This was starting to feel most unfair. “I’m not going to.”
“You won’t mean to. But if he finds out about you and Dietrich, he will be crushed.”
I groaned. “There is no ‘me and Dietrich.’ Never will be.”
“It certainly looked like there was last night in the alley.”
“Things aren’t always as they seem,” I snapped. “He’s trying to help me not be so afraid of him, all right? That’s all.”
She looked doubtful. “I know what I saw. What I felt from the two of you. There was practically steam clouds billowing into the street from the alley. It had to have been about twenty degrees hotter—”
I held up my hand. “Enough, I get it.” I sighed. “I’ll admit, there’s a certain amount of electricity between us. But nothing has happened. And it won’t. I can’t…it’s too…” I struggled to find the right words. “He’s a presul, for heaven’s sake. You know I could never be all right with that.”
“So Raymond is your backup plan?”
“No! What a horrible suggestion.” I scooted away from her, turning to face her directly. My voice was hard. “I like Raymond. I don’t want him to be angry with us. And I wanted to dance with him at the party. Do you have an objection to any of that?”
She was silent for several seconds. Her struggle to be polite showed on her face. Finally, she turned away. “I don’t have any precise objections, no.” She slid around and stood from the bench. “I guess I’ll see you at church.”
I watched her go, and then put my head in my hands on the table. At church, maybe I’d ask God why He was suddenly making my life so complicated.
Chapter Eighteen
God wasn’t in an explaining mood that morning. But I did feel more peaceful after the service, and Thea seemed to be over her fit of temper. I immersed myself in the work on the defensive gadgets until our rehearsal at two o’clock. I had the claw device ready for Delphine to try. It seemed to be working fairly well, except that she had to be careful not to press the hidden palm button by accident. I’d have to make some adjustments so no one was unintentionally hurt.
I lurked in the farthest corner of the practice studio the whole rehearsal, teasing out tiny wires and making springs and gears from scrap metal to use in the embedded boot spikes. I didn’t want to ruin my good mood with presul magic and the creepy not-quite-Nadine persona Delphine was perfecting. But several times, I saw Dietrich glance at me with a surprised expression. I wondered if he could feel me using my technomancy magic, and if it felt different from vicimorph magic. I’d have to ask later.
I meant to ask him at supper. I didn’t know why it mattered to me, but something he had said that night in his study lodged in my mind. Your magic is so strong, you’re able to shift it into technomancy even though that’s not what it really is. Was that why I could do technomancy? Couldn’t all vicimorphs do that? And if so, could a presul sense it? Could a presul partner with it? I didn’t really like that idea. But it surprised me to discover I wanted to know more about how my own magic worked.
Even if it meant acknowledging it to Dietrich.
But he wasn’t at supper.
I put on my best earnest-apprentice face and asked several of the other Guild members where he was. No one knew. Finally, I approached the friendly Mr. Shelby. He was talking with his friends Agnes Lampeter—a costume seamstress—and Creston Diggory, another stagehand. I didn’t know either of them very well, except by reputation. Mr. Diggory was known to have a scathing sense of humor, and not even I felt comfortable verbally sparring with him. I didn’t really like talking to Mr. Shelby in front of them, but he seemed to always know where everyone was, and I was determined to find Dietrich.
“Oh—I think I saw him heading into the combat studios,” he said, smiling brightly. “Did you know he’s an accomplished fencer?”
I grinned at him. “I just heard that recently. Have you seen him fence?”
“No. But Miss Lampeter here has.”
I addressed the seamstress. “So is his reputation deserved, Miss Lampeter?”
She pursed her lips, thinking. “His blade is as sharp as Mr. Diggory’s tongue.”
The three of them snickered at that, and I had a feeling I didn’t want to know what they meant. I laughed like I thought it was a great joke, and then excused myself to head toward the combat studio.
