A Dance Like Flame (Of Magic & Machine Book 1)

by Tammy Blackwell

  “What of my family?” she asked. “What will I tell them if I stay?”

  “Nothing. You will have no contact with them. They will believe you died in the train crash.”

  Bits’s stomach knotted. She pulled her hand from the duke’s and sat down, not certain her legs would continue to hold her.

  Henry would be crushed. Sarah would mourn, of course, but her brother was one of her closest friends. Or he had been. Now they were older, they rarely had anything in common. He pursued his interests — mostly women and booze — and she pursued hers. His visits were becoming less frequent, and lately he’d seemed to be distracted anytime she tried to talk to him.

  And then there was the fact that he’d arranged her trip up north.

  Maybe he would be relieved to be rid of her. Maybe they all would be. Her friend Nellie was the only one who had been upset by her departure to Scotland, but Bits didn’t worry about Nellie. She would never believe that Bits had died in a train wreck. Nellie was most likely celebrating the fact Bits had escaped even as she sat here contemplating whether or not she was willing to take the chance for freedom when offered.

  “I will ensure that you make it back to your family safely,” Ezra said as if she’d already made up her mind to leave. Except, the thought of leaving filled her with even more dread than the thought of staying. Ezra’s blue eyes were kind and patient as he waited for her response, and she knew no matter what they did, she would never forget his face. It would haunt her dreams long after she returned to the outside world.

  “I want to stay,” she heard herself saying. “There is no future for me out there. I will stay here. In Corrigan. Permanently.”

  “Well, that settles that,” Lady Alice said, rising from her chair. “I shall have Daniels prepare a room.”

  Mr. Garroway’s face, which had returned to a somewhat subdued shade of red during her interrogation, once again took on a decidedly purple hue. “You cannot let her stay here in Breena! I won’t stand for it!”

  The Duke of Sidhe towered over Mr. Garroway, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes hard as he said, “I don’t recall that being your decision to make.”

  “This is the palace,” Mr. Garroway spat out. “Her kind has slaughtered ours for centuries, and you want to let her stay here when the heir is on his way?”

  “Her way,” the duchess corrected as if it was a reflex to do so.

  “The lady isn’t a threat,” her husband said, but Bits could see the hesitation in his eyes. She was an expert at picking up on when she wasn’t truly wanted. She’d had many years of forced dances and awkward conversations to acquire the talent.

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” she said, her voice still a little unsteady from the weight of the decision she had made. “I can rent some rooms in town. I have skills and can earn my own income.”

  Mr. Garroway raked his eyes down her, and for the first time she noticed the abuse her outfit had suffered. He wasn’t exactly in a position to criticize someone else’s appearance, but still she felt unkempt and embarrassed under his perusal. “And how would you go about doing that? Charging for your opinion on what bit of lace best suits a new gown?”

  Bits opened her mouth to correct him, but before she could, the duchess said, “I would think the daughter of an earl would be perfectly suited to be a lady’s companion, and I happen to know a lady very much in need of a companion.”

  Personally, Bits thought she was possibly the least suited person in the world to be a lady’s companion, but she knew what was expected of her. “I would be honored, Your Grace,” she said, hoping the lady in question was very old and merely required someone to read to her in the short periods between her naps. The thought of being dragged around from ballroom to ballroom was enough to make her stomach clench.

  “Excellent,” the duchess said, her smile radiant. “I’ll have Daniels send a footman over straightaway so Mrs. Green will have plenty of time to get you a room prepared.”

  “Mrs. Green?” ask Mr. Nash. “My Mrs. Green?”

  “Is there another?” The duchess pretended to be engrossed in cuff of her dress. “Shall I send a room preference? I am assuming you would want her in the one that connects with Lily’s, but the room across the hall is quite charming.”

  “Don’t be absurd. Lady Elizabeth cannot play companion to Lily.”

