“Ooh! Ooh!” Pip clapped her hands, her green pigtails bobbing as she nodded in approval at the cropped jacket of midnight blue silk that Meg held up.
“Thank Athene,” Charlotte breathed, snatching the jacket from Meg’s hand and slipping it on. The delicate jacket was hardly as durable as Charlotte’s usual clothing, but at least it wasn’t as transparent as the gown.
Among the trio of young women, Pip was the only one still wearing her normal clothes: a dark leather skirt and a cotton chemise nipped in by a leather halter vest. Meg’s dress had changed to reflect her adopted station for the mission. Meg’s preferred wardrobe consisted of full muslin skirts dyed in bright colors and soft, white cotton shirts cinched by corsets she embroidered herself. But this morning she wore a simple high-waisted dress in the muted shade of a rainy sky, and a watery blue grosgrain ribbon circled the dress just beneath her bosom. It was a costume—just like Charlotte’s.
When Jack explained that Meg would accompany Charlotte to the Floating City as her maidservant, Charlotte had immediately been uneasy with the arrangement. Not only was Meg two years older than Charlotte, but Meg played the part of kind caretaker, in counterpart to Ash’s gruffer leadership style. It was Meg to whom Charlotte went when she needed advice or to blow off steam about her brother. As much as Charlotte was grateful to have Meg’s company in the Floating City, the thought of anyone regarding Meg as a servant, and therefore a lesser being, left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Meg regarded Charlotte wistfully, then said, “We should go. They’ll be waiting for you. Pip, help me with the trunk.”
“I can help you—” Charlotte began.
“No, you can’t,” Meg cut her off, taking one of the trunk’s handles. She gestured for Pip to lift the other side. “And you must remember that, Lottie. As a lady of society, you do not do anything for yourself. You have servants for that. If you act otherwise, it will cast suspicion on your story.”
Though her stomach twisted with disgust, Charlotte forced a nod. She and Jack had almost come to blows several times over the past two days as he’d led her through the ridiculous maze that was life as an aristocratic lady in the Floating City. Their near fisticuffs were the result of Charlotte constantly interrupting Jack, suspicious that he was making up the behaviors and rules she found so ludicrous. Finally, Meg had to join their lessons and chaperone. Whenever Charlotte objected to something Jack told her to do, Meg was there to reassure Charlotte that Jack was not in fact winding her up for his own amusement. Even though Charlotte trusted Meg to keep Jack in line, the bizarre customs of the Floating City left Charlotte more than a little bewildered. Her initial sense of triumph at gaining a role in the mission had faded, and she approached her departure from the Catacombs with more trepidation than excitement.
Meg offered Charlotte an encouraging smile. “Good. Now lead the way to the Dragonfly and keep your gown lifted. You don’t want it completely soiled at the hem when you arrive in the city.”
As Charlotte picked her way through the Catacombs, Pip’s voice bubbled into the air, full of speculation about what sights and adventures awaited them in the Floating City. Pip seemed remarkably optimistic about the mission, whereas Charlotte felt like they were flying straight into the mouth of a hungry lion. But Pip wasn’t the only one who’d taken the revelation of Jack’s true identity as something marvelous and wonderful when they’d joined the others at dinner two nights past.
Scoff had immediately peppered Jack with questions about whether the Imperial Armed Forces mandated a regimen of tonics. Birch wanted to know if Jack could start smuggling better parts to the Catacombs than what came from the scavenging runs to the Heap. While her friends flocked around Jack, seeking knowledge like baby birds begging for food, Charlotte had snuck away to sit with Grave. Since the strange boy had taken to his cage without complaint, Ash had relented and agreed to keep Grave in a locked room rather than behind iron bars. They’d learned nothing more about his origins or why he could be bludgeoned in the head to no effect.
Scoff had tried to convince Meg that his Elixir of Intentions was their only option, but fortunately Meg put her foot down. And after she caught Scoff sneaking a few drops of his concoction into a cup of water intended for Grave, Meg banished him from the captive boy’s presence.
