Obsidian Eyes

by A. W. Exley

  Jared frowned. “I don’t belong to anybody.”

  “Have you had that conversation with Madeline? She certainly believes otherwise.” Clutching her book like a piece of armour, she spun on her heel.

  With a rustle of skirts and the faint scent of spiced vanilla, she walked away from him.

  Damn it. Jared turned and slammed his fist into the grinning maw of a fireplace gargoyle. Letting go of a deep sigh of frustration, he spun and dropped into the large wing chair in front of the fire, still warm from Allie’s body. He stretched his long legs in their fine boots and staked his claim on the leather ottoman.

  He knew she felt the same way as him. Her body clearly showed him what she wouldn’t acknowledge out loud. He couldn’t figure out why she resisted him. If she would meet him half way, they could create their own middle ground. Noble, common, or guild, I don’t care. I just want her.

  Zeb appeared from the stacks and collapsed in the chair opposite. A clinking and whirring noise came from the contents of his ever present pouch as it objected to being dumped so callously. The whirring abated as the contents settled on the chair next to him.

  “Why are the simplest appearing things the most complex to understand, while the most complicated appearing, turn out to be simplistic and one dimensional?” Jared hypothesised at his friend.

  Zeb readjusted his glasses. “Is that an engineering conundrum or an existentialist one?” As he shifted, the library door banged shut, followed by a squeak as Weasel halted at the door and then scuttled back into the stacks. “Aha!” he cried, as his brain had a eureka moment. “A natural problem, not mechanical at all.”

  “She is the most infuriating, frustrating, and contrary girl I have ever encountered.” Jared stared at the spot where her slender form disappeared from view. He willed her to return and answer his questions.

  Zeb frowned. “Does this mean you don’t like Allie?”

  “I can’t decide if I like her or want to throttle her. All I know is she makes my fingers itch whenever she is around, and it’s not always because I want my knife in my hand.” He remembered what it felt like to gather her near. He had been so close to kissing her, twice now. A part of him longed to know if she would taste as good as she smelt, and his desire grew louder by the day. He spent hours in the gymnasium, working himself to exhaustion, trying to take the edge off his need.

  His brain didn’t want to contemplate his commitment to Madeline. He preferred to let his mind skirt around the practical issue and linger on the more pressing physical one. Or the physical one he wanted to press.

  “If you don’t like her, are we still friends?” Zeb still wore his frown.

  “Of course I like her,” Jared admitted. “I just don’t know if I like her. Do you understand?”

  His friend shook his head. “No. I don’t really do biological problems, sorry.” The frown looked like it would become a permanent resident on Zeb’s face.

  Jared threw up his hands and growled. That’s the real problem here, too much thinking.

  “Which reminds me, Madeline was looking for you earlier. How are things with her?” Zeb said.

  Jared narrowed his gaze and shot his friend a look; he skated on thin ice bringing her into the discussion. “Madeline is my parents’ choice, not mine.” He dropped his fist on the arm of the sofa.

  Zeb knitted his brows. “You agreed to the contracts and as I recollect you were certainly willing at the time.”

  Jared gave a long sigh. “I was fifteen and infatuated. How could I predict how her character would develop? She has shown herself to be shallow, vacuous and unexpectedly cruel.”

  “And Allie?” Zeb probed, gathering information about the problem at hand.

  “She’s generous, intelligent, spirited and… well, it’s not like we move in the same social circles.” Now Jared wore the frown. The social disparity between them was immense. Even though Scotland was more forward thinking and valued skill as much as birth, society still expected a base level of breeding. He hated to admit Allie was right on that point.

  Zeb looked lost again. “But you do, here at school we all gather together.” He pointed out the obvious flaw in Jared’s argument.

  Jared went back to scowling. “I mean her status, she’s not noble born.”

  “Is status a prerequisite for friendship?” Zeb asked, still trying to pick his way through the social minefield.

