Mirror Gate

by Jeff Wheeler

  “Your mother’s been invited to a society function with Lady Corinne tonight,” Hugilde answered. “I heard her mention it at breakfast. Didn’t you?”

  Sera had been daydreaming about the prince and the coming conflict. In truth, she rarely listened to her mother’s announcements. She shook her head, and Hugilde smiled patiently.

  “What I’m saying is . . . tonight would be ideal. I could arrange for the zephyr.”

  Sera’s eyes brightened. The thought of the small adventure, and the accompanying departure from her problems, was undeniably appealing. “I could wear a servant’s gown as a disguise.”

  “Exactly,” Hugilde said. “I won’t tell your mother, Sera. And getting those letters back is for your own good, after all, especially if your father still intends to get his hands on them and use them against you. Best to get them back and squash the potential harm. We should go after your mother leaves.”

  “Wi—Mr. Russell wanted to keep one of them,” Sera said worriedly.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Hugilde replied with a sigh. “Maybe you can convince him to part with them all.”

  The rest of the afternoon, Sera prepared herself for the jaunt to the City. She had always wished to see it, and the prospect of seeing Will on the eve of his departure only added to her excitement. Mother was thrilled about the invitation she’d received to Lady Corinne’s gathering at her Lockhaven house. It wasn’t a ball, but such gatherings often lasted past midnight. Sera wondered why Lady Corinne had invited her mother. She wasn’t aware of any sort of friendship between the two, but maybe it was a signal of a change in favor?

  “Will you and Hugilde be all right?” Mother asked after dinner, accepting Sera’s kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh, don’t worry about us. We’re old friends,” Sera answered innocently. “Have a delightful evening.”

  She watched as her mother left, and then she went back to her rooms, where Hugilde was waiting with a different dress for her to wear. Sera quickly changed and donned a cloak with a veil, which was how many servants traveled at night. Nervous energy thrummed in her heart as they carefully descended the steps and slipped out the back into the gardens. None of the servants saw them leave. Hugilde, casting careful glances around them, led her around the gardens to the gate leading to the front of the manor. She paused there, and Sera felt her use a small pulse of power to dim the eyes of the Leering there. The gate lock clicked, and Hugilde pushed on the bars, opening it. No soldiers had protected the house for a few days now, as all of them had been summoned for duty elsewhere. Only two bodyguards had been left, and they were stationed inside the house.

  They walked side by side, cautiously and quietly, and crossed the small courtyard to the outer gate, where Hugilde repeated her efforts to disable the Leering. Beyond, they found a darkened zephyr parked on the street.

  The pilot was slouching, but as they approached, he snapped to attention. “Good evening, Madame Hugilde. At your service. Have an errand to run in the City tonight? Should be down and back in no time. If you’d like to come aboard?”

  “Yes, please,” Hugilde said, pulling her cloak tighter. The pilot opened the side gate of the zephyr and lowered it, revealing a set of small steps leading to it. Hugilde went first, as if she were the important passenger, and Sera followed meekly. The pilot gave her a grin before following her up the platform. She nestled quietly on the small wooden bench next to Hugilde.

  “Rowe Street it is,” announced the pilot. “Bit of fog tonight, my ladies. But you trust old Hamblin, and he’ll see you through it. I know the best ways up and down.”

  He started to hum to himself, and the zephyr came alive and began to hover. Sera’s stomach lurched with a thrill as the sky ship raced away from their dark and quiet street and passed over the rooftops of the neighboring houses. She looked back a few times to see if any other zephyrs were following them. There were none she could see.

  “I told you there was fog,” the pilot said as they reached the outer edge of Lockhaven. The City was smothered in clouds, the thick, impenetrable kind that Sera had so often witnessed from the walls of her childhood manor. Only a few ghostly lights could be seen through them. The weather was ahead of the calendar—it already seemed like summer, and nightfall had only come an hour or so before. A few turrets poked up through the clouds, and Sera pointed at them and whispered to Hugilde. “What are they?”

