Chapter 25 Nevelyn Tin’vori

Nevelyn was promoted.

Poor Edna was gone. Such a shame. The others in the seamstress room were all chatting about it. For all their supposed loyalty, they now eagerly ripped the girl apart, like dogs gorging themselves on the first scrap of meat that hit the bowl.

Her work increased, but she was more than up to the task. It actually helped to keep her calm. Focusing on the mundane. There had been a certain pleasure in destroying someone. A feverish feeling that echoed her desire to destroy the Broods. But Edna was not her true enemy. No one in the seamstress room was. They were obstacles. The real enemy was pacing one of the rooms above them, quietly rehearsing her lines. Nevelyn needed to adjust her aim. It wasn't long before she had her first opportunity.

"Girl."

This was Kersey's favorite summoning for her. Nevelyn knew the cast split between the two senior seamstresses. Half of them were under Kersey's province, and the other half belonged to Faith and John. With Edna gone, Nevelyn would have more direct contact with the players.

"Take this up. The brat demanded changes. Again."

Faith made a tongue-clicking noise from across the table but didn't comment beyond that. Nevelyn knew she was referring to Tessa Brood. Even if she was not the most famous actress on set, Tessa was easily the most highly ranked person at the Nodding Violet. Second in line to the Brood throne. All that power didn't matter to the elder seamstresses. The girl had become Kersey and Faith's target for derision because of her excessive wardrobe requests. Neither of them would have ever dared to speak this way to her face, but they felt they were the masters of this small corner of the universe—which loosened their tongues regularly.

Nevelyn collected the black dress and headed upstairs. Her stomach turned uncomfortably as she walked. She'd seen Tessa Brood several times already, but this would be her first face-to-face confrontation with the enemy. Not some imagined encounter or a fever dream. This would be terrifyingly real—another person, speaking and moving and breathing the same air as her. Nevelyn steadied herself before heading upstairs. Her next maneuver required perfect timing. She lingered in the common rooms of the backstage. Checked her mailbox and delightedly saw a note from Garth. She did not reach down for it, but the thought of opening the note later had her smiling.

Every now and again, Nevelyn's eyes would dart to the second door, down the hallway on her right. She was waiting for Tessa Brood to depart. After thirty awkward minutes, she was rewarded. The Brood heiress appeared. She was straight-backed, her hair pulled up in a flawless braid, her chin jutting out—pale and beautiful. She wore the most fashionable leggings Nevelyn had ever seen. The fit ran loose down her legs but fell well short of her ankles, displaying a pair of lovely red shoes. Her top was black, the fabric crossing from hip to opposite shoulder on both sides, leaving plenty of that nearly translucent skin on display. Nevelyn knelt down, pretending to inspect her mail slot, as Tessa passed by. There was a fine tap-tap as she walked across the hardwood. Nevelyn waited until the girl vanished into another actor's room.

And then she was moving.

Tessa's door was still open. This was common. No one really brought valuables to the playhouse. Too many people and moving pieces. It was impossible to account for lost items. The lights were on, glowing too bright. There was a standing wardrobe to the right of the mirror. Nevelyn reached up and hooked the prepared dress's hanger on the highest latch, letting the fabric dangle down the front for a proper display. She quickly smoothed out any creases and stepped back. All she could do now was wait.

A hundred different sounds reached her ears. She heard actors in the two neighboring rooms. On her right, someone sang a lovely melody—bright and hopeful. On her left, there was a garbled growl. It sounded like someone attempting the same line over and over. Twice she heard footsteps, but she knew they weren't the right ones. Too soft or too slow or too padded. Each time, she stepped forward and pretended to be in the middle of the act of hanging up the dress again. The interlopers passed the room without comment.

Finally, she heard the slight tap-tap of Tessa Brood's shoes. Nevelyn steeled herself, stepped away from the dress once more, and pretended to be assessing it one final time. She tilted her head ever so slightly. She also kept her back to the doorway, so it would look as if she had no idea that Tessa Brood was behind her. She waited for the moment those tap-tap sounds faded. She could feel Tessa paused at the threshold, noticing someone else was in her space.

Nevelyn let out a dramatic sigh and delivered her line.

"Such a shame."

She turned to find Tessa Brood with one eyebrow raised like a knife.

"Such a what?"

Nevelyn feigned surprise and embarrassment. She didn't need to pretend to be afraid. She was afraid. This woman was a part of the family that had ruined hers. She was also the key to their revenge. So much was tangled in her words that they came out with all the proper emotion.

"I'm so sorry, my lady. I was just delivering Kersey's dress for you. I didn't say anything. I was just talking to myself. She made all the necessary alterations. Begging your pardon."