  “No, not with her.” Jared grasped for the words. He couldn’t think how to articulate the difference between Allie and noble girls or why he found himself drawn to her. Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, he tried a different tact. He deflected the subject back onto Zeb. “Isn’t it about time we started casting around for likely candidates for your marriage prospects?”

  Zeb baulked at the mere suggestion of him finding a helpmate in life. “Me? I certainly don’t need a girl in my life, from my observations of you and Duncan they seem to cause no end of problems.”

  Jared warmed to the change of topic now. “One day you will need a wife, so we need to try and find some likely prospects for you now. I doubt you’ll ever see a girl again once you’re locked in a lab full time.”

  “Why would I need to marry?” Zeb held us his hands as though to ward off the suggestion. “I’m perfectly happy with a laboratory and my experiments.”

  “Because, Zeb, one day you will be out in the big wide world and you will need somebody to ensure you have clean socks in the morning and that you get fed in the evenings.” It worried Jared, to think how Zeb would cope without him and Duncan looking out for him once school finished.

  “I shall employ domestics to look after my basic needs,” Zeb announced as though it were the perfect solution.

  “And who will remember to pay them?” It was now Jared’s turn to smile as his friend squirmed. “Think of it as an anthropology experiment. And besides, female company is not entirely without its benefits. So long as you pick the right one.”

  Monday, 12th September.

  loise buzzed with the forthcoming events for what little remained of the term. She kept up a steady stream of chatter, heedless of the lack of response from her roommate.

  “We have such a busy week ahead. There’s the closing dance next Friday and we have to start packing,” Eloise mused aloud into her open wardrobe.

  Allie lay on her bed clutching a small rubber ball as she stared at the ceiling, wondering how Eloise climbed up there to paint the night sky sparkling down on her. Deciding on a star, she tossed the ball at her intended overhead target.

  “What’s the closing dance?” she asked, catching the ball on the rebound. She heard snippets about the ball but hadn’t bothered to find out anything further. Given she was banned from dance class, it held no interest for her.

  Eloise emerged from the wardrobe to give Allie a startled look. “Oh, I forgot Madeline had you thrown out. It’s the last dance of the term, a chance to get all dressed up. It’s like our own tiny ball.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Allie said, tongue firmly in her cheek. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Madeline for getting her tossed out. “I’m sure you’ll have a fantastic time dancing the night away. Make sure you get at least one dance with Duncan. I can reassure you that despite his size, he is much lighter on his feet than Zeb.”

  “But you have to come too.” Eloise gave up on the in-depth examination of the wardrobe and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Allie sat up and shook her head, keen to nip the conversation in the bud before Eloise got carried away. “Now, we wouldn’t like to upset Madeline would we?”

  “Yes we would, actually,” she replied matter of factly. “Why do you always do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Back down. You won’t stand up to Madeline. She constantly picks at you, throwing insults, tripping you in the corridor, and you just take it.”

  Allie chewed her bottom lip. “I know Madeline’s type, she will never stop. Hamilton will give it up, once I figure out the be
st way to handle him. But Madeline? It would never be over with her.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes I do.” Allie gave a sigh, picked up a pillow and then cradled it to her chest. “In Egypt I lived with the harem but I was apart from them. Poppa was an honoured guest of the sultan, so I had freedom to come and go. One girl in particular was jealous of the way I could slip in and out of the palace walls and roam the streets or explore the ruins.

  “Suhar would tease me, like Madeline does, and I threw everything back at her. We got into a couple of fights, but I always won. So she changed tactics. Soot mixed in my soap. A favourite toy smashed. Then one day, she found the small drawing of my mother that I kept hidden under my mat and she burned it.” She buried her face in the pillow, holding back tears that threatened to spill at the memory.

  Eloise laid a hand on Allie’s arm. “I’m so sorry, that’s horrid. What did you do?”

  “I cut up her most expensive gown and placed dung beetles in her shoes. As hard as she pushed me, I pushed back. Then one morning I found a bowl of candy by my bed. The other women teased me and said Hakim had it delivered. That he wanted to fatten me up, to put meat on my bones. They embarrassed me, so I wouldn’t touch the sweets. Latifah, the Sultan’s favourite, snatched up the bowl and swallowed several pieces whole. Then she started screaming.”

