He stared at her in sudden realization. Just as Wakefield had hinted, automatons were remade every few years to avoid . . . defects. Were the defects he referred to human emotions? Could any of them develop true emotions if given enough time?
“What is your name?” he asked, mulling things over.
She smiled broadly at the question, raising her hand to push staticky strands of blonde hair from her face. “Marie. That is the name I chose after Hamlet rescued me.”
He pursed his lips in thought. Fear still lingered in her eyes behind her smile. He couldn’t imagine all the poor girl had been through under Hamlet’s care. He didn’t like involving such a seemingly sweet girl in his plan, but since she was an automaton, she could handle her own physically. Plus, she’d be safer on his team than on Hamlet’s.
“Marie,” he began, “I need you to gather the rest of your associates, and meet me where you saw me yesterday with the red haired girl.”
Her smile broadened. “You mean Ms. Breckinridge? Hamlet said she’s one of us. We can trust her.”
He fought to hide his cringe. Of course she knew what Liliana was. Hamlet had probably told them all.
“Yes, you can trust her,” he assured. “She will be waiting for us at that location.”
She nodded. “Then we will see you soon. We will not let you down.” With that, she turned around and ran off, impossibly lithe and graceful.
He watched her run until she disappeared down the icy street. While he wasn’t surprised Hamlet had recruited automatons as his henchmen, he was worried. They’d been so easily coerced into destroying the city. What other atrocities could they be capable of if they fell into the wrong hands?
Shaking his head, he turned to leave the neighborhood and search for Liliana. If Marie could gather enough automatons, they might not need to recruit as many humans as he’d thought.
Liliana stared at what was left of the storefront. She’d seen this shop before. It was where Arhyen had seen Hamlet’s mask in the front window. Now, the front window was shattered. Costumes were strewn about the floor, trampled by looters looking for more expensive items like jewelry. Masks littered the area, some cracked underfoot, and others dangling from the few displays yet standing, but she did not see one like Hamlet’s.
Her gaze moved to a similar mask, hanging from a bent metal display. She wondered what she would have done, had her creator dripped acid on her face, forcing her to wear a mask for the rest of her life. Would she have ended up just like Hamlet? Perhaps he truly was evil for all the harm he’d caused, but she couldn’t entirely fault him for it. Maybe if she was human she’d think differently, but she wasn’t human, and she knew she could have just as easily been subjected to the same treatment as Hamlet.
“No luck?” a voice asked from far behind her.
She jumped, then turned to see Arhyen approaching. She let out a sigh of relief. She wanted to run toward him, throw herself into his arms, run her fingers through his perpetually messy hair . . .
“The city seems so quiet today,” she observed, calmly. “I fear I have failed in my task.”
She had come to Tailor Street with the intention of gathering people to march on the palace, but the few folks she’d seen had been frightened, glancing around the street warily as they hurried to wherever they were going. She hadn’t even bothered trying to speak with them.
Arhyen closed the distance between them, his black coat flapping in the cool wind. Somehow knowing her secret desires, he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry, Liliana. I think I found enough people to help. If Ephraim can come through with some from the Market District, I’m sure we’ll be able to gather more on our way to the palace.”
Now she felt like even more of a failure. She’d be the only one who did not contribute. Still, Arhyen’s warm body felt nice against hers, and she couldn’t help but relax. “Where are the people you found to join us?” she asked.
“They’ll meet us soon,” he said cryptically. “Don’t worry.”
With her arms around his waist, she laid her cheek on his chest. Normally she’d feel uncomfortable sharing an embrace in public, but at that moment, she needed it. “What if this doesn’t work?” she breathed.
He lowered his face to kiss her cheek, then replied, “It doesn’t matter. We’ll be leaving the city regardless. I just want one last chance to set things right . . . as right as they can be at this point, anyway. Then we can leave the city behind with no regrets.”
“And what is right?” she asked, still nestled in his arms. “For the life of me, I cannot seem to decide. Is the London Network right? Is Hamlet? What about us?”
“None of us are right,” he replied bitterly, “or all of us. Rightness is in the eye of the beholder, if you will. We’re all doing what we think is right.”
She sighed. It was all so complicated. “Where will we go when we leave the city?”
He pulled back so he could see her face, his hands lingering around her waist. “I believe you mentioned something about Egypt?”
She gasped and met his gaze. “Truly? Do you think we could actually go to Egypt? I know we’ve discussed it before, but I never really thought it possible. It’s such a long ways away.”
His arms around her shifted as he shrugged. “We’ll have to work a bit along the way, but we’ll get there. I hope you’re not opposed to continuing your training as a thief’s apprentice.”
She grinned up at him. “As long as we only steal from people who deserve it.”
He chuckled. “Then Egypt it is. We’ll live by our own version of what we think is right, and not give a damn about anyone else’s.”
“And we’ll explore hidden tombs and go on adventures?” she pressed, feeling a small thrill of excitement trickling through her.
He let his fingers drop from her waist, then took her hand to begin walking. “Whatever you like.”
“And if I go mad like Hamlet?” she blurted out the fear she’d been holding inside.
