Clockwork Heart

by Dru Pagliassotti

  “I’m sure it cost him a fortune, but since he barely touches his inheritance, I imagine our accountants didn’t complain too much.”

  “He must love you a lot, to make you a present like this.” Taya handed it back.

  “Well, we’re brothers.” Alister tucked it into his sleeve, looking thoughtful. “Will you forgive me if I fail to escort you to the door? I would have to put on my public robe and mask, and I wouldn’t even be able to say good-bye.”

  “Of course. I understand.” She bowed, pressing her palm against her forehead. “Thank you for dinner and the pleasant conversation, Exalted. You’ve been very kind.”

  He grabbed her hand as she straightened and brought it to his lips, smiling as he kissed her fingers. Taya swallowed, meeting his eyes and melting at the humor and warmth she saw in their green depths.

  “Nor could I do that in a mask and robes,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  “You’re going to make it very awkward for us to meet again in Oporphyr Tower,” she said, her heart pounding.

  “I know how to admire from afar. I just don’t enjoy it.” He released her with a show of reluctance. “I intend to see you again. Before my cousin’s party, if I can possibly clear my calendar.”

  “I’d like that.” She stepped back. “Good night, Exalted.”

  “Alister.”

  “Alister.”

  He called in his servant, who escorted Taya through the antechamber and out to the front door. Gregor was waiting outside, finishing an ale. He handed it to the servant when he saw Taya.

  “Eat well, then?” he asked, opening the coach door. Taya looked inside and sighed.

  “Too well. I don’t think I can stand being jolted around inside that stuffy box, Gregor. Can I ride on top with you?”

  “The exalted would have my head if he found out, he would.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Taya examined the side of the coach, gauging how to climb up. “Please? I ride on top or I walk.”

  The coachman sighed, closed the door, and helped her up.

  The next day Taya went back to work, pleased to find her wings repaired. None of her deliveries took her to Oporphyr Tower, but Alister sent a note to the dispatch office, thanking her for a lovely evening and apologizing for not being able to get out of his obligations that evening. Taya felt a second’s regret, then tucked the note into one of her flight-suit pockets and finished her day’s work.

  On the day after that, she was amused to find a message asking for her by name, ordering her to fly to Exalted Forlore’s office to pick up a package for the University. Alister did have a package for her, but he kept her chatting for half an hour, shamelessly flirting and begging her to take him flying with her someday. Taya promised to make some inquiries. The flight dock kept a special set of wings for visitors, but they were usually foreign ambassadors who didn’t have to worry about caste propriety. She didn’t know what it would involve to borrow them for an exalted. They’d have to go somewhere remote, where he could fly without a mask and not be seen.

  “I don’t trust him,” Pyke declared after she told Cassi about the day’s meeting. They were sitting at their usual table in the eyrie dining room, their voices pitched low to keep the rest of the icarii from overhearing. “He’s moving too fast.”

  “Too fast?” Cassi rolled her eyes. “Dinner and a chat in his office is hardly ‘too fast.’ It’s a perfectly respectable pace.”

  “But all this flirting…”

  “Is fine, as long as Taya doesn’t mind. You should try flirting, Pyke. Girls like to be flattered, you know.”

  “Alister flirts well,” Taya said, smiling at the memory of his lingering touches and long gazes. “It’s harmless.”

  “And if he goes beyond flirting?”

  “Then she’s a lucky girl,” Cassi said, with finality.

  “I don’t know if he will,” Taya admitted. “I don’t know if he’s just amusing himself or if he means it.”

  “How can you possibly like a man you don’t trust to be sincere?” Pyke exclaimed.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust him! I just don’t know him well yet. But I’m having fun. If he wants to keep flirting and flattering until we’re both old and grey, that’s fine. But it would be kind of nice to know what he’s thinking.”

  “And if he’s serious? Do you really think a cross-caste relationship between an exalted and an icarus can work out?”

  “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘work out,’” Taya murmured. She’d been wondering the same thing.

  “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Pyke retorted. “We all know what people think about icarii. What if he uses you as a bed partner for a few months and then gets bored and moves on?”

  “That might not be so bad,” Cassi pointed out. “The exalted is handsome, rich, powerful, and charming. What makes you think Taya doesn’t want a little no-strings-attached fun?”

  Pyke scowled. “Taya’s not that kind of girl!”

  “Quiet,” Taya said, reaching across the table to touch his wrist. Other icarii were glancing at them. “Honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything more than that from an exalted.”

  “Yes, and if you’re going to act like a jealous ex, go away,” Cassi said, piqued. “Taya needs friendly advice, not offended masculinity.”

  “My friendly advice is to leave him alone,” Pyke growled.

  “And my friendly advice is to enjoy yourself and see what happens.” Cassilta gave her an envious look. “Why doesn’t some handsome exalted chase after me? I can’t even attract an annoying conspiracy theorist.” She kicked Pyke, who muttered under his breath.

  “Taya Icarus?”

  The three of them looked up at the icarus in the doorway. All the other icarii in the room raised their arms and pointed in their direction.

