Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1)

by Claire Warner

  “We’ll wait with you,” Amira said, as the small group gathered about her.

  “Thank you.” Tay felt a lump rise in her throat as she stared at them. She had only met them the previous night, yet they all seemed genuinely concerned. For a brief moment, she forgot her reasons for being in the Palace, and revelled in the feeling of warm friendship.

  “Miss James?” She stood up as a tall doctor with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, called her name.

  “Yes?” She walked forward, conscious of the eyes of the women around her.

  “Your brother has a compound fracture to his right arm and a severe case of concussion.” Tay felt relief run through her as he spoke. “He’s conscious but unable to take visitors, and we’ll have to keep him in overnight.”

  “Overnight?” A lead weight settled in her stomach, as his words penetrated her thoughts. “He won’t be able to make the ball?”

  “No, I ’m afraid not.”

  Her mind stuttered at those words. She would have to attend the betrothal ball alone. The one night where she would have to perfectly play Lyana James, and she would have to work it out on her own. Panic began to build deep within her, thoughts of navigating that morass alone paramount in her mind.

  “If all goes well overnight, he should be out tomorrow,” the doctor continued, mistaking her stunned silence for concern. With those words, he left her side and moved back to Darius’ bedside.

  Tay cast her eyes over the room. There were six beds in the ward and Darius was laying on the last one on the left. Propped up against snowy-white pillows, with skin as pale as the cotton beneath him, Darius was awake and talking to the nurse. His eyes flickered in her direction, and he beckoned her forward. The nurse shook her head, in disagreement with Darius’ words. Tay waited, self-conscious and nervous, for the conversation to finish. After a few moments of quiet discussion, the nurse reluctantly nodded and beckoned Tay forward.

  “You can speak to him for a few moments,” the nurse announced, professional disapproval radiating from every pore.

  Tay hurried forward and stared down at Darius’ pale form. His arm and head were bandaged, and a sheen of sweat clung to his skin. For a brief moment her heart skipped a beat, troubled by the sight before her. Darius raised his good arm and crooked his finger, drawing her closer. She bent down to listen as his whispering tones filled her ears.

  “Go to the ball tonight and dance.” She moved to ask a question, but he waved his hand for silence. “At eleven they will open the register.” His voice was wavering and slow, the medicine that coursed through his body bringing him closer to sleep. Tay leaned closer to hear, his voice barely audible with the onset of sleep. “Just sign.” She nodded, as his eyes began to drift shut. “Remember to watch out for Kail.” The lids fell over his blue eyes, but he wrenched them open. “Try the recorder during the ball.” The words slurred, as he drifted off into a drug-induced sleep.

  “He’s sleeping now.” The nurse said unnecessarily, as Tay stepped back away from him.

  “Thanks.” Tay moved back from the bed as the nurse drew a curtain about Darius’ sleeping form. With slow steps, she walked back to the group of waiting girls.

  “Is he alright?” Amira asked first, concern in her dark eyes.

  “He’s broken his arm, and he has concussion.” Tay reported the doctor’s findings as she tried to hide the fear that was running through her veins. With Darius in the hospital, there was no one to keep an eye out for any potential mistakes. The night before had been difficult enough, but tonight she would be in a room filled with genuine nobility. The knowledge drummed into her by Darius and his sister would not be enough. Fear-induced sweat began to cover her hands as she focused on all the disasters that could occur.

  “Come on.” Amira looped an arm through hers and led her back toward the main hall. “Let’s get some chocolate and pastries.”

  Unable to resist the coaxing smile of the other girl, Tay allowed Amira to lead her toward one of the smaller studies that branched off from the main hall. As they divested themselves of their outer clothing, a tray of sweet and savoury snacks was placed on one of the tables.

  “He’ll be alright.” Linnett reached out and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “They can work miracles in that infirmary.”

  “Oh?” Cara raised an eyebrow. “Was he that badly injured?”

