by Ann Hunter
Rebecca offered him a smile and curtsied slowly, offering the tray to him. She glanced up to see a young man beside him. He was dressed in the same uniform, but his hair was jet black and combed back tightly. He was clean shaven and smiled warmly at Rebecca. His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Future Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation. He appeared to be everything Quarren said he would be. Handsome, dashing, and his smile alone could charm the knickers off of nearly any girl he chose. Why else would Brunhilda and Cassandra very nearly pee themselves at the very mention of him?
King Andrus paused before sinking into his cup. His eye remained on Rebecca, studying her. He passed the cup to His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Future Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation. “Drink this.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. She tried to shake her head without moving it, urging the prince to disobey. When King Andrus noticed her trembling, he smirked. With a wave of his hands, guards instantly appeared. They grabbed Rebecca’s arms and forced her to kneel before the king. King Andrus rose, pointing to her.
“This girl,” he said loudly, “has tried to poison me.” The crowd hushed. Music stopped. King Andrus broke into a maniacal laugh. The crowd followed. He stopped abruptly. The crowd fell uncomfortably silent.
Rebecca struggled against the guard’s holds. King Andrus bent over and raised Rebecca’s chin to lock eyes with her as Hesperia had the first night they met. “What is your name, girl, so that every one here remembers what happens to villainous traitors.”
Rebecca did not hold back. She spit in his eye like a viper.
King Andrus calmly wiped his face and waved at the guards. “Kill her.”
Quarren appeared out of nowhere. “No!”
Rebecca wrestled to her feet. “Quarren!”
Quarren tackled the king and forced his hand into Andrus’s mouth, hauling his jaw open and pouring another vial of black liquid down his gullet. No sooner had he done it than a knife appeared in his back, flung from across the room. It happened so fast that Rebecca did not even realize it had, until Quarren’s head fell back. His hood slipped off revealing his burnt face. He stared at Rebecca with vacant gaze and collapsed upon the king.
Rebecca swung her arms wildly, trying to get to him. “No. No! QUARREN!” The guards pulled harder on her. Rebecca kicked and twisted. “Quarren!”
But Quarren just laid there, mouth agape, eye staring blankly at the floor, one hand holding an empty vial, and another one digging into King Andrus’s teeth, holding the king’s mouth wide open.
Rebecca looked around for Pyp, for Arrow. Neither were to be seen. Where was her exit plan now?
The guards dragged her past parts of The Corporation that she had previously only read about in her mother’s diary. She glanced occasionally at her mother’s name upon her wrist. They began to descend into darkness where boilers and pipes steamed, and hot water dripped and shimmied down the walls made of stone.
They flung her into a lonely cell that even the rats had abandoned. Its previous lone occupant merely a heap of skeleton. Rebecca lay on her belly, face buried in her arms, weeping without reprieve.
*** *** ***
“You failed.”
Rebecca gazed up at the moon through the bars of the prison cell. “Yes, it would appear so.”
Lord Robert Tremaine sat in a corner of the cell. “And you have been here ever since?”
Rebecca shook her head. “No.”
“Were you there long?”
“Long enough to give up hope. Long enough to feel forgotten.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“Did they move you from one prison to another?”
“No.”
Robert was quiet a while, then rose with a tired breath. “I hope to be removed from this one come morning.”
Rebecca looked at him. “Why would they take you out once you are in?”
He clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “Hesperia will come for me.”
Rebecca emitted a high laugh. “Best of luck with that.”
Robert blinked. “Why wouldn’t she? I am her husband.”
“Hesperia has not an ounce of love for anyone but herself.”
“But she needs me.”
“She needs your money,” Rebecca said dryly. “Do not expect her, or Cassandra, or Brunhilda to testify on your behalf until the last copper washer has left your bank account.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes, it is.”
Robert kneaded his wig between his hands and sat down again. “This Quaide…”
“Quarren,” Rebecca quickly corrected.
“Quarren. This Quarren fellow, you believe he loved you?”
