Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  Simple civil unrest would be enough to force Marina to release her thieves if she wanted the killings to stop, of that Narra was certain— if a rebellion chose to take out the princess for good, she definitely wouldn’t try and stop it.

  Anticipation danced under her skin, and Narra threw off her blanket, staring at the worn wood ceiling above.

  A plan had already formed in her mind. First, she had to deliver an ultimatum of her own to Marina Kolarova, and then, she’d pledge allegiance to the Goddess of Death.

  Crisp morning air burned down her throat and into her lungs. Narra shivered and pulled her cloak tighter. Soon, she’d have to wear a jacket under her cloak. With frost dusting the cobblestone and wilting the last of summer’s flowers, it was time to move on to warmer clothing.

  Narra walked across the steeples of Rovan rooftops, her steps light on the dew-slicked tiles. The sun was out, melting the frost not still in shadow. It turned her rooftop haven into a treacherous landscape, one she readily embraced on a day like today. Danger or not, she needed the advantage.

  Four days after the emperor’s demise, it was time for his funeral. She’d nearly forgotten the royal procession was today, but it gave her the perfect chance to corner Marina and deliver her ultimatum.

  Nerves thrummed under her skin, heating her from the inside. She prowled toward the center of town, leaving the Criminal District behind.

  As was Rovan tradition, the fallen emperor was to be paraded through town, the royal procession taking him from the palace to the church service. He’d be displayed in a glass casket until he was interred at the end of the day.

  The royal funeral would take place at Srah’s Cathedral in the center of town. It was close to Varek Square, and the procession took a twisting path from the palace to ensure as many Rovan citizens as possible laid eyes on their fallen leader. Narra followed it, waiting for her opportune moment. The crowds were thick, the people desperate to get the best view. She’d wait for a break in the crowd to execute her plan.

  Narra paused in the shadow of a chimney. A long line of steamwagon’s inched down the hill toward the Shopping District. Each car was black with the flag of Rova fluttering in the wind on a pole tethered to the back. At the center of the spectacle, with a row of soldiers on either side of the open-backed steamwagon, was the former emperor in a glass casket. He was dressed in a black military suit with medallions decorating his lapel, and a sword clutched in his hands.

  His face was serene, with two specially crafted gold coins over his eyes. She’d never be able to see the design from her rooftop, but she knew the coins held a special design of Srah on each face—the god bent down, hands clasped in a silent prayer.

  The steamwagon was drenched in white flowers. The edges of the glass casket were clasped in gold and bronze. A band played a soft tune from the wagon ahead of it, and a hundred citizens occupied the single street, crowding on the sidewalks, trying desperately to peer over one another to see their fallen leader. Some wept into their handkerchiefs, and others stared with forlorn looks on their faces.

  Narra had to resist rolling her eyes at the dramatic spectacle. It was disgusting. A casket that lavish would have cost thousands of rovin. That money could be used to feed the children begging at the back of the crowd, or pay a century’s worth of taxes for the poor baker holding his hat against his chest in silent reverence.

  She twisted her lip in a sneer as she picked her way across the back of the steeple, careful to stay out of sight of the soldiers below. If any of them caught her movements, someone would be sent to investigate.

  At least a dozen cars followed the opulent steamwagon of the emperor. All were decadent, sleek, and freshly cleaned. Their black and bronze frames shone in the afternoon light.

  Narra scanned the carriages until she found one with a mahogany roof hatch and deep violet curtains in the windows.

  That one had to be Marina’s. It matched the princess’s style too perfectly, and with the royal seal on the door, a person of royal blood had to be inside. She looked at the hatch in the top, and her lips quirked, growing into a twisted smile. Narra knew exactly how she was getting in.

  Creeping ahead of the procession, Narra moved quickly down the street, leaping from building to building. The sun had dried up most of the morning dew by now, leaving her an easy path between closely packed shops. She worked her way down the Shopping District, following the crowds of people until the bustle began to thin in one tight section of road next to a trolley, most likely shut down for the day. There were Patrolmen ushering people back behind a blockade. Two streets down, when the road widened again, the same was happening, and the crowd continued.