  “No, but,” Linnett continued, pushing a strand of hair away from her face, “they’ll certainly be able to fix a broken arm.”

  “Surely any hospital can do that,” Annetta interrupted, her voice packed with scorn.

  “Not as fast as here,” Linnett corrected her, leaning across the table in her eagerness to prove the point. “I heard my mother say that they have medicine that will heal it like”－she snapped her fingers－“that.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cara interrupted. “I haven’t heard anything of the sort.”

  “I think she’s right.” Amira added her voice to the discussion. “One of the minor nobles at last year’s ball was injured too.” She creased her forehead in thought. “Now, I don’t know what his injuries were, but they were severe enough for a trip to the infirmary. They gave him something, and he was cured almost immediately.”

  “Oh, come on,” Cara argued, “surely if they could do that here, we’d all have access.”

  “What’s your rating?” Annetta asked, and Tay came to attention. This was the first time she had heard of the rating system being applied to the noble class.

  “Four,” Cara replied.

  “Same as me,” Annetta nodded, as she reached for the last pastry. “I’d say most of us are fours.”

  “Not Talia,” Amira clarified. “She’s Clockwork Temple. That has to be a rating two or higher.”

  Tay listened to the conversation with interest. She had always assumed that the nobility was not subject to the rating system, but the idea that there were different levels even in the upper classes was a strangely enjoyable one.

  “Which proves the point,” Annetta continued. “Talia would know about the medicine, but none of us would.”

  “I don’t understand that,” Cara argued. “We all have responsibility for the rabble”－Tay bristled at the remark but managed to hide it behind a smile－“so why would that be restricted to twos and above?”

  “I don’t know.” Annetta shook her head, and took a bite out of the pastry.

  “They want control.” The group turned to stare at Tay, who flushed as she realised she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Looking down at the cup of hot chocolate, she continued. “We may get ideas about running things if we had the same tools.” Her voice trailed off into silence, as they continued to stare at her.

  “Good point,” Annetta said finally, reaching out for a cup of her own. “That’s why the betrothal system is so rigged.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Cara hissed, in an undertone as she leant across the table. “Talk like that will draw a penalty.”

  Tay felt the familiar sensation of fear trickle down her spine. It seemed that even here, talk was dangerous.

  “I don’t know why it’s so dangerous,” Annetta grumbled, as she lifted the cup to her lips. “It’s not as though I mentioned the Clockwork Temple’s hunt through the forest.”

  “Annetta.” Cara’s voice was a strangled plea. “Don’t say another word.”

  “Or anything about the Coils.” There was a thump as someone kicked her beneath the table. “What?” She looked around the table. “You’re all thinking it.”

  “You’re going to get yourself arrested,” Amira hissed, as she caught hold of her fingers. “And probably us too, so shut the hell up and drink your tea.”

  Annetta fell silent as the impact of Amira’s words finally sank in. Taking a generous sip of her hot chocolate, she turned the conversation back to the ball, and safer topics.

  It was much later, when Tay finally left their company, that she realised what Annetta had divulged. Whatever the realities of he
r situation, it would appear that the Coils were a definite concern. Far from being the myth she had believed, they seemed to actually matter.

  Chapter 20

  Tay was sitting by the fire, a hefty book resting on her lap, when a loud knock sounded on the door. Moving to answer it, she was stopped by Beth’s upraised hand.

  “This is my job, remember?” Tay sank back into the chair as Beth headed back into the main study. From her place by the fire, she could hear the sounds of conversation, and she waited nervously. Beth returned to the room, and stood to attention, in marked contrast to her usual stance.

  “There’s a gentleman at the door for you, Miss,” Beth intoned, even her voice altering to that of a submissive servant.

  “Who is it?” She remembered to keep her voice cool, almost remote, wishing that she could just leave. The book slid to the edge of her lap, and she stopped it with an unconscious move of her hand.

