I’d learned, after the long years, that freedom was a precious, fragile thing, and easily overturned by power. That did not stop me from wanting it; in fact, I was fairly certain I was even more anxious to secure it.
As I made my way toward the kitchens, I heard footsteps dashing about in different rhythms, according to the early morning routines. The cooks were preparing breakfast, mixing up ingredients for meals and gathering tools they would need; the laundry had to be prepared, and the stables had to be cleaned and the horses and other animals fed.
I was just calculating my odds of being able to get some freshly baked bread when I heard new footsteps start to come down the adjacent hallway in loud, angry stomps.
“I can’t believe this!” Cecilia’s screeching rubbed my ears raw. It seemed that no matter how long it had been since I’d heard her say anything, her voice was still shrilly enough to make me cringe.
I stopped short, hoping she would not pass by me on her obvious tirade.
“That bastard! How could he do this to me? To all of our plans?”
“Isn’t there anything that we can do?” Alex was walking behind her, keeping up with her infuriated pace.
At the sound of his voice, I scurried to a nearby doorway and smooshed myself as flat as I could. I did not want another confrontation with Alex for more than one reason.
“What can we do?” Cecilia’s voice dropped to a quiet whisper, but in the night, I was able to hear each word clearly. “The only thing would be to turn him in. Tell the king everything, destroy any chance of bettering our lives and ruining the little we do have.”
“Surely the king would be grateful?”
“Grateful for what?” Cecilia spat. “Planning his overthrow? Funding it with our investments over the last twenty years?”
My heart began to pound inside my chest, so loudly I could feel the pulse behind my ears. Their footsteps began to move away, and I tiptoed closer to the edge of the corridor, hoping to keep up with them as they carried on their conversation. I was also glad to see they were heading toward the kitchens. I would be able to make an easy detour and head back to my room.
“I meant he would be grateful for your information. Why not place the blame on His Grace?” Alex asked. “Tell him he tricked you, forced you into it. Maybe we can say he even blackmailed and threatened you?”
“Have you seen King Ferdinand at all since he was forced from the throne? He is ignorant and simple-minded, and his only power remains because of the benevolence of his nephew. He will not be able to protect us from Max.”
“What of the people?” Alex asked. “Surely their benevolence is also necessary?”
“The people are fools as a collective. They can do nothing, other than what their betters tell them to,” Cecilia muttered. I could hear her cursing that followed. “I will need to contact Max’s foreign benefactors. But I don’t know what to tell them yet.”
“Mother,” Alex said. “Maybe instead of stopping the plan, we should be ready to act if it succeeds. The others are already dead, remember? What is one more body, especially if everything else is in place?”
I held my breath, waiting for her to respond. There was something going on, and Cecilia was part of it.
When she said nothing, Alex pressed her. “His Grace has extended us his fullest regrets about Teresa Marie. There is no harm in playing along for now.”
“He will discard us. If we turn on him, he will find a way to assign us the blame. He has all the advantage now, Alex.”
“We do not need to just sit here,” Alex hissed. “This is what got us here in the first place. You allowed that British lady to destroy my marriage contract! If she had not come, none of this would have happened.”
I smiled. It was good to see Lady POW, for all her trouble, was living up to her promise. She had clearly ruined plenty of Cecilia’s plans by dissolving the engagement between Alex and Teresa Marie.
“Don’t you see? Max found what he was looking for all those years ago. He would have broken the engagement himself, now that he’s found King Ferdinand’s son and heir.”
My eyes went wide. King Ferdinand has a son?
“There’s no need to be obtuse about this, Alex,” Cecilia continued, as my world kept reeling from the news.
“We have to do something,” Alex insisted. “I will not let your inaction stop us from getting what we want.”
“We have already lost.” Cecilia shook her head. “Max has what he wants. He has the advantage. There’s nothing we can do, and if we oppose him, he will come after us.”
“What can he really do to us?” Alex scoffed.
“People have died, if I might remind you. You’ve asked what one more body would cost. It costs something entirely differently when it is your own.”
Alex went mostly silent as they turned around another corner. I heard their muffled argument continue as they walked further away from the kitchens.
Before I could trail after them, I heard an exclaimed gasp from behind me.
“Nora!”
I jerked around to see Betsy, her apron full of apples. It was the first time in more than a week I had seen her, and even though I knew Lady POW would be upset at me for shirking my spying duties, even if they were unassigned and impromptu, I raced toward Betsy with open arms.
“Betsy,” I said, hugging her. “I’m so glad to see you.”
The apples fell from her apron as she hugged me back. “It’s wonderful to see you, too,” she said. “Mavis and I have been lonely without you and Ben around.”
“How are you and your sister? Are you faring well?” I glared back toward the shadows, where Alex and Cecilia had disappeared only a moment earlier.
“Her Ladyship has been in rage,” Betsy said, as we began to pick up her fallen apples. “She seems unsure of doing anything, however. Her Grace’s servants pass us in the halls when we do chores, so she knows if she takes any of her anger out on us, she will be the one in trouble.”
