Page 79 of A Slipper in the Smoke
“Oh, and you’ll need a code name.”
“Do I?” Elena arched an eyebrow. “I don’t care if anyone knows who I am. It’s not like I’m leaving anyone behind.”
Snowdrop went quiet for a moment. “There’s always someone we leave behind,” she said darkly, and then, much lighter, “We thought Cinder would suit.”
Elena frowned. “I thought the names were plant themed?”
“Usually, but Cinder just fits, Miss Mechanic. Do you not like it?”
“I like my name.”
“Hmm, Cinder-Elena then? No, that doesn’t sound right. Cinderel? That’s kind of pretty.”
Elena shrugged. “Whatever you like. I don’t really mind.”
Elena didn’t want to talk about the plan, or even think about it. She was sure, at this stage, that no amount of thinking or planning was actually going to make the difference as to whether or not they pulled it off. It all depended on the day, on the guards on duty, on the actions of others.
She felt like she wanted to be sick.
“Go,” said Snowdrop, as if sensing her distress. “Enjoy what little time you have left in the city, little rebel.”
That night, Elena tossed and turned in bed. Snowdrop had given her a small bag to pack any personal items into, but staring up at the cracked ceiling, Elena could think of so little to bring with her. Her stepmother had sold every item of her father’s. The ashes on the mantelpiece weren’t his. There were a few tools in her workshop she was moderately attached to, but anything else…
The bag under her bed contained nothing in it but a spare change of clothes, the money she’d been saving, and the clockwork mouse she’d liberated from the palace. For some reason, she did not want to leave him behind.
Her fingers drifted down towards the rough canvas of the bag, rustling through the insides until she felt the cool metal of the mouse. She lifted him onto the mattress with her. She didn’t dare wind him up here, in case he made too much noise and the Baroness came marching into the room and dashed the poor thing to pieces. Instead, Elena ran her hands over his tiny body, admiring every gear that made him tick, marvelling at the workmanship of the first maker as well as her own.
Just you and me soon, little buddy.
The thought did not fill her with much comfort. She didn’t want to be alone, and even though she knew she’d be with Snowdrop and the others, that arrangement was only supposed to be temporary. She wouldn’t be taking them with her to Navarra.
She forced herself to think of green fields and old friends, but no memory she summoned could plug up the ache inside her.
Pip had been longing to speak to Elena—truly speak to her—for days now. He could tell she was distracted with something, more so than this project she was working on. He had no reason to suspect she was hiding something from him, as she seemed to enjoy their stolen time as much as he did, but there wassomethinggoing on with her, something she didn’t want to share or couldn’t.
Not that he could talk. She didn’t even know who he really was. He’d asked her if she was in trouble. She said she wasn’t. He asked her if she was all right. She said she was. Any more than that seemed rude to pry.
Lucia, in an attempt he felt more was to give Susan some relief from his jitteriness rather than anything else, had taken over the task of readying him for the ball. She leant him her personal tailor, designing him a waistcoat of white and silver, stitched with patterns of moons and flowers, and a mask of lace to match.
“This mask hardly hides my features,” Pip remarked.
Lucia turned from the mirror where she was examining her own—a grand gold creation that reached all the way into her hair, with spikes emerging from her curls to emulate the rays of the sun. “You think the aim of a masked ball is to remain anonymous?”
“Surely that’s the point?”
“The point is to lookfabulous,” Lucia said. “And to give the nobles something to talk about other than the war in Sparta and the revolts in the outer ring. If Mira can organise a party, she can organise a war.”
“That’s ludicrous.”
“That’spolitics.”
“I don’t understand how you enjoy all of this.”
Lucia shrugged, turning in the room, light bouncing off her gold petticoats like a moving painting. “Think of it as a game you have to win, and it becomes a lot more fun.”
Pip swallowed. “People aren’t pawns.”
Lucia sighed. The tailor made a few more adjustments, and wrestled Pip out of his waistcoat. Pip moved behind a screen to change as the tailor gathered up his equipment and made his escape, Lucia still hovering nearby.
