When he was gone, Caroline said to Charlotte, “We’re indebted to you. Coe’s treachery could have brought about the end of the Resistance.”
And that’s the reason you’re willing to forget about Grave, Charlotte thought.
“Any word on the British fleet?” Jack asked.
“We know they’re on the move,” Caroline replied. “And we expect their arrival by day’s end.”
The skin on Charlotte’s arms prickled. So soon.
“Are we ready?” Jack’s brow crinkled with concern.
Caroline gestured to one of her companions. “Commander Harrington, please bring them up to speed.”
A tall, spindly man whose face was dominated by a thick, shaggy mustache of mottled gray and brown stepped forward. “When we first learned of an imminent assault by the full force of the British fleet, we feared we would not be able to withstand the siege. However, new information has come to light that drastically improves our chances.”
“What new information?” Charlotte asked.
“It seems our sometime friends, the French, had not been completely forthright about their own military capabilities in the North American colonies,” Harrington answered with a slight scowl. “They have a much more substantial arsenal at the ready to defend New Orleans than we knew of. And they have additional forces hidden throughout the Caribbean, waiting to be called upon in the event of an offensive maneuver.”
Jack whistled. “That does change things.”
“Indeed.” Harrington’s displeasure had vanished, and his eyes now shone with eagerness. “Should we manage to rout the British here, the French have made it clear they are both prepared and willing to make a counterassault that could break the back of the Empire on this continent.”
“A counterassault on the Floating City,” Charlotte said, echoing what Lady Ott had already told them.
Harrington nodded.
“You think they can take the city?” Jack sounded incredulous.
“The French don’t intend to take the city,” Harrington said. “They plan to destroy it.”
“But . . .” Charlotte had been bracing herself for an unpleasant confrontation with her mother. Now her thoughts turned only to Grave. Grave who was in New York and was no longer viewed as of interest to the Resistance. “How soon?”
Jack’s face was drawn as well.
His mother.
Charlotte saw her father. His broken body at the Crucible. Admiral Winter had promised Charles Marshall would receive the best medical care the Empire had to offer. Did that mean he’d been moved to New York?
When Harrington hesitated, Caroline spoke instead. “That all depends on what befalls us once the British arrive. Our hope is to significantly reduce the capabilities of their fleet. Our allies are optimistic that the outcome will be in our favor. If that goal is achieved, a surprise attack on New York can commence, and it will be undertaken by the French, staged from the Caribbean.”
“Are you sure they plan to destroy the entire city?” Jack spoke carefully, but Charlotte heard the tension in his voice. “Not just the Military Platform?”
“To take down the Floating City is to ruin the crowning achievement of Britannia’s colonies,” Harrington replied. “The French have been waiting for the opportunity to land a crippling blow on their enemy. This is that opportunity.”
Charlotte’s pulse crackled in her veins. How much time would she have to get to the city, retrieve Grave, and get out again? And what about Meg? They’d have to find a way to get word to her so she could flee the city with her mother. But would Meg want to evacuate all the Sisters in Athene’s Temple? Such a thing wouldn’t go unnoticed, and could ruin the element of surprise the French were counting on. And what about Jack’s mother and other civilians? Again, Charlotte saw her father’s face. What of him?
“Charlotte.” The fears rushing through Charlotte’s mind must have been plain in her expression, because Jack spoke her name softly and with concern.
“So much could happen so quickly,” Charlotte said, trying to tamp down the true sources of her anxiety. “I’m trying to grasp it all.”
“You don’t need to concern yourself too much,” Harrington said with a patronizing smile. “When it comes to the move against New York, most of us will be bystanders.”
Charlotte answered with a wry smile of her own. “But not us.”
“We were pleased you were amenable to our proposal,” Harrington said.
Charlotte continued to wear her smile, but didn’t otherwise respond.
“There’s really nothing more to add,” Caroline said, shifting her weight in a rare show of discomfort with the turn in conversation. “Quarters have been prepared. You should retire while you still can. When the attack begins, you’ll be taken to an interior shelter that will be safe from any bombardment. If we prevail against the British siege, you’ll be retrieved and taken to a military vessel that Jack will pilot for your mission.”
Ash coughed, and Caroline shot him a sidelong glance.
“Your brother insists on accompanying you,” Caroline told Charlotte. “Despite the fact that he has no need to prove his allegiance.”
“Good man,” Jack murmured, and Ash flashed a smile at him.
“There are others who’ve volunteered their skills,” Ash added. “I’ll fill you in.”
“You’re at liberty to decide whom you deem necessary to complete this mission,” Caroline told Charlotte, but the slant of her mouth was disapproving. No doubt her mother had envisioned an infiltration of the Floating City by seasoned Resistance operatives, not a ragtag group of displaced youths. Charlotte met her mother’s gaze without flinching. Caroline might doubt the abilities of Charlotte’s friends, but Charlotte had no doubts that they would see the mission through to the best of their abilities, or beyond.
Caroline turned her back on Charlotte and Jack to dismiss them.
“Mother, I need to speak with you and Ash,” Charlotte said. “Privately.”
