blur, he yanked a hanging plant off its chain and threw it at the glass. It smashed through the pane, shattering it as the masked guard seized upon him.
âa strange, silent brawlâ
âthat left three masked guards unconscious on the tile floor, the other guards tumbling back, their top hats strewn, and Lockwood had thrown himself out the broken window in a graceful arch. The brass buttons on his uniform glimmered in the sunlight.
He fell.
I raced to the window. The ledge below sported a pair of sooty footprints. Three stories below that, a wisp of blue uniform disappeared into a tangle of hedges. I peered through my broken glasses at the miles of broken hedges and buildings, massaging my arms as the blood returned to my fingers. Lockwoodâs figure disappeared completely into the tangle of labyrinth.
Lady Florelâs masked guard rose to their feet and gathered around me, picking up shards of glass piece by piece like a flock of crimson pecking birds.
âLeave the glass,â said Lady Florel sharply. âFind Lockwood. Bring him back .â
The masked guard dropped their fistfuls of glass. A pinging shower of shards at our feet was the only sound they made as they swept from the room. A moment later, they streamed out of the buildingâs entrance below, over the sweeping pavilion of marble and gardens, and into the maze. I bitterly rubbed my throbbing arms.
Good riddance, I thought.
C HAPTER 9
S till disheveled and streaked with soot, I followed Lady Florel through the theater. That was what this building was, Lady Florel explained, leading me down an ornate hall and an elaborate staircase. A theater where the monarchâwho was also the best illusionist in Nodâolâand the lesser illusionists lived.
And it did look like a palace. But a strange one. Everything had been decorated as though the builders had taken pieces of architecture from the past five hundred years, chewed them up, and vomited them into building materials. Carved cupids were everywhere.
Lady Florel was quickly explaining the nature of the illusionarium Iâd be participating in in just a few minutes.
âItâs part of an annual festival we have here in Nodâol,â she said. âA winter solstice festival. Itâs called Masked Virtue .â
âMasked Virtue?â I repeated.
âQuite. This is the first illusionarium, and itâs a small one. Itâs just for the miners. Youâll illusion with the only other two illusionists in the world. This world, at least,â she corrected. âTheyâre young, too. Your age, as a matter of fact. Each of you will illusion your own bit. If you do well, and itâs entertaining enough, the miners will decide to support your color in the festival, which begins tomorrow.
I frowned up at a massive chandelier. I had no idea what Iâd illusion. Gross incompetence hit me like an ocean wave. So far Iâd only illusioned things like snow and arsenic. And temperatures. Iâd done the Quickening Formulaâthat was a complex equation, right? It had flowed right from my fingers. And Iâd transformed the corridor on the Chivalry . But was it enough to put an early end to the illusâillusionaâWhatever it was called?
âLady Florelââ I began.
â Queen Honoria. Please, Jonathan.â
âRightâthat. Illusionarium. What is that, exactly?â
âAh. Itâs when youâthe illusionistâillusion with an audience. Illusionists are rare, which means illusionariums are even rarer.â
The hall opened up onto the main level, with vaulted ceilings, a mezzanine and a large staircase. The theaterâslobby and reception hall. The wood floor gleamed below us. A ballroom, too. Iâd never seen anything so grand. I tugged on my ear, thinking.
âLady Florel,â I began again.
âQueenââ
âRight. Queen Honoria,â I said. âLook, are you really the
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