Page 7 of A Slipper in the Smoke
A smile eased passed her lips, clockwork dreams whirring inside her. “Machines that could help people. Metal limbs or organs to replace those damaged or lost. Airships to command the skies. Things to refine the air, help us venture into the world once more. Something… something other than coal to power our cities.”
“What about weapons?”
Elena turned sharply towards her.No, not weapons, not me. I won’t help anyone be hurt, not ever—
Another knock, louder than the nervous servant, reverberated across the rolling door. Snowdrop, tying up her leg, flinched, fingers itching towards a pistol at her belt.
Elena shook her head wildly, gesturing to the workbench. It was the only space big enough to hide her, even if…
The symbol. Her one act of defiance.
There was nothing for it. Snowdrop was hardly going to report her for it.
“Get in,” she hissed softly.
The banging grew louder.
Snowdrop dragged herself across the floor and squeezed herself under the bench. Elena tossed a sheet over the top, shielding her from view, and went to answer it. She tried to ignore the clicking of Snowdrop’s pistol. When had she even picked it up?
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm—
She rolled up the door.
On the other side was a thin, dark-haired woman with a sour expression and cheeks red from running.
“Ivanka.”
“Well,” her stepsister pouted, “aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Elenacouldcountonone hand the number of times her older stepsister had visited her in the outer ring, and all three times it was because the Baroness needed something delivered and she couldn’t find anyone else to do it. Even Mariah, who was a bit softer towards her, had only visited perhaps half a dozen times, bringing her parcels of food when she was forced to work late.
Ivanka had never visited of her own free will.
She marched into the workshop without waiting for an invitation, casting her eyes over the space and turning up her nose at the grease and dust. She dropped a basket on the workbench, and Elena waited for her to open it and shove another project in her face. Instead, she turned to her sharply.
“Close the door,” she snapped. “I can scarcely breathe.”
Elena closed the door and Ivanka removed the black silk mask from her face, standing underneath the rickety filter. The bots Snowdrop had brought with her all fell dutifully silent, not that they’d look too out of place in the garage. Ivanka probably wouldn’t even register them as odd.
“I’ve got you a job,” Ivanka said.
Elena groaned. The last thing she needed was more work.
“Don’t roll your eyes! You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I know I don’t have time to—”
Ivanka waved a long-fingered hand. “It’s not for tonight. It’s in a couple of days. A temporary job at the palace. It’s just fixing up their automatons and making them all ship-shape for the queen’s fancy ball. I mean,peace conference.”
With the rumours of what Petragrad was hiding, Queen Mira was holding a conference at the palace with all the heads of state attending—an attempt to convince them that everything was fine, and that Petragrad, the fuel capital of the world, was as functional as ever.
Elena had been to the palace only once before, shortly after arriving in Petragrad. It was a magnificent, glittering jewel.
And the place where she’d witnessed the assassination of the king and his teenaged daughter.
Even now, Elena remembered the explosion, the running, the ringing in her ears. She remembered standing there, stunned, unable to move even as the room charged with movement. She remembered the shape of Mariah’s mouth, screaming beside her, but the sound never reached her. Nothing did. Ivanka had seized their wrists and dragged them under the buffet table, and for the longest time the three of them held each other, trembling as the room shook. Then sound had dribbled back, she heard her father’s voice above the commotion, and the brief moment where the three of them had been something akin to sisters had shattered when he called Elena’s name and not theirs.
Ivanka snapped her fingers. “Don’t,” she said shortly, as if she could peer straight into Elena’s mind and didn’t care for it. “It’s a good job. Well-paid. Dependable.”