Caroline stiffened. “Considering the preparations we’re in the midst of, I’m certain whatever you have to say can wait.”
“No, it can’t.”
Something in Charlotte’s voice stopped her mother from arguing further. Ash stepped closer.
“I’ll be in the Command Turret,” Harrington told Caroline, then said to Jack, “Flight Lieutenant Winter, we could use your assistance with the air defenses.”
“Of course.” Jack shot a worried glance at Charlotte, but followed Commander Harrington to the door.
When the room had cleared, Charlotte leveled a stony glare on her mother. “Did you know Father is alive?”
“What?” Ash stared at Charlotte in disbelief.
The color drained from Caroline’s face. “That’s not possible,” she whispered.
“I saw him,” Charlotte said.
Ash’s hands were trembling. “Where?”
“At the Crucible.” Breaking her gaze from Caroline, Charlotte turned to Ashley and took his hand. “He’s very sick.”
“With what illness?” Ash asked.
“Consumption.” Charlotte flinched at the memory of her father’s emaciated body. His racking cough.
A choking sound escaped Caroline. She put her hands over her face and began to shake her head.
Charlotte’s outrage wavered. Had their mother genuinely believed that her husband and the father of her children was dead?
“Admiral Winter promised that Father would be seen by doctors,” Charlotte said weakly. She had little faith in Winter’s promises. And even with treatment, Charlotte knew, his prognosis wasn’t good. In the time that had passed since the admiral had used Charles Marshall as a bargaining chip, the illness might have killed him.
Caroline lifted her face. “No one comes back from the Crucible. No one.”
Charlotte was surpri
sed to see that her mother was dry-eyed, despite her initial show of emotion.
“It would have been folly, suicide even, to treat his absence as anything other than death.” Caroline seemed to be reassuring herself, rather than addressing her children.
So she had known. Charlotte couldn’t stop herself from asking, “How could you give up on him? Why didn’t you try to find him?”
“Charlotte.” Ash’s reprimand was thick with sorrow. He tried put his arm around their mother’s shoulders, but she shrank from his touch.
Charlotte didn’t acknowledge her brother’s cautioning tone. “What happened?”
“He fell.” Caroline stared ahead, as if watching the horrible memory play out before her. “The British soldiers swarmed over him. We couldn’t reach him, and we had to retreat.”
Forcing her gaze back to Charlotte, Caroline said, “I didn’t think he survived. Athene’s mercy, I didn’t know. But even if I had . . . retrieving prisoners is unheard of. To be taken is to be lost, and we must fight on.”
She stared at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “Charles . . . I did . . . I did what I had to do. “
Charlotte gazed at her mother, feeling more and more alienated from the woman. If Charlotte adopted the attitude that Caroline clung to, Grave was already forsaken. How could her mother abandon someone she loved? To have believed Charles dead was one thing, but now that she knew the truth, she refused to do anything but justify her choices.
Caroline Marshall might have decided her commitment to the Resistance took precedence over all, but Charlotte refused to do the same.
“I don’t know where he is,” Charlotte spoke through clenched teeth. “But if I can find him and bring him back, I will.”
Caroline nodded, then walked away.
Ashley watched their mother leave. When he turned to Charlotte, his eyes were bright with grief.
27.
CHARLOTTE!” PIP WAS a blur of green hair and flapping arms rushing at Charlotte. “You’re back!”
Charlotte caught Pip in a tight hug, then shared more dignified embraces with Birch and Scoff.
She’d found her friends in the workshop amid showers of sparks and glowing hot metals. Wary of being scorched due to her lack of protective garb, Charlotte coaxed her friends away from their work station and into the corridor.
“We’ve been worried,” Birch said once they were huddled together just outside the workshop.
Guilt bit into Charlotte. A sudden, secret departure had been needed to protect Grave, but she’d never wanted to abandon her friends. “I’m sorry I left so suddenly. And without saying anything.”
“We know you had your reasons,” Scoff said, but the heavy silence that followed made it clear that her friends needed Charlotte to give those reasons.
“I’ll tell you everything that’s happened,” Charlotte said. “But it’s urgent that I speak to your aunt, Birch. Do you know where she is?”
Birch frowned. “When she’s not in the workshop, she’s usually in her quarters. We could look there.”
“Please.” Charlotte gestured for him to lead the way. “Quickly.”
As they hurried through the Tower, Charlotte felt her friends’ unanswered questions hovering all around her. Though she was ashamed at having left them without explanation, Charlotte was comforted by their seeming lack of anger or resentment. Their trust in her allayed a good deal of her anxiety.
Aunt Io answered the door after Birch’s second round of knocking. Moses was perched atop her head like a strange crown amid her vivid blue hair.
She surveyed the faces watching her in anticipation. “My goodness, look at all of you. Something’s afoot, is it? And not just these rumors about an impending attack. No sense worrying about that. If the British are coming, so be it.”
Io stepped back from the doorway. “Come in. Come in.”
When they were inside, she ushered them into her small sitting room. “Tea?”
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Thank you for offering, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m afraid I need to speak you immediately.”
Io peered at Charlotte. “I haven’t seen you for some time, have I? No, I don’t think I have.”
