The Confectioner's Guild, page 5
Wren dried herself and grabbed her faded dress, pulling it on.
“All done,” Wren said. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought you breakfast,” Olivia said, crossing to the desk and pulling the silver cover off a tray of biscuits, jam, and coffee.
“Thank you,” Wren said, sitting down and slathering the first biscuit with thick clotted cream. She didn’t care if she was being rude. She hadn’t eaten in a day, as her neglected stomach reminded her. “I have to say, though, I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
Olivia looked out the window, wiping an invisible smudge off one of the diamond panes. “I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly yesterday.”
“This is amazing,” Wren said, staring in shock at the biscuit in her hand.
Olivia giggled, swiping a dollop of cream from the ramekin and popping it in her mouth. “All our food comes from the other guildhouses. Best you’ll ever eat.”
Wren finished the biscuit and began slathering another. “I’m so very sorry about the guildmaster. Your grandaunt must have been very upset. Did they know each other a long time?”
A sad smile flitted across Olivia’s pretty face. “You could say that. Kasper was my granduncle. My grandaunt’s twin brother.”
Wren’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. “I didn’t know. How awful.”
“How could you?” she said, her rosy lips puckered in a frown. “It’s all right. I don’t believe what they are saying for a minute. That you poisoned him. What a terrible thing to suggest.”
“You… believe I didn’t do it?”
“Of course! You jump at your own shadow—how could you be a murderer! And why? You’d never even met him. It’s a big misunderstanding.”
“That means more than you know,” Wren said, though guilt snaked through her. That word again. Murderer. If Olivia knew of Wren’s past, she might not be so quick to dismiss Wren as a suspect. But Wren hadn’t murdered Kasper, despite what else she might have done. So she’d accept Olivia’s goodwill. She had never cared about having friends, but somehow, she wanted this girl to like her. Needed her to. Olivia could be an anchor against the swirling tides of this place.
“Now, it may take Grandaunt a bit longer to reach the right conclusion. She’s distraught at Kasper’s death, and Callidus was telling her all manner of horrible things about you last night. But Grandmaster Sable has sponsored you, and that will count for something. Grandaunt will come around, don’t you worry.”
Wren nodded, washing down the last of her biscuits with the heavenly black coffee.
“Hungry, were you?” Olivia retrieved a crumb from the silver tray and ate it.
“I didn’t end up getting dinner last night,” Wren said.
“That’s embarrassing. We’re normally excellent hosts here.” Olivia frowned. “Why are you wearing the same dress?”
“I only have the one,” Wren mumbled. “Callidus grabbed me so quickly yesterday, I didn’t have time to bring anything.”
“Honestly, is everyone in this place totally incompetent?” Olivia threw up her hands. “We’re going shopping today.”
“I’m supposed to have a lesson with Hale,” Wren said. She didn’t feel like mentioning that she also had very little money. She did have the gold crown she had won off Kasper, but somehow, she didn’t want to spend that. It was all she had to remember the little man by.
“You can’t need the whole day for your lesson,” Olivia said, pulling Wren to her feet. “And I need the distraction. Let’s go find him.”
Olivia gave Wren a tour of the entire Guildhall in their search for Hale. It was three sprawling stories—ballroom, dining hall, conservatory, kitchens and pantries, and servants’s quarters on the bottom floor; living quarters for guildmembers and guests, classrooms, and the library on the second floor; with offices, meeting rooms, and the guildmaster’s suite on the third.
The icing on the white marble cake was the rooftop deck. Wren gasped as the nondescript door at the end of a lonely corridor opened to reveal a stunning vista of sugary morning light.
“Beautiful,” Wren breathed, her spirit lifting as if ready to take flight. The Cerulean Bay sparkled in the light of the morning sun, which hung heavily over the unfurled carpet of stone that made up Guilder’s Row. Raised beds brimmed with fresh herbs and vegetables, filling the air with the fragrance of warm cherry tomatoes, flowering summer squash, and sweet snap peas. There was even a beehive in the far corner of the terrace, its inhabitants buzzing purposefully from plant to plant.
