The Eidolon

  “You had nothing to defend yourself?” she asked. The idea of living so easily, without thought to one’s safety, was simply unrealistic. They must’ve gotten some kind of news of the world, from the markets.

  “My parents fought with what they had on hand. Kitchen knives. A torch. But the factory men outmatched us in weapons and experience.”

  “Do you blame them? For not being able to save you?”

  “I used to.”

  “What changed?”

  He spun her around gently to face him, his hands gripping her upper arms. “I saw what they were up against. No one can face the factories alone.”

  A warmth spread through her, starting where his hands touched the bare skin of her arms. She didn’t move, wanting the moment to last. He stared at her for several moments, his eyes saying something. That she wouldn’t be alone any longer. That they had each other now.

  Even if only until the wedding.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The day before the wedding

  Veronica spent five days aboard Emil’s ship. She returned to the Duke’s townhouse the sixth day. Emil couldn’t banish her from his thoughts, nor did he particularly care to. He was content to play his memories again and again, like a favored tune.

  All the same, the entire time he spent with Veronica, Emil wondered at his deception. She was not his fiancé, did he deceive both of them with something he promised without words but couldn’t fulfill? He took every opportunity to take her hand, her elbow, to show her he desired her. He let himself live a few days worth of a dream. Told her he’d wanted to kiss her more than anything in the world.

  But she wasn’t his. He shouldn’t have stolen those days with his prince’s fiancé.

  If that weren’t enough, how could he still plan to strike at the Duke when he loved Veronica so completely? Perhaps he didn’t understand love in the least. In the end, he’d kept a proper distance from Veronica. It wasn’t so far-fetched, after all, that a love he’d always wanted would be out of his reach. In fact, it fit quite well with how his life had turned out thus far.

  “Does she want to see me? Are you certain?” Durad adjusted his turban, the jewels catching a rare ray of sunshine just outside the Richmond townhouse. It was mid-day, but clouds obstinately covered the city, obscuring all but the most persistent light. The line of carriages rattling through the square puffed steam, leaving behind misty clouds that left Emil feeling constantly wet and unclean.

  He clapped a hand on his friends’ shoulder. “Of course, Durad. She worried, like any female, how well she would look for you. But you were never far from her thoughts.” That last part seemed true. During the week Veronica spent recovering on his ship, she plagued him with questions about Sombor and Durad. None of his answers seemed to satisfy her.

  The uppity old butler answered the door and escorted them to the drawing room. Veronica sat on a small, wing-tipped couch across from a set of over-sized leather chairs. Her dress once again masked her—the color of a rotten peach. She glanced up from what must’ve at one time been a needlepoint, but now appeared more like the dark musings of a tortured seamstress. The Duke sat at his desk, his back ramrod straight, studying a map. He rose when Durad entered the room and offered a small bow, a slight incline at the waist.

  “Please,” Durad waved away the formality. “There’s no need, your Grace. I appreciate the gesture, but hope that the bonds of family will allow us some level of comfort with one another.”

  Durad turned to Veronica. “My dear. How are you feeling? I simply cannot believe a footpad attacked you on your own streets! How frightened you must’ve been.” He lifted his foot to take one step forward but set it down and straightened up instead, folding his arms formally in front of him.

  Aman Tanrım …the questions about Veronica outside the townhome, Durad’s nervousness…how did Emil miss that his friend had developed real feelings for Veronica?

  Veronica set aside her needlepoint and smiled at the Prince. Emil had seen her smile many times over the last week. He knew when it titled slightly from pain or widened too far to cover an emotion she didn’t want to feel. When there was genuine pleasure, it was perfect.

  He knew, he recognized the genuine one right now as she exchanged a long look with Durad.

  “How kind of you to visit. I’m quite well, thank you.” Veronica indicated the chair across from her.

  The doors to the drawing room flew open, nearly clipping Emil on the shoulder. He stepped aside just in time.

