A Clockwork Fairytale

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Ever since he’d left her at the Royal Palace a week ago, he had worried about her. So far, he’d sent her two notes asking how she was settling in and not received a reply to either. He feared someone in the Palace was intercepting his messages.

  Frustration burned through him. His spies could not access the Royal apartments to speak with her, and he wasn’t able to leave the monastery grounds to try to reach her himself. Vittorio had posted bluejackets at both gateways to the monastery and, according to Steptoe, there were still guards on Waterberry House.

  Luckily, the sacred monastery grounds were out of bounds to Vittorio’s men. As long as Turk stayed within the walls, he would be safe. Worried for his safety, Gregorio had even forbidden him from taking nighttime excursions on the skyways.

  Although Turk had always enjoyed reading and studying, he couldn’t concentrate. The quiet life of contemplation and devotion he used to enjoy before he became a spymaster now seemed boring and claustrophobic. He wanted to know what was happening outside the monastery walls.

  He hurled his other five star blades in quick succession, creating an evenly spaced row in the target. Turk had bought the unusual weapons from a southern merchant shortly after he became a spymaster. He liked the idea that they were a traditional weapon of his mysterious southern homeland.

  “Hey, mate!”

  He looked around at the sound of Steptoe’s shout. His friend ambled along the path between overhanging shrubs. Turk raised his fist and they bumped knuckles in greeting. “What are you doing hiding in the far corner of the garden?” Steptoe asked.

  “Hoping not to be disturbed.”

  Steptoe laughed. “I don’t think anyone will disturb you, mate. The old gardener Fulvio told me you were tossing around stars of death. Remember, some of the old monks haven’t stepped outside the monastery walls for more than sixty years. I think they’re frightened of you now you have a reputation in the big wide world.”

  Turk didn’t even want to imagine being trapped inside the cloistered community for the rest of his life.

  Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Steptoe batted a wasp away from his face. “So, how you doing now you’re back in the compound?”

  Turk stared up at the blue sky wondering whether to be honest or not. Since Gregorio’s unexpectedly harsh reaction to his thoughts, he’d become wary of revealing his feelings. But Steptoe was his friend, not his master. “I’m not settling in well,” he said.

  Steptoe squinted up at the sun thoughtfully. “Can’t say as I would either. I still keep up me devotions, but truth is, I don’t think I can ever come back inside.”

  Turk combed his fingers through his sweaty hair and his hand unconsciously paused on the longer hair curling against his neck. Secret curls, Melba had called them. Every time he thought of her, the pit of his stomach felt empty as if he’d forgotten to eat and would be forever hungry.

  “What news?” Turk asked quickly.

  “Vittorio still has a guard on Waterberry House, but the men on the monastery gate have gone.”

  “Thank the Great Earth Jinn. I hope that means Vittorio will leave me alone now. He has no legitimate reason to come after me, anyway.” Now he could try to reach Melba to make sure she was happy.

  “Have you discussed your restlessness with Gregorio?” Steptoe asked.

  Turk rubbed sweat from his eyes. He had delivered a verbal report of his meeting with the king to the three most senior Brothers, but he’d put off seeing Gregorio alone. His master would be furious when he read Turk’s mind and saw his mixed-up feelings about Melba. “I dare not let him see my thoughts until I have them under control.”

  With a frown, Steptoe said, “He doesn’t still read your mind, does he?”

  Turk’s attention snapped to his friend. “Of course. Why?”

  “Carlos hasn’t read my mind since I were fourteen. He said a boy is guided onto the path of devotion by his master, but a man stays on the path by mastering himself. If I have worries I can always discuss them with him.”

  Turk’s unsettled feelings focused into a hot pulse of anger. Why didn’t Gregorio trust him to make his own judgments? Turk did not want to share his private thoughts about Melba with anyone. The time had come to tell Gregorio to stay out of his mind and let him make his own choices.

  He pushed away from the wall. “I’ll be back soon,” he said to Steptoe. He ran through the garden to the wing of the monastery that housed the private quarters of the senior Brothers. Taking the steps two at a time, he cursed the long habit dragging at his legs. Habits were made for old men who walked everywhere at snail’s pace in clumpy wooden sandals. When Melba had wanted to wear trousers, he had dismissed her plea without giving it a second thought. Now he understood exactly why she didn’t like wearing a dress.

