Her eyes were changed irreversibly. The dark glasses that were necessary to prevent pain from assaulting her in the bright light of day marked her as an Illuminist. She knew she didn’t have to join the Order, but Bion had been quick to tell her that she would not be safe back in her father’s care. She’d wanted to argue—still did—but to what end? Should she return home and hide in the back room forever and risk one of her father’s well-to-do clients noticing her glasses? Her sisters would not fare well if that happened.
Besides, what sort of life was it to live in the back room of a tailor shop? She adored working with fabric, but what use was a pretty dress if she had nowhere to wear it? No ball to attend where she might waltz in her silk petticoats, and no afternoon tea with friends where they might laugh together?
Enough pity!
That was the most useful thought she’d had all day. Well, at least since leaving Bion. The man was arrogant, but he knew the world she’d been tossed into. In a way, she’d been shanghaied. One afternoon stroll had ended with her being dragged into a carriage and taken away from her life forever. Never once in her sheltered life had she ever thought someone might use her to force her best friend to do something illegal. Of course, it was only a crime among the Illuminist Order to harvest Deep Earth Crystals for the Helikeians, but Janette had been on her way to joining the Order. The Helikeians didn’t share the Illuminists’ views on leaving the rest of the world alone. Their greatest wish was to gain enough Deep Earth Crystal to equip an army to conquer the world. The Illuminists had held them off for centuries, as they clung to their ideals of honor and dedication to learning. Now, Sophia’s life was a series of challenges that she must conquer, or else she risked losing more.
Shanghaiing was the true word for it. It was more than sin and vice that kept the upper crust of society inside their closed carriages and their section of town. There were tales of men and women taken from dark alleys to become slaves aboard the vessels heading for the Orient. Sophia wasn’t fool enough to think there were no dangers in the world; she knew some of them were just across the street from her own doorstep. But she hadn’t realized there were two forces facing off that might easily wipe out everything Britain might muster to defend herself with. She paused, looking at the silver pin in a mirror. How much more was there to learn? Or fear?
It is for your protection, Miss Stevenson.
Bion’s deep voice rose from her memory clear as a church bell.
Or just possibly it was more about keeping her in the possession of the Illuminist Order. Soon, she would be a Navigator. The fleet of airships the Order used to transport their goods and their members traveled through dimension gates. Only a Navigator could see the seams and guide the ship to the correct place. With her eyes altered, she was as rare a commodity as her friend Janette. Navigators were either born of two Navigator parents or created by being exposed to a Root Ball. Bion was protecting her, but he was also ensuring that she did not tip the scales by working with the Helikeians.
Not that she was tempted. No, she’d witnessed just what manner of fiends the men of the Helikeian cause were while she was in their keeping.
Sophia gave in to the urge to groan out loud. She was sick unto death of hearing about how she needed watching, guarding, and protecting, even if there was logic to support it. Little girls truly were the silliest creatures on the planet for wishing to be princesses. The royal family had to retreat behind their estate walls for any privacy and she understood how they felt. Fine possessions did not quench the yearning for freedom.
Not a bit.
***
Soft applause filled the mock engine room. Guardian Lykos Claxton appeared near the edge of the training stage, slowly clapping his hands. Bion clasped the rail and glared at him.
“It’s not a good day to try my patience,” Bion warned. His tone made it clear he wasn’t toying.
Lykos cocked his head to one side, a lock of his fair hair moving across his forehead as he did so. “I am not the one straining your rather notable reserves of restraint. The culprit just left, attired in a very nice set of trousers. I fear she was somewhat uncomfortable being seen wearing trousers in public.”
Bion growled softly before using his grip on the rail to assist him in jumping over it. He landed on the floor in a perfect stance; knees bent enough to absorb the shock and hands ready to deal with any threat.
Lykos lifted his hands in mock surrender. “By all means, train her as you see fit. I simply wanted to thank you for amusing me so greatly.”
Bion straightened. “I warned you, Guardian…”
Lykos shook his head. “I understand you are looking for an outlet for all that turmoil our newest foundling seems to inspire inside you, but I assure you, I am not your man tonight.”
Bion sent his fist into his opposite palm, the sound popping loudly across the room. “I believe you will serve quite nicely.”
“I might argue on behalf of my comrade, but I discover myself agreeing with you, Captain,” Guardian Darius Lawley interrupted from the doorway. He was formally attired in a brown suit that complemented his black hair and eyes. Settled in his ear was a control with several copper and brass gears that would allow him to open any door throughout the Solitary Chamber. It covered most of his ear, and when he pressed it, the door behind him closed.
“Lykos has a misplaced sense of humor at times,” Darius continued. “But the ladies do enjoy his fair features.”
Lykos made a face. “I have no use for ‘ladies’ of any sort. Tempting your wife away from the ever-so-proper Society beyond our Order improved her immensely. The upper crust’s ideal of what a woman should be is ridiculous. A lady has limbs instead of arms and a gentleman never bothers his wife with his base needs, nor can a lady be seen while in the family way, for the very sight of her rounded belly might be too much for another lady’s delicate sensibilities. The lady must also not be burdened with higher learning, for it will harden her mothering instincts.” Lykos shook his head. “Drivel. They spend their lives inventing rules of conduct that lack any benefit instead of expanding their minds.”
