by Kim Foster
He hesitates a fraction too long. But I’m in no position to demand answers from him. So far, he is one of my few allies. Besides, I’m barely even considered a Candidate.
I tuck the question away, adding it to the growing list of mysteries about this place.
Neville waves a hand, dismissing the subject. “What I really wish to discuss is this: to access your gift, you should try letting go.”
“Sir?”
“I have been doing some reading on barriers to abilities like the one you’ve developed. Most people who have grown up—out there—have found various ways to resist and block their gift. This is, I surmise, what has happened with you. Embrace your gift. Do not fight it.”
I don’t know how to respond. Let go? I have no notion how to do that.
I arrive late to breakfast one day. All the other Candidates are already around the table, talking animatedly. I take my seat, and while I struggle to remember which is the egg spoon and which is the teaspoon, Charlie turns to me. “It seems you’re finally going to get your chance to show off your mettle against the other Candidates, Felicity. We’re going on a field training exercise this afternoon and you’re coming with us.”
My spoon clatters against my plate as I look up at Hawksmoor. Is it true?
He nods. “Indeed, we hope this will assist in unlocking your skills.”
My stomach flutters. “What kind of training exercise?”
“You’ll see.”
I flick a glance at Julian. He’s staring at his plate of toast with a stormy expression.
After breakfast, I report to the cellar for equipment fitting. This, at least, I’m excited about. I’ve heard about the equipment technician, Alistair Fergus—generally known by his code name Sig—but have yet to meet him, and I’m curious.
When the cellar door swings open at my knock, I’m greeted by a small man. His features are too large for his fine-boned face—wide eyes, a pointy nose, and a nest of spiky hair atop it all.
“Aha,” he says, finger raised up in the air, “the enigmatic Miss Cole, at last.” He has a heavy Scottish brogue.
Enigmatic? Me?
“Come in, come in,” he urges, dragging me inside. The cellar, his workshop, is filled with brass gadgets and clockwork contraptions. Steam is coming from a piece of machinery I can’t identify.
“Now, what are we going to need?” He scurries and darts around, gathering bits and pieces.
“Do you have any idea what this session involves? What we’re to be doing?” I ask as he measures my waist.
“Hmm?” he says, looking up. “No, not the slightest. Could be almost anything, really. Of course, I don’t believe they’re down to the elimination stage yet. That’ll come later. As I understand it, they’re still just testing and training you Candidates.”
“What do you mean, ‘elimination stage’?”
“Why, when they begin trimming down the field of Candidates, one by one, until the single best qualified person emerges to be raised to full agent status.”
He hums as he resumes his work, and I try to still the butterflies in my stomach.
An hour later, garbed in training gear, I’m waiting to settle into one of three carriages along with the other Candidates, before we set off for the countryside.
Just before I climb in, Rose pulls me aside.
“Are you quite certain you’re up for this, Felicity?” she asks sweetly, her voice laced with false concern. “Are you perhaps … worried you’ll be putting everyone at risk?” Her eyes widen, as though we’re friends, even as her grasp tightens around my upper arm. “Maybe you should decline to come.”
I shake her off me. “Hawksmoor insisted I be included. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
I’m not about to share with Rose that I, too, have my doubts.
“Hawksmoor may know what he’s doing,” she says unpleasantly, her breath hot on my face, “but do you?”
Her haughty tone makes me bristle. I’ve already grown tired of her attempts to make me feel less than worthy.
“This isn’t a game, Felicity,” she sneers. “People can get hurt.”
I wait a beat and cock my head. “Oh, I understand. But, dear Rose,” I say lowering my voice to a stage whisper, “if you’re frightened, I’m sure Hawksmoor won’t force you—”
“I am not frightened,” she says through clenched teeth. She turns her back to me and abruptly climbs into the carriage.
I catch Charlie’s eye. He’s grinning ear to ear. Julian’s expression remains flat, but there is tension around his eyes. Is he worried about something?
