Page 65 of A Slipper in the Smoke
When Nero had spoken to Elena in the gardens, when he had snarled at his sister, that was what had painted the back of his words. Elena should have recognised it. And perhaps a part of her did.
If he was a viper like everyone said he was, then his scales matched hers. If he was a snake, she wasn’t sure he was venomous.
Stop trusting people,Elena told herself.Stop seeing the best in them.
She ought to know better. She had for a long time. But something about these last couple of weeks had changed her, revived the ghost of the person she used to be, the one who was kind and trusted everyone.
Pip was largely to blame, of course.
And Snowdrop.
Elena hoped she was all right, and that she’d still be there when she returned to the outer ring. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, would she?
Unless she thought Elena wasn’t coming back…
Elena shook her thoughts away, and climbed back into her bed. A coldness had settled over her limbs, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep, although she knew the latter would evade her.
Back in her bed, Elena examined the clockwork mouse in more detail. It was missing several screws, which meant it was easy to take apart without her usual tools, using nothing but the letter opener by the side of her bed. It was short a few gears too, but what was largely affecting its ability to be put back together was the fact that several of the cogs seemed to have melted and welded themselves to the body of the mouse.
It wasn’t unfixable—nothing was—but it would have been much easier to start again from scratch. What was the General doing with it?
Her thumb brushed over two minute initials carved into the bronze shell of the body.B.B.
Whoever the mouse belonged to, it didn’t look like it was the General’s. It didn’t look like it was a tool or a weapon, either. It really did look like it was a personal item of some meaning, but one he’d shoved away and forgotten about.
Not knowing what it meant bothered her more than it should have done, as did not being able to fix it with the tools she had. She wrapped it in a handkerchief and stuffed it under the mattress, not knowing where else to hide it and worried about it being discovered on her person. She’d need to find a better space for it—or perhaps she just better leave it in an obvious space once she left. Not here, the corridor, maybe. The library. Somewhere it could be found and returned to its proper owner.
Because she couldn’t go back to Bestiel’s rooms. She wouldn’t risk it.
Lunch came, but Elena had little appetite for it. The doctor came back to see her not long after. She said another day of rest would be required, “Unless you are able to take it easy back home?”
Elena went quiet. She knew that would be impossible. She equally knew that she really had to get back to the outer ring, and to Snowdrop. She’d discovered nothing here apart from the fact that Bestiel kept a pet mouse and Nero was perhaps not who he pretended he was.
It wasn’t enough.
She sighed.
The doctor patted her hand. “Another day here, then.”
A short while later, Pip came to see her. “The doctor tells me you should be well enough to go home in a day or two,” he said. “I must admit, I’m happy that you’re feeling better, but I’ll be very sad to see you go.”
Elena couldn’t think of what to say to that. She didn’t want to leave his side either, even though she needed to get away from this place of secrets and back to—
Back to the Baroness, and her cold, hard bed, and to being ignored, and to—
To Pip, leaving. To the rebellion and whatever future that brought.
Still lacking the words, she launched herself forward into Pip’s arms.
She didn’t want it. She didn’t want to do anything but stay inside this room forever with Pip beside her.
“Elena,” he breathed, his arms wrapping around her.
For a long while, they sat together, not speaking, as if Pip knew she couldn’t explain, as if he knew the importance of just being there and holding her.
Finally, they parted. Pip brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “If you’re feeling up for it,” he told her, “I’d like to do something with you tonight. A sort of… midnight feast.”
Elena smiled. “So late?”