“But it led to the current situation with Miss Stevenson. She was raised to be a lady yet finds herself among us—the uncivilized Illuminists. A situation bound to cause friction as she adjusts,” Bion remarked dryly. “I thought you and your wife were assigned to the Hawaiian Islands, Guardian Lawley.”
Darius nodded. “I had the pleasure of escorting Grainger here for trial.”
“That bastard is still breathing?” Bion demanded.
“A fact I find irritating as well,” Lykos agreed. “I thought the doctor predicted he would die from his head injury. You really should have done a better job of cracking the man’s skull, Captain Donkova.”
“An oversight I will be happy to remedy,” Bion assured them.
“The law is clear. The man will have his trial and his sentence will be carried out in a civilized manner, else we are no better than he is.” Darius offered them a chilling look. “The man lingered near death for weeks but managed to recover, which leaves us the task of convicting him. Since Miss Stevenson is still in a delicate state, it was determined we would come to her.”
Bion snorted. “Do yourself a favor and refrain from mentioning your opinion of her current state. Miss Stevenson will be quite willing to correct you on the matter of how she views her strength.”
Darius grinned. “My wife described her as a redhead masquerading as a blonde. By the look on your face, Janette’s assessment appears accurate.”
“I have the situation well in hand,” Bion responded. No one missed the warning in his tone. “Her training is progressing well.”
“All the more reason to be finished with the cause of her transformation. There will be an official inquiry tomorrow. Both of you have been summoned by the Marshals.”
Bion nodded, then left the engine training room. His expression was controlled and devoid of any hints of his true feelings, but inside, he was elated. It wa
s a savage sort of enjoyment, but one he didn’t try to control. Compatriot Grainger was a Helikeian. Their Order was as old as the Illuminists’, but they were very different. Helikeians would use Deep Earth Crystals and their power to build weapons for the purpose of global domination. For a solid millennia, the two orders had been clashing. Bion was certainly going to enjoy standing up before a Marshal to help Grainger get the conviction he so richly deserved.
To be sure, a part of him would rather know that the man had died from the blow to the head Bion had inflicted out on that Hawaiian lava flow. Bion snarled softly, the memory of that day still branded into his mind.
Even now, he was furious with himself. Janette Lawley was a Pure Spirit, and it had been his duty to keep her from falling into Helikeian hands. Still, he should have prevented the event that had torn Sophia away from her family.
Guilt was a bitch that chewed on him relentlessly. So much so that he had requested to be Sophia’s personal advisor during her training. The posting had been approved reluctantly because his own skills as a captain were exceptional and the Order needed him back in the air fleet.
But the Order would have to wait. Becoming a Navigator was something Illuminists waited years, often decades, for. It was something many trained for but never gained the opportunity to achieve. Root Balls were rare and competition for access to them was fierce. No member of the Order ever endured the agony of the transformation without being completely willing and eager. Only the elite were selected for transformation.
Except Sophia Stevenson. She was unprepared, ignorant of the process taking place inside her. Which was his failing.
The sting of that knowledge was intense, but he didn’t try to squelch it. Pain sometimes taught a deeper lesson than anything else. There was no way he would allow her to fall into the hands of a less accomplished training officer than himself.
Not a single chance in hell.
***
Sophia shut the book she’d been trying to read. She had classes to prepare for, but her mind was restless.
She made her way into the bathroom, still amazed by the conveniences offered by the Illuminists’ society. Her father had proudly installed piped-in water a few years before to the delight of the entire family. But here in the smallest, humblest rooms of the Solitary Chamber, she might have a hot bath without heating a kettle.
What did it matter that she might take a hot bath without stoking up the fire if she could not hear her father telling his favorite hunting story at the supper table once more?
She shook off her melancholy, ordering herself to concentrate on more practical matters. More positive ones.
She had rights among the Illuminists, rights her sisters would never enjoy in high society, with its ideas of what place a woman should stand in.
Like being able to kiss Bion Donkova if you like…
She most certainly did not like that idea.
How would you know? You’ve never been kissed.
Well, at least not by a man, she hadn’t. There had been Jonathon Saddler, who had kissed her in the Brimmers garden during a ball last spring. Somehow, she doubted Bion would hesitate when he leaned toward her or that his kiss would be anything like the soft salutation Jonathon had bestowed on her before stiffening and hurrying her back to the safety of the matrons’ watchful eyes.
There were no matrons inside the Illuminist society. In fact, among her rights was the one to take a lover without repercussions. Sophia laughed, certain her mother’s ghost was going to appear any second to reprimand her for even thinking such a thing.
But you’ve taken it a step further with thinking about how Bion might kiss you.
Sophia ground her teeth, not sure if she was exasperated or frustrated. She honestly wasn’t sure anymore. The first few months she had been a Novice had not seemed so difficult. She’d had classes to attend, like at a university, the difference being that among the Illuminists, females might study any subject from anatomy to the zodiac. Heat teased her cheeks when she recalled the one anatomy class she’d attended. She had expected a lecture and arrived to find the classroom full of scale models as well as two live ones.