“Thank God for Lady Penelope,” I said with a small laugh.
“Oh, I do, Nora. I’m so happy you and Ben have escaped her Ladyship’s claws.”
“Even if you are still her prisoner?” I asked, shaking my head. “You are too kind, Betsy.”
“Your stepmother was cruel to you,” Betsy said. “But believe it or not, she saved me. And Mavis, too. She hired me as an orphan with a younger sister and brought me here. She is cruel, sometimes, but she has saved me from a greater cruelty.”
“That’s still not good.”
Before I could say anything else, Betsy noticed my outfit for the first time. I enjoyed the surprise in her eyes as she looked me up and down.
“Oh, my! What are you wearing?”
“It’s one of Ben’s outfits,” I lied. “I thought it would be easier to sneak down here and see you. And I wanted to get something from the pantry while I was here.”
“Your mother’s locket?” Betsy asked.
When I gave her a quizzical look, she giggled. “You told me about it before. Come on. I need to take these apples to the pantry myself. I’ll help you in.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful to have a friend by my side once more.
It was strange to see Betsy, and even stranger to have her remind me I once was able to share secrets with her. Ever since Lady Penelope told me about the Order of the Crystal Daggers, I had felt like a new person. I had secrets of my own now, and I would not be able to tell them to her. As I watched Betsy help me duck around other servants and sneak into the pantry unnoticed, I mourned for the loss of our sisterly bond.
When Betsy handed me my hidden treasures, I forced myself to smile. My mother’s golden locket gleamed in the dull pantry light, and Táta’s pocket watch shined as I opened it up. The clockwork screws were still, but I could see the familiar, delicate design.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said to Betsy, sincerely and somberly, knowing it was likely one of our last adventures together, if not the last one.
&nbs
p; “Oh, it’s no trouble,” Betsy said. She gave me a friendly smile. “I am glad you were able to sneak down here and talk with me. I know from the other rumors I’ve heard you have been busy, dancing in all them fancy ballrooms with proper gentlemen and dining all over Prague.”
I laughed nervously. “It’s not as fun as it sounds.”
“It sure sounds wonderful.”
“It is,” I said, and as Betsy’s eyes lit up with dazzling interest, I decided to tuck more secrets into my heart. I wanted to tell her so much about how the polite world was beautiful but hollow, and how I knew that I did not belong there.
Instead, as we walked back toward the west wing, I told her of the Hohenwart Ball, and the different parks around the city, all the new buildings that were getting built. I allowed her to think it was a magical sort of world, like the one I used to believe it to be.
When we came to the last hallway before the west wing, I gave her a hug and wished her well.
“Please tell Mavis I miss her, too,” I said.
“Will do, miss.”
I smiled. “It’ll always be Nora to you, Betsy.”
Betsy giggled and headed off, and even as I waved goodbye, I wondered if I was not a hollow person, too.
My old life as a servant had never felt comfortable, but I missed it enough to mourn it as Betsy’s bubbly shadow scurried back to the kitchens.
Entering the west wing was almost like stepping into a new world. The darkness, while it was still silent and heavy, seemed to carry more vulnerability and hope. I gripped my mother’s locket and my father’s watch closer to me. I prayed for God to hear me once more, to fill my heart with comfort, and, if he would, to send me a new friend—someone with whom I could share my new life without reservations.
It seemed like a reasonable request. After all, I had enough reservations about things. After Lady Penelope largely dismissed my theories about Lord Maximillian earlier, I had stumbled into a reality that would have seemed even less plausible only an hour earlier.
I felt a strong urge to go and wake Ben up, just so I would have someone to tell. But before I could turn back and head to his room, I saw that there was someone waiting for me beside the library door.
My feet stayed put as I tried to make out the features of the dark figure before me. I was just wondering if Alex had spotted me after all and had come to ensure my silence when the shadow spoke.
“I was wondering when you would return, mademoiselle.”
*15*
◊
My eyes squinted at the darkness, before they found the familiar shape of Amir before me. He was standing upright, with his hands clasped together behind him, so unnaturally I wondered if it was a military stance. As I took a tentative step closer, he stepped back into a sliver of light peeking out from the library. He seemed to have been waiting patiently, although I had no idea how long he had been there.
“Amir. I mean, Mr. Qureshi. What are you doing here?” My fingers curled into fists, tightening around my parents’ trinkets.
“I was just waiting on you to return from your outing.”
“Why?” I frowned. Was he going to tell Lady POW? I could not say if she would be happy or not, but if I had to bet on it, I would have said she would have been less than pleased. Especially since Amir had caught me.
“I was on my way to return this to you.” He pulled out the small book from behind his back. “I am somewhat surprised—but not entirely—to find you coming back from an unauthorized outing.”
“It wasn’t like I left the house.” I shoved my father’s watch into my greatcoat pocket before reaching for the book.
