Of Silk and Steam
Page 20
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The queen’s bedchambers were light and airy as Mina marched her through the double doors. Gesturing for the maids to shut the doors and leave, she tipped her chin toward her one potential adversary in the room, the Countess of Baltimere.
Lady Baltimere’s eyes locked on the reddening handprint on the queen’s cheek. “Your Highness, would you care for some tea? Something—”
“That will be all.” Mina used her iciest voice. Baltimere would only liberally lace the tea with laudanum. “The queen and I have matters to discuss.”
Lady B. tipped her chin up. “Your Highness—”
“You heard her,” the queen whispered, the afternoon light highlighting the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
A tilt of the head, one adversary to another, then Lady B. was gone, shutting the doors behind her.
And suddenly Mina didn’t know what to say. Her shoulders slumped, her breath catching in her chest. “Your Highness—”
“Please. Don’t.” The queen crossed wearily to her dresser, sitting down and staring at her cheek in the mirror. Gently she lifted her hand toward the damning mark, touching it with the tip of her silk-clad fingers.
Mina’s hand tingled, as if remembering the blow. Her skirts swished as she crossed the luxurious carpets. If only she’d said no to the exchange of letters. This would never have happened and the queen—
The sight of the queen crushed her. She looked utterly hollow, as if she were only an automaton—moving, breathing, speaking, but not there. Manipulated by someone else.
“I had to do it,” Mina whispered, catching sight of herself in the mirror behind the queen. Her hands slid over those pale shoulders, squeezing gently. “You know I had to do it. We couldn’t afford to let him know—”
“Is it true?” Those lifeless eyes caught hers in the reflection. “What he said about Manderlay? About the Devil of Whitechapel murdering him?”
Manderlay. A name only the queen used. Something caught in Mina’s chest and lodged there. Of all the blows the queen had taken over the years, this was the worst. “Part of it. He’s dead. I saw it happen.” And hadn’t stopped it. “But not by Blade’s hand. It was at the Venetian Gardens last night when I went to pass along your note to him.”
A single tear trailed down the queen’s left cheek. “Who?”
“Falcons.” Mina’s head bowed, her thumbs stroking the queen’s shoulders. “I couldn’t stop it. I barely made it out of there myself, though I did manage to retrieve your note—”
“My note. That’s why he died. This is because of me, isn’t it?”
There was no answer to that, though Mina tried, her mouth opening. Of course not. But she didn’t truly believe it. Her own fault was in allowing this flirtation to escalate. Nothing came out of her mouth, and the queen’s face screwed up in an expression Mina had never seen before: a mix of rage and grief and absolute devastation.
One of those gloved hands lashed out, smashing bottles of perfume off the dresser. Mina tried to catch them, exclaiming, “Alexa!” Another lash sent more bottles and the silver-backed brush tumbling in the other direction. A mess of cloying floral scent rose up as glass smashed on the floor, like a funeral gone badly wrong.
The queen fisted the enormous flacon of French perfume that her husband had given her for her birthday—and that she’d never worn. Mina held her hand out. “Please, don’t—”
It hit the mirror, cracks spearing out in the polished surface, obliterating their reflections. Mina caught the queen’s hands, trying to stop her. It would be far too easy to overpower her, human strength being nothing to her own, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Instead she clung to Alexandra’s arms, drawing the queen’s smaller frame back against her chest. The queen jerked, rapidly losing strength. Each yank became more and more feeble until she finally halted, Mina holding her much like a marionette.
Alexandra let out a sob that sounded as if she had been broken inside somewhere.
“Please, don’t,” Mina whispered, turning the queen in her arms. Pressing Alexandra’s face against her shoulder, she slid her hand through the other woman’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I should have saved him for you. I should have done something. I’m so, so sorry…” All of the so-called power she had accumulated over the years, and she couldn’t do a damned thing to fix this situation.
Except to kill the prince consort. A task that she’d often considered while she watched as he turned a vibrant, powerful young woman into someone barely managing to hold herself together. He was too closely protected by his honor guard or by Falcons. And what would happen if she failed? Then Alexa would have nobody.
“No,” the queen whispered, her tears leaching through Mina’s dress. “No, I know you couldn’t. I know you would have tried.”
It was dangerous to do this, even here. Mina kept an eye on the door. If anyone opened it and saw them like this, there would be no hiding the truth anymore, but she couldn’t let Alexandra go. The two women clung together, Mina making hushing noises as she stroked the queen’s hair.
Far better to be patient. To bring him down through carefully planned means. Frustration burned in her breast—the same frustration she knew the queen felt. “We’re so close to overthrowing him,” Mina whispered. “Mercury’s ‘death’ was a brief setback, but plans are continuing apace. Mercury’s work creating an automaton army is being continued in the other segments of the humanists under my control. The Ironmonger enclaves have already produced their quota of the automatons.”
That was their secret. They were building an army of automatons designed to encase a human within them, unlike the frequency-controlled metaljackets and the Trojan cavalry the Echelon commanded. Technology would provide what she herself could not—a way to destroy the man she hated above all others. A way to set her dearest friend free.
“I don’t know if I can do this…anymore.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Mina pressed her lips against Alexandra’s forehead. “Don’t give up,” she whispered fiercely. “Do you remember the day we first met?” Strolling through the gardens behind the Ivory Tower on the day the human princess was to marry, and finding her sobbing behind the rosebushes. “I told you then to be brave. That you could be the most powerful woman in the Empire, if you dared. You could be a queen and save your people from the Echelon’s blood taxes and harsh laws.”