  He yanked off his boots, strode along the balcony, and knocked on Gregorio’s door. At a word from inside, he entered and shut the door behind him. Anger pulsed in his veins as he recalled the unfair slap Gregorio had given him when his master shouldn’t even have been reading his mind.

  Gregorio sat working at his desk in front of a window overlooking the second circle. His brows drew together as he turned to Turk. “Is something wrong, boy?”

  Turk knew he should be diplomatic and he struggled to moderate his words. “Steptoe tells me Carlos stopped reading his mind when he was fourteen.”

  “Ah.” Gregorio put down his pen.

  Turk waited for his master to continue but he just stared out the window. “Why don’t you trust me to make my own decisions?”

  Gregorio unfolded from his chair and stood slowly and stiffly, wincing as if he were in pain. “I seek only to protect you from yourself, Turk. It is too easy for a young man to be led astray, especially outside in the city where every temptation lies at your fingertips.”

  “So you check up on me as though I’m an initiate incapable of being trusted.” Turk stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “I understand my duty. I am an honorable man. You should have trusted me.”

  Approaching him, Gregorio gripped his shoulder. “In truth, Turk, you are a stronger man than I am. I should have trusted you, but I know firsthand that the temptations of the flesh can be irresistible.”

  Shocked, Turk pulled away from him. “Irresistible? What do you mean?”

  Gregorio hung his head and stared at the ground. “I’m ashamed to admit that I broke my vows. My life is plagued by guilt. I only wanted to protect you from the same thing.”

  Gregorio’s almost irrational fear of the temptation of women now made horrible sense. “Did you love the woman?” Turk asked.

  With a sad laugh, Gregorio shook his head. “I love my service to the Great Earth Jinn more than any woman.”

  “I would never break my vows,” Turk retorted. “You should not have judged me by your own failings.”

  The moment the harsh words were out of his mouth Turk regretted them. Gregorio’s shoulders slumped. He staggered toward a chair and reached out to steady himself with a hand on the chair back.

  “I apologize, master,” Turk said softly.

  “No.” Gregorio gestured the apology away. “I deserve your reprimand. I have treated you unfairly. I shall not ask to see inside your mind again, boy. Now please leave me.”

  Turk backed out of the door, hating to see Gregorio looking so defeated. He had always been strong and clear in his guidance. The disturbing revelation that Gregorio had broken his vows suggested any one of them could be tempted. Turk turned and gripped the balcony rail, needing something solid to anchor himself. Turk had a calling to serve the Great Earth Jinn, but he also had an undeniable affection for Melba. In fact, he suspected he loved her. Did he love her more than he loved his service to the Great Earth Jinn?

  “Hey, mate.” Steptoe hurried up the steps with a letter in his hand. “Gwinnie sent this on from Waterberry House. It’s a message from the Palace for you.”

  Turk’s heart jumped and raced. At long last, a note from Melba. He strode
along the balcony to meet his friend and almost snatched the envelope in his eagerness. The wobbly writing was undeniably hers. He smiled to himself, remembering how hard she had worked at learning to write neatly. He tore open the envelope with more enthusiasm than he’d felt since he arrived at the monastery and unfolded the note.

  At the sight of her words, his breath slammed in and the ground dropped away from beneath his feet.

  I found out you are a monk. You used me to get the reward coin for the Shining Brotherhood. I trusted you and you lied to me. I never want to see you again.

  ***

  Madam Borrelli showed out the dressmakers after the fitting for Melba’s Great Earth Day costume. Melba took the opportunity to dash to the corner of her sitting room and kneel to run her hand underneath the bureau. She was certain this was where she had thrown Turk’s gold Earth Blessing. She could even see the tiny mark where it had hit the wall. But although she’d searched every time she had a few moments alone, she couldn’t find it. After nearly two weeks, she had almost given up hope of finding it.