The Dragonfly’s arrival and the imminent journey into New York kept most of Charlotte’s companions occupied with preparations, and their attentions drawn away from the mystery of Grave. Meg took the strange boy’s well-being as her responsibility, in addition to preparing him for the part he’d play during their excursion to the city. Though now that Charlotte knew a bit about Meg’s wariness of Grave, she wondered if Meg wasn’t hovering around him as a guard rather than a friend.
When Charlotte crested the rise of the seldom-used path that would take her to the Dragonfly, she saw Grave standing beside her brother, giving assistance with the ship’s preparation for departure. Grave’s lean frame and absurdly pale skin were unmistakable, but his hair had changed color from translucent blond to pitch-black. Noticing their arrival, Ash ran up to them, taking hold of Meg’s side of the trunk.
“Didn’t you offer to help?” Ash scolded Charlotte.
Meg clucked her tongue. “Of course she did, Ash. I told her she shouldn’t offer help when I’m to be her maidservant. She needs to act the part. No exceptions.”
“Of course,” Ash said, giving Meg an abashed glance. “Sorry, Meg.”
Charlotte looked at her brother expectantly, but Ash didn’t bother apologizing to her. With a little huff of annoyance, Charlotte trotted ahead of the trunk bearers to join Grave near the Dragonfly’s gangplank.
“What happened to your hair?” Charlotte blurted out, but Grave didn’t appear bothered by her lack of tact.
A little smile graced his mouth. “Scoff gave me an elixir.”
Temper boiling up, Charlotte asked, “The Elixir of Intentions? I thought Meg had banished him from experimenting on you.”
“Experimenting?” Grave’s eyes widened. “No. It was just to change my hair.”
Recognizing a scent, Charlotte leaned closer to Grave and sniffed. Licorice.
“Are you sure that’s all it was?”
He nodded, and Charlotte tamped down her anger, determined to take him at his word.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grave said, looking up at the aircraft.
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, admiring the hammered sheets of copper and bronze that decorated the Dragonfly’s body. Spying the machine guns that protruded from the craft’s underbelly, she added, “And frightening.”
Grave sighed, and Charlotte was sorry she’d said something to upset him. “I’m glad Ash came to his senses.”
Grave’s brow furrowed.
“You aren’t locked up,” Charlotte supplied. “And we’ll figure out who you are once we’re in the city.”
Another sigh. “Maybe I should be locked up. What if we find out who I am, and I’m something we don’t want me to be?”
Fumbling for words, Charlotte was saved from the awkward pause by Ash’s arrival.
“Grave, let’s get this trunk into the cargo hold,” Ash said.
Pip prepared to hand off her side to Grave, but he spread his arms along its length and pulled it away from both of them.
“Holy Hephaestus!” Pip jumped up, banging her head on the underside of one of the wings. “Ouch!”
“I’m sure Scoff has a tonic for that.” Jack laughed as he came down the gangplank. “Though it might mean giving up your green hair.”
He halted when he reached Grave. “You’re not finding that big box a little too heavy?”
“Erm . . . no?” Grave answered.
“Righto.” Jack’s wary gaze slid to Ash, but he told Grave, “Better take it on up, then.”
Jack jumped off the side of the plank so that Grave could carry the tr
unk into the aircraft.
“Brilliant plan, mate,” Jack remarked in a wry tone to Ash. “No doubts about it at all. Though I sure hope he doesn’t accidentally punch a hole in the Dragonfly’s side while I’m piloting her.”
“He’ll be fine,” Ash replied curtly. “I see you finally got dressed.”
“I do what I have to do.”
Jack’s "dress" was precisely the reason Charlotte couldn’t stop staring at him.
He’d traded his brown buckled and dagger-laden boots for knee-high black boots that were polished to a sheen. Close-fitting gray breeches hugged his thighs, hips, and waist. The open-collared shirt and suspenders Jack usually wore had been replaced by a stiff scarlet military coat closed by two rows of shining brass buttons and crossed by a gleaming white sash that fell from his shoulder to his hip. Charlotte couldn’t find any signs of Jack’s preferred weapons. Instead a light sword hung at his waist, and opposite the sword, the bright silver handle of a pistol, crafted to resemble a lion’s head, peeked out of its holster. Charlotte frowned, knowing Jack liked his weapons innovative and practical. This gun and sword looked like pieces of art, not arms.