  Taya stood and led the messenger out to the parlor. He wore a military corps insignia on his flight leathers. That made sense— courier icarii didn’t fly at night, unless they were caught out past sunset or there was an emergency. Which meant—

  “Is it my father?” she asked, fearfully. “Did something happen to my family?”

  “Not that I know of.” He handed her the note. “You’re the Taya who rescued Exalted Octavus?”

  “Yes.” She unfolded the message, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was from Lieutenant Amcathra, telling her that a wounded Demican had been reported by one of the Tertius physicians and arrested on suspicion of being her mugger. The lieutenant wanted her to identify him.

  “That rescue was good work,” the other icarus said with approval. “Have you ever thought about joining the military corps? You’ve got the guts for it.”

  “Actually, I just took the diplomacy exams.”

  “Too bad. If it doesn’t work out, keep us in mind. You wouldn’t need to memorize all that cultural scrap, and we could use a talented flier like you.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded, although she didn’t think she could take a job where she might have to kill someone. Just looking at Lieutenant Amcathra’s note made her feel guilty all over again. “Does the lictor want me right now?”

  “Of course he does. He’s at Tallyfield Hospital. You want to walk, or should I get your wings from the docks?”

  “I can walk down there in the time it would take you to sign out my wings,” she said, with a touch of regret. “Please tell him I’m on my way. Thank you, and fly safely.”

  He waved and ducked through the doorway. Taya told her friends where she was going, then ran upstairs to grab her coat and gloves.

  The walk down Cliff Road was cold and long, but Secundus was still lively in the early evening, with people dining and drinking, attending plays and hurrying to friends’ houses. In half an hour Taya arrived at Tallyfield Plaza, where the hospital stood on one corner.

/>   She entered the main foyer, blinking in the light of its gas lamps and pulling off her gloves.

  “Icarus.” Lieutenant Amcathra rose from a chair and beckoned to her. “I require you to look at the prisoner and tell me if he is the man who attacked you.”

  “So you’re handling the case? I thought you’d be investigating the wireferry accident.”

  “That investigation is also in progress.”

  “You must get all the tough jobs,” she joked, hurrying to keep up with him as he walked. He didn’t answer, and although she studied his face, his black lictor’s stripe and Demican stolidity made his expression impossible to read.

  Deciding she’d get nowhere trying to engage him in small talk, Taya concentrated on following him to the Demican’s hospital room, where another lictor unlocked the door.

  “That’s him,” Taya said at once, recognizing her attacker’s face. Then she stepped forward, alarmed. He was breathing irregularly, and he looked pale. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Infection.”

  “Oh, Lady.” She felt a chill. “Was it—”

  “His wounds were deep, and he did not have them tended at once.”

  “Is he going to die?”

  “I do not know. I am certain the physicians will do what they can.” Amcathra sounded uninterested.

  The Demican prisoner opened his eyes and looked straight at her. Taya recoiled, and Amcathra’s hand fell on her arm, moving her aside. He stepped up to the bedside and looked down at his ancestral countryman.

  “This icarus has identified you as the man who attacked her,” he snapped, in Demican. “Do you understand me?”

  The wounded man took a labored breath.

  “I understand.”

  “You were working with two Alzanans.”

  “They left me to die.”

  “Of course,” Amcathra agreed. “What else would you expect? A warrior should choose honorable companions, not thieves.”

  “I am shamed.” The man fought for breath again, lips pale. “Please do not tell my family.”

  “Who were your partners?”

  “Delfo,” the man husked. “And Miceli. Delfo had the net. Leader.”

  “Where did you meet them?”

  “A bar in Slagside. Red door.”

  “Name?”

  “I do not know.”

  Amcathra inclined his head.

  “Very well. I will return with an artist for a better description later. Rest and heal, warrior. You may live to regain your honor, if you are lucky.”

  The man nodded once and closed his eyes. Taya slipped next to Amcathra and touched the man’s hand.

  “You fought well,” she said, also in Demican.

  The man pried his eyes open once more, looking at her.

  “And you,” he replied, formally. “But the gun. That is not a warrior’s weapon.”

  “It will be,” Amcathra predicted, and then drew her away. “Come,” he said, switching back to Ondinan. “Let him rest. He will not trouble you again.”

  Taya waited until they were outside. “Will he go free, if you catch the Alzanans?”

  “That will depend upon the judge. Maybe he will die of his wounds.”

  Taya shivered at the Demican’s cold pragmatism. “I hope not.”

  “You will not be found at fault if he does. Your testimony and that of Exalted Forlore makes it clear that you acted in self defense.”

  “Forlore — you mean, Alister? The decatur?”

  “No.”

  “Cristof?”

  “Yes. I will ask him to identify the man tomorrow, but it is only to be thorough.”

  She made a face. “Icarii get called away from their dinners, but exalteds get to wait until morning?”

  “Victims are called at once, and secondary witnesses are allowed to wait until the next day,” Amcathra corrected her. “Exalted Forlore’s testimony is of less importance than yours.”

  “I’m sorry. That makes sense.”

  “I hope you will tell your friend that I did not beat or brainwash you or your attacker.”

  Taya laughed. “I said I was sorry! But yes, I’ll tell him.”

