Throwing elbows and shoving people aside, Charlotte fought her way to the edge of the crowd. As she was pushed forward by the throng’s momentum, Charlotte reached out and grabbed the flap of a tent. Hauling herself away from the mob, she lurched free and began to run. Only when the whistles had grown softer did she slow, gasping for breath.
Jack and Ashley. She had to find them. Jack could get them out of the fair.
Charlotte turned in a circle, trying to get her bearings. She was still surrounded by tents of all colors and shapes. She spied the glittering frame of the Great Wheel in the distance and attempted to use that landmark to determine her own location.
It was useless. Charlotte hadn’t paid attention to the wheel’s position when she’d entered Madam Jedda’s pavilion. She had no idea how far she’d chased Grave. She didn’t know where she was nor how to find Jack and her brother.
As her pulse thrummed with fear, Charlotte weighed her options. The most important thing was avoiding capture. She supposed that if she was taken, she could offer up her fictional identity, play the naïve debutante, and plead innocence, but the way the entire fair had panicked at the raiders’ appearance made Charlotte suspect that even upstanding citizens could run afoul of them.
Her best course, Charlotte decided, was to find a hiding place and wait for the danger to pass. How long that would be, Charlotte couldn’t know, but if she was able to stay out of sight, she could find help when it was safe to come out. It was a desperate ploy, but it appeared to be her only option.
Rather than running again, Charlotte took to creeping along the edge of the tents. She clung to the places where shadows stretched. The whistles still shrieked, but they didn’t seem to be coming closer. Even so, Charlotte didn’t want to remain outdoors. But where to hide? Should she duck inside a tent and hope to find it empty? Would she be better off running out of the fair and into the darkness that lay beyond?
Charlotte sidled up to a broad pavilion of black and scarlet silks, pausing to weigh her options. A pair of hands shot out from a carefully concealed slit in the tent’s wall. Two slender arms wrapped around Charlotte, jerking her backward into the pavilion.
“I think someone’s lost,” a smoky voice whispered in her ear.
Charlotte snapped her head back and was rewarded with a startled cry of pain. Freed from her assailant’s grasp, Charlotte crouched and slipped the stiletto free from where it was tied to her calf.
The tent was dim, but Charlotte’s blade glinted when she lifted it.
“This kitten has claws, I see,” the stranger—a woman, Charlotte thought—said.
Charlotte sidestepped, holding the stiletto in front of her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She stumbled over something soft, perhaps a pillow, but didn’t fall. The enclosure was full of a cloying scent, heavy with honeysuckle and cigar smoke.
“Come here, kitten, and put that knife away,” the woman cooed. “I promise I can make you purr.”
“Athene’s mercy, Linnet,” a new voice boomed. “Stop teasing the girl before she cuts you. I’m sure she knows how to use that little blade.”
Charlotte shielded her eyes when a lantern blazed to life. The woman, whom Charlotte presumed to be Linnet, was more of a girl, possibly the same age as Charlotte, though her dress suggested otherwise. Linnet’s hair was the color of molasses and poured in soft waves down her back. She wore a corset of jade satin with silver fastenings that rendered her waist minuscule and her bosom overabundant. Her full skirt was black leather, and Charlotte’s breath caught when she saw dagger hilts protruding from the tops of Linnet’s suede boots. Charlotte knew how to use her blade, but she would have bet that Linnet had the greater skill.
“Augh.” Linnet cast an annoyed glance at the large man behind her. “I was just playing. She’s feisty! I thought we could be friends.”
“You can find a playmate when we’re not dealing with important business,” the man replied.
Linnet’s ruby-painted lips pulled back into a wicked smile. “Promise?”
The man grunted his annoyance and stepped into the full glare of the lantern light.
Charlotte gasped. “Lord Ott?”
“I see you took my advice about seeing the Tinkers’ Faire, Miss Marshall,” Lord Ott chortled. “Please don’t blame me for this shameful display of Imperial bullying. I assure you, most nights don’t take as dark a turn as this one. I happen to know that the Empire received intelligence that a meeting of the Resistance was taking place here tonight. Anywhere the Resistance is thought to find refuge, the Empire assaults without mercy or discretion for innocents caught in the cross fire.”
A hard lump formed in Charlotte’s throat as she remembered the woman’s face turned to a pulp of blood, bone, and teeth.
“So you can tease her, but I can’t?” Linnet complained.
Lord Ott cast a sidelong glance at Linnet. “When you’re paying me and not vice versa, you can tease all you want.”
“Watch yourself, old man, or you’ll find you’re prophesying.” Linnet laughed. “My services fetch a high price these days.”
“Don’t I know it,” Lord Ott groaned.
Charlotte took a moment to survey her surroundings. The room was part of a larger pavilion, but had been curtained off. The object Charlotte had tripped over was indeed a pillow, but only one of many. The room was filled with pillows and silk throws. After looking over the décor, Charlotte’s gaze returned to Linnet’s garb. Her cheeks burned, and she quickly looked away.
“Don’t blush for me, kitten,” Linnet said. “This is a sideshow, not the main event. Keeps things interesting, though.” To emphasize her words, Linnet swayed her hips, revealing a deep slit in the side of her skirt through which Charlotte caught a flash of alabaster skin. She blushed again, and Linnet laughed coarsely.