  She sat back on her heels with a sigh. Although she was angry and upset with Turk for lying to her and trading her for coin, that didn’t stop the yearning, empty feeling inside every time she thought of him. She had left her pledge stone at Waterberry House, so the Earth Blessing was all she had of him. And the fact that he’d given her something so precious to him proved he must have had some genuine feelings for her. Guilt whispered through her when she remembered promising him she would look after his gift.

  Scrambling to her feet, she patted down her layers of lace petticoats and smoothed the crumpled blue silk of her dress. The Apple Jinn that Vittorio had helped her raise to replace her faded Flower Jinns clung to her shoulder with its sharp claws. She had shaped it into a flutterby, but it was timid and boring compared to the Rose Jinns. Its wings were almost transparent, and it didn’t dance around her head or chatter in her mind.

  She headed out of the door, passing Madam Borrelli in the hallway. The woman bobbed her head respectfully as Melba hurried away. Vittorio had promised to meet her in the library after her dress fitting. Apart from the two hours each morning she spent with her father, Vittorio had been her constant companion. He’d shown her around the Palace, introduced her to the staff, and protected her from nosy nobs who tried to get in to see her. He’d even helped her with her reading and writing and taught her more magic. She knew he had an ulterior motive, but he was entertaining company, even though at times he was a bit old and stuffy.

  The library was unoccupied when she arrived. Turk’s library had been small compared to the huge one in the Palace. A magnificent mural on the high ceiling depicted the legendary battles between the Golden Dragon and the Silver Serpent. A sliding ladder attached to metal tracks gave access to the higher shelves. She had discovered she could push the ladder, then jump on and ride along the walls. Vittorio made a fuss about her falling off, but it was nothing compared to what she had got up to on the skyways with Turk.

  While she waited for Vittorio, she climbed the ladder to look for a book on raising Jinns. Turk had told her that everything from the Earth contained a Star. She wanted to try raising Jinns from things like metals and jewels, but she couldn’t sense Stars in the gold, silver, and jewels the king had given her.

  She was walking her fingers along the books’ spines when she heard the door open. Vittorio headed toward her, weaving between the green leather chairs. When he reached her ladder, he put a steadying hand on the side. “How did your dress fitting go? Are you pleased with the costume I chose for you for Great Earth Day, Melba?”

  “Aye, it’s fun.” He planned to go to the celebration dressed as the Earth King: a symbolic figure embodying all the good things that came from the Earth. She was to be the Earth Queen. Her dress was fashioned from lengths of multicolored silk decorated with gold, silver, pearls, and small silk apples representing spring and summer. Vittorio’s suit was trimmed with jewels and silk leaves but in autumnal tones meant to represent the cooler seasons. Her father had decided to officially present her to the nobs at Court on Great Earth Day in a few days’ time. The thought of attending a ball made her stomach sick with nerves, but she secretly hoped Turk might be there in his nob’s disguise. She regretted sending the angry note to him and desperately wanted to see him again.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Vittorio said. “In two days time I shall give alms to the poor in Sugar Street Market. Why don’t you come with me? It’s a good opportunity for you to go out in public without having to speak with anyone. It might help prepare you to face everyone at the Great Earth Day celebrations.”

  Melba gripped the ladder and leaned back, staring up at the huge Silver Serpent on the ceiling above, but she didn’t really see it. She remembered Turk so handsome and smart in his frock coat and top hat the day he had taken her to Sugar Street Market. He’d bought her a pink rose, a beautiful blue dress, and frilly drawers. Her breath hitched and she pressed her forehead against the ladder. The nagging thoughts that filled her head when she was alone came back to taunt her. She had proposed marriage to a monk. How stupid did that make her? She thought she had sharp wits but she had been blind when it came to Turk.

  “Well, Melba, do you want to attend the market with me?” Vittorio prompted.

  She pushed away her thoughts of Turk. “Sounds like a good idea.” Parading in front of people didn’t bother her as long as she didn’t have to talk to the hoity-toity stuck-up ladies.

  “Are you ever going to come down from that ladder? You can’t stay up there all day.”

  “I’m looking for a book on raising Jinns.”

