by Vic James
She couldn’t face the reception that followed, and after letting Libby and Daisy gorge on sandwiches, she drove the pair of them back to Griff’s house. They’d all moved in, while Gavar divided his time between there and Kyneston. In the absence of their Skillful protections, he had private security patrolling the boundaries of both places – already a few Equal great houses had been ransacked, and at least one had fallen victim to arson.
Abi knew he was considering shutting up Kyneston altogether. His mother was moving back to her childhood home of Orpen Mote. Gavar was still waiting to see if he would end up in a prison cell.
She called a greeting up the stairs to Griff, and settled the two girls at the kitchen table. Daisy reached for a stack of art paper and some pencils, to get Libby drawing pictures of their afternoon, and opened up a book for herself. Abi intended to have her sister back at school in September. Mum would rejoin them in a couple of days. What Abi would do with herself, though, wasn’t yet clear. It depended on whether Luke’s condition improved.
She made two mugs of tea, left one on the counter for Griff and carried the other upstairs to relieve the old nanny’s watch over Luke. After filling Griffith in on the funeral, Abi settled into the armchair she’d vacated, put her feet up on the end of the bed, and looked at her little brother. Not so little, she corrected herself.
Abi rose to check his vitals again. Her brother’s heart rate was steady and his breathing strong. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she told him about the funeral. Silyen had looked very handsome, she said, and they’d interred him in his beloved riding boots and jacket.
‘They’d had as much success as ever getting a comb through that hair, though.’
She wondered if Luke had enjoyed winding his fingers in that messy tangle, and found herself crying again.
Wiping her nose, she turned up the radio they left burbling for Luke, and retreated back to the armchair. The programme was discussing Midsummer Zelston, and the unconfirmed rumours of the disappearance of Skill.
‘Never mind Cadmus Jardine, the Pure-in-Heart,’ said one panellist. ‘Or Bouda Matravers, holding these talks with Speaker Dawson and commoner representatives. The one who’ll go down in history is Midsummer Zelston, the Pure-in-Deed. This is the end of the slavedays. The woman needs a statue in every town.’
Statues were all very well, but Midsummer would have preferred to be with her Layla, getting ready for the birth of their child. Abi tugged the armchair blanket around her shoulders, and tuned out the radio.
They all lived in a new world now. And things might get worse before they got better. If it truly was the end of the slavedays, how would that work? Those millions of people, who at any given time spent a decade shut away, would all need jobs and houses. And Britain’s economy was based on the junk the slavetowns churned out for export. Its people were fed on slave-processed meat and slave-grown crops. Everything could crash down in an instant.
A year ago, as they’d boxed up the house ready to begin their days, Abi had been a girl who followed the rules. A girl who loved her mum and dad and her adorable, though annoying, little brother and sister.
This past year had broken her, her family, and the rules. It might still break the country.
But she had to believe it was the beginning of something better.
Could Abi be a part of creating that? She’d never be a doctor now. She had violated the physician’s vow to do no harm before she’d ever taken it. But perhaps she could help heal the country.
In this fragile aftermath, people were still cautiously disbelieving of the new state of affairs. But in the weeks and months to come, when it became clear to all that the Equals’ Skill had gone for good, joy at the people’s newfound freedom might yet turn to fury and further bloodshed. Would Britain’s commoners seek revenge for centuries of oppression, upon the remnants of their ruling class?
Perhaps, having struggled to overthrow the Equals, Abi might find herself defending them. Having to remind people that Midsummer’s final speech cut both ways. That the Equals were no wiser, no kinder, no more intelligent or more responsible than the rest of them.
But also no less human.
And that better futures should never begin in blood.
If that was what it took to bind up this broken country, Abi would do it.
Lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard the phone ring downstairs and Griff answer. It wasn’t a long conversation and Abi’s leg had cramped from so much sitting, so she went down to investigate.
‘Master Gavar,’ Griff told her, out of earshot of the two now playing in the living room. ‘He won’t be back tonight. Seems there’s been some trouble – someone’s already vandalized the mausoleum. They found the door half broken off. He sounded horribly upset.’
Abi felt sick. What a disgusting thing to do. Whittam had been a monster, Jenner unkind, and Silyen unnerving. But to desecrate the tomb in which they lay? Surely there was no satisfaction in vengeance against the dead.
She gave Griff a hug – then a noise from upstairs turned her dismay to joy. Had that been Luke’s voice?
She looked at Griff. The old woman had heard it too. There was faint laughter. Then the sound of a door closing.
Calling her brother’s name, Abi raced up the stairs. She pictured Luke on the landing, wobbly-legged and triumphantly clutching the bannister. But he wasn’t there.