  The Duchess of Sidhe lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Do you question Lady Elizabeth’s ability to entertain and chaperone your sister?”

  “I’m questioning your knowledge of how society functions,” Mr. Nash said as if he had every right to question the thoughts and actions of a duchess. The Duchess of Sidhe, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the impertinence. “Ladies do not become companions to commoners. It’s an insult to ask her to do such a thing.”

  “Oh no. I’m not insulted at all.” She was a great many things at the moment, from terrified to thrilled, but insulted wasn’t one of them. “I am willing to take whatever position you will offer me if it means I can stay.” She couldn’t go back now. The moment she’d voiced that she wanted to remain she could feel the rightness of her decision in her gut. “Please. I won’t require an allowance. I will happily scrub floors if you require it. Just let me stay. Please.”

  The Duchess of Sidhe’s smile spoke of triumph. “The matter is settled then,” she said. “The lady is willing, and Lily is long overdue for some female companionship.” She tipped her head to Bits. “Welcome to Corrigan, Lady Elizabeth. May you find the destiny you’re searching for here.”

  Chapter 6

  Like everything else he owned, Jack’s carriage was extravagant. The seats were well-stuffed and covered with the softest velvet. Ezra had wanted to take his own curricle home, but Hattie insisted that Lady Elizabeth would be much more comfortable in Jack’s carriage. Since he couldn’t argue with that, or with the voice inside his head telling him it would be best to keep the Untouched lady out of sight until the rest of Corrigan got used to the idea of her being there, he’d relented.

  “If Garroway saw you he would think you were memorizing the road to the palace so you could use the information for nefarious purposes,” he said, stretching his legs out as much as he could without crushing her skirts.

  Lady Elizabeth let the curtain drop. “Please forgive me for being so rude, Mr. Nash,” she said. “I was curious.”

  “Hoping to catch a glimpse of a ritual sacrifice or orgy taking place by the roadside?”

  A new blush spread across her cheeks. “Goodness, no! I just wanted to see a unicorn.” Her mouth clamped together as if trying to trap the words, but it was too late. They were already out. And even though it was uncharitable of him, Ezra couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face.

  “Lady Elizabeth, you believe in unicorns? I must say, I’m quite shocked at that revelation.”

  Again her hand came up to brush against the red staining her smooth cheek. Ezra didn’t know if it was the way the light was filtering through the curtains or the effects of the blush, but she glowed. He realized she was rather attractive, although not in a conventional way. She was rounder than was fashionable, and her hair was as far as you could get from the coveted golden color most women waxed poetic about, but there was something about her appearance that was very pleasing.

  “I haven’t believed in unicorns since I was a little girl,” she said, trying to sound waspish, but he heard the embarrassment loud and clear.

  “Of course,” he said, still trying to smother a smile. He liked that she wanted to see a unicorn. He didn’t know an excess of noble women, but the few in his acquaintance had been jaded and completely without whimsy. “My mistake.” She was staring intently at a spot somewhere above his head, and he felt bad for making her so uncomfortable. “You and Lady Alice certainly have become fast friends,” he said, changing the topic. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her take to someone quite so quickly.”

  Lady Elizabeth relaxed a bit against the seat. “Lady Alice
isn’t like other ladies of the ton. She’s nice.” There was an old hurt in her eyes, and not for the first time, Ezra felt a bitter dislike for the aristocracy. Lady Elizabeth may not have been as pressed and polished as the other ladies flitting about London’s ballrooms, but she was kind and courageous. What was a perfectly executed curtsy and refined manners when compared to those qualities?

  “She spoke very highly of you before you awoke.” Alice had told him of how Lady Elizabeth offered her friendship and connected with the sullen Robert before putting herself between them and danger. Without her interference, there was no telling what might have happened. “She is the reason you ended up being brought to Corrigan. She refused to come with us until I agreed to heal you.”

  “Then I am as indebted to her as I am to you.” She looked up at him through dark lashes. “I never thanked you for saving my life.”

