Petra thought about Kristof, about his unlocked door and sweet manner. She thought about how the prince had tricked her father into thinking he was a friend. If you would like to know how easy it is to overlook evil, to see it for something else, Petra could tell you: it is the easiest thing in the world.
SERVANTS AT SALAMANDER CASTLE were allowed one day off a month. Petra was eagerly looking forward to her first free day when, unexpectedly, it came early. She got a sick day, of sorts. But she was not the one who was ill. Iris had an acid attack.
One morning, Petra pushed open the door to the Dye Works and was greeted with a strange sight. Footprints had melted into the stone floor. The puddlelike holes trailed from the bright side of the room and disappeared into the dark half, where one part of the velvet curtain was burned away.
“Iris?” Petra called. “Are you there? Are you all right?”
“Of course I am!” Iris was hiding behind the remainder of the black curtain—naked, Petra guessed. “I just got upset.”
“But you always get upset.”
“This is different!” Petra heard the sniff of somebody whose handkerchief had disintegrated. “When I get very, very angry or depressed my skin churns out acid like your grandmother’s best cow makes milk.”
Petra decided not to mention that she had neither a grandmother nor a cow. She was concerned about Iris, because it probably wasn’t so entertaining to be naked and trapped in an adamantine chair behind a curtain. “Well, are you angry or sad?” It didn’t seem too difficult to tell the answer to the question, since Petra had heard more than one snotty sniffle. But she thought she would ask.
“I’m both!” Iris pounded the arm of her chair. “The moment I give that hedgehog Hortensia her hair dye, what do you think happens? I’ll tell you: twenty-six of her closest friends and enemies march in here wanting the same exact color! Twenty-six! Do they stop to think that they’re going to look like a row of identical, dotty daffodils? No! Why oh why does the court become a playground for flirtation between the rich, magicless, and brainless?”
Petra knew the answer as well as Iris did: there was no place else for them to go. When aristocratic children failed the Academy exams, they packed up their fripperies and went straight to Salamander Castle. There they usually tried to make one another miserable, arrange a suitable marriage, amuse themselves with drinking and dancing, or some combination of the above. If Iris’s attitude was anything to judge by, the Academy-trained researchers of the Thinkers’ Wing had little patience for the young courtiers.
“And I am no closer to inventing a new primary color! It needs to be ready in advance of the celebrations, so that we can use the color to dye the prince’s robes. I promised Prince Rodolfo that the color would be ready soon. Why was I so confident?” This last word was a wail of shame.
Astrophil was unsympathetic. What a prima donna. You would think that the entire world revolves around her invention.
Petra saw his point, but felt sorry for Iris. She understood how easy it is to put so much emotion into a project. “Iris, don’t worry. You still have several weeks before the prince’s birthday. You have time.”
Iris sniffed.
“Can’t you just turn your magic off? Go into acid retirement, maybe?”
“Retire!” Iris snorted. “You can’t just wish away your magic. Anyway, my gift has its compensations.” “Like what?”
“Well, for example, if I get emotional enough and touch a patch of phosphorus, I can make a green so bright it would make your eyes sing.”
“It doesn’t seem worth it. What’s the point of a magical talent that makes your skin ooze acid every time you get angry or sad?”
Iris chuckled. Slowly, at first. Then she laughed as if Petra had just said something hilarious. “Oh, you little lamb!” she wheezed. “Clearly no one has ever attacked you. No one has ever done you an ounce of harm in your life. Am I right?” Her laughter died away and was replaced by an earnest voice. “I do hope that I will continue to be right. Now, get out of my laboratory. I’m giving you the day off.”
That was Iris. She had never bothered to learn Petra’s name. She was cranky, self-absorbed, and arrogant. But she could surprise you. Petra heard protectiveness in the woman’s voice, and she suddenly realized that Iris liked her.
17
The Menagerie
PETRA PASSED BY her locked wooden chest and then made her way to the stables. She found Neel outside the building, trundling a wheelbarrow full of manure. His expression was as sour as the smell surrounding him.
“What are you doing?” Petra made a face.
“What do you think? The only job I could get was mucking out the stables.” He set down the wheelbarrow.
“But I haven’t seen you anywhere in the castle. I’ve been looking for you at dinner.”
“Where Sadie would be? My sis? Who’s not supposed to know I’m here?” Neel shot Petra a hard, irritable glance.
She bit her lip. Of course Neel wouldn’t have been at dinner. Petra felt embarrassed, and this made her belligerent. “Well, Sadie doesn’t go into the men’s dormitory.” Petra’s voice rose. “I’ve been sneaking around the entrance to that room every night, and you’re never there.”
Neel laughed mirthlessly. “You think the rest of the servants would let Gypsies eat with them? Sleep with them? Not on your life. Tabor and I are only good enough to clean up after the horses. Even if I weren’t keeping clear of Sadie, I’m not the right color to break bread at a gadje table, or sleep on a gadje bed. Tabor and I go back home when the working day’s over. Come on, don’t tell me you’re surprised.”
This was the second time in one hour that someone had treated Petra as if she didn’t understand the way the world worked. Annoyed, she frowned and was about to say something when Neel cut in: “I don’t need your pity.”
“I wasn’t going to give it!” she flared. “You’d probably rather spend the night with your family anyway!”
“Well, yeah! But that’s hardly the point, is it?” He shook his head and picked up the wheelbarrow again, walking away from Petra. For a moment, she stood there. Then she spun on her heel and began striding away.
Petra, you are overreacting, said Astrophil.
I am not! I’m tired of getting nowhere. All I do is work day in and day out in the bowels of the castle. And when I’m finally free, I go to see somebody who’s supposed to be my friend. And the only thing he does is yell at me!