Just like he did to me.
Sometimes my cage sat across the walkway from Tushar. I watched him for long hours, pacing in a cell barely large enough for him to stand in. Barely long enough for him to take two steps and turn around. He paced in a steady rhythm, two steps, swish of head, pivot and flick of tail. Over and over and over. A ritual of pent-up frustration and despair. Hopelessness hidden beneath power and snowy beauty.
He never paid me much attention. Only once. It had been an especially awful day, and I was bruised and hungry. I didn’t normally cry, but that evening I couldn’t help it.
Tushar’s rhythm stilled, making it feel like the whole world had stopped moving. He stared at me through the iron bars. For that instant, we were connected in shared misery. In his eyes, I saw my soul reflected. Silent sorrow, dull confusion…
And a deep, fiery rage.
I may be a theater apprentice, but I actually hate drama. Relationship drama, that is. So when I heard shouting from one of the rooms in the girls’ wing of the theater on my way to supper, I quickened my steps to avoid whatever quarrel was erupting.
I wasn’t fast enough.
The heavy oak door to the room opened. Two dark brown objects hurtled toward me. I ducked and barely avoided being hit in the head by a pair of button-up boots. They struck the marble wall on the other side of me and clunked to the floor.
“Bloody h—” My exclamation was cut short by a corset, flung at me like some dead bird. I caught it, my fingers tangling in the criss-cross of laces. “Hey!”
The door slammed shut again.
“Give me the letters!” The shrill voice within the room sounded desperate. I heard thumping and a crash, and in my mind I could follow the two combatants as they chased each other around their room.
A pause.
Then a faint sound of ripping paper.
A shriek.
More scrabbling. A slap.
“Damn haybag!” The girl screamed, her voice thin and hoarse.
Other apprentices had gathered around me, and they gasped at the crude insult. Calling a girl a haybag was as bad as calling her a bitch.
I took a closer look at which room we were gathered outside. Number 344. That was my friend Evelyn Harrison’s room.
Evelyn and Dahlia Forge were fighting? That was as unthinkable as my best friend and roommate Thea Wright and me having such a brawl.
Dahlia was the one shrieking. Made sense—Evelyn wasn’t the yelling type.
“I trusted you, you gammy dollymop.” Evelyn’s voice.
I take it back—apparently she was the yelling type.
The hall buzzed with murmurs from us eavesdroppers. I tensed, intending to hurry along, but a sick fascination made me stay.
“Get out!” Dahlia’s voice was nearly a growl.
The door burst open and Evelyn stumbled out, still wearing the striped skirt and white blouse of her apprentice uniform. Bits of pink writing paper clung to her honey-colored hair, tumbling from a half-fallen bun. Angry fingerprints flamed scarlet across her cheek.
“Stay the hell away from me.” Dahlia stood in the doorway, wearing only a torn chemise, her eyes and cheeks dampened and red. “I hate you.”
Evelyn’s face tightened to the point where it seemed she would shatter. She didn’t turn around. She swiped a tear with the heel of her hand. “The feeling is utterly mutual, Miss Forge.” Her voice was thick, husky. There was such a note of finality to it. As if this was so much more than just a spat. Whatever happened, it had killed their friendship.
The door slammed behind Evelyn. She flinched. At first, it didn’t seem that she saw any of us, but then her eyes met mine. I dropped the corset and held out my arms. She walked right into them and lowered her head to my shoulder.
“Show’s over, girls,” I said to the ten or so onlookers. “Get out of here.”
It took a second, but finally, some of the older ones nudged the others to move on. They trudged away, sneaking peeks at us over their shoulders. Their whispers slithered through the hall and finally faded to silence.
Evelyn drew deliberately slow, deep breaths. I patted her back. Her closeness made me feel awkward. Comforting people wasn’t really my strong point.
I eased away after a few moments. “Are you all right?”
She straightened, rubbing out another tear and giving me an are-you-really-that-cogged look.