She set chin to chest, all subservience, and tried to slip back out into the hallway. Tessa Brood was far too proud for that. "Wait, girl."

Nevelyn stopped like a fish with a hook through its lip. She hunched her shoulders as she turned, putting on a polite but trembling smile. "Yes, my lady?"

"I heard you. You said the words ‘such a shame.' What did you mean by that?"

Nevelyn shook her head like a nervous hen. "Oh, it's really not my place, my lady. I'm an assistant. I really ought to be getting back to the seamstress room.…"

"I have asked you for your opinion. You will give it before you leave this room."

Flawless. Nevelyn took a step closer to her enemy. She swallowed theatrically before gesturing to the dress—allowing Tessa Brood to see the way her hand trembled.

"It's just… My lady, I'm really not comfortable making comment."

"You already commented. Finish the job."

"It's old-fashioned," Nevelyn sputtered. "Even with the requested alterations—which certainly helped—it's simply not suited to you, my lady. I've seen some of the rehearsals. This dress. It just doesn't fully capture your character in the opera, nor does it display your beauty properly." She quickly set a hand over her mouth, as if she'd uttered something forbidden. "Oh, please don't tell Kersey I've told you that. I'll be skinned alive, my lady."

Tessa Brood had turned back to the dress. She was making her own careful examination. Nevelyn saw the way the girl's lips pursed with dissatisfaction.

"Opening night is nearly upon us," Tessa said, more to herself. "It doesn't help to hear this now."

"My apologies, my lady. I really didn't mean—"

"It is not a critique of you. It is a critique of your predecessor. Stop sniveling. You aren't in any trouble."

Nevelyn went silent. She kept her eyes pinned to a small square of fabric on the floor. She was doing her very best not to smile at how well all of this was going. The seed had been planted. Now all she needed was to be dismissed. Allow the natural momentum to run its course.

"What's your name, girl?"

It was hard not to flinch. First, at the fact that she kept calling her girl, even though Nevelyn felt certain they were only a few years apart from each other. She knew it was less a measure of age and more a measure of power. Tessa Brood was dealing with someone beneath her, and that was how people like her talked to people they thought were beneath them.

But she also flinched because she'd been so close to answering that question with her true name. Some small part of her wanted to say it out loud, bold and bright. I am Nevelyn Tin'Vori, and I have come to kill you all. Pride burned in her chest for a brief moment. But now was not the time.

"My name is Nan, my lady."

"Old-fashioned. You should know with a name like that," Tessa Brood said, smirking slightly. "All right. I will wear this dress for the first run of private shows, but tell Kersey I demand an alternative before the full house shows begin. That's when the reviews happen, and I'll not be caught in the wrong dress for the write-up. That should give her ample time to reconsider my wardrobe."

Nevelyn bit her lip nervously. "I'm sorry, my lady, but you want me to tell her? She's my superior. I'll be fired if I suggest…"

"Oh, very well." Tessa Brood sighed. She ran a finger along one of the dress's laces. "I will be the one to inform her, so that you can save your precious skin. I suppose you've been help enough. Though, I might have gone on thinking this was pretty if you hadn't opened your mouth."

"Of course, my lady. Apologies again. I didn't know you were there."

"And yet," Tessa Brood noted, "that is when we are most honest, is it not? When we think that no one else will hear us? I will always appreciate someone who tells the truth."

There it was. The first small sense of trust between them. Nevelyn stood there until Tessa Brood waved her away with one of the most demeaning gestures she'd ever seen.

"Out. I've rehearsals."

Nevelyn fled, back into the dark labyrinth below the stage. She could feel the quiet rush of what had just happened snaking over her skin. There were goose bumps running down both of her arms. She had to take a moment to collect herself outside the seamstress room before entering. John and Faith were arguing about some new book that was being published. Kersey glanced up briefly as Nevelyn took her seat.

"Well? Was the priss satisfied?"

Nevelyn nodded. "No complaints, madam."

That earned a snort. "Give her a few days. I'm sure she'll find something to whine about."

"Wine?" Faith added from across the table. "I'm pretty sure Edna drank it all."

That had the group howling with laughter. Even Nevelyn smirked. The next part of the game was already in motion. She had Tessa Brood right where she wanted her.

Now it was time to attend to Kersey.

Nevelyn had never been a spy. She was no trained rogue. But it wasn't all that difficult to avoid Kersey's notice. The old crone lived in her own, very specific world, and rarely engaged with anything that existed beyond that scope. For the next few days, Nevelyn observed every action she could. Kersey walked home at the same time every afternoon. She paused at the same three stalls, bought the same food, the same candles, the same everything. Not once did she depart from her routine. It was like watching someone who'd figured out what they liked about the world a few decades ago and now went about the business of only enjoying those things.

