by Beth Cato
“Marrying me is a challenge, is it?”
“Surviving you has been a challenge from the very start.”
Octavia laughed as she grabbed a bucket. “Well, I won’t argue with that.”
He scrambled to his feet. As always, Alonzo Garret adapted to his uniform. These past few months, he had taken to wearing the dungarees and calico of a farmer, even if his commanding stride recalled the way he moved in the trim pilot’s uniform of Tamarania. Octavia had caught most of the girls making moony eyes at him, and she couldn’t blame them, really. Mrs. Stout would undoubtedly do the same when she arrived later in the morning. Octavia fully expected the woman to drag her off for a mortifying one-sided conversation about marital duties. The hints had already come in letter form. Now the winks and nudges would occur in person. Appalling as it would be, Octavia could scarcely wait to see her old friend and her old friend’s granddaughter. Rivka had already written of her plans to commandeer the academy kitchen.
There would be somber moments as well, though. Mrs. Stout had mentioned, with unusual subtlety on her part, that she had received a surprising letter and they would discuss it more in person. It would be difficult for Octavia to tell her about King Kethan and Devin Stout, but Mrs. Stout was resilient. Not unlike Caskentia.
Spring was supposed to be the season of life and change, but for Caskentia, much had come in winter.
Mercia had erupted in blooms. Saplings and bushes had burst from the wide cracks in asphalt and cobbles. Vines crept up sooty tenement walls. Rooftops resembled meadows of verdant wildflowers. The walls of the palace, people said, wore garlands of golden roses. The skies were still an ugly gray, the factories still full of work, but by all accounts, the mood of the place had changed. Men fastened blossoms to their lapels. For the first time in generations, children presented bouquets to their mothers and grandmothers.
Part of that joy had also been due to the abdication of Queen Evandia.
That event had come suddenly. Rumors abounded of heart attacks and strokes, and the truth simply was not known. Her son had claimed the throne. Nothing was known about him; he had been raised within the confines of the palace, and probably about as wise to the ways of the outside world as a house cat exposed to its first thunderstorm, but it still signified a change.
The death of the grand potentate of the Dallows had altered politics as well. With Taney gone, crushed in a tunnel, a brief squabble for power had ensued, which resulted in an infernal being in charge of the Dallows for the first time. News had been almost nonexistent for weeks, with winter efficiently isolating the nations on either side of the Pinnacles, but already word spread of a religious resurgence. It had happened in Caskentia as well. The Tree may have vanished again, but it had been seen. People considered the Lady with new interest—as an entity no longer confined to the rare art of medicians.
The southern nations were undoubtedly rolling their eyes at the quaint ways of their northern neighbors. Mrs. Stout would be sure to inform them of the gossip.
“The other girls still slumber?” asked Alonzo.
“Other than those on the night shift, yes. The two men in the ward were sleeping well. They should be fully healed and awake within hours.”
A dog barked. Octavia and Alonzo turned simultaneously, Alonzo reaching for the Gadsden he kept holstered at all times. Old habits die hard, even with a regime change and new priorities for Clockwork Daggers.
“It’s too early for the milk pickup, though the Dryns weren’t sure when they’d arrive . . .” Octavia grabbed a shovel and followed Alonzo into the yard. Annoyed cats—multiplying by the minute—trailed behind.
Octavia and Alonzo watched the wagon slowly roll up the drive. The draft horse in the shafts looked as if he had survived more than one bout at the front, but his song rang as aged but healthy. An older woman and young boy sat together. In his efforts to keep warm, the boy had curled himself up on her lap like an oversize puppy. The dog barked greeting and the horse barely flicked an ear. Octavia whistled the dog back.
“How can I help you?” she asked, though she already knew. She sensed the boy’s magic. He bolted upright to stare down at her. The first time he’s sensed another magus, I’m sure.
“I’m looking for Miss Percival.” The woman’s voice was weary with age and lack of sleep. She stared at the jasmine by the gate for a moment, obviously confused to see it abloom so early in the season.
“I’m Octavia Leander.” For a few more hours yet. “I’m headmistress of Miss Percival’s academy, though I will keep my true name.”
“My grandson here.” The woman draped an arm around him as he continued to stare at Octavia with wide dark eyes. “His arm, it kept hurting him. Awful pressure, he said. He cut himself on purpose, and flowers sprouted from the ground. That’s a medician thing, it is?”