  “That’s fundamental magic, Melba. Let me see.” Vittorio squinted up at the shelf above her head. “The best one for you is the primary text they use in the seminary, The Elements of Earth Magic.”

  He put his boot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Before she could move, he started climbing. “Don’t come up. Just point at the book,” she squeaked.

  Vittorio chuckled. “It’s much easier for me to find it for you, my sweet princess.” He came up behind her, his hands gripping the wood on either side of her head. His size and strength trapped her against the ladder. Her breath hissed in and she pressed herself tight to the rungs. His fingers touched the back of her hand, ran along her arm, and skated down her side to her waist. Every sinew in Melba’s body tightened in warning. She had wondered if he would try something to force the issue of marriage, but up until now, he’d been a gentleman. She fought the instinct to jab her elbow into his ribs to get him away from her. He reached to pull a book from the shelf, pressing his body against her as he leaned sideways. “This is the one,” he whispered beside her ear.

  As a pickpocket, she’d been cuffed, kicked, and spat on. She understood that type of danger. But the subtle threat of Vittorio’s body leaning against her was unfamiliar. “I want to get down,” she blurted.

  Vittorio’s chest expanded against her back as he sighed; then he ran down the ladder and jumped off. “Melba. Come down, little princess.” He held up a hand. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

  “I ain’t frightened,” she shot back. She felt stupid for overreacting, but a deep female instinct still screamed at her to be careful. If Vittorio was determined to be king, how far would he go to ensure she married him? After unhooking her tense fingers from the ladder, she backed down, pretending not to notice Vittorio’s offered helping hand.

  She dashed across to her favorite chair by the window, plopped down, and pulled her legs up to hug them. Vittorio followed and took a seat beside her. He stared off into space, his fingers tight around the book in his hand. At length, he drew in a breath and gave her a brief smile. “Shall we have a look at other types of Jinn, then?”

  She could tell he was disappointed with her by his tight expression and the false enthusiasm in his voice. She wanted everything to be light and amicable like it had been before, but something had changed between them on that ladder.

>   At her nod, he flipped open the book and handed it to her. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” he asked softly.

  “Aye. I just got dizzy on the ladder,” she said forcing a smile.

  He stared at her, his blue eyes coldly assessing. Her fear from the ladder slithered back and she had to look away. “I’m glad that’s all it was,” he said. “It would be a shame if you caught the same sickness as your father.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The heart is heaviest when it’s empty and lightest when it’s full.

  —Malverne Isle Parable

  Turk entered the roof garden of Waterberry House from the skyways. At the sight of the healthy plants, he released a deep breath, a breath he’d been holding for two weeks, since he took refuge in the monastery. He had worried that Vittorio and his men might wreck his house out of malice, but the garden at least was untouched. Although Waterberry House really belonged to the Shining Brotherhood, he thought of the place as his own, and it was good to be home.

  As the first light of dawn painted pale pink streaks along the horizon, he wandered around the narrow winding paths between luxuriant shrubs and flowers. Everything thrived under the care of the Earth Jinn he had raised to nourish and tend the garden. Turk whistled softly between his teeth. A diaphanous green Jinn in the shape of a tiny man clothed in leaves crept out from between the bushes and brushed underneath his outstretched palm. A flash of pure, lush energy shot up his arm as though he’d touched the very stuff of life.

  Warily, Turk turned toward the house. He lit an oil lamp and trod down the spiral staircase from the roof, praying to the Great Earth Jinn that the rest of the house was undamaged. A brief perusal of the third floor looked promising. He checked the second floor more thoroughly. Steptoe had reported that Vittorio’s guards had left the house, but if there were any remaining, they might be using the bedchambers. Then he reached his own bedchamber and froze on the threshold. In the warm glow of his oil lamp, Melba’s underthings lay in a lacy white heap on his floor. She must have left them the night she ran away. He moved closer, stooped, and gathered the silk in his hand. The fragrance of roses drifted to him like the memory of a dream. He felt as though at any moment he might hear her laughter in the hall or her step on the stairs. The ghost of her presence would forever haunt him in this house and he could not survive on memories alone. He had to see her again. He had to make her understand he had not intended to hurt her.