“I come up here when I need to be alone,” Olivia said, basking in the tangerine sun with an upturned face and closed eyes. “Some of the servants come out here to tend the garden, but it’s usually deserted. I figured you could use a place like this. Especially if Hale is going to barge into your room unannounced.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll need to worry about that. Apparently, the man has disappeared,” Wren said. They hadn’t been able to locate him despite venturing into every nook and cranny of the Guildhall.
“I had hoped he’d be up, but he’s probably sleeping in,” Olivia said. “He’s often out late—partying with the other guildmembers at the bars on Nysia Avenue. Let’s return the favor and barge in on him!”
“That’s a bad idea,” Wren said, but Olivia was already pulling her back inside.
Wren found herself shoved in front of a rough wooden door on the second floor. They had ended up where they’d started, just three doors down from her own. It made her stomach flip, thinking of Hale so close.
Olivia stood behind her, practically bouncing with impatience.
Wren rapped lightly on the door.
Nothing.
“He’s not here.” Wren turned, but Olivia spun her back around. “Nice try.”
Wren took a deep breath and rapped harder. “Hale?”
Muffled sounds and curses emanated through the thick door.
She took a step back.
The door flew open to reveal Hale wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung pajama pants.
“New girl,” he said, squinting and rubbing his hands through his golden hair. It was out of its tie from yesterday and hung in tousled waves over his shoulders.
Olivia let out a soft peep behind her, and when Wren glanced back, she saw Olivia’s wide eyes transfixed by Hale’s bronzed chest and ripping stomach.
Wren’s face burned and she looked down, trying to regain some semblance of composure. If she didn’t look directly at the man, she could just free her tongue from the knots it seemed tied in.
“Olivia and I would like to go into town to run an errand,” Wren blurted out. “Can we push our lesson to this afternoon?”
“Yah,” Hale said in a sleepy voice. “I never start lessons until after noon, anyway.”
A thump sounded inside his room, followed by a feminine exclamation.
Wren looked up into his face, growing cold. “Is there someone in your room?”
A leisurely grin spread across Hale’s face. “See you this afternoon, chickadee.”
The door closed, and Wren turned woodenly. “There was someone in there!”
“Who cares?” Olivia squealed, linking her arm through Wren’s and towing her down the hallway. “Did you see his stomach? I so hoped we’d get to see his stomach.”
“You hoped…” Wren said. “You little traitor! You planned this.”
Olivia let out her infectious giggle. “And you fell for it. I’m so glad you’re here. We’re going to have so much fun.”
“If I don’t get tortured and executed as a murderer,” Wren grumbled.
“Yes, that.” Olivia frowned, a flicker of melancholy flashing across her face. “Shopping first, then we’ll work on solving the murder.”
“I think you have your priorities out of line,” Wren said, but she relented, allowing Olivia to pull her downstairs. She was content, for now, to let Olivia lead until she got her bearings in this place. Besides, Wren suspected that Olivia needed this trip as much, if not more, than she did.
They stopped in the Guild Controller’s office on the first floor, where Olivia explained that Wren needed an advance on her monthly stipend.
“Stipend?” Wren whispered, as the praying mantis of a man uncurled himself from his ledger to head to the safe.
“Of course! Grandmistress Sable didn’t tell you? You’re a journeyman now; you’re entitled to wages. Sable is quite generous.”
“Wages?” Wren’s eyes grew wide.
“Your former master never gave you a wage? All of them are supposed to, even if it’s small. How did you buy clothes? Pay if you went out to eat?”
“I didn’t do any of those things,” Wren mumbled, thinking of how she had hoarded the precious tips customers had slipped her, sneaking out to buy a new dress to replace the one that had gone up over her knees after her growth spurt two years before.
Olivia’s eyes were wide. “What did you do with yourself? Didn’t you have any fun? Friends?”
“I worked a lot,” Wren said. Work was safe. Work didn’t get you into trouble, or break your heart, or try to take advantage of you. “I’m a very good confectioner.”