  “The gentleman gave his name as Kail, Miss,” Beth continued, not quite managing to mask the worry in her voice.

  “I see.” Tay took a deep breath, released it, and slowly got to her feet. “I should see him, I daresay”－she stopped at the minute shake that Beth cast in her direction－“but not now.” Steeling herself, she continued. “I am here with only you as a chaperone.” Tay took another breath, warming to the role. “It would not be appropriate.” It was a calculated move, and one she hoped would not backfire. As Beth left the study, Tay returned her gaze to the flickering light of the fire, trying to lose herself in its ruddy glow.

  Voices sounded once more from the other room, and Tay resisted the urge to move closer to the door. Setting the book onto a small table, she focused on the fireplace, waiting.

  “I am not to be denied entry.” A harsh, angry tone jolted her from her reverie. Tay got to her feet, staring at Kail’s face with a confidence she did not feel.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, finding a measure of anger in amongst the fear. “This is my room.”

  “I don’t care if it’s the room belonging to the King,” Kail retaliated, anger glacially clear in his voice. “I’m here on official business.”

  Another movement at the door caught her eye, and she watched a guard sidle into the room behind him. A swell of fear slid up her spine, but she controlled it, finding confidence from the role she was playing.

  “Get on with it then.” She sank back into the chair, unsure of the steadiness of her feet. The fire’s heat licked her skin, and she welcomed it, seizing the sensation as though it were a lifeline.

  “I understand you were speaking with Annetta Chanlin earlier today.”

  Beth watched Tay straighten in her chair, and she mentally congratulated her. Despite the pressure, she was giving little away. Regret for her deception still ate at her, but she had to admit that Tay was managing to live the part.

  “Yes.” There was a moment’s pause before Tay replied to the question, her voice full of scorn. “You know I did; we were at the race.” Beth marvelled at the contempt Tay managed to pack into her voice. Despite the fear she had to be feeling, the façade did not fall.

  “I mean after.”

  Tay took a breath, the action calming the raging thoughts inside her head. Behind Kail, the windows showed a vista of falling snow, and she wished she could leave this conversation, and lose herself in the drifting flakes.

  “We had pastries and chocolate.” Beth had to rein in a smile. Tay’s response was simple and declared with an incredulous tone, as though she could not believe the question.

  “What did you talk about?” A line creased Kail’s forehead as he tried to hold onto his temper.

  “The ball, my brother’s accident.” Tay gave an airy toss of her head. “Why is that important?”

  “My informant,” Kail began, his voice sounding ragged, “stated that criticism of the betrothal system was declared.”

  “Is that all?” Tay affected a bored tone, though her mind was going a mile a minute. Why had the silly conversation warranted a visit from Kail? She recalled the worried looks on the faces of the other girls. “I mean to say,” she clarified, as he opened his mouth, “that it wasn’t particularly a criticism.” A mental crossing of the fingers, and she plunged ahead. “I think she was concerned about the identity of her betrothed, I don’t recall any criticism?”

  “I see.” Kail took a step forward, and Tay held up her hand.

  “Please stay there,” she demanded, infusing her words with as much steel as she could. “I may have to answer your questions, but you have no right to be so close.” As he stared down at her, another idea flashed into her mind. “If you do not withdraw, I will inform Matron Caline of your conduct.” Kail stopped moving and took a minute step back. By the door, Beth was trying to keep the smile of triumph from showing on her face. “That’s better.” Tay got to her feet. “Is that all?” She stared him full in the face and waited for him to flinch.

  A moment passed, and Kail took a couple of steps away. “That’s all,” he replied. With a brisk nod of his head, he turned and headed out of the room. Beth followed him to the corridor and shut the door on his back. One click of the lock and they were alone again.

  “I don’t understand,” Tay finally said, sinking back into her chair. “Why would he be questioning me about a silly little comment?”