  “It was my duty as a surgeon.”

  “But not as a mage.”

  No, as a mage he certainly wasn’t obligated to save an Untouched woman. In fact, he imagined Garroway would have something to say about it the next time they were alone.

  “I am a surgeon,” he reminded her. “Magic is merely one of the tools I use to assist my patients.”

  Lady Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, sending a cascade of unbound curls over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why? Why are you a surgeon? I’ve never heard of a mage studying the science of the human body before. It hardly seems necessary when one can mix an eye of newt with a bit of herbs and cause miraculous healing.”

  “Ah, yes, well, if I was capable of mixing a bit of herbs and these miracle-producing newt eyes you speak of to create a potion to save a life, I would certainly have been happy to rely on my magic. Unfortunately, I am not a mage of the highest order. My magical skill set is severely limited.” He shifted in his seat. Admitting his lack of natural talent wasn’t something he enjoyed doing. “On my own, I can barely mend a broken bone, but now that I understand the way the body is fit together and functions, I can concentrate my magical efforts more efficiently.” Not that it mattered. Even with his purification rituals helping him maintain better focus and produce more consistent results he was still seen as a low-level mage. Only those who could not afford better called on him, no matter his friendship with the Oberon.

  Across from him, Lady Elizabeth stared through him as if she was seeing all the things he wasn’t saying, the things buried so deep inside himself he didn’t even give them voice in his own head. He had to stop himself from squirming beneath her scrutiny.

  Of course, she didn’t have to see to his very soul to realize he was her lesser in every way. Her clothing may have been dirty and singed thanks to Alice’s impressive display of power, but there was no hiding the richness of the cloth or how finely it was made. The jewels decorating her neck and fingers were stunning not only because of their size, but also because of the intricate metal work surrounding them. Only the finest craftsman could have rendered such pieces.

  In contrast, he was wearing a jacket that had been repaired so many times he doubted any of the original stitching remained. His waistcoat was one of Jack’s castoffs. His sister had done a fine job of mending it, but it still fit as if it had been made for a man twice his size.

  She was the daughter of an earl.

  He was a low-level mage of dubious parentage.

  What had Hattie gotten him into? How was he supposed to house and provide for a woman of quality?

  “Did you train with a Smith as well?”

  His thoughts had gone off in such a direction he didn’t understand immediately what she was asking, and once he did, he was at a loss as to why she was asking it. “I’m afraid not.”

  Lady Elizabeth’s eyes rounded. “You’re an Ironmaster?”

  “No, I’m afraid metal and clockwork have never been particular interests of mine.”

  It was as if the two of them had somehow found themselves in the middle of two separate conversations. Lady Elizabeth was as baffled by his response as he was at her question.

  “You may not have an interest, but you’ve certainly got a talent,” she said. “Mr. Garroway’s hand is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. At first I thought it was the same as one found on a Sally Maid, but then it moved. He moved it…” It was a mere shake of her head, but her whole body came to life. “How does it work? Does the aether remain in the metal, waiting to be ordered about, or were you able to use your medical training to focus the aether enough to form a permanent connection to his flesh?”

  So she was a spy. She had to be. While the rest of the civilized world knew of the existence of aether, very few realized it’s correlation to magic, and until a few moments ago, Ezra would have said no Untouched knew it was the building block of magic itself.

  Although, if Lady Elizabeth was a spy, she was the most talented actress is all of Europe. Her entire being radiated innocence with her shy smiles, awkward curtsies, and wide eyes full of questions.

  “You will have to direct your inquiries about Garroway’s hand to the man himself.” It would be a death sentence if she was daft enough to do it. But if she was an enemy of the Oberon, then it was a fate well deserved, no matter how badly the idea of her coming to harm sat with him. “I wish I could tell you more,” he said, “but you have already formed the same theories I myself have devised.”