“There is more to life than work,” Olivia said, which drew a snort from the controller as he returned, dropping two gold crowns into Wren’s hand.
“This is my… monthly stipend?” Wren whispered in awe.
“Like I said,” Olivia beamed. “Quite generous.”
As the girls walked into the antechamber of the Guildhall, Olivia faltered. “Brace yourself,” she whispered. “You’re about to meet Marina.”
A stately brunette approached from the dining hall, towing a young man in her wake. “Olivia,” the girl said. She was lovely, her grass-green eyes set off by the emerald of her well-tailored dress, her ample bosom set off by its tight embroidered corset. Somehow, Wren admitted, to her annoyance, the horn-rimmed glasses the girl wore seemed to compliment her effortless beauty, rather than stifle it.
“Marina,” Olivia said coolly. “You’re looking well this morning.”
“I am, aren’t I? And I see you’ve made a new friend. Forced to choose from the murderers and thieves now, are you?”
“Alleged murderer,” Wren said more calmly than she felt, the word stabbing at her gut, years-old guilt and shame threatening to bubble forth. She shoved it back down, focusing on the enemy at hand. She had dealt with this type before, leaders of orphan gangs who ruled by fear and cruelty. To not be inside was to be outside, and to be outside was to be a target.
“I’ve heard that the poison was in your cupcake,” Marina said. “I’ve never made a confection so bad it killed someone, but I suppose it’s possible.”
The lanky, black-haired boy behind Marina looked away, as if made uncomfortable by Marina’s words. Perhaps he had been fond of the guildmaster.
Wren swallowed an angry retort, instead taking Olivia’s hand in her own and pulling her towards the front door. She didn’t need to draw this girl’s ire more than she apparently already had. Callidus and Willings were enemies enough. Keep your head down. Don’t draw attention.
“They’ll string you up before the month is out,” Marina announced behind her.
“Oh, Marina.” Olivia turned back. “There was a visitor in Hale’s room this morning. I thought it might be you, but… alas, it looks like he has truly moved on.”
Marina’s eyes narrowed as Wren and Olivia turned and swept through the front door, Wren struggling to keep the smile off her face.
Olivia leaped down the giant steps of the Guildhall, turning right towards the fashion district of the Guilder’s Quarter. Wren hadn’t spent much time in this part of Maradis, but she had a general sense of the layout. Most of the business and commerce occurred in this quarter. Maradis itself was sandwiched between the Cerulean Bay on the west and Lake Crima on the east. It was a lovely city, bordered by blue water, green trees, and white-tipped mountains. It was no wonder the Imbris clan had chosen it as their capital when they had officially crushed the other clans and driven them east, over the mountains.
“Were Hale and Marina really involved?” Wren asked as they wove through the shoppers on the busy avenue. She couldn’t help but be curious about Hale. She had never met anyone like him—so… exuberant. Bold? She wasn’t sure how to categorize him. The man unapologetically took up the space of two people in the world. While she took up less than one.
“Briefly,” Olivia said. “She’s desperately in love with him still.”
“Why did they separate?”
“Hale will bed anything that moves. I don’t think it was ever more than a fling to him.”
Wren processed this information, placing it on a prominent pedestal in the front of her mind. Do not fall for him! she chided herself.
“Have you and Hale ever…?” Wren asked.
“No!” Olivia squealed. “Grandaunt would kill me. It’d almost be worth it…” She trailed off, her eyes turning dreamy for a moment.
“Who was that other boy with Marina?”
“Lennon,” Olivia said. “Poor guy has to suffer her reign.”
“Do they both live at the Guildhall?”
“Yes. They are both sponsored by Grandmaster Beckett, who’s the guild’s ambassador to the Tradehouse. The guildmaster represents the Guild on the Guilder’s Council, but the ambassador does much of the real political work. Policymaking, securing alliances and such. Since he lives at the hall, they live at the hall.”
“The Guilder’s Council reports to the king, right?” Wren asked. She had dropped out of school when she’d been only eight, and so her understanding of the Alesian political system was sketchy at best.