It was the same book, of course. The etching of the book’s cover was clear, with its elegant and intricate design carved into the leather. I held it between my hands as my mother’s locket dangled from my fingers, and for a moment I wondered if I would feel closer to her by merely holding it, in just seeing it as something she had once owned.
Nothing staggering or supernatural happened as I stood there—as far as I could see, anyway. But as the moment passed, slowly and quietly, I remembered I had asked God for a friend before, and I wondered if this was God’s way of convicting me as well as answering my prayers.
He would do this to me.
I looked back at Amir.
“You have my sincerest apologies over the matter of its theft,” Amir said softly. “As you no doubt know, from our earlier encounter, I loved your mother very much. Seeing you—and her book—brought out the worst part of me that day. I pray you will forgive my lapse in manners and judgment.”
I looked back at the book, opening it up, only to see scrawls of finely shaped letters, written in nearly perfect lines. It was my mother’s handwriting, though I did not recognize the language or the words she had written. My eyes lingered over the preciseness of her hand, before looking up once more at Amir.
I do not want to like you.
“If it makes you feel better, your mother did not like me at first, either.”
“Huh?” I blinked, and I blushed, realizing I had spoken my thoughts aloud. I sighed. “Oh.”
“I cannot imagine Lady POW tells you a lot of stories of Naděžda,” he said. “Would you like to hear one?”
“Lady POW?” I arched my brow appreciatively. “You are calling her that, too?”
“You were right. It is more efficient.”
“You don’t have to call her that so I will like you.” I slipped my mother’s locket into the other pocket of my coat.
“I was not doing so with that intention. I had to work to win your mother over, too, you know. If you talk with me, I’ll tell you the story of how we first met.”
I said nothing, and even in the dim lighting, I could see Amir was smiling, letting that mustache of his curl upward along his upper lip.
“I know you are very curious about her, mademoiselle. You need not allow your pride to get in the way of your happiness.”
“Do you want me to talk with you or not?” I scoffed. “You shouldn’t tell me how you are going to make me do what you want if you want me to do what you want.”
“I only want you to do what you want.”
I wanted that, too.
“Fine,” I said, before pushing open the library door. The room was lit to full brightness, with candelabras flickering at me as I walked toward my father’s desk. The fireplace was full of dying light, the dulling embers offering more comfort despite less warmth.
“Your mother loved books,” Amir said. “It was one of the reasons she wrote as much as she did. Some of the books she read have notes along the margins. I found a few the other day when I was in here.”
“The second time we met?”
He nodded. “The book you have now was the last journal she wrote before ... before she passed.”
I opened the book, looking down at the written lines. Just like before, I was not able to decipher the writing. “I can’t read it.”
“I was up all night with it,” Amir admitted. “I wanted to give it back after earlier. But I could not tear myself away from it without finishing it. I hope you will forgive me this intrusion, too.”
“It is written in a language and script I don’t recognize. I didn’t even realize it was written instead of printed before.” I thumbed through the pages, carefully at first and then more comfortably, as I looked for numbers or any sign that I would be able to translate some part of the message. “I do not know why my stepmother thought I would be able to sell it if it was her journal.”
Amir came up beside me, looking over my shoulder. “It is written in Arabic, but it reads from front to back. It was an odd system of compromise Naděžda and I worked out when we became friends. She would work on her Arabic while I learned to read books from left to right.”
“So you’ve read all of it?” I asked, looking back up at him accusingly.
“Not all of it.” He shook his head. “I know I stole the book from you, and I know stealing is wrong. I’m here to make
amends. But before you get angry, you should remember that you are not the only one who feels robbed since her death.”
Amir’s sadness suddenly reminded me of my father. When my mother came up in conversations, the rare times that she did after her death, he wore the same downcast expression as Amir, right down to the same glittering eyes and softened gaze.
I leaned back against the desk. “I wasn’t about to get angry,” I lied.
“You were, too.” Amir crossed his arms. “I’ve known you now for close to a fortnight. Your nostrils flare open and you clench your fists when you are angry.”
“I can do that for other reasons.” I held up my hand in protest, and it was then I noticed it was indeed curled into a fist.
Amir was kind enough not to laugh at me, although it might have made me feel better. I was grateful that I did not have a mirror to show me what my nose looked like.
“Naděžda had similar foibles. She would also stamp her foot and tap her toe if she was impatient. When we worked together on her business for the Order, we had more than one captive who would complain. One even broke down at what he called the torture of her incessant nature.”
“You worked with her and the Order of the Crystal Daggers?”
Amir nodded. “That was originally how we met. She was fifteen and visiting India with Lady POW and Harshad—”
“How long have they known each other, anyway?” I asked. “How old is he? Seventy?”
“Seventy-two, next spring,” Amir said. “Lady Penelope is only a few years younger. They have known each other since at least 1825, when your mother was born.”
Kingdom of Ash and Soot Page 19
