He helps keep me steady on my heels as he says, “Sorry.”
“I’m fine.”
Mama snaps a photo with the camera. It’s my stepfa- ther’s, but Mama will not leave us alone tonight. “Come into the living room so I can get a good picture.”
“We’ll be late, Mama.”
She waves me off. “Petrov and Angelica will wait at the station.”
We’re blinded by another flash before I can protest further.
s
We make it to the opera house in time. Despite leaving late, we make good time in the carriage and Angelica, lively as ever, keeps the conversation up.
The Belpond Opera House and Theatre stands two sto- ries tall on the far west side of Verthollo. Verthollo is the largest town nearest my village. Carriages and carriages
City of Deception
line the street in front of the house, and as we walk up the stairs to the main doors, I see glimpses of white and gold walls and crimson floors.
“Reminds me of buildings in the White City,” Dmitri says as he offers me his arm.
Many of the people around us drip wealth. They aren’t Firsts, but many are the richest Seconds. This is a treat indeed for a Third. We were lucky Petrov managed to get the tickets.
We wait in line while people file into the theater and the ushers take tickets and lead people to their seats. When we reach the head of the line, an usher in a choco- late and crimson suit takes our tickets and leads us into the theater.
It’s a gorgeous hall, painted domed ceiling above us and plush carpet under our feet. Our tickets are for the back of the hall, but I don’t care. We might be far from the stage, but I’m happy to be here no matter.
But instead of leading us to a back row, the usher takes us to the stairs leading to the balconies. “You’re in the second box on the right, sir.”
The usher leaves us, and Dmitri leads the way. “Aren’t we downstairs? The balconies are expensive
and reserved for the elite,” I say.
“I pulled a few strings of my own and upgraded our tickets,” he says.
Alexa Mackintosh
We pass one of the balconies and Angelica lean to- wards me. “Wasn’t that Lady Stryker? The fashion model from the papers?”
I glance back at the balcony. “I think maybe.”
Our balcony is roped off by a velvet card with a sign reading “Tibalt.” Another man, this one in a white waist- coat and jacket, pulls back the rope and we take our seats. “If you ladies and gentlemen need anything I shall be sit- ting by the stairs. I’ve already put your complimentary opera glasses and playbill on each of your seats. Would you like me to fetch you any refreshments?”
We order tea and various sorts of sweets, and the lights dim as the man returns with them.
The play we’ve come to see isn’t familiar to me, but Dmitri told me he read it and saw it performed while he was stationed in the capital. It’s Romeo & Juliet, and ap- parently popular among the Firsts.
I sit enraptured throughout, though I find Romeo an- noying and Juliet naïve. But I sob at the end, and I’m not one to cry at stories.
When the curtain drops, even Angelica sits quietly. Her makeup smears a little as she dabs at it with a hand- kerchief.
“You should have warned me it would end so horribly!” I chide Dmitri as I dry my tears.
“If they had lived happily ever after their story wouldn’t be memorable. It is the pain and hardship that makes the story.” The way he looks at me when he says it
City of Deception
it’s as if we’re discussing two different things, but I don’t have a chance to pry.
Angelica stands. “If we’re to make the party, we must be on our way.”
s
The debutante party drags on, and shortly after we ar- rive, Dmitri and I decide to leave.
When we reach my house, all is quiet. My parents ar- ranged to have dinner with Angelica’s mother and several of their other friends. Unfortunately, Angelica’s parents divorced several years ago and though on amiable terms, it’s never wise to have them near each other. They must have taken the twins with them.
“It’s late, but would you like to join me by the fire for a little while?”
I did catch a chill on the way home, so I agree. Besides, I’m not quite ready for the night to be over.
I stoke the fire, careful not to get any soot on my dress. He joins me a few minutes later after rummaging through the kitchen for something to eat. Despite snacks at the theater and party, we’ve not had dinner.
“Cocoa?” Dmitri holds out a steaming cup. “Please,” I take the cup and blow across the top.
“I’m surprised you’ve had cocoa. Few outside the White City have tried it.”
I sigh. “My father always bought some in winter. I don’t know how he managed it, but he did.”
Alexa Mackintosh
He sets a plate of cheese and bread between us. “I’ve meant to ask, but how do you know Angelica?”
I laugh. “We don’t seem the most likely of friends, do we?”
“I wasn’t going to say that, but yes.”
“After my father died, money was tight. I mean it’s al- ways been tight, but it was especially hard then. I lived with my aunt for a year, but when I returned I needed to bring in money too. I was too young to get any real job, but Angelica’s mother hired me to be a servant. I helped her clean, cook, and any other odd jobs that needed to be done. I did that for a while until my mother remarried and I was old enough to get a job at the mines. I saw Angelica often, and when I wasn’t helping her mother, we’d play games.”
“You’ve known her for a long time.” “She’s my oldest and best friend.”
