Page 80 of A Slipper in the Smoke
“Speaking of people,” she began.
“A tentative link. Continue.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that our very charming houseguest had absolutely no idea who you were. Seemed quite confused about the whole arrangement.”
Pip froze. “Did you tell her?” Surely Elena would have said something if Lucia had told her. Or maybe… maybe that’s why she’d seemed different these last few days. Because she knew who he was. Why wouldn’t she say anything? Did she think he’d been toying with her—
“I did not,” Lucia said. “It did not seem my secret to tell.”
“Ah. Right. Good.” He didn’t realise until Lucia confirmed that Elena still didn’t know that a part of himwantedher to. He wanted the secret out.
“But… it also doesn’t quite seem your secret to keep, either,” Lucia went on. Her silhouette crept closer to the screen, even as her voice grew softer. “We keep a lot of secrets in our line of work, but this… this shouldn’t be one of them. She deserves to know.”
“I know she does,” Pip replied, just as softly, “and I am going to tell her, I promise.”
Lucia’s silhouette nodded. “Don’t leave it too late.”
The door opened a moment later, just as Pip finished dressing. Susan walked back in, looking slightly more flushed than usual.
“I’ll see you later,” said Lucia, nodding to the both of them.
Susan came forward as the door closed behind the princess.
“Did you get it?” Pip asked.
Susan nodded, placing a golden envelope on the dresser next to the discreet black box. “At no small expense.”
He shrugged. “The best money I have ever spent.”
Susan avoided his gaze, still staring at the envelope. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
No. Yes. Maybe. Of course.
“It’s the right thing to do,” he said.
“And what about for you?”
“I don’t matter.”
Susan shook her head. “Yes, you do. And I think she would appreciate the choice.”
Pip thought of all he had to do before the ball, all he had to say, and wondered if in all of that he’d find the courage to ask her to come with him or the courage to go home without her. “I know,” he admitted, “but—”
“Feelings, yes. Complicated things. I remember them well.” She patted his hand. “Good luck, my prince. You shall need it.”
The day before the ball, Elena and her fellow mechanics were summoned from the workshops into the ballrooms, where most of their work was on full display. The automaton servants stood in a line, dressed up in silken dresses with lace frills and painted porcelain faces. They looked almost human, although not quite. Neverquite.
They were wound up and set about the tasks, carrying trays laden with water and glasses to test their balance and speed. Other human servants came to assist, mimicking the role of the guests to ensure the automatons could navigate around them successfully. Any adjustments were completed then and there.
It was an exhausting, gruelling day, with lots of running back to the workshop for tools and repairs.
It was impossible to get away for lunch. It was served in the ballroom, the exits tightly patrolled, security increased with the arrangements for the ball underway and the not unfounded worry that someone might attempt something. Elena kept her eyes peeled. The biggest variable in their plan was not knowing when the proposed assassination might take place. Snowdrop was almost certain that they would wait for some special moment or event. “Mira will have something planned for midnight,” she explained. “She always does. And Sparta wants to create chaos—they will want all eyes on their actions.”
“So we need to get away before then?”
“We need to get away as soon as we can.”
All of that depended on Elena locating the prince and setting off their distraction at the perfect moment.