The woman lived in a basement apartment, adjoined to a much larger house that apparently belonged to her nephew. The nephew was a successful sea trader who'd been kind enough to take in his old and widowed aunt. Nevelyn did not have the time to look through public documents, but she suspected that Kersey paid a reduced fee to live there. Her interactions with the family living above her were minimal. Her nephew appeared to be very busy with work. His wife did not care much for Kersey. Only their daughter visited, a small girl with bright red hair. She'd talk a little each day with Kersey before fleeing back to the comforts of the house above.

Nevelyn noted each interaction and found the visits annoyingly inconsistent. There was no way to predict when the girl might come. It seemed that only the hours after bedtime were safe, and Kersey's own bedtime was not much later. A small window of opportunity, perhaps?

At night, Nevelyn used her magic to avoid notice. Turning the heart necklace to the shadowed side, she would cast her spell out in every direction; then she set herself up in the alleyway across from Kersey's apartment and watched through a small, square window. Kersey would always read two chapters of whatever book she was enjoying. She would listen to a bit of music, and then she would tuck in for the evening. Again, the routine did not vary. Every night was the same.

Nevelyn only unearthed something useful by accident.

On the first two nights, she abandoned her post to return home. There wasn't much point to watching an old lady's bedroom door—knowing her to be asleep. And she knew the suspended dress in her apartment would not finish itself. Both nights, she'd needed to cast soothing charms on her wrist joints. The amount of work was starting to wear on her bones, but a little boon of magic allowed her to press on past the pain. She was satisfied with her progress.

On the third night, however, she unintentionally fell asleep in the alleyway. Exhaustion swept her into dreaming, in spite of the discomfort and the danger. She'd woken up in the predawn hours, startled by her lapse in judgment. There was no point in rushing home. She'd likely be made fun of for wearing the same clothes, but at least it provided an opportunity to follow Kersey's morning routine.

The woman got dressed. She drank tea. She returned to her bedroom. And she never came back out. Nevelyn sat there, growing more and more uncomfortable with each minute that passed. The sun was rising. The streets to her left and right stirred to life.

Where was the old crone?

Enough time passed that she simply had to leave. She could not afford to be late herself. Nevelyn hurried through the streets, trying to ignore the slightly stale scent of her clothing. She arrived breathless and a little late at the playhouse. Thankfully, John and Faith were standing over by the mail wall, bickering about something. Nevelyn took advantage of their distraction, slipping downstairs. She turned the corner into the seamstress room and nearly leapt straight out of her skin. Her heart raced double. Kersey looked up in surprise.

"Gods, you look like you've seen a ghost, girl."

Nevelyn tried to recover and ended up stammering. "I'm… I'm sorry. I just didn't mean to be late, and I didn't want you to be mad."

Kersey frowned. "You're just a few minutes late, girl. Just because you work in a playhouse doesn't mean you have to act all dramatic about things. Go on. Grab your needles."

Nevelyn obeyed. She could not understand how this was possible. She'd watched the woman return to her bedroom. There hadn't been any sign of departure at all. No one had come or gone through the front door to her apartment. So how had she beaten Nevelyn here?

Her mind raced as she worked. Was there a secondary door inside the bedroom? Maybe a basement stairwell that led into the actual house? Nevelyn thought if that was the case, the little girl would use that route as well. And perhaps that would be too little privacy? Still, what other answer was there? Determined to learn, Nevelyn set up again in the early-morning hours.

Kersey woke at the same time, prepared the same tea, and returned to her room. Once more, she didn't reappear. Nevelyn angled herself so she could see both Kersey's alley entrance and the front door to the actual manor. No one came out of either. Nevelyn watched and waited until she was certain the woman wasn't coming—and then she raced to work again.

Kersey was already there.

Nevelyn paced through the dark labyrinth of the underground until the answer hit her right in the chest, like a stun spell. Of course. There was only one possible explanation. Clues had been sitting there all along too. She'd never really seen Kersey arrive at work, had she?

"You're using the waxways to get here," she whispered to herself.

Nevelyn smiled. She could work with that.

Over the next few days, she abandoned her spying, refocusing her efforts on the dress in her apartment instead. It was a patient and deliberate process. Weaving thread and then magic and then thread and then magic. She kept walking back over to her inspiration—a very old picture of a very lovely dress—in the hopes of making sure she was maintaining the integrity of the project. She worked until her bones felt like dust and her eyes had grown so heavy that they might never open again.

She slept better than she had in months. All of her nervousness siphoned away. When she finally finished Tessa's dress, Nevelyn opened her alley-facing window. She set a piece of red ribbon there and closed it—so that the fabric would dangle down, visible to anyone who passed.

This was their prearranged signal.

It was time for one more meeting with Ren Monroe.