He stopped walking, then turned to study her expression. “Are you kidding?”
She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. “No. It’s a possibility. If his existence has caused him to go somewhat mad, it could happen to me too.”
He gently brushed his finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “Then I’ll go mad right along with you,” he whispered. “Where you go, I go, Liliana.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. While theoretically she’d known he would stay by her side, a part of her had needed to hear it.
He gave her another kiss, then took her hand again to tug her forward.
“You know,” he began as they jogged along.
Sensing humor in his tone, she turned her gaze up to his face. “Yes?” she prompted.
He grinned. “Well I was just thinking, most would say we’ve both already gone entirely mad, so we really shouldn’t worry.”
She laughed. “You know, I think you’re right. We’ve both been entirely mad from the start.”
They both laughed as they continued running, a testament to any onlookers that they were both completely, utterly, stark raving mad. Liliana didn’t mind the occasional stares. The only opinion that mattered to her, was that of the man running right by her side.
Together, Arhyen and Liliana reached the dilapidated mansions of the mostly abandoned wealthy district. Arhyen’s palms sweated with nerves, despite the iciness of the air. Would Marie show up with all of Hamlet’s henchmen, or would they be entirely dependent on those gathered by Ephraim? That was, if he managed to gather anyone at all. Who knew forming an angry mob could be so difficult?
“I don’t see Ephraim anywhere,” Liliana muttered, peering one way down the street, then the other.
He tapped her shoulder to get her attention, and they both began walking. They were still a few blocks away from where they’d met with Hamlet.
As they walked, Arhyen grew increasingly hopeful of gathering a crowd. So this was where everyone in the city had run off to.
Families gathered together, prying boards off the windows and doors of the long-since abandoned mansions. The buildings were run down, but hopefully structurally sound since they were built with expensive materials. Truly, the ornate buildings had gone to waste for far too long, and he was glad to think they might see some use.
“Why would they all come here?” Liliana whispered, glancing at those waiting to enter the buildings.
“It makes sense,” he replied. “The Watch regularly clears out the vagrants from this area, so it’s been entirely deserted for years. This is likely one of the few neighborhoods entirely unaffected by yesterday’s attacks. It’s a fitting place for those who have lost their homes, especially now that the remaining officers of the Watch have better things to do than clear out the destitute.”
He followed her gaze as she watched a woman portioning out a hunk of bread to several small children sitting in the icy grass near the edge of the cobblestone street.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have come here,” Liliana observed somberly. “I don’t want to bring these people further troubles.”
He nodded in agreement. “Let us find Ephraim, and those I have hopefully recruited. If any others want to join us, it will be their choice . . . ” he trailed off. Looking past Liliana, his jaw dropped.
“Is that-” Liliana began, equally stunned.
Just coming into view further down the street was Ephraim, marching along in front of a massive mob of men and women in varying degrees of dress. Some were clearly destitute, wearing little more than rags, while others wore more expensive frock coats and top hats. Arhyen and Liliana waited in stunned silence as the crowd approached.
Ephraim raised a hand to bring the crowd to a halt, then raised a blond eyebrow first at Arhyen, then at Liliana. “I see you both have failed?” he asked pompously.
The crowd began to mutter behind Ephraim, so he motioned them forward. “It’s unwise to keep a mob waiting,” he muttered. “I’d like to avoid dissension amongst our ranks. You can both explain your failures later.”
Arhyen and Liliana quickly shuffled forward, leading the crowd in the direction of the palace.
“How?” Arhyen balked, moving to walk at Ephraim’s side. “How did you gather so many?”
Leaning close to his shoulder, Ephraim explained, “I started with locating a few of the remaining officers of the Watch, then we divided and conquered.” He gave Arhyen another skeptical look, silently commenting on his lack of followers.
“Mine are still coming,” his hissed, eager to defend himself. “Hopefully,” he added.
Just then, a young blonde girl came trotting along the side of the crowd. “Mr. Croft!” she chirped, raising her hand.
She caught up with them and started marching alongside Liliana, who stared at her speculatively.
“Were you able to gather everyone?” Arhyen shouted to her over the murmur of the crowd.
She nodded excitedly, causing him to glance back. The crowd slowly expanded as black dressed figures filtered into its ranks. If Ephraim’s mob only knew they were being joined by those responsible for yesterday’s attacks . . . he shook his head and turned his attention forward.
“You’re Miss Liliana,” he heard Marie whisper.
“Do I know you?” Liliana replied.
He wasn’t able to hear Marie’s reply over the crowd, but caught Liliana asking, “Hamlet? Is he still alive?”
He turned to see Marie shrug and shake her head, indicating she did not know.
Liliana turned her worried gaze to him, but he could only shrug and shake his head as Marie had. He doubted Hamlet was dead. He would not be surprised if he came out of hiding at the absolute worst time, when they had the Queen and the majority of the guard all gathered to provide an audience to their angry mob.
In fact, that was probably exactly when Hamlet would come out of hiding to have his long-awaited finale. Arhyen could only hope the distraction would prove large enough to cover their escape.
