Flights and Chimes and Mysterious Times by Emma Trevayne

Author:Emma Trevayne
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Young Adult, Childrens, Fantasy, Steampunk, Science Fiction, Childrens - Middle Grade
ISBN: 9781442498808
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2014-05-13T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dragon Meets Dirigible

ON THE MORNING of the parade, Arabella shook Jack awake. She’d opened the curtains, though with the heavy clouds of soot and fug that lay over the city, it was never possible to tell whether, above them, the sun shone; it was brighter than dream darkness.

He blinked and pushed aside the coverlet, sliding from the high bed to the floor, bare toes wriggling in the carpet. Beyond the window, Londinium rose from the ashes of night, lamps flaring to life. If he squinted, he could see the guards patrolling the streets before the palace, feathers in their hats ruffled by breezes.

Jack’s stomach fluttered, empty, hot. The parade. Where he would look out at all the people and . . .

“Where do they think I come from?” he asked.

A collar fell from Arabella’s hand. She bent to retrieve it. “Beg pardon, your lordship?”

“All of the . . . the subjects. I’m not like them. They’ll see that.” It was why Dr. Snailwater had disguised him, but he decided not to mention that to Arabella, who busied herself rummaging in a drawer.

“Same place as the Lady does, I ’spect,” she said.

“And where’s that?”

Arabella turned, leaned against the chest of drawers, and crossed her arms over herself. “Some things are so very old, it’s as if they’ve been there forever. The Lady does me well, saved me from life on the docks, freezing me fingers off gutting fish all day long, and I can handle her temper. Poking my nose in where it’s got no business won’t do me no favors.”

“But I’m not as old as her.”

Arabella shrugged. “They’ll think you are. They don’t ask questions, neither. Not where a body can hear them, anyways.”

He dressed in the suit she gave him. Green today, green as forests and faery eyes, and this time he did look in the mirror. Everything about him shone new and bright. The day before, the Lady had sent for a barber, who’d snipped away at Jack’s hair until it was a smooth cap. Dark locks curled on the floor and had stuck to his shoes.

Outside, the clock chimed. Inside, the palace thrummed, a heartbeat of footsteps and orders and oh-blast-mustn’t-forget-to’s. The maids, serfs, guards, and ladies-in-waiting stepped out of his way as he crossed the marble, past the footman, into the throne room.

She was simply too beautiful to be real. The choosing of Jack’s suit was no mistake, for she wore green, too, a deep velvet strung through and through with sparkling emeralds. A faery scampered out from behind her gown, cackling as it ran beneath a sideboard, and she did not even kick it, so wide was her red, red smile. A topper crowned with peacock feathers sat on her head. From it hung a veil, fine as mist over her eyes, down to the curve of her cheeks.

“Mother,” he said.

Her smile grew further still. “Darling Jack. Come to me.”

One each day until you come to me. He pushed the thought away as one would a distasteful food.

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