  “Some are manors,” her old governess explained. “Some are hotels for the wealthy who cannot find a place in Lockhaven. They want to get as close as they can and see the view at least from beneath.”

  Sera nodded and felt her stomach lurch as the zephyr plunged into the bank of fog. Little droplets of water collected on her veil and began to drip down. She was overly warm in her gloves, cloak, and gown and wanted to whisk away the veil and feel the mist on her face. It had a hazy smell, the pungent scent of withered flowers.

  Her excitement continued to grow, but she was nervous too. What if Mother returned suddenly to find her gone? Hugilde would get in serious trouble again. It would not be the same as before, when Sera had been little more than a child. The stakes were higher now. But her friend had accepted the risk. In fact, she’d arranged for the transportation on her own. And what they were doing was perfectly sensible. Getting the letters back from Will was a smart thing. Those thoughts helped assuage the nervous feelings twisting in her stomach, but they didn’t banish them.

  The journey lasted no more than half an hour, and soon they descended through the mist to Rowe Street. Leering lamps lit the way, but there were very few people around. The cobblestones were slick and wet. The buildings were five, maybe six stories tall, fronted with stone, and quite stately. The roofs were sharply pointed, and lights glowed from windowpanes set into wooden beams. The zephyr alighted on the landing yard for the street and soon settled into place.

  “I’ll wait right here,” Hamblin said with a smile. He helped them down the squat steps of the ladder one at a time.

  “Which one is it?” Hugilde asked, looking at the various doors facing them from both sides of the street.

  Sera had already memorized the address in the letter. “See the iron bell? It’s that one,” she said, pointing. Now that they had arrived, her anxiety pressed against her mind. She overruled it, eager to get the business done with.

  Hugilde led the way, and Sera followed, their shoes scraping against the wet cobbles. It felt like they had crossed into another world because the stones up in Lockhaven had all been dry.

  Hugilde mounted the steps to the door and firmly knocked. It was a narrow-looking place—most of the homes were—and the color and form of the bricks were different between each of the homes on the streets. Though Sera was surprised at the variety in style, the differences were not as major as she had supposed they’d be. This was still very much a part of her world, her empire. Sera bit her lip in agitation and eagerness. Footsteps could be heard from inside, followed by the jangling of the door handle, and then there was Commander Falking on the landing, not a hat to be seen on his graying hair.

  “Ah! You’ve arrived! Thank you, madame, for the note earlier. We were expecting you. Come in, come in!” He smiled broadly, though he cast a nervous glance over the street before ushering them in. “Was the fog much of a devil to you on the way down? You had a good pilot, I hope?”

  Hugilde glanced around nervously. There were no servants inside the house, and it felt still and empty.

  “He was very good,” Sera said, answering for her. She lifted the veil. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Commander.”

  He gave her a strange look—neither fully a smile nor a wince—and bowed. Then he gestured for the hall. “Well, the lad’s been a bit nervous, to speak truthfully. This way. This way.” He began to walk down the narrow hall toward the sitting room doors. There was a small, well-lit study off to the side, but Sera couldn’t see if anyone was in there. She heard no noises, no footfalls except their own. The house was dead quiet. Falking m
ust have dismissed his servants for the night in anticipation of their arrival. The fewer witnesses, the better, right?

  Why then did she feel as nervous and out of sorts as Hugilde looked? Had this been an error in judgment?

  When they reached the study doors, Commander Falking opened them. Will was pacing inside. She recognized him instantly, although he was much taller, more muscular, and even more handsome than she remembered. He was wearing his regimentals, and his gloves were stuffed in his belt. The buttons on his jacket gleamed like huge bronze coins. His rank insignia, lieutenant, was on his shoulders.

  When he caught sight of her, he immediately stopped pacing. His mouth was so serious, as if he were indeed very nervous. He had transformed since their last meeting. He was a man now. And she felt very much as if she were still a girl of twelve.