We talk about our pasts, and I laugh at his stories about his different postings. Though only eighteen, he’s seen quite a lot of the planet. But as the night drags on, the stories become serious and more personal. The mood changes, the air as thick as it is in the middle of summer before a rainstorm.
In the middle of a story, he reaches for one of my loose curls and tucks it back behind my ear. He stares intently, almost as if he can see through me.
City of Deception
He leans in, and my heart begins to race. His breath brushes my cheek as he places his hand on my side. I hope he can’t feel the fluttering of my heart through the jacket.
As I think he will kiss me, my hot cocoa slips from my fingers and drips down my leg.
“Oh, Universes!” I cry, flinching against the sticky liq- uid.
Fingers flying to his neck, he unties his cravat and presses it against the stain. “Did it burn you?”
I choke back my disappointment. I always ruin mo- ments like these. “No, it was much too cold, but your cra- vat is ruined!”
He smiles. “Easily replaced.”
If I don’t exit soon, my flaming cheeks will be noticea- ble even in the faint light.
“I must go to bed anyway. I have to work tomorrow.”
Before I can rise, he squeezes my hand. “See you at breakfast.”
I nod before hurrying off. My hand tingles from the touch, and my heart soars despite the mishap. I have no idea what his squeeze of my hand means, but I can only hope.
Hope is, after all, what keeps us alive.
{ 5 }
Chapter 5
he Next Day:
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S LEAVING?”
My mother shakes her head at me as she unties her apron after cleaning up the morning dishes. I noticed Dmitri was absent at breakfast but did not ask where he’d gone until after the meal. “What do you think it means? He’s leaving the village tomorrow morning. Said he would catch the morning carriage and ride to Zepha to find a zeppelin to the capital. I thought we could make him a sendoff dinner tonight. He’s been such a good boarder these last months.”
“But…Did he say why he was leaving?”
Did I do something last night? Why did I have to ruin the moment!
She huffs exa
sperated. “I didn’t ask him all his plans and reasons for it’s none of our business. All he said was
Alexa Mackintosh
that he had new orders and would be leaving in the morn- ing.”
But why? New orders wouldn’t come overnight, would they?
I swallow my disappointment. “I…I’m going to work.”
Stepfather glances at the wall clock. “It’s a quarter of an hour before we need to go.”
I hurry to find my boots. “I know. I thought I’d stroll through town.”
“It’s too hot for that,” My mother chides. “Even the mornings will give you sweating fever.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be at the mines on time.” Without fur- ther explanation, I walk out the door onto the street.
I need air to sort my thoughts.
Like that, three months of whatever we had is gone.
s
The smile plastered on my face does not reflect what I feel. I laugh at the jokes shared at the dinner table and wish Dmitri and Petrov, who has joined us for the cele- bration dinner, luck in their next assignment along with my family.
I make it through dessert before the façade begins to fade. I know I’m going to cry like I always do when upset. I hate it, but when I’m upset I too often turn into a pa- thetic puddle of tears. I want him to stay. Oh Universes, I want him to change his mind and not leave.
City of Deception
And I feel petty for acting so childish. He’s a friend, a good one at that, and nothing more.
“I’m going to retire early. I’m not feeling well,” I say.
My mother asks if I need anything, but I shake my head.
Dmitri rises. “I still owe you for fixing my watch. I should pay you before I leave-”
“No need. Let it be my sendoff present. Besides, you fixed it yourself.”
“Only because you taught me.”
I nod, acknowledging the truth of it. I turn away with- out saying anything. I should say goodbye, but that seems insufficient. Perhaps nothing needs to be said.
Or perhaps there are so many things left to say neither of us knows where to begin.
{ 6 }
Chapter 6
even Months Later :
ANGELICA SPINS THE RING ON HER FINGER for the
hundredth time in the last ten minutes. It’s become a nervous habit ever since Petrov and Dmitri left seven months ago.
What none of us knew when they left was that Petrov promised to marry Angelica in a year or two. His reason- ing for waiting was that he needed more money for a proper wedding and apartment. He bought a ring for her, the one she wears now.
But there has been not even a letter from him.
Since, I’ve heard rumors of how he enjoyed the com- pany of many of the other young women in town, not that I tell Angelica.
Passing a biscuit to her, I ask, “Can you come over af- ter work? I have a dress I need to finish, and you’re the
Alexa Mackintosh
best seamstress. Mama says I keep messing up the sleeves. Mind helping?”
She smiles. “I can, but only if you make some of those butter cupcakes.”
Before I can answer, the supervisor comes into the tent. Due to the frigid cold, the supervisor had a tent set up for the mine workers to have a place to eat the midday meal out of the weather. The chatter of my fellow workers fill the tent, and Angelica came because my mother sent her with the lunches my stepfather and I forgot this morning. My mother hates being near the mines, and she won’t let the twins anywhere near them.
The supervisor comes over to our table. “You need to read this. Quickly, and keep this to yourself.” He slides a letter towards Angelica.
She reads it and hands it back to him. “Might I read it?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “It’s from a…a friend. My job posting begins within the month.”