“I do. I loved him. It was all I had at the time. Right or wrong, what else could I do?”
“I think you were foolish to fall for such a man.”
Rebecca’s glare was daggers to Lord Tremaine.
He continued, “You knew what you were up against. You knew there was always a possibility of death and infamy. Why him?”
“I do not believe we choose who we love. I believe love chooses for us.”
“You are naïve.”
Rebecca clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes. “As are you. I cannot believe you married such a woman as Hesperia. I cannot believe you’d think she’d come for you. No one loves you, Lord Tremaine.”
“And you, how did you escape?”
“I was loved.”
*** *** ***
Rebecca and Quarren stood before an altar of candles as Preacher pulled their hands through the center of a cog and joined them. He read a passage from The Book of Time.
“Two cogs are better than one, because they must work together in order to turn The Great Wheel. If one stops, the other cannot function. Pity the cog who is broken or stuck. Reach out to fix it. If they work together, they will drive The Great Wheel. How can a singular cog drive The Great Wheel alone? Though one may be overwhelmed, two can work together. A gear with two cogs drives The Great Wheel. Submit to your husband as a cog would to Maker Khronos. For the husband is like the first tinker smith, Khronos. Now as the molten cog submits to Maker Khronos, so also should the wife submit to her husband in everything. Husband, love your wife, as Khronos loved the cog and forged them to drive The Great Wheel. He applied himself to it, causing it to work by the fire of life, refining it with careful hands, and to present her to him self as perfect and polished, without stain or pit or any other blemish, but gleaming and blameless. In this same way, husband ought to love his wife as his own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he watches it and cares for it, just as Maker Khronos does the cogs— for we are members of his Great Wheel. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”
He allowed Rebecca and Quarren to exchange vows to one another.
“I, Quarren, take you, Rebecca, to be my wedded wife. With deepest joy I receive you into my life that together we may be one. As is Khronos Maker to his cogs, so I will be to you a loving and faithful husband. Always will I forge carefully, knowing that service in the eyes of Maker Khronos is one of the great desires for my life. I promise you my deepest love, my fullest devotion, my tenderest care. I promise I will live first unto Khronos rather than to others. I promise that I will lead our lives into a life of hope and good charity. Ever honoring Khronos, and so throughout life, no matter what may lie ahead of us, I pledge to you my life as a loving and faithful husband. I will not fail you so long as it is in my power.”
“I, Rebecca, take you, Quarren, to be my wedded husband. With deepest joy I come into my new life with you. As you have pledged to me your life and love, so I too happily give you my life, and in confidence submit myself to your hand. As is the The Great Wheel in her relationship to Maker Khronos, so I will be to you. I will live first unto Khronos and then unto you, loving you, obeying you, caring for you
and ever seeking to please you. Every turning point in my life has prepared me for you and so I will ever strengthen, help, comfort, and encourage you. Therefore, throughout life, no matter what may be ahead of us, I pledge to you my life as an obedient and faithful wife.”
They sealed their commitment with a kiss and Quarren scooped Rebecca into his arms and carried her out of the church without breaking their gaze. He carried her home under the stars to the Tremaine estate where Hesperia, Cassandra, and Brunhilda were not welcome and had been forced out by the neighbors for their snootiness.
Years passed and they joyfully welcomed two children, two daughters, Lady Lilly Tremaine and Ash, who later played in front of the house while a handsome, older, dark haired boy chopped wood out near the chicken coop. They had found Mason and were a blissful family, if a little mixed.
It was a perfect world. And it was all thanks to the night they brought down King Andrus. The Corporation was repurposed by Prince Andrew for cleaner fuel and better inventions. Prince Andrew ushered in a golden age. Even the skies around the city were beginning to lighten from pitch black to grey. Rebecca’s life was incandescent.
“Do not worry, Ash, we’ll get you out of here.”
But Ash did not want to be out of here. She wanted to be in her cottage, miles away from cares, with her sweet children and handsome men, occasionally chasing Gregory Diggory out of the yard.
