Page 22 of A Forbidden Alchemy

Scottie and Otto shifted about uncomfortably, as though considering for the first time that I might be a threat to them. “Ah, she’s all bluster, Patty,” Scottie said warily. “This one’s scared of the tunnels, ain’t you, miss? Barely kept herself together—”

“Do you know what all the little Artisan boys and girls are taught to do in that school, Scottie?” Patrick asked casually.

The man hesitated. “They—”

“They’re taught to paint and write poems and sing very prettily,” Patrick was pulling a new cigarette between his lips.

“And they’re taught how to put on a character, to act.

” The sound of struck flint, a burst of orange.

His face was illuminated, then doused in shadow again.

He played with the lighter haphazardly but stared at me.

“She ain’t afraid of the tunnels, lads.”

Scottie was momentarily struck dumb, or at least dumber. His gaze swiveled toward me with fresh appraisal. “But she were whimperin’,” he said weakly.

“She were actin’ ,” Patrick corrected. He eyed me blankly. “In the hopes you’d think she weren’t the earth Charmer.”

Patrick watched me, waiting for me to deny it, perhaps, but I shrugged indifferently.

He wasn’t exactly correct, it was true I’d hoped to fool them, but it hadn’t been difficult to fake fear so far beneath the surface.

If those tunnels had collapsed, I wouldn’t have been able to charm a damn thing, though I had no intention of telling Patrick that.

“She hasn’t got any idium on board, lads,” Patrick said then, seemingly amused as he watched me. “Hasn’t had a hit in a while, I’d bet.”

So he was an arrogant prick, then. “Idium is in terribly short supply, Mr. Colson. Rumor has it the Union has the last Alchemist chained to a wall somewhere.”

Scottie spat on the ground in faux outrage, and Otto gave the canary cage an incensed shake. “Those ruddy bastards,” he said theatrically.

“Fuckin’ thieves, the lot of them.”

Patrick’s slight smile didn’t break. “I’ve never much cared for rumors.”

I sighed. “And am I to believe that you lot are the Miners Union welcoming party?”

Patrick blew out an achingly slow cloud of smoke, and in the silence, I squirmed. He had a way of stealing the air, leaving you vulnerable. “I’ve been searchin’ for you, Miss Clarke,” he drawled. “Me and everyone else, it seems.”

I squared my shoulders, though my knees shook. “Well, here I am.”

“There you are.” I thought there was a speck of wonderment in his voice. “And right lucky it is that I’d be the one to find you. I imagine you’ve earned yourself quite the prison sentence by now. They’re jailing rebels and deserters alike these days.”

“Is that your deal then?” I asked, eyes narrowing. “Do as you say, or you’ll throw me to the House of Lords?”

He pretended that I hadn’t spoken. “I’ve come to the assumption you’ve only remained neutral all this time because there’s some morsel of sympathy you can’t rid yourself of. For Crafters, I mean. For the Miners Union.”

“For terrorists?” I asked. “No, sir. My sympathy is reserved for civilians—the ones who never asked to be a part of your war.”

“Hmm,” he graveled, the sound cinching my stomach. “Then we’ll need to change your mind. Redeem ourselves.”

I wanted to laugh at him. How could all that blood possibly be redeemed? “What do you want from me?”

He waited a beat. Considered his words carefully. “Partnership.”

“And if I refuse?”

“There’s a train leaving Kenton Hill in a half hour,” he said easily. “I’ll take you there myself.”

“And tie me to the tracks, most likely.”

The men chortled. Patrick’s eyebrows rose. “Do you think us gangsters, miss?”

I did. It was written in the way he stood, in the pistol strapped to his side beneath his coat. “I think you’re murderers,” I said coldly.

He nodded sagely, stubbed out his cigarette. “Not all of us can be daughters of aristocrats, I suppose.” Then his eyes bore into mine again, and there was that missing glint, that shiver of trouble. We were twelve once more, daring each other to steal cakes.

He doesn’t know who you are , I thought, trying to ease my thrumming pulse.

“If you don’t want me for a partner, then I’ll let you be on your way, miss. You can go back to sleepin’ in the slums and tellin’ your lies and scrapin’ for a meal, awaitin’ the day Tanner catches up with you.”

I didn’t bother to argue. It wasn’t so far from the mark.