“Right. The Nobles’ Council and the Guilder’s Council are the two legislative branches. They make and oversee the laws. All the guilds have a representative on the council, but the ten aperitive guilds make up the Inner Council. They have the most power.”
“The aperitive guilds. Those are the ones who… make food, yes? And the Confectioner’s is one of those, yes?”
“Yes, and drink. I’m not actually sure why those have more influence than the other guilds, like the Solicitor’s or Seamstress’s Guild. But that’s how it’s always been.”
Wren thought she did, in fact, know why the aperitive guilds held more power than the rest, thanks to her revealing conversation with Kasper yesterday. But she could never tell Olivia. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“Here we are!” Olivia said, stopping in front of a shop with a stylized needle and thread on the front window.
A cheerful bell trilled as they opened the shop door.
The seamstress, an elegant woman, glided to the front of the shop to meet them. “Olivia, my buttercup,” Elda said, kissing the girl on both cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry to hear about your granduncle.”
“Thank you, Elda.” Olivia dimmed for a moment.
“You let me know if there is anything I can do for you or Iris,” Elda said, taking Olivia’s hands in hers and squeezing.
“I will. You could help my friend. She needs a full wardrobe,” Olivia remarked, seeming to brighten at the thought of shopping.
Wren felt a pang of sympathy for Olivia. She knew what it was to try to shove aside your sorrow, to pretend that everything was fine and normal. The grief would catch up with Olivia sooner or later. But, she supposed, Wren could help distract her today.
With a businesslike nod, Elda led Olivia to a plush velvet divan, retrieving a cold glass of ginger soda for the girl.
Wren, on the other hand, was unceremoniously shooed onto a raised pedestal, where Elda began measuring, poking, and prodding with disapproving clucks and sighs.
“Just a few things,” Wren protested, “a dress or two.”
Elda and Olivia exchanged a knowing glance and proceeded to ignore Wren completely, spinning through yards of fabric, spindles of ribbon, and piles of accessories. Wren didn’t really mind. She knew little about dresses and fashion; it was a relief to not have to try to muddle her way through on her own.
“Seamstress Elda and my grandaunt are old friends,” Olivia explained from her perch, trying on a burgundy hat she had pulled off a nearby stand.
“Well, yes and no. You should have seen her back then,” Elda said as she measured Wren’s foot for a pair of shoes. “Iris was the most beautiful rose in a field of poppies. Lovely, gregarious, funny. All the eligible men sought to win her hand. When Carter Greer, the king’s up-and-coming finance minister, caught her eye, it was the talk of the town.”
Wren declined to say that she rather liked poppies, thinking their understated beauty far more interesting than the cloying scent of roses.
Elda continued. “I was a young artisan seamstress, just out of my master’s shop. I had few clients, barely enough money to buy fabric to make my samples. Until Iris saw one of my designs in the window, a daring floral beaded corset with sheer sleeves, and a full velvet skirt…” Elda’s eyes grew misty. “Every woman in Maradis wanted my designs after Iris wore that dress to her wedding. I was set, and Iris and I have made striking gowns together ever since. I suppose you could say she is my muse.”
Wren murmured platitudes, wondering what it would be like to know and trust someone for decades. She looked over at Olivia, who was pawing through a pile of jeweled brooches. She couldn’t help but smile. If Iris Greer had any of Olivia’s infectious enthusiasm in her youth, Wren could see why men had lined up to court her.
“How did your grandaunt end up at the guild?” Wren asked.
Olivia grimaced, putting a brooch back in the pile. “Her husband died very young. He fell off a horse. Grandaunt was with child, but she lost the baby. Her husband’s family was unkind to her, and she came to live with her brother, Kasper, at the guild while she recovered.”
“Those curs threw her out when she needed them most,” Elda said, curling her fist around a pair of scissors. “I hope they’re going hungry in hell.”
Wren and Olivia looked at each other with eyes wide, and Olivia covered her mouth to keep from giggling. “Elda! Language.”
“Well, it’s true, my little bluebell,” Elda said, picking up four jeweled headbands and holding one after another up to Wren’s auburn locks.