“Right,” I said. “Do you want to talk about it or something?”
She shook her head tightly.
Now what was I to do?
If Thea were here, she would know the exact right thing to say. She wouldn’t even have to use her psychic magic, either. She just had a gift for making people feel better. But she’d already gone down to supper and was waiting for me.
I eyed Evelyn warily. Words. I needed words. Any would do.
Luckily, she spoke first. “I won’t go back. I’m not staying another night with that…that—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed, and her expression hardened. “I’d rather sleep in the costume shop.”
I nodded as if I understood—which I didn’t. “Maybe you can stay in our room tonight. I’m sure Thea won’t mind.”
“Thank you. But I’ll need more than one night. We’re done. It’s over.”
“You want to change roommates?”
It wasn’t impossible to do, but it was a little tricky. You had to get permission from the theater manager, Master Fenrey, and everyone involved in the roommate swap had to agree to it. And you could only do it three times for your entire apprenticeship. Master Fenrey said having to work through roommate conflicts was a good way to build character.
It was also apparently a good way to get hit by flying boots, but enough about me.
My mind ran through the sets of roommates in the girls’ wing. “Is anyone wanting a new roommate right now?”
She shrugged. “I’ll find someone. I think I heard two second-years wanted to change.”
As if Dahlia would agree to room with a second-year. She and Evelyn were both in their eighth and final apprentice year, like me. But if she were serious about throwing Evelyn out, she might see even a second-year as a better option.
“I wish we could fit three in a room. Thea and I would take you.”
I must have finally found the right thing to say because a trace of a smile curved her lips. “I know. Thanks.”
“You can room with me.”
Evelyn and I both jumped at the sharp voice behind us. I knew who it was before I turned to face her.
Delphine Birdwell.
We hated each other, and yet there was this odd connection that made us no longer enemies but definitely not friends. About a month ago, she had been brutally attacked and raped. I saved her life. But when I’d tried to make peace with her after that, she threw a hairbrush and screamed at me.
Since the attack, Delphine had gone from being the most popular and powerful apprentice in the program to being a bitter and sullen shadow. Her magic had been damaged, and she was unable to act. Even her former crowd of friends steered clear of her now. To be fair, only a few of us knew what had actually happened to her, so maybe they’d be more supportive if they understood the full story.
Evelyn sniffed and swiped away one last tear. She crossed her arms, her body radiating defensiveness. “You want me to room with you?”
“Would I have offered if I didn’t?”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed and her chin lifted. I could understand why she’d been surprised. Delphine was the only female apprentice with a room to herself. Supposedly, it was because there were an odd number of girls, so she was the lucky one left over.
But I knew it had been arranged by our lead company actress, Nadine Fairchild. She had helped Delphine get a job with an illegal acting company to earn money to support her ill sibling. But apprentices were forbidden to hold jobs until we were inducted into the Theatrical Guild. Delphine had to sneak out at night to make it to her job. She could have been sent to prison if she’d been
caught. Having her own room, away from the prying eyes of a roommate, had been a necessity.
But now, her family was being cared for, and she wasn’t able to perform at the moment anyway. Still, it wasn’t like her to be so generous.
“Perhaps you should move in with Miss Forge,” I suggested to Delphine. “You could throw things at each other. You’d get on like two gears in a pod.”
That earned me a dismissive glare from Delphine and a glimmer of amusement from Evelyn.
“It’s peas,” Delphine said.
“Beg pardon?”
“Peas in a pod, not gears.”
I waved a hand. “Gears, peas. All much of a muchness. The point is, you and Miss Forge have some striking similarities that could be explored.”
“Miss Mellor, dear,” Delphine said in a sugary tone, “when are you going to invent a device that will cut out your tongue?”
“Right after I invent a device that would make you a decent person,” I shot back, just as sweetly. “Oops—that would take a miracle, not magic. Never mind.” I shrugged.