  “Because there’s more to it than the comment,” Beth replied, as she took the seat opposite. “The Chanlins are very outspoken advocates of reducing ration control.” She picked up the discarded book and turned it over in her hands. “They’ve incurred penalties for paying their staff more than the intended ration, and spoken about injustices in the system openly.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of this?”

  “You’ve never been to the City before,” Beth replied, as she returned the book to its place on the table. “It’s information that’s not told outside of court circles.” She leant forward. “I don’t know how much Darius told you about the court rules.” Tay shrugged, disturbed by how little she knew. “Rating exists here as well.” She reached into a pocket and drew forth the familiar stream of paper. “See.” A finger prodded at the first line of numbers. “That’s the rating number. I’m a twelve rating.” She returned the tape to her pocket. “The King, his family, and some members of the Clockwork Temple would be rank one.”

  “And if they do anything wrong,” Tay mused, “they can lose rating?”

  “Not as easily as we can,” Beth clarified, as she ran her finger across the polished surface of the table. “But”－the finger stopped moving, and Tay raised her eyes back to Beth’s face－“it has been known to happen.”

  Tay rested her head in her hands, thoughts boiling within her like acid. Snow drifted against the window, and she watched as it slowly began to melt. “Beth?” Tay lifted her gaze from the thin trickle of melting snow. “Why can’t they talk about the Coils here?”

  Beth tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. The fire popped and hissed in the sudden silence. Tay waited patiently for the other girl to answer.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s never been spoken of in my presence.”

  Tay ran the tip of her tongue across her lips as she returned her gaze to the window. “Maybe Darius will know.” The burnt orange sky was darkening to brown as the evening drew in.

  “Maybe.” Beth glanced at the clock, and an oath burst from her lips. “But we don’t have time.” Tay whirled round as Beth hurried across the room toward Tay. “The ball’s in two hours and we need to get you ready.”

  Beth’s fingers curled about her upper arm as she rushed past and dragged her toward her bedchamber.

  Chapter 21

  The dress was floor length, lace and a deep, midnight blue. Silver embroidery covered every inch of the fantastic creation, and tiny crystals sewn into the fabric caught the light as she walked. Sleeves of delicate lace covered her arms, and she stared down at the exquisite patterns in w
onder.

  “Just remember,” Beth said, as she finished fastening the last button on the back of the dress, “the library will be in use, so if you try to get into the offices that way…”

  “They may see me,” Tay interrupted, trying not to think too deeply about all of the things that could go wrong. “I know.”

  “Just be careful.” Beth gave her a quick hug before handing her the mask she was to wear.

  Tay took hold of the mask and regarded it carefully. In the same blue as the dress, it was a delicate creation of lace and silver, designed to mimic butterfly wings. Gingerly, she tied the mask to her face and stood before the mirror. The dress hugged the curves of her body and fell in waves of embroidered lace to the ground. When Beth had drawn the dress from the wardrobe, she was unsure, but her reflection vindicated Beth’s choice. The dark colour seemed sombre, but the crystals and lacework made it beautiful. A pair of matching shoes finished off the ensemble, and she admired the sight as Beth handed her a matching bag. She started as she felt its weight, and raised an eyebrow.

  “It had to go somewhere,” the other girl explained, as she drew a plain stole from another hanger. “Try not to leave it anywhere.”

  Tay opened the bag and stared down at the recorder in thought. At some point this evening, she would have to find her way into the office and copy the records for Lars. The prospect filled her with terror. Now she knew that Kail was keeping an eye on her, it seemed unthinkable that he would leave her alone for the time it would take.

  “It’ll be fine.” Beth fixed a stray hair at the back of her head and patted her on the shoulder. “Just go downstairs, play nice and don’t make a scene.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Tay drew the stole about her shoulders, and walked toward the door.

  “Just try not to appear too guilty.” Beth opened the door to the sitting room. “If you look as though you belong there, no one’s going to question you.”