  Her teeth bit into the soft flesh of her full bottom lip as disappointment creased her forehead. “So you did not do the procedure?”

  “No. He likes to make people believe he did the procedure himself.” It was a ludicrous claim. Performing magic on oneself was impossible. Any act of magic required the practitioner pull the energies of the components used into his body along with the aether he could coax from the air. The Touched’s body became the cauldron, mixing and stewing the individual bits together until they became something new. Something magical. Once the spell was complete, the raw energy was expunged from the Touched and into the person or vessel requiring the magic. There was simply no way to pour the magic out of one’s body and then pull it back in again.

  A million new questions sprang to life in Lady Elizabeth’s large, inquisitive eyes. Her lips pursed together as if to keep the whole of them from spilling out of her mouth all at once.

  “I had understood that Mr. Garroway was your vicar,” she finally allowed to slip out.

  “Priest. We are not of the Church of England.”

  “But the Touched of the British Isles gave up their gods a thousand years ago.”

  “Yes, well, Garroway claims they did not give up on us. He is a priest of old, as well as a high-level mage,” Ezra explained. “He sacrificed his own hand to heal his mother after the attack on Sainte-Sabine in 1818.” The attack on the Touched village in France had occurred before he was born, but Ezra felt as if he had lived through the tragedy. Unlike Corrigan, Sainte-Sabine had never been a prison for the Touched of France. For centuries they peacefully coexisted with the Untouched there. The gates to Sainte-Sabine weren’t merely open, they were nonexistent, which made it all the easier for the Les Humans Premiers to make their way inside under the blanket of night to slaughter some four hundred men, women, and children.

  From that moment forward, tension between the Touched and Untouched across the British empire became even more strained. In those first months stories abounded about Touched servants turning against their aristocratic employers and brawls breaking out in the streets of London. It was then that many Touched returned to the safety of Corrigan and its impenetrable walls.

  Well, impenetrable for all save a certain inquisitive lady.

  “Mr. Garroway must have been quite young at the time,” she said with compassion for the man who had boldly threatened her life less than an hour before. “No more than twenty I would think.”

  “Man enough at seventeen.” Many of the survivors had been small children who were hidden away by loving parents only to find themselves orph
aned when they reemerged the following morning. “His mother survived thanks to Garroway’s sacrifice, but the ordeal proved too much for her. A year later, when the date of the attack rolled around again, she took her own life. The next day, Garroway vanished. No one knows where he went or what he did, but he showed up at the gates of Corrigan five years later, a metal hand attached to his arm and a plan to reopen the temple here.”

  He didn’t know why he was telling her all of this. If she was a spy, any information could be potentially harmful in her hands. He supposed the truth of it was he couldn’t make himself believe she was anything other than what she appeared to be - a young lady of gentle breeding who found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was a good, noble person. He could feel it deep inside himself. His instinct told him she was to be protected, not someone from whom he should protect Corrigan.

  “Bavaria,” she said with conviction. Ezra’s eyebrows rose as he waited for her to continue, yet when several moments passed and she hadn’t revealed anything further, he finally gave in to his own curiosity.

  “He went to Bavaria,” she finally explained at his prompt. “It could have been the Americas, their automatons have always been leagues beyond our own, but it doesn’t explain his religious calling. The Touched Americans are a notoriously ungodly lot. Have you read Franco’s God Doesn’t Live Here?”

  Ezra could only shake his head. He was mesmerized by the wild flailings of her hands and animation in her face.

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. It was frightfully dull, but the information was sound enough that I feel very confident in saying Mr. Garroway didn’t disappear to the Americas.”

  “Which leaves Bavaria,” Ezra guessed.

  “Exactly. Their attempts at merging humans and machines are legendary. Plus it’s the location of the last known Velchan. Even though he’s gone, those who trained beneath him are not. If I found myself in need of a replacement limb, I would make haste to the offices of the Clockwork Society in Munich.”