“Or, you could agree, and in a few short months, when our business is done, I’ll ensure your safe passage off this continent.”

I stilled. My heart galloped.

“Ah, you see?” His eyes trailed over me, raised gooseflesh over my skin. “There’s something you want. A one-way ticket on a big old steamer headed anywhere but here. To the islands, maybe, where there’s no idium to fight over, and no one’s ever heard of the renowned Nina Clarke.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How long have your men followed me?”

Otto chuckled. “Long enough to know that you prefer the seaside towns, the ports and harbors. I watched you try and bribe your way onto one of them cargo ships.”

I shivered at the thought of this man tailing me for that long, just out of sight.

“But they’re all jammed up and anchored,” Otto rambled. “Tanner won’t let anyone in or out, will he? I figure there ain’t much a woman on the run wouldn’t do for escape.”

“A tale as old as Idia,” I said darkly. “Men have always believed the way to win a war is to hold a woman hostage.”

Patrick shook his head. “Then you misunderstand me. You’re no hostage. Partner with me, and I’ll get you on a ship out of Hoaklin by the end of spring.”

My entire being coiled at the thought of that ship headed away, headed anywhere. But it was impossible. As Otto said, I’d tried every port, every fisherman, every vessel manned by a Crafter.

But no one could leave, and certainly not someone who looked strikingly like a wanted bulletin.

The canary screeched. I shivered. Somewhere above us all, a distant bell rang.

Seven years I’d avoided this. Avoided these impossible choices in a fight that would likely never end.

I didn’t believe Patrick Colson. No one had a way out of the Trench. And as for running, if I were to leave Kenton Hill now, I’d find myself in shackles soon after, I was sure. “What is it that you want me to do?” Not an acceptance, but not a denial, either.

“Talk,” Patrick said. “I need information. Things you might know about the House.”

“And?”

“And, I need your tunnelin’ expertise.”

“A miner asking an Artisan to build a tunnel?” I muttered, shaking my head. “Where will the tunnels lead?”

“That depends,” Patrick answered, voice snaking into my insides once more, “on how much you talk. Do we have a deal?”

He waited. Otto and Scottie were silent. Even the canary paused its tirade.

I wavered. “I need to know that you’ll fulfill your end of the bargain. There are no ships in or out of Belavere Trench. How will you get me out?”

“There is one ship that continues its passage. It won’t be stopped at port.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it won’t make port at all,” Patrick said. “The ship will hold some supplies I’ve purchased from far-off lands. It will anchor briefly for one hour in late June, east of Hoaklin. You’ll be ferried to it.”

I chewed on my tongue, shifted my feet. Hoaklin was a fishing village. Its boats still trundled over lazy waves a short way south. If it were true, if he could get me out, then it would all be over. No more war. No more running.

I’d been running for too long. “I won’t kill anyone.”

“I won’t ask you to,” he stated. There was no humor in his voice now.

“And I won’t blow anything up.” I thought of Aunt Francis.

He nodded. “Just tunnels. You have my word.”

I sighed deeply, reigned in a shiver that went bone deep, and glared at Patrick Colson. “Then find me somewhere to sleep and something to wear,” I said, wrapping my arms around my torso. “Maybe something to drink.”

I thought I saw his shoulders sag some. “After you.” He gestured to the ladder behind him.

I felt his gaze on me as I climbed, rung after rung, and it made me clumsy. My foot slipped on the iron, and my pulse sprinted as his hand enveloped my ankle.

He doesn’t know who you are.

I clambered out into warmth and light, and Patrick followed.

“Welcome to Kenton Hill,” he said again as he rose to his feet.

Together we stood on a knoll where the setting sun above burned the clouds and made titanic shadows over rolling hills, chestnut trees, and the silhouette of a town in the distance.

“Hope your swank legs have strength enough for a short stroll.”

I tore my eyes from the town in the distance, looking back over my shoulder. Otto and Scottie did not emerge.

“They’ll be along,” Patrick answered before I could ask. He put his hands in his pockets and walked on. “Come.”

“And what if I were to attack you while it’s just the two of us? Don’t men like you need lackeys?”

He chuckled dully. Lit another cigarette. Released the smoke into the sky.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, Nina Harrow,” he said. “We know too much about each other. Don’t we?”