Feeling her gaze, Jack looked at Charlotte. When he met her eyes, he winced and she caught a self-mocking cast in his expression. Her cheeks reddened at being caught staring, but Jack went pale as he took in her carefully pinned hair and silk gown. Casting his gaze downward, Jack scuffed his heel on the ground.
“Looks like you’re ready for the trip.”
“You too,” Charlotte said.
He nodded in reply, but wouldn’t look up at her.
Did she appear utterly foolish to him dressed like this?
It would have been unsurprising, and possibly reassuring, for Jack to tease her about her costume, but his silence was like a slap in the face.
Jack shifted his weight and said to Ash, “You’re set on this plan? You really think it’s safe to take him with us? We could still call it off. The two of us can get into the city to meet Lazarus easily enough.”
Charlotte caught Jack’s quick glance in her direction. He didn’t want her on this trip, and seeing her gussied up in this costume was making him realize what folly their plan was.
Ash said, “The plan is set. We’re not changing anything.”
Jack spun on his heel and ducked back into the Dragonfly.
“He doesn’t think I can pull this off.” Charlotte picked at her filmy skirt. “I can’t say I blame him.”
“Don’t be a ninny.” Ash gave her a withering look. “Jack knows you’ll be fine. He’s just . . . distracted by other things. It’s put him on edge.”
“What other things?” Charlotte frowned.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ash replied, glancing up the gangplank after Jack.
“Do you think it will be enough that Grave’s hair is black?” Charlotte asked. “In case anyone is looking for him.”
Ash shrugged. “It’ll do.”
Knowing she should bite her tongue, Charlotte couldn’t help adding, “You do realize this means you’re leaving Birch and Scoff in charge of the Catacombs.”
“Of course I realize that,” Ash replied curtly.
Charlotte gave her brother a long look. “And you aren’t worried that half of the caverns will be blown apart while we’re gone? Or that we’ll return to find the children have purple skin and hair that looks and smells like cherries?”
“Don’t push me, Charlotte,” Ash said. “Just get on the ship.”
With a huff, Charlotte stomped up the gangplank. She paused once she was on the ship. The gangplank delivered her to a narrow holding bay that linked the cockpit and the cabin. Charlotte turned left and poked her head into the flight deck. Jack was at the helm, surrounded by brass gears, cranks, and levers. Mimicking a dragonfly’s eyes, the front of the ship was thick curving glass framed with brass that offered the pilot a panoramic view.
“I wanted to say thanks before we go . . . for all you taught me about city society,” Charlotte said, hoping to quell any doubts Jack was having about her part in the mission.
“I’m busy, Charlotte.” Jack didn’t turn around. “Go to the cabin and strap yourself in.”
He began flipping switches. The Dragonfly shuddered as its engine came to life. Charlotte glared at the back of Jack’s head, willing him to turn around, but he didn’t. Making a noise of disgust, Charlotte whirled and nearly collided with Ash.
“Charlotte, why aren’t you in the cabin?” Her brother frowned. “We’re about to take off.”
Charlotte didn’t answer, but shoved past Ashley. The gangplank clanged loudly as it folded in on itself, retracting into the ship. Meg and Grave were in the cabin, already seated with leather harnesses crisscrossing their chests to secure them in their seats. Too angry to be bothered with conversation, Charlotte took a seat near the gun wells tucked into the front of the cabin. Unlike the passenger chairs, which were stationary, the gunner’s station had swiveling seats to permit the weapon’s operator to track targets over a broad range. Charlotte’s perch afforded much better views of the terrain through its spherical glass lookout than Meg and Grave would have through the tiny portholes that ran the length of the Dragonfly. Buckling herself into the harness, she eased her foul mood by gazing out at the machine guns. Jack might resent her being there, but Charlotte assuaged her bruised pride by imagining how easily she could man the gun and protect them should the need arise.