  A soft gasp came from Eloise, the hand on Allie’s arm tightened.

  “The guards tortured the small delivery boy. He said Suhar gave him the bowl. Terrified, she admitted to lacing the candy with slivers of glass and metal, intending for me to eat them. The shards shredded Latifah’s oesophagus as she swallowed. It took three days for her to die, when the glass perforated her bowel. On the fourth day, Suhar died.”

  “How?”

  “The sultan turns a blind eye to the mischief in the harem but killing his favourite couldn’t go unpunished. Suhar was placed in a large sack with a cannon ball between her feet. The sack was sewn shut and then thrown into the river. We all had to stand in silence and watch justice at work, listening to her muffled screams as the sack sank. Then the crocodiles moved off the bank to investigate. Two people died because I pushed back at a bully.”

  Arms wrapped around Allie, holding her tight. “Suhar chose her actions, the outcome was not your fault.” Eloise whispered against her hair.

  Long moments passed. A shudder tore through her frame and then she locked away the tears deep inside once more. Looking at her friend, she found a grim set to Eloise’s jaw.

  “You’re looking at the problem wrong. We still fight her but we use our tactics, not hers. Don’t challenge her openly. There are small, unseen ways to battle her type, but you cannot let her win. We will not let her win.”

  Allie narrowed her eyes. “I’m starting to think I should have eaten the candy.”

  Eloise punched her in the arm. “Enough of that talk. The dance is a masked ball. You can go and she will never know. Another round she won’t win.”

  Allie didn’t want to attend the ball. The thought of socialising with the blue bloods left her cold. She would be a fraud amongst them, waiting for someone to point a finger and denounce her. A frown pulled at her face.

  Jared promised he wouldn’t tell, but can I trust him?

  “Oh buck up,” Eloise cajoled her. “You’ll enjoy it once you’re there.”

  Allie laid down her trump card. “You are also forgetting I packed my ball gown in my other carpet bag.” Certainly Eloise would leave her alone to her quiet contemplations now.

  A cheeky smile stole over her friend’s face. “But I’ve been working on that when you’ve been out riding. I have altered one of my gowns to fit you.”

  “Eloise Bainbridge!” It was Allie’s turn to exclaim. “I swear you get me into worse situations than Jared does. In fact I think I’d rather face a couple of armed ruffians.”

  Eloise edged closer to her. “Care to make the evening interesting? I bet Madeline won’t recognise you, but Jared will.”

  Allie frowned. “How would that work? Surely if one knows I am there, the other will too? So you would lose the bet, I will either have a disguise to fool them both, or not at all.”

  “Nope,” Eloise said. “He will know. Are you certain enough to bet on that?”

  Allie was curious and certain if she kept quiet she would definitely fool both of them. Particularly if she also kept well out of their way, didn’t talk to anyone and possibly hid in a corner. “All right. What exactly will the forfeit be for the loser?”

  Eloise laid out her terms. “If I am right and he recognises you, then you have to come shopping with me in London and let me buy you something gorgeous.”

  Allie groaned at the very idea of a full-on shopping assault with Eloise but it gave her a potential out. “And if he doesn’t recognise me, you can’t try to drag me to either shopping or dancing for the rest of the year.”

  Eloise pouted at the idea. “Agreed,” she finally said and they shook on it.

  “Now show me what on earth you have been up to and why you are so certain we can fool Madeline.” Allie burned with curiosity to see what Eloise had made for her to wear.

  Her friend stepped to the wardrobe, flung back the door and pulled out her pet project. A deep rust-coloured taffeta skirt and bodice, both intricately embellished with climbing vines of small black beads.

  Allie let out a soft whistle. “You’re a wonder with a needle. I thought you worked on frogs, rats, and dogs.” She rose from her bed to finger the expensive material.

  “I started on fabric and worked my way up to frogs. Reptile skin is quite different to stitch compared to rodents. Slippery, like silk.”