“I’ve been away,” Charlotte said.
Io continued to look at Charlotte. “Are you the one they’ve all been fussing about? Did you steal their mechanical boy?”
“I didn’t steal anything,” Charlotte blurted out. “And Grave is—” She stopped herself. “Please. Let me explain.”
“I’m listening, dear girl. I hope you won’t bore me. My mind tends to wander when I’m bored, and when that happens, I’m inclined to interrupt and change the direction of conversation. Or to leave the room.” Io settled on a velvet pouffe.
Though Charlotte wouldn’t have described her experiences over the past weeks as boring, she worried that Io’s idea of what was or was not interesting might be very different from that of the ordinary person. However, as Charlotte recounted everything that had transpired from Grave’s abduction in New Orleans to the present moment, Io appeared attentive, if not quite riveted.
When Charlotte finished her tale, Pip stared at her with huge eyes. “I can’t believe you were in the Crucible. Was it as horrible as they say?”
Horrible wasn’t word enough to describe that place, but Charlotte nodded.
“An awful place, yes,” Io said. “But a marvel of engineering. Quite ingenious.”
“Io.” Charlotte folded her hands, almost prayerful, in her lap. “I need your help. I think you’re the only person who could rescue Grave.”
“The boy who was captured with you?” Io asked. “You plan to go back for him?”
“I have to,” Charlotte said, her eyes downcast. “I can’t abandon him.”
“Your friends came for you when you were being held in the city,” Io said. “But they had no intentions of retrieving your friend?”
“We couldn’t.” Charlotte wrung her fingers. She could still see Grave laid out on the table. She looked at Io, hoping the woman’s face would push that horrible image away. “Because of what they’d done.”
Aunt Io’s eyebrows went up. “They were experimenting on him?”
Charlotte nodded. “They wanted to find out how he could . . . what he . . . They hoped to replicate the process that allowed Hackett Bromley to bring his child back from the dead.”
It wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was the best Charlotte could muster.
“What a puzzle!” Io put her hand level with her forehead. Moses scrambled onto her palm. Io cupped the little bat in her hands, gazing at it. “Mechanics allows us to pull off incredible feats. My dear nephew restored the gift of flight to this fellow.”
She petted Moses under the chin with her pinky. He chirped with contentment.
“But you weren’t dead,” Io spoke directly to the bat. “Were you?”
“No, he wasn’t,” Birch answered on Moses’s behalf.
At the sound of his savior’s voice, Moses chirped again. He stretched his wings, which clicked with their metal enhancements, and fluttered over to Birch. Moses landed on Birch’s shoulder, then crawled into the pocket of his leather apron.
“No, he wasn’t,” Io echoed, drumming her fingers against her cheek. “But your friend. Your friend.”
“Grave,” Charlotte offered.
“Hmmm.” Io closed her eyes. “Grave. An appropriate name if ever there was.”
When her eyelids snapped up, the gaze she fixed on Charlotte was so sharp, Charlotte drew back a few inches.
“Describe the scene to me,” Io said. “Where was Grave being kept?”
“They set up a laboratory,” Charlotte answered. “Well . . . it was a mixture of a laboratory and a workshop.”
Io nodded. “And what condition was your friend in when you last saw him?”
“He was”—Charlotte faltered as bile rose in her throat—“sliced open.”
Scoff’s eyes went wide while Pip gave a soft whimper. Only Io remained unfazed.
“Really?” Io tapped her index finger against her cheek. “How exactly?”
Her matter-of-fact tone startled Charlotte out of queasiness. “Um . . . it looked like they’d cut him from the throat to his abdomen.”
“And I assume they’d pulled open his flesh,” Io said. “In order to examine the interior of his body cavity.”
“Yes.” Charlotte felt numb.
“What were you able to see?” Io tapped her finger against her lips. “How much detail?”
“I—” The scene wasn’t one Charlotte wanted to remember. The despair she’d felt to witness Grave laid out on that slab and then disbelief, followed by the horror when his head had turned and he’d looked at her. To know that he’d been alive through all of it.
“Concentrate, my dear.” Io’s voice snapped Charlotte into the present. “It is important that I know all I can in order to help your friend.”
Charlotte nodded. “I was surprised at the lack of blood.”
“I have a theory about that.” Io brightened with enthusiasm. “Blood’s high iron content no doubt played a key role in the alchemical formula used to transform Grave’s body. I think it likely that he has no blood—at least nothing more than residual blood—the majority of it would have been absorbed into his bones, thereby altering the composition of both.”
“Hephaestus’s hammer,” Scoff breathed. “I understand that . . . the principle of it, I mean.”
“Good!” Io clapped her hands. “Very good! That could prove pivotal should Grave need any sort of rehabilitation after his ordeal. Keep pondering, my dear boy. That’s how breakthroughs manifest.”
She ruffled Scoff’s hair. He beamed and blushed.
Bizarre as it was to approach Grave’s condition with any positivity, Charlotte found Io’s disposition deeply comforting.
“As long as he hasn’t been completely dismembered, it should be a straightforward project,” Io added, tapping her forefinger against her cheek absentmindedly.
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