I heard the clashing of steel before I reached the studio door. The studio was used mostly for working on stage combat and special stunts, but some of the Guild members used it for real combat training as well. The door wasn’t closed all the way, and I slid it quietly open to peek in.
I was pretty sure Dietrich’s sparring partner was the new fight master, Franco Vittori from Sardinia, but he could have been the crown prince himself and I would have barely noticed. Dietrich, having traded his usual suit coat for a leather fencing jacket and breeches, dominated the studio. I couldn’t see his face, hidden behind the screened face mask, but his body pulsed with power. His muscles strained beneath the tight-fitting breeches, and his sweat-soaked shirt clung transparently to his arms as the rapier flashed in the gas light.
He attacked over and over, a blur of danger and grace. Both the men were breathing hard, and I sensed Franco was tiring. But something drove Dietrich on, and it seemed to me that this was more than just a practice session.
The longer I watched, the more I realized I could sense Dietrich’s emotions. The air crackled with his anger. And something more—some deep anguish or despair.
A cold fear prickled across my skin. I didn’t know what had happened, but it was definitely nothing good.
At last, the fight master jumped back. “Halt!” He tore off his mask, his face red and wet. “Bloody hell, Dietrich. Are you insane?” His accent held the dark, seductive tones of the Sardinian province. Mercian was the official language throughout the empire, but in the provinces, the local languages still flourished.
Dietrich pulled off his mask and shook his head, flipping damp locks of hair across his face. He was breathing hard, but it didn’t appear like he’d exhausted his emotions. He looked furious, hurt. “I’m sorry, Franco. I went at it harder than I ought to have.”
“You should give better warning, my friend, before you try to kill me.” Franco stomped to the side of the room and shrugged out of the one-armed leather sparring jacket. I didn’t get the feeling he was truly angry. Just concerned.
Dietrich joined him, removing his jacket. His white shirt, damp and wrinkled, clung to his skin, outlining the defined muscles of his chest and shoulders. I settled against the doorframe, intending to thoroughly enjoy the very fine view.
“I had…unsettling news from my family,” Dietrich explained. He began to unfasten his shirt.
My heart fluttered. I couldn’t look away.
Then he froze. He lifted his head, almost the way an alley cat sniffs the wind to detect prey. His eyes narrowed, and he turned.
To look directly at me.
“Good evening, Miss Mellor,” he drawled. Giving me a defiant glare, he pulled the wet shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.
It was all I could do not to put my hand over my racing heart. I sagged against the doorframe, drinking in the lovely male flesh on display. I was sure it wouldn’t last for long, and I intended to burn every detail onto my mind so I could savor it for nights to come. If the other female apprentices knew I’d just seen a shirtless Dietrich, they’d die of envy—after killing me first.
Franco chuckled and slapped Dietrich’s bare shoulder. “You shouldn’t shock the poor thing. She’ll swoon.”
Dietrich shot me a side glance and bent to pull a clean shirt from his knapsack. “She’s a theater apprentice. She’s seen naked people since she was ten. Occupational hazard.”
His words knifed into me. I couldn’t breathe. He had no way of knowing the painful memories his statement brought to my mind. But I didn’t want my unexpected opportunity for lust ruined by all that. I wrestled it aside, and
curled my lips into an appreciative smirk.
I didn’t even notice if Franco changed clothing or not. Dietrich tugged the clean shirt over his head. I heaved a regretful sigh that echoed into the combat studio. Franco sniggered. I thought Dietrich may have blushed a little, but it was hard to tell with his face already pink from sparring.
I stood aside to let Franco exit the studio. He bowed to me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Lovely to meet you, little apprentice. I’m so glad Dietrich had the courtesy to introduce us.”
“Stow it, Franco. I’ll see you next week.” Dietrich shoved Franco past me into the corridor.
Franco turned back to him, a mocking scowl on his face. “Not if you intend to hack me to pieces again.”
Dietrich gave him an annoyed frown. “If you would toughen up, you wouldn’t need to worry. Goodnight.”