I climb into the carriage I’m to share with Rose, Julian, Charlie, Hugh, and Hawksmoor. The rest of the Candidates are in their own coaches, heading to other locations for different training exercises. Another empty carriage follows our party. Charlie whispers to me that it’s merely a precaution should the exercise go wrong. I try to ignore the ominous sound of that.
In spite of my brave words to Rose, my pulse thumps in my ears as we lurch forward.
As we leave the grounds, the carriage pauses and Hawksmoor leaps out, touching the standing stone that marks Graybourne’s borders. He utters a word, and through the open door I hear him say, “Pantos. Raphe. Ergon.”
The words are Greek, but the combination is nonsense. I remember seeing Hawksmoor do the same thing when he first brought me here, although I couldn’t hear what he’d uttered at the time.
“What was that?” I ask.
Julian leans over to me and whispers. “He’s reactivating the shield that surrounds Greybourne. It’s what keeps the Academy concealed from the general public.”
“Magic?” I whisper back, but even as I say it I don’t believe it.
Julian shakes his head. “It’s one of Hawksmoor’s gifts. A talent with matter and physical objects. Only he can create the shield. But the words would work for anyone, allowing them to enter or exit the grounds, or so I understand.”
I commit the words to memory. They might be useful … someday.
As we wait for Hawksmoor to finish, Charlie turns to Julian. “Did you order those new binoculars Hawksmoor needs for the Jubilee operation?”
Julian nods. “Yes, but Sig agrees they’re not quite right. We had to send them back.”
Charlie frowns. “Is there enough time?”
“I think so. It’s not until the twenty-second of June. We still have weeks yet.”
Are they discussing the Golden Jubilee? The celebration of the fiftieth year of Queen Victoria’s reign. Now that would be something to see. All those people, the festivities and celebration. “I had no idea the Morgana were to be involved in the Jubilee,” I say.
Charlie nods. “It’s going to be the devil of an event to protect,” he says. “All those foreign dignitaries. All the muckety-mucks. But my friend here is prepared.” He claps Julian on the back.
Julian scoffs. “I’m just doing a few errands for Hawksmoor. I’m not in charge.”
Rose lets out a snort. “Of course you’re not in charge. You’re not even a full agent.” Her voice is acid.
“How does a Candidate become a full agent?” I ask.
Rose gives me a look of disdain. “Oh, no need to worry about that, Felicity. You won’t be involved.” A serpent’s smile twitches the corner of her mouth.
“Don’t burst your staylace, Rose,” I immediately fire back. “I have no interest. I’m merely curious.”
Charlie hoots with laughter. “Now that’s a proper insult.”
At the mention of her undergarments, Rose’s face has lost all color. I flash a grin at Charlie. Perhaps my uncouth background isn’t always a disadvantage.
Julian clears his throat, hushing Charlie, then turns to me. “The final stage of our training will involve a series of field trials, during which the most capable Candidate will be selected.” He nods once. “So you know.”
I politely return his nod, then look away out the window.
Hawksmoor returns to the carriage a
nd we drive out beyond the gates, traveling through the countryside for half an hour, before stopping near a long snake of track that trails away into the distance. A steam whistle announces a train approaching from far away.
“Pay attention,” Hawksmoor barks. “Your training exercise today is this: you will all need to board that train, and then disembark.”
There’s a confused quiet.
“Right …” says Charlie. “Just—on and off?”
“Oh, did I not mention? The train won’t be stopping,” Hawksmoor adds.
“What?” Charlie sputters. “How on earth are we meant to—”
“That is exactly what you’ll need to figure out,” Hawksmoor says. “Off you go.”
The blood drains from my face. The others climb out of the carriage and it’s just me and Julian left. I’m about to tell Hawksmoor I can’t possibly complete this task, when Julian clears his throat. “A moment, Hawksmoor.” The spymaster waits for Julian to continue.