  That’d be her shot. Once Marina’s steamwagon rolled beside the trolley, she’d leap inside and confront the princess. Her escape would have to be quick if she wanted to get out unseen. Though the procession moved slowly, she’d be lucky to have two minutes alone with the princess.

  Narra bit her lip. If she didn’t escape in time, she could use her grappling hook to fly away, but would the procession be stopped? Would they pause to investigate, even in the middle of a funeral? She doubted it, but under Marina’s law anything was possible.

  Marina had been keeping to the palace since arresting the Guild, making sure she was always surrounded by guards. Shaking her head, Narra decided this was her only shot to get Marina alone. Making her way to the alley between buildings, Narra made sure the area was clear of Patrolmen before she slipped out and climbed the stairs at the back of the trolley. She moved quickly, hoisting herself up the ladder and onto the roof.

  Her heart pounded in her ears as she pressed her stomach against the cold metal, making herself inconspicuous below the roof’s raised lip.

  The murmurs of the crowd grew louder up ahead, and Narra peeked up in time to see the first steamwagon round the bend in the road. They moved slowly, painfully so, as they lurched through the hoards of people.

  Narra pressed her fingers against the cool steel, and a shiver ran down her spine. Dew still clung to the top of the trolley, seeping through her cloak and shirt. It wasn’t comfortable lying on top of so many weapons, not to mention the hard metal, but she wouldn’t need to stay long. As soon as Marina’s steamwagon arrived, she’d leap inside, and her discomfort would be forgotten.

  Long minutes passed as the procession moved by. With the height of the trolley, none of the drivers or foot soldiers would be able to see her.

  A smile quirked her lips, and she even dared to glance up a few times to see exactly where they were at.

  The rumble of a dozen pairs of boots passed by, and Narra pressed herself against the trolley. The glass casket of the fallen emperor was the only thing high enough to see her. Too bad he was dead, or she was sure he’d have sounded the alarm.

  Her insides twisted as the steamwagon carrying the emperor’s body passed. She had gotten a good look at the pale skin and sunken cheeks of Malek Kolarova, and then he was gone. Another few carriages passed before Marina’s more elegant steamwagon rolled into view.

  Her breathing hitched, and she jumped into a crouch, her pulse racing with anticipation. It had been days since she’d seen Marina face to face. The memory of her sneer flashed before Narra’s eyes, and heat flared inside her.

  Then Marina’s steamwagon was next to the trolley.

  Without thinking, Narra leapt the few feet between roofs, landing directly on the hatch and forcing it open.

  Her feet hit the floor of the steamwagon hard, jostling her in either direction before she steadied herself on the uneven floor.

  A gasp broke the stillness inside the wagon, and Narra looked up to meet wide hazel eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. Marina’s face was framed with a few dark curls that fell to her collarbones. The rest was pinned up with a black veil in an artful design. Even at a funeral she looked pretty.

  Narra met Marina’s gaze. They were both silent for a long moment, staring each other down.

  Narra mentally slapped herself.
She hated that even after Marina took her thieves, she still found the woman attractive. She had to keep hold of herself and her emotions. She was there for a purpose, which the embers of her anger suddenly reminded her of. Narra sat down opposite the princess, resting a hand meaningfully on her exposed dagger.

  “Good morning,” Narra said, unable to hold the bite from her words.

  “Narra,” Marina said, sounding breathless from surprise.

  Warmth coiled in Narra’s chest, very unlike the hot coals of her rage. She cursed herself for letting the way Marina said her name get to her. She shouldn’t care how the soon-to-be empress said her name. She was nothing but a thieving rat.

  “You look… well,” Narra added. She wasn’t sure why she said it, but part of her wanted to taunt Marina, while the rest of her wanted to throttle or kiss her. It made no sense in her mind, but she desperately wanted to do one of the three.