“Yes.” Another one. The third since we arrived. Miss Percival is busy, as always. “The academy here is for girls—”
“We live east of Vorana. He was scared out of his wits. I wasn’t about to drive down to Mercia to find them boys’ schools. Took all night to come here.”
Octavia and Alonzo looked at each other. Alonzo took hold of the reins. “ ’Tis a long ride and surely you are weary. Permit me to tend to your horse.”
Octavia stepped toward the main house. “Come, I’ll walk you in. The other girls will be starting breakfast and we can talk more after your bellies are full.”
“I haven’t come to seek charity. I have my own farm—”
“It’s not charity, but hospitality. If you want to work afterward, I understand, but some rest will do you both good.”
At that, the woman nodded. Stiff-legged, they disembarked. Octavia walked them to the house and apprised Sasha of the situation. Octavia returned to the livestock barn as Alonzo finished rubbing down the old draft horse. The cats glared.
“They are settling in?” he asked.
“Yes. It didn’t take any coaxing once they smelled the fresh bread.”
“What is your estimate of the boy’s age?” He guided the horse to a stall and set a board in place to secure him.
“Eight or nine, I’d say.” Octavia paused and stared toward the house. The jasmine scent had followed her as if she wore perfume. “Miss Percival always said that keeping boys about was begging for trouble.”
Alonzo snorted. “And what do you say to that, soon-to-be Mrs. Garret?”
“I say she was absolutely right.” She blew a strand of hair from her face. “Fiddlesticks. We may as well draw up plans for a boys’ dormitory.”
“There is adequate room if we build on the eastern side.”
“You sound as if you’ve already planned this out.”
“In my past occupations, I found it wise to think several steps in advance. ’Tis easy to imagine that more young medicians will arrive as the new Tree does its work.”
“Goodness. Let’s build a cattery and a full gremlins’ nest while we’re at it.”
“If that is m’lady’s wish,” said Alonzo. He bowed as if he played steward again. A pleasant, giddy warmth rose in her chest. Lady, I do love this man.
In answer, a tingle of power made the hairs on her arm rise. The Lady was always listening.
Octavia looked about. “Drat. I don’t know where I left my shovel. There’s simply too much to do today. I don’t know how Miss Percival managed.”
“I do. She had you.”
“And I have you.” She leaned to give him a full kiss on the mouth. Another advantage of being an early riser—none of the girls are about to giggle at us.
“A cattery and a full gremlins’ nest.” He shook his head, his ponytail swaying from side to side. “A building devoted to gremlins. As if they are not already spoiled rotten.”
“I don’t know. Leaf, what do you think?”
An affirmative chirp rang from
up high in the rafters, followed by the chorus of a dozen more gremlins.
“I think you’ve been outvoted,” Octavia said. Alonzo adjusted his hat and muttered. She gave him another kiss and his fake scowl softened. “Come now. You may have moved to the country but you didn’t think I’d let you get bored, did you, Alonzo?”
“You, allow boredom into my life? Never. Nor would I have it any other way.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This was my first sequel novel and my first book written under contract. It was all kinds of terrifying. I’m grateful to so many people for their supportive woots, advice, and animated cat gifs. I can’t name everyone, but I do want to give some shout-outs.
To the awesome writers who critiqued the manuscript and made it a much better book in the process: J. Kathleen Cheney, Rebecca Roland, Rachel Thompson, and Rhonda Parrish.
My thanks to everyone at Codex Writers for giving me space to rant, rave, and celebrate. I’d feed you all cookies if I could. Sara Dobie Bauer deserves special kudos for enduring my babbling in person.
Crystal Light with caffeine boosted my mana when I needed it most. Hooray for grape and strawberry-flavored power-ups!
My gratitude to my superagent, Rebecca Strauss, and the team at DeFiore and Co. I always know you have my back.
Everyone at Harper Voyager has been so supportive. I can’t thank you enough. Deep appreciation to my editor, Kelly O’Connor, and my publicist, Caroline Perny. You’re better than maple fudge. That’s saying something.