Evelyn squeezed my arm. “Stop it, Minx.” She studied Delphine a moment. “All right. I’ll room with you.”
I pulled back. “You can’t be serious.”
“What choice have I got?”
“Personally, I’d take the second-year.”
I swear Delphine growled a little at that.
“And risk Dahlia refusing to switch just to spite me? No thank you. This way she won’t have any say in the matter.”
I frowned. “You think she’d do that?”
Evelyn’s face darkened. “There’s a lot I didn’t think she would do. And apparently, I was quite mistaken.”
I wanted so badly for her to tell me what in the cog-brained world had happened between her and Dahlia. But I wouldn’t press her in front of Delphine.
Delphine crossed her arms, looking impatient. “You can move your things in after supper if Fenrey approves.”
“Thank you, Miss Birdwell. I greatly appreciate it.”
Delphine’s mouth pinched downward. She stared at Evelyn for several moments, her eyes narrowed. At last, she gave a sharp little nod, as if satisfied by whatever she’d read on Evelyn’s face. “I suppose if we’re to be roommates, first names would be acceptable.”
It was the closest she would get to “You’re welcome.”
Good lord. Whatever Dahlia had done must be truly awful for Evelyn to prefer putting up with Delphine.
I linked my arm through Evelyn’s. “Speaking of supper, we’d better hurry if there’s to be anything left for us.”
Evelyn gave Delphine a tight smile and turned to walk with me. I peeked behind me to see if Delphine was following us, but she was disappearing down the hall in the opposite direction.
Poor Evelyn. I hoped she knew what she was getting into. But I feared with Delphine as a roommate, she was screwn.
Utterly screwn.
Chapter Two
When Evelyn and I entered the crowded dining hall, I craned my neck and stood on tiptoe to peer around the line of apprentices at the buffet table. I caught sight of our crowd of friends at their usual table in the far corner of the hall. My gaze landed affectionately on a certain shock of ginger hair belonging to my beau of one month, Raymond Carrew. He was sitting next to Thea with an open seat for me between them.
I headed toward the table, but Evelyn caught my elbow and drew close. “Looks like the gossip machine is in full force already.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Did you notice how people stared at us when we came in? They’ve probably already heard about my fight with Dahlia.” Her voice wobbled a bit.
I glanced around, trying to be subtle. “I hadn’t noticed. They’ve been staring at me for a solid month now, ever since the Peacock attack. I’ve gotten used to it, I suppose.”
A month ago, I used my shapeshifting and acting magic during a public performance to help catch the Peacock, a serial killer that was murdering the Empire’s most famous actors and actresses. Only it turned out the serial killer wasn’t just one person—it was a murder cult, Ira Deorum. They’d infiltrated several theaters in Aldwych and had planned to pick off performers one by one to protest what they believed was the corrupting influence of theater on the empire. I almost became a victim myself but managed to survive. The empress’s elite force of investigators had shut down all performances in Aldwych until further notice while they rooted out the cult members from the theaters. The whole thing had turned me into something of a celebrity. I didn’t really feel ready to be famous, and there was still a part of me that hated to be stared at, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
Avoiding the curious gazes, I guided Evelyn to our table. When Thea and Raymond caught sight of us, they clambered over the bench at the table and hurried toward us. Raymond gave me a gentle smile, but he seemed worried. He stood close to me, tucking my arm in his, almost like he was trying to shield me with his much taller self.
Thea took my other hand, her eyes studying my face. “How are you, dear?”
I gave them both a puzzled frown. “I’m well, thank you. Evelyn is the one who has had a rather nasty time this afternoon.” I pulled away from my hovering friends and put my arm around Evelyn.
Thea quickly shifted her attention to Evelyn, giving her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “I heard you and Miss Forge had a fight. I’m sorry.”
Evelyn’s gaze dropped to her boots. “We won’t be rooming together anymore.”
“Oh no.” Thea’s brows drew together. “Who will you room with?”