Above the gun well, the Dragonfly’s wings began to stir. The forewing and hindwing on each side of the ship beat in ever-swifter counterstrokes, and soon the craft was hovering in the cavern. Through the glass, Charlotte saw Pip at the entrance to the Catacombs, jumping up and down as she waved her good-byes.
The Dragonfly turned smoothly, and suddenly the ground fell away. Charlotte gasped when they cleared the cavern and she was staring down into the gorge below. Her stomach dropped as the ship lifted, soaring into the sky at what felt like an impossible speed.
Charlotte heard Meg calling her name, but she kept her chair turned away from the back of the cabin. The Dragonfly rose up and up; the forest and river blurred into a mess of greens and blues far below and then disappeared as they cleared the clouds. Charlotte had to shield her eyes from the dazzling sunlight that poured over her, but her heart was fit to burst from exhilaration. She wished she were with Jack in the cockpit so she could see him maneuver the aircraft and understand how the ship could move so nimbly. More than that, she wanted to see what Jack was like at the helm. Was he anxious as a pilot, having fled from the military a year before? Or had he longed to fly again? Since she’d learned about Jack’s past, they’d all been so caught up in preparations for this journey that she hadn’t been able to speak with him at all. And she had so many questions about the life he’d kept hidden. To see him pilot the Dragonfly would be a window into the past that so fascinated her.
Charlotte wanted to study Jack’s face, to know if she’d find joy or fear in his expression. Her fingers curled around the arms of the gunner’s chair as she thought of not only watching Jack, but sitting close to him as he controlled the aircraft. Her daydream evolved of its own accord, and she imagined reaching out to rest her hand over Jack’s to feel the way he guided the ship.
Startled by the sudden turn in her thoughts, Charlotte quickly shook her head to clear the unbidden vision. Her cheeks were heated and her breath short, but Charlotte assured herself that it was nothing and refocused on the swiftly passing clouds and endless expanse of sky.
12.
AN HOUR LATER, lulled by the tranquility of the cloud line, Charlotte began to drift off. Before sleep could steal her from consciousness, Ash’s voice barked through the cabin.
“We’re approaching HMCS Hector. Prepare to dock in a quarter of an hour.”
Charlotte tried to jump up, but had forgotten that she was harnessed into her chair. When the lea
ther straps restrained her, she dropped hard onto the seat and banged her head.
“Shield of Athene!”
“Are you all right, Lottie?” Meg called.
Rubbing the back of her head, Charlotte swiveled around. “I’m fine, Meg.”
“You needn’t worry about standing until we’ve docked,” Meg told her. “There are bound to be a few bumps during our arrival.”
Charlotte nodded, but when she turned back to the window, she was frowning. How did Meg know what docking at one of the Empire’s dirigibles was like? Had Jack told her? Had she experienced it before? Were all of her companions keeping secrets?
Resenting that facts seemed to be constantly hidden from her, Charlotte leaned forward as much as the harness would allow, hoping to catch a glimpse of HMCS Hector. At first her view remained only a vast sea of clouds, but then something loomed at the edge of her vision. Charlotte strained against the leather straps, but she could see only a brass propeller slicing through the air.
Cursing under her breath, Charlotte unbuckled the harness and freed herself from the chair.
“Charlotte, sit down!” Meg shouted.
Charlotte ignored the command and made her way from the cabin to the cockpit. She wanted to see the airship before they docked, bumps be damned. Bracing herself in the flight deck’s entryway, Charlotte gasped at the view from the Dragonfly’s helm.
His Majesty’s Colonial Ship Hector blotted out half the sky. Smoke and flame belched from towering columns into four balloons as large and black as thunderclouds. Suspended from the balloons was a long, slender craft featuring two decks—it appeared that the upper deck had been designed for military purposes, considering the massive guns that jutted from the sides of the ship, while the lower deck accommodated the needs of civilians, as it featured viewing portholes.
The figure protruding from the ship’s bow was a roaring lion’s head. Charlotte glanced at Jack’s waist, confirming what she’d thought. The silver lion on the handle of his pistol was identical to that on the ship.