“She is in a bad way.”
Why was she being dragged away from this haven?
Her eyes slowly opened and tried to adjust. The room was dimly lit. Everything was fuzzy. She reached out beside her, uttering hoarsely, “Quarren…”
“Shh,” Pyp said, stroking Rebecca’s hand. “You’re going to be alright.”
Rebecca looked around, squinting. “Where am I?”
“You are safe,” assured Arrow.
“We brought you to Madame Bartleby’s,” Pyp said.
Then it all came rushing back. The night of the ball. The king discovering their plans. Quarren spread eagle with a knife in his broad back. Rebecca began to weep.
“Easy, Lady Tremaine.” Henrietta Bartleby pressed a damp cloth to Rebecca’s head.
But Rebecca only wept more sorrowfully, mourning once again.
“I know this is hard, Ash.” Pyp rubbed her back. “But the fight is not yet won. The Corporation still stands. A new leader must be put into power. You are our hope.”
“I failed!” Rebecca sobbed. “Quarren is dead because of me.”
“That’s not true,” Arrow said quickly.
“Quarren gave his life to the cause. He could have left you to your own means, but instead he risked everything to make sure we had a chance to finish the job. He gave all that he had and was to Khronos,” Pyp said.
Rebecca covered her face as tears flowed down her cheeks. “How did I get here?”
“We found where they were keeping you and brought you back. Arrow took down at least ten guards.”
Arrow beamed proudly.
“I want to go home,” Rebecca moaned.
Pyp rose and folded her arms. “That’s it then? You just give up? After all that we have taught you.”
Rebecca rolled onto her side with her back to them.
“Fine,” Pyp spat. “Go home to your masters like a lost mongrel. Let the world fall down upon itself. Quarren’s sacrifice will be for naught.” Pyp stormed from the room. “Come on, Arrow.”
But Arrow lingered a moment. His voice was hushed as he spoke quickly, “We need you to help finish the job, Ash. Come find us when you are well. You know where we’ll be.”
When Rebecca had regained her strength, Henrietta Bartleby took her back to the cottage in the hamlet. Hesperia was furious, but, miraculously, Cassandra and Brunhilda begged her not to waste her breath upon Rebecca.
Hesperia was not above constantly reminding Rebecca of what a failure she was to be ‘kicked out of the sisterly order of Khronos’ in the city. Rebecca, haggard, kept her mouth shut with no fight left in her. She went about her chores in silence. Dutifully rose before dawn and left at precisely half past ten in the evening. She was the perfect servant. A shining example. Look Pretty. Do the chores. Serve in silence. Day in and day out. The world was dead to Rebecca. If authorities or guards came looking for the escaped, convincted revolutionary Ash, they would not find her here. Or anywhere for that matter.
Rebecca laid deathly still on her lumpy, dirty mattress in her father’s workshop each night, staring into the fire of the forge. The scene from the night of Quarren’s death replayed over and over. Figures danced in the flames. Each lick of fire became a familiar form. Pyp with her purple hair, trimmed close to her head. Arrow who was a spark unto him self with his own flaming red hair, freckles, and sharp wit. And tree-like Quarren.
Every time she saw him, she saw how it could have been. No fat, balding Andrus. No charming, dashing Prince Andrew. Only a room full of onlookers who watched Quarren and Ash dance around the ballroom, eyes locked, made perfect in each other’s sight.
Rebecca took a hot poker and carved Quarren’s name into her wrist.
XI
Quarren’s name did not heal as Lilly’s had. Rebecca grit her teeth through most of the day with discomfort to the point she felt as though her head may explode when she fell onto her mattress at night. The burn swelled and purpled. Rebecca soldiered on, but the pain was near unbearable. She wished Lilly was still here, wished she still had a measure of her salve.
Rebecca grew weak and feverish to the extent that Hesperia banned her from the cottage until further notice. Khronos forbid that plague and pestilence be brought upon the house. Despite all of this, Rebecca was able to keep her burn a secret, just as her and Quarren’s affair had been secret.