  “You were kind to compliment the prisoner’s fighting, though he does not deserve such honor.”

  “Well, he probably would have killed me, if … if Exalted Forlore hadn’t come along and shot him.”

  “Someday guns will overwhelm Demicus,” Amcathra said, with a touch of regret. “Every Demican will kill with the twitch of a finger, and a warrior’s bravery will mean nothing.”

  “Ondinium doesn’t sell arms.”

  “Not all countries are so cautious. If our elders are wise, they will adopt Ondinum’s laws against bearing firearms.”

  “They wouldn’t do that, would they? I thought most Demicans compare Ondinium to hell.”

  “Ondinium may be hell, but it is an orderly hell. Demicus will not be so orderly, once guns arrive.”

  Chapter Six

  On the day of the ball, Taya and Cassi took a half-day off so Taya could return to Jayce’s shop for last-minute tailoring and grooming.

  “Good, good,” Jayce murmured. “We’re still finishing the sewing, but I’m glad you’re here early.”

  “Do you have plans for Taya’s hair?” Cassi demanded, pushing Taya down into a chair.

  “Nothing that requires a particular style.”

  “Good.”

  “Bad,” objected the famulate hairdresser he’d called in. “Look at how short this is! What am I supposed to do with it, then?”

  “Make it gorgeous.” Cassi turned to her nephew and began grilling him about the dress. The hairdresser rolled her eyes and combed her fingers through Taya’s loose curls.

  “Well,” she said, “at least the color is interesting, isn’t it? I don’t work with auburn very often. Mareaux, are you?”

  “On my father’s side. He was born a citizen,” she added. To some Ondiniums, that mattered.

  “Good you inherited his fair skin, then,” the hairdresser commented, holding her coppery hand against Taya’s hair. “Could be worse.”

  By the time evening arrived, Taya understood why the vigilante heroes in plays wore masks. She’d been poked, pinched, pinned, primped, and put down to within an inch of her life. The next time she rescued someone, she was going to sneak off without telling anyone her name. That way she wouldn’t have to dress up for a thank-you party.

  “I can’t do this,” she said with despair, setting down the bowl of soup that Cassi had handed her. “I’m going to say something stupid and embarrass myself.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. You’re the guest of honor.” Cassi leaned over and patted her knee. “Exalted Octavus owes you her life, so short of throwing up all over the banquet table, there’s nothing you can do that’s going to offend her.”

  “Great.” Taya looked at her bowl. “Is that why you’re making me eat now? So I won’t throw up?”

  “No. I’m making you eat now because you’re not going to be able to once we strap you into that corset. Besides, it’s more ladylike if all you do is nibble.”

  “Ladylike.” Taya groaned. “I don’t think I can do ladylike.”

  “You will do ladylike,” Cassi’s nephew commanded, in a voice like steel. “You don’t have any choice. Cassi, I’m going to sew her into this. You’ll have to cut her out of it tonight. Use the back seam.”

  “So much for seducing that handsome decatur,” Cassi said with mock sorrow.

  Taya’s cheeks burned.

  “Once you’re out of this dress, you’re not getting back into it.” Jayce pondered the problem. “However … it would be good for business if you seduced a decatur while you were wearing it. Very well. I give you my
permission. But you’ll have to wear something of his to get back home. And for the Lady’s sake, bring me back whatever scraps you can salvage.”

  “I’m not going to seduce anyone!” Taya protested, her blush deepening.

  “Well, I’m sleeping on your bed tonight,” Cassi warned her, “so if you don’t come home, I expect to hear all the details.”

  “What kind of person do you think I am, anyway?”

  “A sexually deprived one,” Cassi said, archly. “You and Pyke never got anywhere.”

  Taya drew in a sharp breath. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Ah-hah! It’s true!”

  “Cassi!”

  “I was just checking,” her friend said, sounding complacent. “I don’t want to sleep with someone you’ve already slept with. It’d be tacky.”

  “Ladies,” Jayce snarled, “we have two hours until the party. Divvy up your men while I sew.”

  One hour before the party, Taya stood in front of a mirror feeling more frightened than she had at any point during the aerial rescue.

  “I don’t dare move,” she said, staring at herself.

  Jayce and his assistants had decided to dress her in white and gold because “exalteds always wear jewel tones. I want you to stand out.” The top half of the dress was a slender, low-necked sheath that hugged her chest and waist like a second skin, growing looser on her hips to become a slit skirt that gave her room to walk. A tight corset kept her back straight and pulled her waist in another inch. Taya blinked at the unaccustomed sight of her cleavage being pushed up and out. Maybe she wasn’t as flat-chested as Jayce had led her to believe. Of course, she couldn’t breathe, but she thought the trade-off might be worth it.

  Jayce had sewn a delicate line of gold-edged white feathers up the dress, coiling along the bottom hem, over one hip, between her breasts, and up the low neckline to her shoulder. The dress straps were as slender as he could make them and still cover the healing wound on her shoulder, and her arms were bare.

  She turned and looked over her shoulder. The line of feathers wound down to her waist to complete the circle around her body. Every time she moved, feathers rustled against each other and the feathers over her shoulders brushed her bare arm. The sensation was strange but pleasant.