Franco took the hint, kissed his fingertips at me with a wink, and strode away down the corridor.
Dietrich leaned against the doorframe. “So, you can look but not touch, is that it?”
My, my. What had cranked his gears? I was sure he meant his glare to be intimidating, but all it did was send a sizzle of heat through me. I arched one brow and stared him down. “I touched last night. I looked tonight.”
He drew back in surprise, and maybe a little admiration. “So what are you going to do tomorrow night?”
I smiled slowly. “Dance.”
Our eyes locked, and I thought my skin might burst into flame.
But then, the sadness and anger crept back into his face. His shoulders slumped, and he walked into the combat studio. He shoved his gear into the knapsack and slid the rapier into its scabbard, which he fastened to his hips. With his shirt untucked, and the breeches and boots and scabbard, he looked like a pirate.
A steaming hot, sweaty, very unhappy pirate.
“Dietrich, what happened?” I asked softly.
He shook his head, looking at the floor. His grief hung heavy in the air.
My mind started thinking the worst. “Is it Nadine?” I whispered. “The…Peacock?”
His head flew up, his eyes meeting mine. “God no! I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have worried you. No, all that is fine. This is a personal matter.”
I felt bad for being relieved. Something was obviously troubling him deeply. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. “Bring your bag and come with me.” I made my voice as firm and bossy as I could.
“Minx…” From his tone, he was going to try to put me off. I could almost hear the patronizing, you’re-just-an-apprentice excuse forming in his mind.
“No arguments.” I slammed my fists on my hips. “You’ve been trying to help me. It’s only fair you let me return the favor. Now come on.”
I could see him debating the wisdom of listening to me. But finally, a sad smile tugged at his mouth. He shouldered the bag and walked toward me. “You win. Where are we going?”
I led him down the corridor. “Where I always go when I’m upset. I swear it’s practically magical. You’ll love it.”
Chapter Nineteen
We ended up stopping at our separate rooms before we left the theater. Dietrich didn’t want to go out in public looking so disheveled, and I wanted to grab my little goddess torch. We met again at the apprentice entrance to the theater, where we scanned ourselves out through the bio monitor.
“I hear you invented this,” he commented as the machine scanned his finger.
“Before, we had a door monitor, but that meant having someone staff the door every evening. Master Fenrey thought it would be good to have better security. Especially after what happened to me.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” It was almost a question, as if he were waiting for more information.
He’d be waiting a long time. I shrugged. “Not really. I went down the fire escape.”
I felt his eyes on me, but he didn’t say anything more.
Once we were on the street, I gave him a once-over. He had changed into a black frock coat, dark blue waistcoat, and dark gray trousers. A freshly-tied cravat and a top hat finished the outfit. I felt dowdy in comparison, but an apprentice couldn’t afford the luxury of separate outfits for day and evening. And it didn’t matter—where I was taking him there wouldn’t be many people to see.
“You clean up nicely.”
“Thank you.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but it seemed he was really trying to be sociable. “So are you going to tell me where we’re headed?”
“No.” I skipped ahead and walked backward in front of him. “If it wouldn’t have created a scandal, I would have blindfolded you and led you around in circles so that you wouldn’t be able to find it later on your own.”
“Like a bandit’s lair?”
“Exactly.”
The thought appeared to amuse him, which is exactly what I’d hoped. “If all bandits were so pretty, men would be signing up on lists to be robbed.”
I fell in beside him again and lightly slapped his arm. “Oh, that was very smooth. I didn’t know you could flirt so well.”
He looked startled. “I don’t. I never flirt.”
I thought about that a moment and realized it was true. “Why not?”
“I…” He frowned, his face suddenly looking almost childlike. “I don’t know how.”
That made me laugh. “You are a brilliant, and may I say, attractive genius-presul. How can you not know how?”