  “So this is the groom! Felicitationes, mon ami!” Alec entered the room, swinging a walking stick. He paused and bowed, a sweeping gesture that caused his stick to nearly club Emil in the stomach. Once again, he stepped aside. He now stood flush with the heavy drapes where obviously no one noticed him.

  Veronica hid a smile. “Alec, you know quite well the Prince’s native language is neither Spanish nor French.”

  The Duke’s face flushed and he escorted Durad to the set of chairs, asking him questions about Sombor’s economy. Alec ignored them, whistling, and turned to his sister. “I have, once again, proved there is nothing one cannot accomplish with the Duke’s resources. Your wedding will be the event of the season, not one person has sent their regrets.”

  She appeared to pale a little. “Thank you, Alec. That’s simply marvelous.”

  Alec propped on the arm of the couch and leaned forward. Emil stepped out of the shadows in order to hear better. He’d had enough practice focusing—long nights casing factory districts—that he could shut out every other sound in the room except Alec’s and Veronica’s voices. Durad appeared not to be paying the lease bit of attention, back straight and tall as he answered the Duke’s continual volley of questions.

  “Yet there’s no excitement? Not even a little?” Alec gestured toward Durad. “When does such a fairy tale ending come to pass? The handsome prince? What’s the matter with you, Peanut?”

  Emil craned even closer for her answer. She glanced up quickly at him and then back to Alec. She gave him the smile a hint too wide, and said, “I am happy. The children will be safe. I will escape Papá’s net, and I could want nothing more.” She patted Alec’s knee.

  Alec twisted his mouth in suspicion and then looked up. “Mr. Marcovic, come here, chap. No need to lurk about. Sit next to the bride to be. Plenty of room, now.”

  Emil hesitated and then complied. One didn’t disobey a peer of the realm, though this one was the first to notice Emil. What was Alec about?

  “My sister tells me you captain a dirigible. Named Kardeşim. A rather peculiar title. Where did that come from?” Alec asked.

  “It’s a story I don’t care to share.” Emil tried to keep a modest amount of space between himself and Veronica but the blasted couch was far too small. His leg kept brushing hers.

  “No matter. I have many more questions. Is the scarf a symbol for a Eunuch in your country? Or do you have a lady companion? What purpose do you serve to Durad? All muscle or do you consult with him on matters of state?” Alec prattled on, each question offensive and intrusive.

  But Emil had been warned about Alec during his time with Veronica. “Durad does not, nor do any of the men in Sombor, have harems. So there are no need for Eunuchs. I serve Durad in many ways, none of which I can share.” Emil gave up trying to keep his distance from Veronica and she instantly sank into his side. In that moment, he reached out his hands to steady her and put her away from him. But when she glanced at him and didn’t look away, he lingered a moment too long, her narrow blue eyes a puzzle.

  Alec’s smile seemed to grow by the minute. “And my other question? Surely you’re married by now? A strapping fellow like you.”

  “My duty to my liege leaves me little time for such pursuits.” Emil shifted and then rose abruptly. “If you will excuse me.”

  As he crossed the room to Durad, Emil heard Alec’s whisper, “I see what you mean, Peanut. You weren’t exaggerating.”

  Emil tensed as he took his position beh
ind Durad. What in blazes did that mean?

  * * *

  Durad waved away the carriage and continued on foot toward the hotel. Sombor’s royal colors disappeared in a cloud of steam. The Prince appeared to notice nothing as he plowed down the street. “Curse that ambitious Papá of hers. I got but a few moments to speak to her. She appeared well to me. How did she look to you?” Durad continued without waiting for an answer. “Tomorrow, Emil. I’ll be married. I have to do this. There’s no turning back. Sombor’s future will be assured with England by our side. This is a good step for us. Very good.”

  Emil grabbed Durad’s arm, forcing him to a halt. He pulled the Prince aside into a nearby alleyway. He looked at his friend’s face, tense and expectant, and the question he’d been rehearsing for the last hour came out. “I’ve already told you how brilliant this whole thing is. What I want to know is this—have you come to care for her?” The words came out even, impartial, just as he intended.