She tried to sink her pain into her mother’s last words while reading her diary by the forge fire. Marry the prince.
Well, her prince was dead, and unfairly so. Nearly four years had passed since Preacher had cried out that the people of the hamlet should fight back. And what had happened in that time? Countless lives lost. All good, honest people. Rebecca had not even gotten the answers she wanted. The more her hurt and anger festered, the more her burn did as well. She could not bring herself to let it go. Shadows darkened the door to her heart, rendering it hard and unforgiving. King Andrus was dead, but the world was no better for it.
One morning, Rebecca heard Cassandra and Brunhilda squabbling like a couple of chickens. She sat up on her mattress. Her wrist festered, but she had become numb to the pain. She moved close to the cottage to hear what the commotion was about.
Cassandra was carrying on about a message that had come from The Corporation. His Royal Highness Prince Andrew was throwing a ball, and every eligible young lady in all of the kingdoms was invited, nay required, to attend. Brunhilda squealed. Cassandra pounded her feet against the floorboards. Hesperia’s face was ever placid. Rebecca wondered cynically why she had ever joined a rebellion to try and save these idiots in the first place.
The stomping stopped. Rebecca looked up. Brunhilda hung out the window above her and patted her head. Hesperia crossed to the window and informed Rebecca that if she was well enough to eavesdrop, then she was well enough to serve. And so the punishments began again.
The girls carried on incessantly about the ball in three weeks time. All the talk all of the time was about the gowns they would wear, the way they would do their makeup, and how they would accessorize to catch the prince’s attention. Rebecca wondered if the prince liked petty girls.
Cassandra and Brunhilda generally ignored Rebecca, but Hesperia was wretched as ever. She seemed to take a certain level of pride in getting under Rebecca’s skin. Then it occurred to her. She did not have to put up with this nonsense. Living like this was no better than being idle. If Cassandra, Brunhilda, and Hesperia could have a night of fun, so could Rebecca. Quarren’s sacrifice would not be in vain. He killed King Andrus, Rebecca would be happy to take care of Prince Andrew and his would-be king desires.
The whole plan came rushing to Rebecca. Every one would know where the clock people stood in the world.
When she was dismissed each night, Rebecca went to the forge. She tried to remember how her father did things. Pouring the molten copper into cog molds. Letting them set. Firing them in the forge fire. Refining them with the hammer.
Piece by piece it began to come together. Polished and gleaming. She referred often to the old book she had read as a girl by the hearth fire of cogs and all matter of gears and their inner workings. She had managed to secret it away one afternoon, and no one was the wiser. The poor book shelf looked as though it had not seen a reader in as many years any way. Even The Book of Time was covered in inch thick dust.
Night after night she forged a magnificent creation. Occasionally she’d stop and catch a breath of fresh country air and notice Hesperia at her window squinting with suspicion. Rebecca knew she did not have much time. She moved her masterpiece to a place deep in the orchard not far from Lilly’s grave. She felt her mother would watch over it there.
One night it would seem that Hesperia had had enough of the constant tinny cry of the hammer. As Rebecca shoved a gleaming red and orange cog into a bucket of water, she looked up to see Hesperia in the doorway, arms folded, eyes squinting, mouth drawn in a tight downward line.
In the moonlight she looked even older than she was. It caught the edge of every wrinkle. The crows feet near her eyes. The frown lines. The salt and pepper in her hair. The wide white streak on each side of her head of hair that she thought was so stylish.
Rebecca was surprised she came out to the workshop without a night cap. Hesperia was usually so prim and proper. She wanted to know exactly what Rebecca thought she was doing. Rebecca was relieved she had moved her work in progress to the orchard where Hesperia would not know her intentions.
Rebecca merely implied that she found taking up her father’s work cathartic. She expressed she was not any good at it, only that she enjoyed it and it made her feel better about what a failure she was. Things Hesperia would want to hear.