Chapter 14
Arhyen gripped Liliana’s hand, perhaps too tightly, unsure if his plan would manifest. No matter what, he wanted to be by her side until the end. Any of them could be killed in such a daring show of bravado, or at the very least, imprisoned. He knew it would be difficult to escape the city after what they were about to do, let alone find transport across the countryside after the previous day’s events.
Yet, he saw no other choice. He could not let the London Network blame the terror of the day before on its own citizens. The London Network had created Hamlet. If anyone was responsible for all the deaths, it was the Queen herself.
He glanced back to see Marie marching along with the crowd. He spotted several other faces that were likely other automatons. Though none wore masks, they all wore black like Marie. Fortunately, the humans in the mob did not seem to notice, as they were entirely swept up in their march on the palace. They wanted to demand better pay, more human rights, all of the things the Queen had instructed Arhyen to demand. They might even get them, if not in the exact way they hoped.
London was already teetering on the edge of revolution. Once he revealed the truth to its citizens, the word would spread. Nothing could go back to the way it was before. Change was inevitable. Whether that change would be in the favor of the lower class was yet to be seen.
The palace came into view, shrouded by gray mist on such a moist day. It looked like a haunted castle from a distance, with its surrounding street lamps creating eerie orbs that seemed to be floating in the fog.
“Remember what we discussed?” he whispered, leaning close to Liliana’s shoulder.
She nodded, then gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m ready.”
As they continued to near, the Queen’s Guard came into view, along with the Queen herself. She awaited them on a raised dais, surrounded by her armed men. He thought it quite brazen for her to be out in the open with the threat of Hamlet still lurking, unless he wasn’t. Perhaps Hamlet truly was dead, which would explain the Queen’s apparent lack of concern. So much for a distraction to cover their escape.
The crowd began to murmur their surprise at seeing the Queen waiting for them. Upon closer observation, Arhyen spotted abundant guards posted on the palace roof, and positioned around the green they were approaching. He scanned the nearest buildings and noted guards atop and around most of them. He swallowed the lump in his throat. If they made it all the way to the Queen, they would be completely surrounded. He’d hoped for a head-on type of confrontation, where they could escape back the way they’d come. With how the guards were set up, as soon as he disobeyed the Queen’s orders, they would likely all be killed.
“Are you sure about this?” Ephraim muttered.
“Yes,” Liliana answered for him, “It will be alright.”
Arhyen met her gaze, wondering at her assurances. Surely she saw the guards spread out across the area, just waiting to execute them should they step out of line.
She nodded to him. “We’ll go ahead with things as planned. Together.”
He wanted to tell her to run. He wanted to shove her away with everything he had, if only to keep her from the execution that surely awaited them.
“Together,” he breathed, then gave her hand a squeeze before dropping it.
They reached the first row of guards before the Queen, who sat regally on her dais, heavily flanked by more of her men. Her ornately embroidered coat shielded her comfortably from the cold. The mob, some of whom were freezing in their rags, went silent behind Arhyen.
“Good citizens of London,” the Queen announced, raising her voice for all to hear, “I await your demands.”
A few shouts rang out across the crowd, drowning each other out to make their words unclear.
Arhyen nodded his acknowledgement to the Queen, then turned toward the mob. He couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do.
“Good people,” he began, raising his voice to be heard above the murmurs of the crowd, “you have marched here today to demand better wag
es, better treatment, and the respect you deserve! Your queen is willing to accept your terms, but it is all for naught.” He paused as the murmuring grew louder. He resisted the urge to glance back at the Queen, expecting her interruption any second.
He cleared his throat. “Your beloved queen would like to mislead you!” he continued. “All of this chaos, this destruction, was the result of the Queen’s direct actions. She has chosen to play god, and has hidden valuable information from you. She owes you for your lost homes, and the lost lives of your loved ones, and not only the recent losses. The atrocities inflicted upon you span years!”
“Clearly he speaks mistruths!” the Queen shouted from behind him, just like he’d been expecting. This was where things would get ugly. “Guards!” she screeched, “arrest that man!”
He whirled around before the guards could charge, holding up his hands as if to ward off their attack. They hesitated, likely expecting him to either run, or offer violence.
“If I’m already to be deemed a liar,” he blurted, darting his gaze past the guards to the Queen, “then surely there is no harm in allowing me to finish. Truly, the only plausible reason for my arrest in this moment is to prevent me from sharing my proof.”
The mob behind him shouted their agreement, for now, still on his side. If his proof did not convince them, he would become their victim.
Surrounded by a protective wall of guards, Queen Victoria sneered down at him. “You have no proof.”
“Oh?” he questioned, making sure his voice was loud enough to carry across the crowd. “Then why have me arrested?”
Her sneer melted into a haughty smile. “Go ahead with your little plan. The people of London are no fools. They’ll soon see your claims as false, and you will be given the imprisonment you deserve, thief.”
It was only then that he noticed Wakefield standing at the Queen’s back, amongst the other guards. He met Arhyen’s gaze for a single heartbeat, then nodded.
Under Clock and Key (The Thief's Apprentice Book 3) Page 16