Lady Baltimere’s eyes locked on the reddening handprint on the queen’s cheek. “Your Highness, would you care for some tea? Something—”
“That will be all.” Mina used her iciest voice. Baltimere would only liberally lace the tea with laudanum. “The queen and I have matters to discuss.”
Lady B. tipped her chin up. “Your Highness—”
“You heard her,” the queen whispered, the afternoon light highlighting the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
A tilt of the head, one adversary to another, then Lady B. was gone, shutting the doors behind her.
And suddenly Mina didn’t know what to say. Her shoulders slumped, her breath catching in her chest. “Your Highness—”
“Please. Don’t.” The queen crossed wearily to her dresser, sitting down and staring at her cheek in the mirror. Gently she lifted her hand toward the damning mark, touching it with the tip of her silk-clad fingers.
Mina’s hand tingled, as if remembering the blow. Her skirts swished as she crossed the luxurious carpets. If only she’d said no to the exchange of letters. This would never have happened and the queen—
The sight of the queen crushed her. She looked utterly hollow, as if she were only an automaton—moving, breathing, speaking, but not there. Manipulated by someone else.
“I had to do it,” Mina whispered, catching sight of herself in the mirror behind the queen. Her hands slid over those pale shoulders, squeezing gently. “You know I had to do it. We couldn’t afford to let him know—”
“Is it true?” Those lifeless eyes caught hers in the reflection. “What he said about Manderlay? About the Devil of Whitechapel murdering him?”
Manderlay. A name only the queen used. Something caught in Mina’s chest and lodged there. Of all the blows the queen had taken over the years, this was the worst. “Part of it. He’s dead. I saw it happen.” And hadn’t stopped it. “But not by Blade’s hand. It was at the Venetian Gardens last night when I went to pass along your note to him.”
A single tear trailed down the queen’s left cheek. “Who?”
“Falcons.” Mina’s head bowed, her thumbs stroking the queen’s shoulders. “I couldn’t stop it. I barely made it out of there myself, though I did manage to retrieve your note—”
“My note. That’s why he died. This is because of me, isn’t it?”
There was no answer to that, though Mina tried, her mouth opening. Of course not. But she didn’t truly believe it. Her own fault was in allowing this flirtation to escalate. Nothing came out of her mouth, and the queen’s face screwed up in an expression Mina had never seen before: a mix of rage and grief and absolute devastation.
One of those gloved hands lashed out, smashing bottles of perfume off the dresser. Mina tried to catch them, exclaiming, “Alexa!” Another lash sent more bottles and the silver-backed brush tumbling in the other direction. A mess of cloying floral scent rose up as glass smashed on the floor, like a funeral gone badly wrong.
The queen fisted the enormous flacon of French perfume that her husband had given her for her birthday—and that she’d never worn. Mina held her hand out. “Please, don’t—”
It hit the mirror, cracks spearing out in the polished surface, obliterating their reflections. Mina caught the queen’s hands, trying to stop her. It would be far too easy to overpower her, human strength being nothing to her own, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Instead she clung to Alexandra’s arms, drawing the queen’s smaller frame back against her chest. The queen jerked, rapidly losing strength. Each yank became more and more feeble until she finally halted, Mina holding her much like a marionette.
Alexandra let out a sob that sounded as if she had been broken inside somewhere.
“Please, don’t,” Mina whispered, turning the queen in her arms. Pressing Alexandra’s face against her shoulder, she slid her hand through the other woman’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I should have saved him for you. I should have done something. I’m so, so sorry…” All of the so-called power she had accumulated over the years, and she couldn’t do a damned thing to fix this situation.
Except to kill the prince consort. A task that she’d often considered while she watched as he turned a vibrant, powerful young woman into someone barely managing to hold herself together. He was too closely protected by his honor guard or by Falcons. And what would happen if she failed? Then Alexa would have nobody.
“No,” the queen whispered, her tears leaching through Mina’s dress. “No, I know you couldn’t. I know you would have tried.”
It was dangerous to do this, even here. Mina kept an eye on the door. If anyone opened it and saw them like this, there would be no hiding the truth anymore, but she couldn’t let Alexandra go. The two women clung together, Mina making hushing noises as she stroked the queen’s hair.
Far better to be patient. To bring him down through carefully planned means. Frustration burned in her breast—the same frustration she knew the queen felt. “We’re so close to overthrowing him,” Mina whispered. “Mercury’s ‘death’ was a brief setback, but plans are continuing apace. Mercury’s work creating an automaton army is being continued in the other segments of the humanists under my control. The Ironmonger enclaves have already produced their quota of the automatons.”
That was their secret. They were building an army of automatons designed to encase a human within them, unlike the frequency-controlled metaljackets and the Trojan cavalry the Echelon commanded. Technology would provide what she herself could not—a way to destroy the man she hated above all others. A way to set her dearest friend free.
“I don’t know if I can do this…anymore.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Mina pressed her lips against Alexandra’s forehead. “Don’t give up,” she whispered fiercely. “Do you remember the day we first met?” Strolling through the gardens behind the Ivory Tower on the day the human princess was to marry, and finding her sobbing behind the rosebushes. “I told you then to be brave. That you could be the most powerful woman in the Empire, if you dared. You could be a queen and save your people from the Echelon’s blood taxes and harsh laws.”