She burst into his room. The bedclothes were thrown back, but he wasn’t there either. Frantic, she went along the landing checking the bathroom, the other bedrooms, even barging into Griff’s room and peering into her en-suite.
Luke was nowhere.
They would have seen him come down the stairs. Perhaps he’d fallen. He must have tried to get out of bed. He’d be lying there on the floor, unconscious again.
But when she hurried back into Luke’s bedroom, he still wasn’t there. Not on the floor, not under the bed. She even checked the window, in case he’d been delusional and had opened it and thrown himself out. You never knew what brain-injury patients might do.
Nothing. Abi stood in the centre of the room, chest heaving.
Which was when she noticed an inexplicable scent.
Woodsmoke and the sea.
Acknowledgements
A trilogy is a huge undertaking – it’s just as well the summit is hidden above the clouds when you first contemplate the ascent. The air gets thin up there! That I’ve finally planted a flag atop the Dark Gifts trilogy is down to many tireless and brilliant people.
My inspiring editors, Bella Pagan and Tricia Narwani – the truly Skilled.
My phenomenal agents, Robert Kirby, Ginger Clark, Jane Walsh and Yasmin McDonald, who started me off on this journey and have been alongside the whole way. The United Agents assistants who keep the wheels turning – I see you.
The wonderful folk at base camp (aka Del Rey and Pan Mac): Alice, Abbie, Phoebe, Jo, Don, Kate, Lorraine, Emily, Julie, Keith, Scott, Ryan. My foreign editors, translators, cover artists and publishers. It’s been a joy working with you all.
Bloggers, booksellers, librarians, those who’ve come to events or conventions, and quiet readers, your love for these books warms me more than a down onesie. Seeing Gilded Cage picked as a 2018 World Book Night title was an honour and a true #lifegoal.
My TV colleagues, you make programme-making such fun I can’t bear to give it up, even though I should be writing: Greg, Cam, Rita, Jay, Grant, Suzy, Al, Sam, Paddy, Mike, Fiona and Jacques.
My friends, you make the world go round. Thank you Hils, Giles, Tanya, John, Taran, Joe, Rowan, Kristina, Debbie, Rachel, Mark, Mira, Nick and so many more. I got lucky when I met each one of you.
And my family: Jonathan and Justine, Isabella and Rufus. Dad (if you’re out there somewhere). And my unstoppable, remarkable Mum. Heartfelt thanks.
Praise for the series
Gilded Cage is a World Book Night 2018 title and a BBC Radio 2 Book Club pick
‘Beautifull
y characterized . . . an impressive debut’
Guardian
‘Dazzling . . . compelling page-turnability’
Daily Mail
‘The historical parallels are too delicious to ignore . . .one can’t help but anticipate the next novel in the series’
The Washington Post
‘James’s dystopian debut, the first part in her Dark Gifts trilogy, addresses issues of inequality that seem all too pertinent’
SFX
‘It’s smart, engrossing and incredibly snappily written, with so many compelling characters and pulse-quickening situations that the whole book just flies by. We apologize for the cliché, but it is that good’
SciFiNow
‘Brisk plotting, sympathetic characters, and plenty of intrigue will keep readers on the edges of their seats, eager for the next book’
Publishers Weekly
‘James’s world is as compelling as her prose and as cleverly constructed. Told by a diverse cast of characters from various echelons of society, Gilded Cage is an unputdownable story . . . it’s truly a gem’
Fantasy Faction
‘An incredibly gifted author who should be making huge literary waves for years to come’
Fantasy Book Review
‘A deft dark mirror . . . gripping from start to finish’
Speculative Herald
‘A dark and intriguing vision of an alternate, magic-drenched Britain, Gilded Cage kept me up way into the night’
Aliette de Bodard
‘Devious and deliciously dark with lashings of magic, mystery and mayhem, this juggernaut of a book will keep you hanging on by your fingernails until the very last page’
Taran Matharu
BRIGHT RUIN
Vic James is a TV director who loves stories in all their forms. Her programmes for BBC1 have covered the 2016 US presidential election and Britain’s EU referendum. She has also twice judged the Guardian’s Not the Booker Prize. Gilded Cage was her first novel, and is a 2018 World Book Night title. An early draft won a major online award from Wattpad. Vic has lived in Rome, Tokyo, and now London.
You can follow Vic on Twitter: @DrVictoriaJames
www.vicjames.co.uk
By Vic James
The Dark Gifts Trilogy
Gilded Cage
Tarnished City
Bright Ruin
First published 2018 by Pan Books
This electronic edition published 2018 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-2148-8
Copyright © Vic James Ltd 2018
Cover Images © Shutterstock
Design by Lloyd Jones
Pan Macmillan Art Department
The right of Vic James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Pan Macmillan does not have any control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third-party websites referred to in or on this book.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.