She means the leaders sent news: her mission begins imminently. The Royals are on their way to death.
She’d worried as a year was almost up and there’d been no word.
But now it all begins.
Angelica grins. “I can’t believe it! I…I need some air.
I’ve got to clear my head and make plans-”
City of Deception
The supervisor sets a hand on her shoulder. “There is time for that later. You both worked hard for this and de- serve a treat.” Pulling out his wallet, he hands me enough for a nice dinner. “Split that between the two of you and take the rest of the day off. Tell your mother, Angelica, that you deserve a day out of that dress shop. As for your stepfather, Natalia, I’ll have him join me for a smoke in my office and explain that I let you off early.”
“Thank you,” Angelica says.
“There will be questions as to our reason for celebrat- ing,” I say.
“Tell anyone curious that I gave you a pay raise or something. Or tell them Angelica’s aunt offered to take her to the city for the summer to study fashion. Create whatever excuse you like, just keep it consistent. If you’re finished, I’ll walk out with you. It will eliminate anyone’s questions about whether I did or didn’t let you off.”
Only a few crumbly biscuits remain, most of the lunch consumed before the supervisor arrived. After packing up the remaining bits, we follow him out of the tent.
The bitter cold stuns my eyes from the moment we leave the tent.
“You look like you could use an extra coat, Natalia,” the supervisor says.
“I hate winter,” I mutter into my scarf as I tighten it closer around my neck.
My stepfather comes out of the tent. “Is something wrong, Natalia?”
Alexa Mackintosh
The supervisor answers for me. “She’s fine. I gave her the rest of the day off. She’s been working hard lately and deserves something for it.”
My stepfather is no fool. He knows the supervisor speaks of the rebellion.
A rider on a mechanical beast tears into view and halts fifty yards away, interrupting further conversation. The rider is a stranger, but he wears the gold insignia of the Mersiovskys. He jumps off the beast and runs towards us. “Where might I find the supervisor of this town?” the
man asks, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I am he,” the supervisor says.
“This is for you.” The rider passes a sealed letter to the supervisor.
The supervisor takes the letter and reads it. When he finishes, he looks at the messenger. “This letter says he arrives on the 24th. That’s today.”
“He will be here in an hour or less,” the rider answers before folding his hands in front and returning to his horse. He doesn’t give the supervisor time to ask any more questions.
“What does it say?” my stepfather asks.
The supervisor is too stunned to speak. Instead, he hands the letter to my father. We crowd to see the finely printed words for ourselves. I read aloud as my heart pounds in my chest:
To the Citizens:
City of Deception
His lordship, Emperor Sergio Mersiovsky, and his sons, Prince Ivan and Prince Orion, will grace your city with their presence on the 24th of this month. They are traveling the country in search of a certain young woman to take with them to the capital. She will be educated and intro- duced to high society with all expenses paid by the Em- peror. If she proves amiable, she will become a leading member of society.
The Emperor orders that you gather all maidens of the working class between the ages of fifteen to twenty-one.
May the Universe grant you success, General L. R. Hardcastle
Angelica’s mission and the revolution of today have be- gun sooner than we thought.
{ 7 }
Chapter 7
HEN I FINISH READING, my stepfather turns to me and orders, “Go home to your mother. Tell her of the letter.”
“But Angelica-”
My stepfather gruffly sets his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t you see? You need to be as excited and ready as the other girls. If you’re not
, the spies will get suspicious and realize what you are. Act like this is one of the greatest opportunities ever offered to you.”
I start for home, but my mind sinks into a hazy dream. Could the letter be true? Could the Royal family be taking Angelica away today? It’s sooner than the supervisor thought.
I shake off my thoughts as I come to my house. “Mama,” I call.
Alexa Mackintosh
“Why aren’t you working? Has something happened at the mine?” She looks worried, probably afraid that an- other tunnel has collapsed.
“A messenger arrived with a letter. The Royal family wants all the girls between fifteen and twenty-one to gather. One of them will be chosen to go live with them as a ward. I was sent home, as the Emperor and two of his sons will be here in an hour or less.”
My mother gasps. “Undress while I heat the water.” “What?”
“You aren’t going like that. I wish I had more time! I can hardly make you presentable in an hour,” Mama frets. “Bring in the wash tub and place it in front of the fire.”
She has no idea that her efforts will be in vain.
Entering my bedroom, I began to undress. My mother will bring in the tub for a bath soon. I shed my waistcoat, shirt, and pants, noticing more than ever the threadbare cloth. I rarely wear a skirt to work for fear of it catching it in something. It is when I turn to untie my hair that I notice a folded note on my dresser.
My name is written across the front in hasty, gold script, the hastiness obvious from the scribble of the “a” on the end of my name.
I pick it up and turn it over. A purple wax seal with an overlapping D and O is pressed against the fold. There’s no envelope, only the folded and sealed letter. Slipping my fingers beneath the seal, I break it and read:
City of Deception (The White City Series Book 1) Page 4
