Page 10 of A Slipper in the Smoke
Elena had been forgotten.
She had enough in her little cache to purchase a few stamps now, and sometimes her fingers itched to write to them, but it had been too long now, and every purchase she made was another day she’d have to spend in Petragrad.
Maybe she’d explain one day, in person.
Elena dressed quickly that morning, pulling on high-waisted brown trousers, her only pair of boots, a shirt which had once been white and a worn bodice, the pattern now faded beyond recognition. She didn’t bother running a brush through her hair or even glancing at the mirror as she made her escape, too ashamed of what she’d see there. She grabbed a hunk of bread, a slice of cheese, and a wilted apple before hurrying out. She did not want to meet her stepmother on the way, already late to meet the Marchioness’ servant.
He was waiting outside when she arrived. Elena spoke to him loudly, hoping to give Snowdrop the head’s up if she was waiting inside. She opened the door, peering into the gloom. It was dark, Snowdrop’s previous spot deserted.
She fetched the package and sent the servant on his way. He looked only too happy to leave, not even muttering a thanks as he hurried off. Elena closed the door behind him and hurried over to the workbench where she assumed Snowdrop would be hiding.
It was empty.
Elena’s stomach dropped. Had she left already, without a word of goodbye? She knew it shouldn’t matter, that she shouldn’t care about this girl that she’d only just met. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just cared about being left behind again, forgotten.
Something clanged behind her, and she swivelled sharply. Five of the automatons came crawling towards her, two winding round her legs. It seemed unlikely that Snowdrop had left them behind.
The door shifted, and rolled upwards slowly. Snowdrop stood behind it with the remaining two bots, supporting herself with a bit of piping she must have found at the back of Elena’s workshop.
“Morning,” she said stiffly, limping in.
“I thought you might have left.”
Snowdrop groaned. “On this leg? No chance. Barely got to the place I was trying to reach last night.”
“Where was that?”
“A garage a couple of streets away. One of my buddies was there. Looks like we all escaped relatively unscathed. A couple of them were out searching for me.”
“You’re very trusting, telling me all this.”
“What are you going to do, Navarra? Report me with that symbol under your desk?”
Elena flinched.
“Relax, I’m teasing.”
“I am not used to being teased,” Elena said quietly. When people made threats around her, they tended not to be empty.
Snowdrop shrugged, half-apologetically, and hobbled towards a seat in the corner, grunting with every step until she lowered herself down and could stretch out. “I should be tougher than this.”
“Your leg was pretty sliced up,” Elena offered. “Not sure you can heal that with willpower alone.”
“You knownothingabout me.”
“Well, we did just meet last night. I don’t even know your real name.”
Snowdrop stilled. “I don’t use it anymore,” she said. “It’s of no use to anyone.”
While she knew that Snowdrop was not alone in the world, Elena wondered what had happened in her past that this old name had been discarded, and whether it was by choice or necessity.
“No one much uses my name any more, either.”
“You got another one?”
“Just Elena.”
Snowdrop paused. “What do your stepfamily call you?”