I have the most awesome and pleasantly eccentric family ever. My love to my mom, dad, and brother Scott. Porom the cat has been my loyal footstool through all my drafts. Thanks to my husband, Jason, for putting up with me, even if I turn into a frothing madwoman during revisions. As always, love and hugs to Nicholas.
Finally, I want to acknowledge my cat, Palom, who was the inspiration for Leaf. Cancer stole away the loud, nosy, extroverted cat I love so much. He deserves some immortality.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Beth Cato hails from Hanford, California, but currently writes and bakes cookies in a lair outside of Phoenix, Arizona. She shares the household with a hockey-loving husband, a numbers-obsessed son, and a cat the size of a canned ham.
Follow her on Twitter @bethcato.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
PRAISE FOR BETH CATO’S CLOCKWORK DAGGER SERIES
“Beth Cato’s The Clockwork Crown is a satisfying follow-up to The Clockwork Dagger, each twist of the action pulling me deeper into the story. These are books I’ll be recommending to friends, both teenagers and adults.”
—Laura Anne Gilman, author of Silver on the Road
“Beth Cato handles this heady mix with a fine sense of language, emotion, and event, making the whole thing flow more like a force of nature than the work of a first novelist.”
—Locus
“[The Clockwork Dagger takes an] intriguing approach, and a rewarding one. [It] is set in a completely fabricated universe rather than an alternate version of our own. This makes for some dazzling, uniquely detailed backdrops. It also frees Cato from having to haul around the Victorian Era’s real-world baggage—and it helps level the playing field for those who aren’t as familiar with steampunk’s particulars.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“The Clockwork Dagger was just what I needed: A steampunk adventure with an uncommon heroine, a fascinating magic system, and a young gremlin! I’m hooked and can’t wait for more Octavia and Leaf!”
—New York Times bestselling author Kevin Hearne
“This rousing tale . . . keeps itself grounded with a story as disarming and forthright as its appealingly capable heroine. . . . Ample action and a delectably delayed romance propel the story toward a riveting finale, marking Cato as an author to watch.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Not only does Cato create an intriguing universe, but she also develops a one-of-a-kind, kickass heroine who is determined to forge her own path. Adventure, magic, unexpected romance and heart-breaking betrayal all combine for a thrilling tale.”
—RT Book Reviews
“The action is pretty much nonstop in this debut steampunk fantasy. . . . Although readers will enjoy the satisfying climax of this adventure, there is plenty to the plot for a sequel from promising novelist Cato.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“As a piece of genre fiction, The Clockwork Dagger works on two levels: It doesn’t assume that the reader has any familiarity with steampunk, yet it hits all the high notes that steampunk fans crave. Then it pokes those tropes to just the right degree. It’s an action tale that’s as thought-provoking as it is rollicking—and a statement about how heroes don’t always fit our definitions, nor should they.”
—NPR
“Full of magic and steampunk adventure, Beth Cato’s Clockwork Dagger will delight fans of Meljean Brook’s Iron Seas series.”
—Nicole Peeler, author of the Jane True series
“Dr. Quinn meets Dreadnought in this thrilling, delightful tale combining the political stakes of epic fantasy, the airships and corsets of steampunk, and the heartwarming joy of romance. Excellent fun for lovers of Cherie Priest and Scott Westerfeld.”
—Michael R. Underwood, author of Geekomancy
“Airships, assassins, pulp writers, and an independent, appealing heroine: The Clockwork Dagger is an exciting debut full of mysterious magic, forbidden romance, and adventure at 5,000 feet.”
—Tina Connolly, author of Ironskin
“The Clockwork Dagger had me at hello and kept me with unexpected twists, intriguing magic and splendid betrayals. At the satisfying conclusion, my immediate impulse was to inquire in tones of gentle inquiry, when do I get to read the sequel!?!?”
—C. E. Murphy, author of the Walker Papers series
“A light read that . . . may offer an interesting new world to readers who enjoy the flavor of steampunk fantasy and soap-opera intrigue.”
—Kirkus Reviews
ALSO BY BETH CATO
The Clockwork Dagger
CREDITS
Cover design by Richard L. Aquan
Cover illustration by Gene Mollica
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE CLOCKWORK CROWN. Copyright © 2015 by Beth Cato. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Harper Voyager is a federally registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.
ISBN 978-0-06-231398-0
EPub Edition June 2015 ISBN 9780062313997
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