  Sera tried to master her flurrying feelings. She strode into the chamber, extending her gloved hand. Why wasn’t he wearing gloves? Aside from Minister Fitzroy, the only people she knew who regularly shirked them were Adam Creigh and Cettie. “Mr. Russell, it’s so good to see you again,” she began, in a formal but cheerful way.

  Then she heard the door shut and lock behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY−SEVEN

  THOUGHT MAGIC

  The sound of the lock was subtle but unmistakable. Sera was alone with Will. For a moment, she could not think beyond the shock of the situation, then she began to feel her legs tremble because it felt as if she’d been caught in a trap. Being alone with a young man was against the mores of her world. This was a social violation of the highest order.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Will said. “I thought it might not happen in time, but I was relieved when I received word from Falking that you were indeed coming.”

  He took her hand in his, and she realized she was still extending hers. Discomfort roiled inside of her. He did not seem so nervous now. A hint of a smile toyed with his mouth.

  “Why did they shut the door?” Sera asked haltingly. “H-Hugilde should be with us.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind when you charged into the hedge maze with me,” Will answered with a chuckle. When he rubbed his thumb across her knuckle, she extricated her hand.

  “I’m . . . I’m here to get the letters,” Sera stammered, cursing herself for having agreed to this outing at all. Once again, she’d been too hasty. She was certain her cheeks were pink, and her ears were quite hot. The way he looked at her, the handsome smile, the look of familiarity, showed that he was expecting something more than exchanging letters. Her throat tightened into a knot as tremors shook her body. Cettie had warned Sera that her heart might be more involved than she realized. How wise her friend had been.

  “I know,” he answered smoothly. “But I get to keep one of them. Remember?”

  “Yes, yes, I do remember that part.” The room felt as if it were shrinking. There was a slight buzzing sound in her ears. She felt completely vulnerable, but she tried to rise above it. Only there was one thought she couldn’t shake. Why had Hugilde left them alone? She listened for a sound from the other side of the door, but she could only hear their mingled breaths in the room.

  “You know,” he said in a half-serious tone, “I believe all the things they taught us at school about thoughts and destiny. It’s true.”

  She looked at his face, and again her body started to shake. Something felt off, unfamiliar . . . dangerous. She had not been summoned here in earnest. “Where are the letters?” she asked. Would her voice not stop trembling?

  “I have them here,” he said, patting the pocket of his jacket. He slipped his hand into it and withdrew a bundle tied with a green ribbon.

  Seeing them made her feel a bit of relief. Perhaps she’d misinterpreted the situation, and there was nothing to worry about after all. His brown eyes looked deep and earnest in the dimly lit room. The only source of illumination was a single Leering set above the fireplace. She was tempted to snatch the letters from his hand.

  “May I have them, please?” she asked, holding out her hand.

  “Of course, Sera. I brought them for you. But it pains me to part with them. All but one. I want something in return. If I give you what you want, then you should return the favor.” He slid the bundle back into his pocket.

  Sera’s heart was pounding faster than horses now. She knew what he wanted without him asking. The image of them kissing came unbidden to her mind. Her mouth went dry, and fear and guilty excitement did battle inside her. She’d thought of kissing him, many times. She’d never had such an experience before, and Will was an exceptionally attractive man. And yet, this was wrong. They didn’t feel alone, even though they were. Her thoughts were like moths trapped in a jar—she could hardly make any sense of them.

  “Don’t be afraid of me,” Will said softly, shaking his head. She saw his hands were trembling. “Before I go . . . I had hoped . . .” He struggled to find words and failed.

  Part of her wanted to rebel against the rules, and yet . . .

  “Will,” she said, not sure what to do. Her feelings told her one thing. Her sense told her another.

  He stepped even closer. “Yes?”

  “I don’t think we should,” she said thickly.