She unbuttoned her maroon coat and caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror set above the sink. There was also a full-length one near the bathtub, but she’d draped a sheet over it, not wanting to see her entire body unclothed. Such was wicked, depraved, wanton…
Or at least that was what the matrons had whispered.
She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to look at her reflection in the mirror as she shrugged out of her coat. Her shoulders were smooth and sprinkled with tiny freckles. As far back as she could recall, her mother had insisted she wear a wide-brimmed hat to keep her face free of freckles to avoid being thought lowbred. In fact, everything she did was in an effort to avoid gossip and rumors. Her behavior had been constantly critiqued so that she might mend her ways before society labeled her something that might bring shame to the family.
Yet now, all of it was useless. The Illuminists were looked down upon by society, like the unfortunates who worked in the brothels or the Jews who kept to their own sections of town. Once a person began wearing the gold pin of the Illuminist Order, they were not received by the most respected members of society. There were exceptions—those who benefited from the Illuminist technology too much to look down their noses at them.
She turned the knob to fill the tub with water—it was nice, with a high back like a little slipper shoe. It was coated in white enamel and the water coming from the tap was the clearest she had ever seen. She cupped her hand beneath it, marveling at the pristine clearness. Only country homes—and the Illuminists—had such good water. According to one of her professors, they used a filtration system, but she’d not yet studied it. She did know how to use the twin levers attached to either side of the water pipe. She lifted them, and as she did so, the crystals in each lever began to react to one another. They formed a current and steam began to gently rise from the water coming from the tap. Once more she cupped the water, smiling at the temperature. A hot bath. So easily. There were advantages to being an Illuminist, no doubt about it.
She fussed with the busk closure on the front of her corset. The undergarment bothered her because she was used to making her own, which fit her perfectly. But every possession she had was lost to her now.
Another little dictate she’d learned from Bion Donkova. In all fairness, she shouldn’t be cross with him because Novices were not allowed contact with anyone outside the Order during their first year, but once more her temper flickered at just the idea of the man.
Maybe she should be concerned about her reaction to him. It was definitely volatile—as though there were something inside her straining against her hold on it. Her aunts would have labeled it “base,” uncivilized urges best squelched before they caused her to fall from grace. Doing so made her a lady, setting her above the common woman.
She’d been reared on such ideals, but the wonders of the Illuminist world surrounding her made it hard to hold on to such dictates. Science made sense, while her aunts’ sayings rarely did.
Her aunts were right about one thing: the feelings Bion unleashed inside her were proving uncontrollable.
Stepping into the tub, she sighed as the warm water covered her skin and warmed her toes. But once she was settled, the image of Bion returned. When it came to the man appearing in her thoughts, she seemed to have little discipline. He was so meticulous, in his maroon uniform with its gleaming buttons. He never appeared with even a single dull button, nor did his chin ever have a hint of stubble. Bion didn’t follow fashion, with its preference for sideburns and mustaches. His square-cut jaw was scraped clean and added to the polished image he presented.
But she’d seen another side of him—a savage side.
Heat teased her cheeks and it wasn’t due to the hot water. No, it was far worse than that. Young ladies did not blush at the memory of men behaving badly. In fact, ladies did not see the
sort of struggles she’d witnessed. That sort of thing was kept well on the other side of parlor doors. Yet, she was not sorry she had seen it. Somehow, it felt personal, her knowledge of Bion’s true character. She liked the way it made her feel, even the way it rattled her composure, because there had been too much order in her life.
There. She’d confessed to her unladylike yearnings.
Sophia picked up a bar of soap and began to bathe. Her cheeks remained hot because Bion lingered in her thoughts, and tonight, it felt strangely intimate. As though the man were somehow aware of her fascination. Which was ridiculous of course. He was far too busy trying to mold her into his ideal of a Navigator. The man didn’t suffer from her lack of focus.
Yet even after finishing her bath and drying herself, she still glanced over her shoulder, looking around the room before pressing the controls for the lights. They dimmed before leaving her room in darkness. Sometimes, it felt like the man was her personal shadow. Now that it was dark, she might admit to being comforted by that fact. At least a bit, deep down, where uncertainty was still lodged inside her despite her best efforts to face her new life without faltering. No matter how frustrating the man was, it was still nice to go to sleep knowing her world would not be completely full of strangers in the morning. Bion Donkova was bound to be there.
But she still wasn’t sure if that pleased her or not.
***
The secured Novice wing of the dormitory was quiet. Bion stopped and looked at the logbook sitting neatly near the archways that held a collection of male Deep Earth Crystals. The only person who might cross the arch without an Illuminist pin was a Pure Spirit. There were still two Guardians posted to add more security to those Novices sleeping beyond the gate. Each coming and going was noted clearly on the creamy parchment of the log. He flipped open his pocket watch to compare the current time with the one printed next to Sophia’s entry.
She wouldn’t care to know how often he checked up on her. Seeing if she returned to her rooms directly after a training session or that she answered him truthfully when he asked where she’d gone the night before.
Mary Wine Page 2