“I wonder if—I think maybe Felicity should stay here, with the carriage. I’m not sure she’s ready for this.”
Hawksmoor looks between us. Julian’s words make my cheeks flush. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been thinking the same thing; it’s an entirely different matter when someone else voices it. I clench my fists. “I can do it,” I say firmly.
Julian shifts. “It’s going to be dangerous.”
“Of course it is,” I snap. “What point would there be otherwise?”
Hawksmoor has been watching this exchange silently. At last he says, “I think we’ll just see for ourselves, shall we, Mr. Blake? Let’s give her a chance.”
Several minutes later, I regret my bravado. We’ve climbed up a hill to an overpass, where a tunnel burrows beneath. A great plume of steam rises up from the train in the distance. Green rolling hills and heather-covered pasture surround us, and a warm spring breeze stirs the grasses and rustles the fabric of my training gear.
I follow as the Morgana team moves into position with grace and speed, working together like finely constructed clockwork. I bite the inside of my cheek.
“What’s the plan?” Charlie asks, turning to Julian.
Julian raises field glasses to his eyes and twists them into focus. He hands them down the line so we can all look.
“We aim for those three cars there,” Julian says pointing, as Charlie hands me the field glasses. “The three black cargo cars. Before you jump, bend your knees. When you hit the car, hang on.” I swallow, looking through the sights, my eyelashes brushing the glass. So that’s it. We’ll be jumping onto the moving train as it passes into the tunnel beneath us.
Julian pairs up Hugh and Charlie, and decides that Rose will go alone. “Felicity, you’re with me,” he says. Rose’s face pinches. “Once we’re all onboard, we’ll make our way to the hatch in the rear car. Whatever you do, don’t fall off.”
“Not to state the obvious,” Charlie says, with a smirk.
The train is approaching quickly. Within a minute, it’s sliding beneath our feet, churning into the tunnel.
Hugh goes first. Then Charlie. They land solidly, though Charlie stumbles slightly. I spin and see them emerge on the other side of the tunnel. Charlie waves. They’ve made it.
Rose hunches down, preparing to jump. “Watch your footing, Felicity,” she shouts over the thundering of the train. “Wouldn’t want to fall.” She flashes me a smug smile, but before I can respond, she leaps. She lands like a cat. I can tell she used Aristos, like the others. My mouth goes dry. It’s my turn.
A strong wind rises up from the speeding train and whips my hair. Now is the time I need to latch on to my ability. I reach out, but I have no idea what I’m reaching for.
“Just try to let go,” says Julian, crouching behind me. “It’ll come to you….”
I try again, but nothing happens. I tighten my jaw, wanting to scream. “I can’t. It’s not there.”
“If we wait for the coal car—that’ll be much easier. Messier, but definitely easier.”
“All right. Maybe …”
Julian grabs me by the shoulders. “Listen, Felicity. You don’t have to do this. We’ll just tell Hawksmoor it wasn’t safe.”
I hate backing down, but it’s so tempting. I can’t do this. I can’t, no matter what Hawksmoor thinks.
And then a movement catches the corner of my vision. I turn. Five men on horseback are galloping across the open countryside, straight toward us, weapons flashing in the sun.
When I turn back, Julian’s face has drained of color.
“Huntsmen.” I gasp, my heart slamming into my ribs.
“Those aren’t Huntsmen.”
“Then who are they?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he says abruptly. “We’re getting on this train. Now.”
“Julian, who are they?”
“No time to explain. Trust me, we do not want to make their acquaintance.”
I swallow and take another quick glance at the men galloping closer.
Aristos or no, there’s only one option open to me now. Our carriage is gone—far away, by now. Surely making its way to our rendezvous spot.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Julian says.
I know the coal car is still too far away. We won’t have time to wait before the horsemen get here. We’ll have to jump on the roof of the regular cars.
“Ready? Go!”
