a child by the hand.

Heads turned.

The child was nine, and thin, and wore a grey smock sewn out of old curtains.

She looked at the chandeliers with her mouth open.

"Is it always like this?" she whispered.

"Always," Perrine said. "Hold on to my hand and don't say a word until I nod."

"Yes, my lady."

"You're going to be very brave in about ten minutes."

"I'm always brave," the girl said. "It's my job. Matron says."

Perrine's grip tightened.

She went down the center aisle.

At the front the Dowager Countess rose out of her gilt chair in a wine-red gown.

All three ropes of pearls were on her neck.

Her smile showed all her teeth.

"Miss Valmorin. You're late."

"Lady Quillon," Perrine said.

"I believe we discussed your knees."

The nearest guests went quiet.

Perrine let go of the child's hand a moment, and made a curtsy that dipped no lower than courtesy required.

"I'll kneel," she said. "I'm happy to. After the accounts."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Fund's accounts, Lady Quillon. Read aloud. The Warden himself said last week he wanted to see them."

That was a lie.

The Warden hadn't said a word to her all week.

But at the side of the hall, under a pillar, with four of his guards behind him, a tall man in black turned his head.

Lucan Halcyr did not contradict her.

The Dowager's color rose.

"You are out of your depth, child. The accounts are for the board."

"Then perhaps the board would like to hear from a recipient."

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