  Durad’s features relaxed and his smile blinded Emil. “You know, I believe I do. In all the time we’ve spent together over the last few weeks, I see something in there she’s unwilling to show most people. Kindness, compassion, intelligence. You wouldn’t know it to look at her, of course. It’s probably the Duke that dresses her so poorly. He’s a beast, one can tell. What kind of man would marry his daughter off to a foreigner he’d never seen?”

  Unwilling indeed. She was a downright master chameleon. But Durad had an uncanny ability with people, Emil knew that. His heart flopped in his chest but he didn’t look away from his friend. “So, in spite of the circumstances, you may actually pull this off?”

  Durad grinned. “I do believe this may work out to be a smashing success. Who would’ve thought?” He flung his arm around Emil’s shoulders and strode with him toward the street. “If you wouldn’t have dragged me here, I would’ve never met her. I owe you once again, my oldest friend.”

  While Durad prattled on about the coming day, Emil wrapped his memories of the past week in a box, shut it and made a promise to himself not to speak of his feelings to anyone. In fact, he felt relief at not having told Veronica how he felt out right.

  Once Emil returned the Prince and his new Princess to Sombor, he’d leave. He would have to. He couldn’t live so close to her, nor could he stand in the way of Durad’s happiness.

  And the Duke? Veronica held no love for him. Neither, apparently, did Alec. Emil had no need to utterly destroy the man as he’d originally intended, the Duke’s existence held a little enough prospect for happiness. But he didn’t deserve the life flowing through his veins. Emil would slip in to his chambers tomorrow evening after the wedding and steal it away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The day before the wedding

  “How on earth will you choose, dear Peanut?” Alec twirled his stick. He sat on the settee in her bedroom, legs crossed, arms elegantly sprawled. He appeared far too delighted by the events of the afternoon.

  “Choose?” Veronica asked. She prodded the fire with a poker. She kept it going constantly since she’d returned home. Something about the metal in her skin seemed to give her a constant chill.

  Alec snorted. “Don’t play coy. Durad is nuts about you. He practically tied his tongue in knots speaking to you.”

  She had noticed that. He hadn’t seemed nervous around her before. Alec could be right, yet it seemed impossible. Surely Durad couldn’t have feelings for the vapid Veronica. If he did, she couldn’t place much faith in his taste.

  “And that muscular fellow. He was more discreet about it but when you fell into him on the settee,” Alec waggled his brows, “there was something there.”

  She adjusted her gloves, using the excuse to look away from Alec’s teasing gaze. “Mr. Marcovic? I told you, I barely know the man.”

  In point of fact, Veronica knew Emil better than any man. This past week had been something of a marvel to her. Speaking honestly with a male who respected her opinions, treated her like something to be treasured and admired—it held an ethereal quality.

  How wonderful that might be, to share a future, spending days exactly like those. His touch would be more than a brush of his arm or hand. Emil could use his measured strength to pull her into his arms, to stroke her cheek, to make her feel what she’d never believe could be real—a man’s love.

  For a moment, imagining chased away the chill and warmed her down to the tips of her fingers.

  Alec coughed. “Peanut, dearest? Where ever did you go?”

  She pulled her wrap tighter around her arms. “It’s funny, you asking me that question.”

  He pointed his walking stick at her. “Don’t deflect. I have to say, I find the mysterious Marcovic an interesting prospect. What happened between the two of you to make him gape at you so?”

  Plenty. Not enough. “Why would any man gape at me, Alec? You know I’m nothing to look at.”

  “Peanut, you may not know much about men, anything about men. Well, how could you? It’s not as if they’ve been lining up to call on you. Sorry, dearest, but it’s true. You’ve a strength and beauty beneath those horrid silks you wear, but who would ever know? And now to have two strong, handsome suitors? It must be overwhelming.” He delivered his opinions in a playful tone, but she sensed a serious question underneath.

  Veronica picked up a pillow with her good hand and threw it at him. “Don’t tease.”