  “You can think right now?” he said with a suppressed chuckle. “I’ve imagined this moment for the last four years. An opportunity to be alone with you. With you, Sera Fitzempress. I’ve wanted to see you again since that day your father forced me to leave you. How I wish we could have studied at the same school. Seen each other every day.” He shook his head, his eyes blazing with emotion. “He robbed that from me. From us. I don’t have any expectations from you, Sera. Just give me a memory that I can take with me into battles that are coming. If I’m to die on an airship, I want that memory to linger on my mouth. Please, Sera.” He turned his head slightly, his voice husky and earnest. “Please.”

  His words had a calming effect on her. Instead of the frantic beating of the surf, her heart now felt like a bird trapped in a cage. The panic was receding. Calm assurance was replacing the disquiet. She did ache to touch him.

  He took another step closer. They were so very close . . .

  “Please,” he whispered again.

  The cravings inside her were so intense she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. She wanted the memory too. Lowering her lashes, she nodded to him.

  She had already lifted her veil after coming into the house. His fingers traced the edge of it near her face and brushed it slightly back. The tips of his fingers grazed her cheek, sending a jolt of awareness through her. He leaned down, pausing a moment, and she smelled his breath. It had a pleasant fragrance. The light from the Leering exposed the slight blush on his face. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the thought of the stone statue staring at her. In her mind, she commanded it to go dark.

  The light from the Leering shrank until it disappeared entirely, leaving them both in deep shadow. There were three large windows on the far wall, veiled and curtained. There was only one source of light—the lampposts from the street behind the house. It illuminated the room just enough for them to see each other.

  “You like that better?” he asked her in a gentle way.

  Again she nodded, and then she leaned up on her tiptoes to press her mouth to his. When they kissed, her mind swooned from the warmth and passion and energy of it. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he pressed against her. She held her hands in front of her, not able to succumb so fully to the moment, as if she knew she should push him away. A feeling of delicious warmth soaked through her. The hunger in her grew into a lion’s roar. He was kissing her mouth and then her cheek and then her neck. Each press of his lips made her more and more uncomfortable, more dangerously delirious.

  “Will,” she breathed, pushing against him.

  His hands came up and untied the veil and hat, which dropped down her back.

  “Will, stop,” she said, trying to push against him again. Her voice sounded weak in her own ears.


  “Sera,” he breathed, and then he was kissing her neck again.

  Part of her begged her to surrender to him. Her passions were inflamed. This was the reason that propriety was so strict. Her willpower shriveled in the face of such heat, such passion. But she would not compromise her standards even further.

  “No, Will. No,” she said, feeling anger replace the flush of desire. This was more than a kiss farewell. This was a greedy demand, an urge he was satisfying for himself. He didn’t care about her feelings. Only his. She pushed harder, and he finally backed away.

  His knuckles came up and rubbed his bottom lip. He didn’t look wounded or hurt. He looked almost gleeful.

  “Give me the letters now,” she said, feeling more in control of herself.

  He smirked and fished them out of his pocket again. “How about we read them again first? The ones I sent you were all destroyed by your father, I know. But these . . . these are precious to me.”

  “Give them to me,” she insisted.

  He shook his head. “You can’t leave so soon, Sera. I just need to entertain you a little longer. There are other ways we can do that, of course, ones that are more interesting.”

  “How dare you,” Sera said indignantly. A sudden rush of anger restored her strength.

  “Oh, I dare much,” he answered, his tone growing colder. “It won’t be long now. Your mother was forbidden entry to Lady Corinne’s party. In fact, she was never invited. No doubt she’s back home by now, and you aren’t there. Has the panic settled in yet? Where is her daughter? Where did she go? Who is she with?”

  Sera realized with dread that it had been a trap after all, one that had been carefully orchestrated. And she, gullible and naïve as she was, had walked into it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “I had hoped for a little more fun before you realized what happened. What you’ll be blamed for.” He reached for her hand and brought it up to his mouth.

  She slapped him with her other hand, rocking his head back.