I bend my knees and jump, hurling myself into the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere …”
—Emily Brontë, “No Coward Soul is Mine”
My stomach flips as I fall. The train comes up fast, and then my feet are crashing onto the roof. The momentum keeps moving me forward and I start sliding toward the edge. Breathless, everything is happening so fast. I can’t even scream—
And then a hand clamps around my wrist. I stop sliding.
Julian.
He’s there, holding me fast to the roof, steadying me with Aristos strength and his unwavering gaze. The wind whips his hair and his cloak flaps behind him.
“Hang on,” he hollers over the train’s whistle. “We’re all right.”
My heart thumps for several reasons. I can’t help feeling angry with myself for being so weak, for needing to be rescued.
As we steady ourselves, I look for signs of the horsemen.
They’re far behind us—atop the overpass. One of them punches an angry fist in the air.
Julian wrenches open the hatch and we clamber down into what turns out to be a storage car. It’s filled with sacks of grain, oats, flour, and sugar. The sweet smell hangs in the air, and the light is dusty—flour-streaked.
The car is quiet apart from the faint clacking coming from outside. I am dimly aware that this is only my second time on a train in my life.
“So,” I begin, once I have caught my breath, “who were they, exactly?”
Julian grimaces, his mouth in a tight line. “There was a girl. I was courting her. It was part of a training operation. I was undercover, you see. But … she became rather attached. And it turned out her family wasn’t all that nice.”
“And that was the family?”
He nods grimly. “Her brothers.”
We don’t have time to linger. We must find the others.
We make our way through the train, passing through more storage cars. Julian and I cross the outside connections between each car as quickly as we can; the wheels thundering over the tracks are deafening. I struggle to hold onto my nerves as I maneuver the narrow, jostling connectors.
At last, we reach a passenger car. A corridor lines the left side, with compartments to the right, similar to the train Hawksmoor and I took from London.
I go first, glancing through each small compartment window we pass. Halfway through the car, I spot Rose in a cabin with a man I don’t recognize.
In the very next instant, I watch as Rose slips up behind the
man and drags a six-inch blade across his throat. Dark red blood gushes out and the man flops to the seat; he doesn’t move.
I freeze, gaping.
Julian is behind me now. He rips open the door to the compartment. “Rose, what the bloody hell have you done?”
She looks at him calmly. “You have your assignment, and I have mine.”
I glance in horror at the dead man slumped across the seat. Bile rises in my throat and I turn away.
“Does Hawksmoor know about this?” Julian demands.
“Who do you think gave me the assignment?”
Julian stares at the man. “Who—who was that?”
“A worthless conspirator. On his way from a meeting to plot the assassination of the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
Julian stares at the corpse.
“You should be happy, Julian. Two training exercises in one.” She flashes a bright smile. “I get to practice my assassination skills … and you get to practice leading a team—even when the plan goes a little awry.”
“A little—?” Julian stammers. “You just killed a man. That was not part of the plan.”
“Exactly. Now show some flexibility. A little … thinking on your feet. Because I have to tell you—I do believe he has friends on the train …”
Julian grabs Rose by the arm. “We’ll deal with this later, once we’ve completed the mission. We’re approaching the gorge.”
But instead of exiting the compartment, Rose flings open the door to the outside. Wind rushes in.
“What are you doing?” Julian demands.
“Too risky to climb back through the train. I’m going to crawl along the exterior and meet Charlie and Hugh in the caboose. We can get off that way, jump from the back. I suggest you do the same.”
My stomach clenches as she disappears from sight.
“I can’t do it,” I say to Julian, little more than a harsh whisper. The wind from the open door rushes in my ears, deafening, disorienting me. I can’t crawl along the side of a moving locomotive.
His expression is grim. “Fine,” he says. “We’ll go through the train.”
As we exit the compartment, Julian takes the lead. No sooner have I set foot in the corridor than three men are flooding into the space from the adjacent car, hats pulled down low, obscuring their faces.