  Alec caught it and tossed it into the air. After a moment he stood and joined her at the fireplace. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I’m right. And those two men know it. However, what they see or don’t see scarcely matters at this point. Those children are obviously what matter to you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but he placed a finger on her lips.

  “Now I don’t know why your love for those street rats has given papá the leverage he needs to control you, but it seems that you’ve little choice here. In the end, it wasn’t too bad of a bargain, was it? Durad appears to be a genuinely good fellow and he cares for you.”

  Veronica felt the truth of his words chase away her troubled thoughts of Emil and the discomforting possibility that men might not be such terrible creatures. She’d never had much control of her future but now, with her orphans…she had none. Nor would she trade them, if she were being honest, for Emil. The happiness they eagerly handed her—a carefully drawn picture, a tight embrace, a kiss on the cheek, unrestrained laughter—no man, not even one as extraordinary as Emil, could match that.

  “I told you I like Durad.”

  He dropped his hand but his eyes wouldn’t release hers. They were blue, murky like the ocean, and fierce as a storm. Veronica couldn’t move. For a moment she felt a hint of fear.

  “Peanut, you must get out of this house. Do you understand me? Papá has reached his limit with your behaviors, and were you to cry off, he would find a much worse fate for you. Something I could not help you with.” His eyes gentled. “I couldn’t bear to see that happen to you.”

  Veronica didn’t answer. It almost seemed like Alec genuinely cared. Not in a foppish, overly dramatic way, but how he used to when they were younger.

  Alec placed both hands on her shoulders. “I know I’ve been a beast of a brother to you. I haven’t protected you when I should have and I’ve been off dealing with my own inadequacies in nasty ways. But this wedding? It was my chance to make some of it right.”

  She couldn’t believe he was admitting this to her. The words didn’t sound insincere but she still couldn’t trust them. Veronica stepped back, breaking his hold. She was not, after all, the same weakling that used to seek comfort by his side.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, brother,” she said softly. Veronica turned and rang the bell for Matilda.

  Alec sighed and said, “Don’t forget, you’re doing the right thing.” He left, tapping his walking stick along the floor with somewhat less exuberance than normal.

  She belted her robe tighter and poked the fire again. The chamber
maid should bring more wood. The weather had taken a turn and her room felt like ice.

  Veronica flexed her new hand underneath her glove and then clenched it into a fist. The glove was a special material Dr. Hoch had delivered during her stay aboard The Hırsız —thick, durable, not easily torn. No one knew about her mechanical hand, not even Matilda. In fact, she’d told Matilda nothing, save that she’d needed a few days to tie up some loose ends before the marriage.

  The image of Durad’s smiling brown eyes rose in her mind. What would he think of her, once he saw what she truly was? She thought of his enthusiasm for Dr. Hoch, for anything steamtech—perhaps he might find it fascinating. Perhaps even make her more interesting.

  Or he might find it repulsive, monstrous. She wasn’t sure she would blame him.

  The door opened and Matilda entered the room. “My lady! It’s a furnace in here, it is. Shall I open the windows?” She fanned herself.

  “No! Keep it going all night. I’m exceedingly chilled.” Veronica tugged her wrap more firmly about her body. Why could she not feel the heat?

  Matilda smiled. “I saw that handsome Prince Durad today. You looked happy, m’lady. Does he mean that much to you, then? Do you care for him? Oh, he’s a right handsome gentleman indeed.”

  “He’s wonderful.” Just not the one she’d fallen in love with. “I’ll take care of myself tonight, Matilda. You may leave.” Veronica turned away, suddenly very tired. The tisane eased her suffering, yet drained her energy. But if she went too long in between doses, the pain returned so sharply she could hardly breathe.

  “Very well, my lady,” Matilda said in a soft voice. “If you don’t need my help.” She waited for a moment. When Veronica didn’t say anything, Matilda blew out a breath and words tumbled from her lips, fast and hard. “Lands sake, what happened during the past week? Why won’t you tell me? I’ve waited and been patient, but you’re being a stubborn ox!”