He shrugged, his face reddening. “You have to be light-hearted to flirt. I fear I am far too serious—more than is probably good for me.”
“You are rather intense.”
He gave me an ironic smirk. “You noticed.”
“But you have a quick wit and a true fondness for people. You could learn to flirt.”
He seemed amused by that. “You think I should?”
“Oh most definitely. Your education will never be fully complete until you are able to flirt.” I fluttered my eyelashes and made pouty kissy faces until he chuckled.
I pulled away from his side again and strode dramatically down the brick sidewalk. “Imagine—” I spread out my arms as if I were a storyteller drawing in my audience, “—you are three weeks out from a show and you suddenly decide that your set design will not do and you need to start over. If you’re good enough at flirting, your set designer will be happy to redo everything without killing you. So you see—flirting could save your life.”
“Unless the set designer is a man, in which case, my flirting skills would only serve to get me killed quicker.”
“Not necessarily.” I winked at him.
He caught up with me and offered his arm. “Perhaps I should hire you as my flirtation teacher. I’ll be your apprentice.”
The warmth in his eyes made my breath hitch. “See—right there. That was flirting. You have natural talent for it.”
“Or maybe I just have a very good teacher.”
Oh, he really was a regular steam-engine. If I’d had a fan with me, I’d be whipping it out and fanning vigorously. But as it was, I was saved a reply because we’d come to the entrance of Barlow Public Gardens.
“You like the Gardens too?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “I visited here my first week in Aldwych and have enjoyed coming ever since.”
I shot him a mysterious smile. “I do love the Gardens, but you haven’t seen the part of it I’m taking you to. Come.”
I led him through the Gardens, down stone paths softly lit by luminaries and fairy lights hung from trees. Tucked along the stone wall on the far end was a good sized pond full of water lilies, and in the center was an island reachable only by a wooden footbridge. Lanterns hung from the railings of the bridge, and their light sparkled off the dark water. We crossed the bridge onto the island, and I took him to the very center of it.
A pagoda, about thirty feet tall, dominated the small island. I guided him down the pebbled path to the platform at the base of the tower.
“I have actually been to the pagoda—it’s a rather well-known
feature here,” Dietrich remarked as I walked him around the octagonal stone building.
I just smiled. We reached one of the eight bronze doors at the base. I had chosen the one toward the back on purpose. I placed my hands on the door.
“It’s locked,” he said. “They never open the pagoda to the public.”
“That’s what you think.” My fingers rested on the circular iron plate that functioned as the door handle. I let the metal form itself in my mind, seeing the pins and plug of the lock, and then used my magic to line them up. The lock welcomed me, and I heard a series of clicks. Then the cylinder turned, and I pushed the door open.
Dietrich gave a low whistle. “Can you do that to all locks?”
“I…don’t know, actually. But can’t you feel the magic here? These locks are made with technomancy. They’re well-enchanted, but I discovered that I can see the inside of the locks in my mind, and from there it was easy to learn how to open them.”
Dietrich stared at me as if I’d suddenly shifted into a unicorn or something. “That’s…not technomancy, Minx.”
I slid my gaze from him. “I know. But I’m not sure what it is.” I shrugged. “Come on.”
The pagoda had been built about a hundred and fifty years ago. Supposedly, a rich aristocrat had lost a bet and so his friend, the winner, demanded he build a garden folly here. Follies were really popular with the upper class. They liked creating funny little buildings that had no real use other than decorating their gardens. This pagoda had once had carved golden dragons inside, but the story went that the dragons were later stolen by the losing aristocrat to recoup the money he had lost in building it.
Brick circular steps in the center led the way to the second and third level. I climbed all the way to the top. The pagoda had been well-built, with sturdy walls and stone floors. Eight arched windows gave a splendid view of the twinkling night skyline of the city. A stone ledge ran the perimeter of the room, like a long bench.
Chains of Silver: a YA Theater Steampunk Novel (Alchemy Empire Book 1) Page 16