  Marina gulped as she looked the thief up and down. “You do as well.”

  Narra’s gaze flashed to Marina’s trembling fingers laid carefully in her lap. Where was the strong-headed princess now? Where was the evil witch that stole her thieves? An angry growl threatened to worm its way between her teeth, but Narra quickly squashed it.

  “My deepest condolences for the loss of your father,” Narra added in a flat monotone.

  Marina winced, and Narra’s lips twitched in a taunting smile. They both knew it was Marina’s fault that her father was dead. She’d manipulated Narra into doing the deed, but it was Marina’s fault the emperor was being buried today.

  “Thank you,” Marina said quietly. She shifted awkwardly on her bench .

  “I have a message for you,” Narra said. Her words brought back images of Ria in her apartment. It wasn’t so much a message she had to give Marina, but an ultimatum. One that would decide the fate of her thieves.

  “Oh?” Marina quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

  “Return my thieves, and call off their execution, or watch your empire go up in flames.”

  Marina stared at her with wide eyes for a long moment before a smile cracked her façade and a laugh burst from her chest. Narra stilled with confusion, her eyebrows furrowing as she inspected the princess.

  “You threaten me ?” Marina laughed louder, and Narra’s fingers clenched around the hilt of her dagger.

  “Do as I say, Princess, or I will kill soldier after soldier in your employ until your entire country revolts against you.”

  Marina’s laughter stopped abruptly, and it was Narra’s turn to smile.

  “So you’re the one killing my soldiers?” Marina bristled, her pretty face twisting into something vengeful and ugly.

  “Of course.” Narra leaned forward. “And I’ll keep killing your soldiers until the entire empire is certain that Lady Death has turned her wrath upon you. They’ll usurp your throne, and the entire country will descend into chaos. Is that what you want? Another civil war?”

  Marina’s fists shook and her hazel eyes speared Narra with rage. She hadn’t expected this, not one bit. Narra took solace in that. The princess had to know Narra would retaliate, but even Narra hadn’t thought she’d go this far.

  “You wouldn’t,” Marina said at last. “You wouldn’t cause another Century of Blood just for your thieves. You’re a criminal, Narra, but you’re not stupid.”

  Narra stood suddenly, leaning forward to put her hands on either side of Marina’s head, forcing Marina’s back against the wall. Her eyes rounded in surprise and confusion as Narra met her gaze.

  “I would do anything for my Guild,” Narra said coldly .

  Marina froze in place, her gaze falling from Narra’s eyes to her lips. For a second, Narra lost her resolve. Her heartbeat pounded hard against her ribs, and her stomach twisted into knots. Only a few days ago, she would have kissed Marina when she was this close. She’d craved the princess’s touch, and the feel of her lips. But now, their closeness only drew out Narra’s fire. Rage burned through her stomach, pushing away her desire.

  Narra stepped away from Marina, bent over slightly in the short space. She’d stayed long enough. She’d delivered her ultimatum, and now it was time to go before she was found out.

  “I’ll say it one more time, Princess ,” she spat Marina’s title like a curse. “Let my thieves go, and the killing stops. Continue to keep my family from me, and your streets will run red by week’s end.”

  Marina’s gaze flashed up to meet Narra’s, and her surprise faded to anger. “You’re bluffing.”

  Narra smiled. “Defy me, and you’ll find out just how serious I am.”

  Marina growled as Narra slammed her palm against the roof hatch, throwing it outward. It cracked against the carriage roof, and Narra pulled herself through before Marina could utter another word.

  Cold air brushed her hair back, and she glanced at the crowd growing closer by the second. Before she could think better of it, Narra brandished her grappling hook and fired at the nearest building. It wrapped around the chimney and the claws clanked against the brick.