“Miss Birdwell has kindly offered to share her room.”
Thea’s eyes widened. She glanced at me for confirmation, and at my nod, she let loose a soft whistle.
“Talk about sleeping with the enemy,” Raymond said, shaking his head.
Evelyn shrugged, still looking at the floor. “It won’t be any worse than it is right now.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. I met Raymond’s eyes, and could tell he shared my concern. But he offered no further comment.
“Why don’t the two of you sit down,” Thea said, nudging me toward the table ever so gently as if I would break, “and Mr. Carrew and I will bring you both some food.”
I snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can get our own food.”
Thea and Raymond looked at each other, some wordless message passing between them. Raymond took my arm again and offered his other arm to Evelyn. “We insist. Go—have a seat.”
I peered around behind Raymond at Evelyn. She shrugged, looking as confused as I was. But we let them escort us to the table. All our other friends were there, and when they saw us, their conversation halted and they scooted down the bench to make room for Evelyn. Their expressions were watchful and mostly directed at me.
What in the blazing embers was going on?
After we were seated, Thea and Raymond joined the apprentice buffet line. I stared at my suddenly speechless friends. Jasper Flannery and Chester Lawler sat across from me, shoveling food down and avoiding my gaze. Walter Edison sat to the other side of Raymond’s space, and when I glanced at him, he gave me a nervous smile, then looked down at his plate. Walter’s friend, Charlie McElroy—who we always called “Moth”—sat next to him, uncharacteristically somber. Charity Trant and Avis Brookes were seated next to Evelyn, and they peeked at me and then whispered something to each other. Dora Harding, next to Jasper, just gave me a wide-eyed stare, her lips clamped together and a pained expressed on her face.
“Oh for the love of god,” I exclaimed, “what is it? Has my dress ripped? Do I have ball-bearing grease on my chin?”
No one answered, just gave each other secretive glances.
“Well somebody had better speak up.”
Still no one replied.
“It’s only that—” Dora burst out.
“Shut up, Harding,” Walter growled.
“Someone’s got to tell her. She’ll find out anyway.”
Dora’s eyes were wild, as if she couldn’t hold in her news one minute longer.
“Find out what?” I said, my tone as menacing as I could make it.
“He’s back,” she exclaimed.
The others groaned. Jasper poked the blabbing Dora in the arm. She glared defiantly at him.
My lungs seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. I blinked, my brain spinning to understand what she meant. In some corner of my mind, I knew, but I refused to acknowledge it.
“We didn’t want to shock you,” Walter said.
“Shock me?” I bleated, like a complete coggle-head.
“Dietrich Wolff,” Chester said, throwing a disgusted glare toward Dora. “He’s returned.”
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Acknowledgments
A warm and sincere thank you to the following for helping me make this book possible:
My family: My daughters Jessamyn and Catrin for giving me your Wish Lists of what should be in the book. Anything I left out is planned for a future book, so no worries! Also, thanks for being the most awesome beta readers and support group an author-mom could ask for. You’re the best! And to my husband Jason—for all your support and belief in me and for brainstorming and helping me choreograph fight scenes. I’m sure the neighbors thought we were crazy, but that’s good for them, right?
Friends and Supporters: Randy Ingermanson, for beta-reading and being such an encouragement as I walk through indie publishing for the first time. The (former) baristas at the Crossroads Barnes and Noble in Omaha for letting me use your names for some of the characters and for keeping me well supplied with chai as I wrote. All my friends and followers on Wattpad who read the book and left comments—you don’t know how encouraging that was and how it helped to keep me going.
Others: Photographer Alena Ivenchenko for the beautiful cover photo, which happens to be her sister, Alexandra. And in memory of “Doc” and to my theater friends from Wayne State College, who unknowingly gave me the tiny seeds that grew into this book.
Chains of Silver: a YA Theater Steampunk Novel (Alchemy Empire Book 1) Page 40