  Allie raised an eyebrow, only Eloise would use silk to practice her stitches for frog surgery. “This is more than stitching a sampler, this is pattern-making and design.”

  Eloise let out a small sigh. “My family is titled, not moneyed. Mother taught me how to give the appearance without spending as much as everyone else. It’s far cheaper to buy fabric and construct yourself, hence why I know how to sew and make a garment.” She looked a little wistful. “Good old grandfather spent our family fortune on alcohol, women and very slow race horses.”

  “But your family still owns its estates?” Allie wondered, certain the family would have lost the title along with the estates and fortune.

  “Yes. Fortunately, Father is an academic; he was studying economics at Oxford when Grandfather placed his last losing bet that nearly bankrupted the family. Marrying Mother brought in much needed capital, which Father nurtured with prudent investments. We’re now able to muddle through adequately.” She waved at the wardrobe of clothing. “We live economically, not lavishly.”

  “You can make a dress and stitch a wound, you’re a marvel.”

  Eloise looked at her with world-weary eyes. “But unfortunately, the biological sciences are not seen as a suitable pursuit for a young lady.”

  “So we both have to conceal our knife skills.”

  Both girls laughed, but the sad serious light stayed in Eloise’s eyes.

  “Rumours are rife that King William will not live much longer and Princess Victoria will soon take the throne. Can you imagine, a girl our age, ruling all of England?”

  Allie laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “Perhaps she will herald a new age, one where we can do what we want, not what we are told.”

  Hope glimmered in Eloise’s gaze. “Perhaps.” She held up the bodice to Allie. “Now, let’s see if this is going to fit you, and we also need to discuss what we are going to do about your hair.”

  Wednesday, 14th September.

  Crossing the threshold into the library, a squeak caught Allie’s attention. Weasel waited at her feet, his head cocked to one side. She bent down and picked up her metallic companion, and he sat on her shoulder. His lethal tail curled around her neck and he gave a chirp.

  Eloise shook her head and muttered. “You’ll cuddle up to that monstrosity, yet you don’t like my frogs
.”

  Allie laid a hand on Weasel’s head. “He doesn’t twitch and keep me awake at night.”

  Rounding the last stack, they found the atmosphere in the nook subdued. Even Duncan, claiming every inch of the large sofa as usual, looked restrained.

  Jared had his back to them, one hand clutched at a gargoyle as he stared into the fireplace, lost in his own contemplations. Zeb looked the worst, his head bowed as he focused on an aethergram in his hand. He looked up on seeing them and narrowed his eyes at Weasel.

  Weasel gave a low hiss in Allie’s ear and snuck under the curtain of her hair. “Problem?” she asked.

  “My father is gone!” Zeb waved the narrow piece of paper containing the ominous message, forgetting about his traitorous creation.

  “Gone?” Eloise echoed in a horrified manner. She perched herself on the wing chair and put a hand on Zeb’s shoulder.

  Allie picked up Duncan’s feet and swung them off the sofa before occupying the space she created. Weasel jumped to the arm and then down to the ground, to curl under her skirts. Allie avoided the other wing chair, which would have put her in close proximity to Jared. She refused to look at him, but a shiver went down her spine as he turned and his gaze swept over her.

  “He has been taken,” Zeb said. “My mother hasn’t seen him for over two weeks and she’s not getting any information out of KRAC. They keep telling her he is in seclusion while working on something top secret. Which is rubbish. He always sends her a message every day, no matter what he’s working on.”

  Allie chewed her bottom lip. It was what they feared might happen after the attempt to abduct Zeb. Her main surprise was Lord Lithgow proved an easier target than his son, since Marshall passed on the attempt on Zeb. She assumed the soldiers would have guarded him closely. She dared a look from under hooded eyes at Jared, to find him fixated on her.

  “What does Marshall say?”

  He gave a shrug. “Very little. They gave Lord Lithgow a permanent guard after what happened with Zeb and he still vanished right from under their noses.”