  Narra hit the release and embraced the wind rushing past her on all sides. Then her feet hit the worn shingles, and she took off over the rooftops. She had one more thing to do this day. One thing that might very well be her end, but if it meant getting her thieves back, it’d be worth it.

  The funeral procession would end at Srah’s Cathedral, and Narra could think of no better way to publicly declare her allegiance to Lady Death than by defacing the sacred temple half of Rova City was about to visit.

  Narra sailed over the rooftops until the triple steeples of the largest church in Rova City came into view. The stone structure towered over the surrounding buildings and took up nearly four blocks. The windows were made of stained glass, and the bricks were as large as her torso. How the structure had ever been created, she wasn’t quite sure. No man could lift stones that large, though there had been many advancements in technology in the last twenty or so years.

  She touched down on the roof of a small shop facing the grand church. Though many such cathedrals have been erected since the dawn of the empire, over the last few centuries they hadn’t been used as much as they once were.

  Even as a child, her father never took her to church like the other Guild members took their children. As she grew up, less and less of her neighbors went to the cathedral twice a week, and the practice seemed to fall out of style. That is until Caroline had gone running through the streets screaming about the return of the Sun God.

  Narra sighed and shook her head as she assessed the cathedral. The crowd the funeral procession would pass through was blockaded a street up by a squadron of Patrolmen. The royal family would be the first to enter the cathedral, and only then would the rest of the population be permitted to view the former emperor’s deceased form.

  Until then, the cathedral might be packed with church workers. She’d have to be careful to get in and out without their notice.

  Taking a deep breath, Narra inspected the street one last time before circling the block to come up on the back of the church. She flew across the space between buildings, reaching the third story steeples with a quick burst of compressed air from her grappling hook.

  Her heart pounded hard as she slipped into the shadows of the steeple on the right. She looked out, inspecting the street for anyone that might have seen her. But no one was around on this side of the church, and she was able to slip around the steeple quietly until she reached the third-floor windows. A few were held open by thin metal poles. With hardly any windows that opened, it had to be stuffy inside.

  At least luck was on her side for now.

  Narra ducked under the lip of the window and peeked her head inside. Beyond the stained glass, the third floor window was a long drop to the first floor. Rafters passed through the open space, falling into darkness this high above the chandeliers. Down below, a path separated the rows of benches, going directly from the closed double doors to the front of the church. There was enough spa
ce on either side of the pews for people to walk along and find an open seat. A table was set up at the front of the church, ready to display the emperor’s corpse above the crowd. A velvet rope surrounded the table, which she assumed would be used to keep people from getting too close to the casket.

  On the back wall, the grand architecture was complemented nicely by an ornate painting depicting Srah, a halo of sunlight around his golden head of curls, and his hands splayed out at his sides, light emanating from his palms.

  Narra looked between each pew for church workers, but none could be found. She heard soft noises from the back doors, but they were closed, and no one walked in.

  Her timing couldn’t be more perfect, and Narra wondered if this was how most funerals went. She’d never been to one before, not that she could remember. Her mother’s was when she was far too young, and Erik’s parents hadn’t been able to afford one for his mother. His father, on the other hand, hadn’t deserved to be buried, and was instead burned at midday. No one had stayed to mourn the man, not like the Rovan citizens outside mourned the emperor.

  Beyond the table in which the casket would sit upon was a podium with a golden bowl large enough to fit an entire turkey. It was filled almost the entire way with blood.

  From what she remembered of Rovan customs, pig’s blood was used to symbolize Srah’s, and the deceased emperor’s forehead would be marked with it before his body was interred.

  It’d give Narra the utensil she needed to write her message. Everyone in Rova City would know her decree to Ashra.

  Narra crawled along the ledge surrounding the third floor until she found a ladder at the back of the church hall. She quickly climbed down to the main floor. She crept through the shadows, past ornate iron candelabras and portraits of former emperors and religious figures, until she reached the front of the church. She ascended the few stairs to the golden bowl with the pig’s blood and stared up at the three story painting of Srah.