Forcing her chin up, Charlotte looked directly at Lord Ott. “I thought you were a reputable businessman.”
“I am a very successful businessman,” Lord Ott replied. “I dabble in most enterprises. The oldest profession remains the most lucrative, while the second most profitable is closely tied to the first. My primary industry is to deal in secrets. And many a man is all too willing to give those up in a place such as this.”
“Jack said you’re a friend of the Resistance. Are you telling me you’re a spy?” Charlotte frowned. For whom?
“As I said before, I am a businessman,” he told her. “Information is but one of the commodities I trade in. For instance, that the Empire would order a raid on tonight’s fair was particularly valuable to the rebels who avoided capture tonight.”
Charlotte went very still. Was he trying to tell her he was on her side? How could she know if his words were true? Lord Ott could simply be setting a trap for her to walk into.
Lord Ott’s self-congratulatory smile fell into disappointment. “Ah. Your young pilot didn’t tell you, I see. Very well, then. I can’t expect you to trust me without knowing who I truly am. I didn’t reveal myself to you on the ship because there were too many prying eyes and perked ears straining to see and hear what they should not.”
Linnet’s hands were on her hips. “If Jack didn’t bother to fill her in on any of the details, how do we know we can trust her?”
“Jack does trust me!” Charlotte objected, embarrassed by the sudden shrillness of her voice.
“My dear, we are all actors on the great stage of this world,” Lord Ott replied. “Jack likely wanted to keep things as quiet as possible on the Hector. Too many eager ears and prying eyes on such a transport.”
Turning to Linnet, he continued, “There’s no reason to suspect Lieutenant Winter’s confidence in Miss Marshall. If he’s withheld certain details, he’s probably just trying to ease her into the madhouse that is this city. The girl’s been hiding in a cave, after all. The Resistance is a different animal here.”
“I have not been hiding
in a cave!” Charlotte glared at them.
Linnet sniffed in disdain. “That’s not how Jack tells it.”
“How do you know Jack?” Charlotte snapped, and then wished she hadn’t.
Smiling slyly, Linnet answered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Linnet, stop tormenting Miss Marshall,” Lord Ott growled. “Must I remind you that she’s here under our protection? Jack will be cross with you if you keep going at her.”
“I’m more than a match for my brother,” Linnet said tartly. “Let him be cross.”
Charlotte’s breath exploded out. “Your brother?”
It couldn’t be true. Jack had said nothing of a sister, only an older brother.
“Half brother,” Linnet answered, examining her long nails in the lantern light. “And he doesn’t like to admit even half a relationship with the likes of me.”
Charlotte didn’t think she could handle another shock. She almost expected to wake up in her bed back at the Catacombs. This night was too full of madness to be real.
She wanted to collapse onto the pillows until her mind stopped reeling, but then she thought of what usually happened on those pillows and decided she’d best stay on her feet.
The heavy curtain that cordoned off the small room from the larger pavilion drew back, and a stranger—a man half the age of Lord Ott—stepped inside.
“She’s here?” He addressed Lord Ott.
Linnet rolled her eyes. “If you’d take one more step, you’d see her for yourself.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Linnet.” The new arrival wore a military uniform similar to Jack’s, but his jacket boasted numerous decorations that the younger Winter brother’s had lacked.
He leaned forward, eyed Charlotte, and said to Lord Ott, “When Jack said she was pretty, he wasn’t lying.”
“Athene save us,” Linnet huffed.
The stranger ignored Linnet and smiled at Charlotte. “And just who are you planning on sticking with that?”
Charlotte had nearly forgotten that she was still brandishing her stiletto. Then again, she wasn’t sure she had good reason to put it down.
“She’s wary, this one,” Lord Ott said. “Good head on her shoulders. Come now, Miss Marshall. He’s here to take you back up top.”
“I don’t know this man,” Charlotte said firmly, and backed away without lowering her blade. “I’m not going anywhere with him.”
“Weren’t at home to greet your guests, eh?” Lord Ott’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “That’s bad form, Coe.”
“Don’t try to teach me etiquette, you pirate,” Coe replied, grinning. “You know how busy I am. I wasn’t at home today, but it couldn’t be helped.”
Lord Ott said to Charlotte, “Don’t listen to his slander, girl. I’m just a clever businessman. Should you chance to meet a real pirate someday, you’ll know this lad for a liar.”
“I’ve met plenty of pirates,” Coe told them. “The only difference between you and them is that you know how to wear a costume.”
“Coe?” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Jack’s brother.”
“The same.” Coe gave a short bow. “Though I’d beg you not to judge me because of my brother . . . or my sister here.”
Linnet jabbed an elbow at Coe’s ribs, but he jumped out of the way.
“Yes, yes.” Lord Ott shoved Coe forward, and Charlotte barely got the stiletto out of the way before Coe bumped into her. “Miss Marshall, meet Air Commodore Coe Winter.”
“You almost bought me a knife between my ribs, old man.” Coe pivoted to glare at Lord Ott.
Lord Ott guffawed. “Maybe that’ll teach you to be on time. Now, get her out of here before the raiders come to check out this pavilion.”
“Are you going to stab me intentionally now, or will you be coming along without a fight?” Coe offered Charlotte his hand. “I did promise my brother and yours that I’d get you out of the fair safely."
Looking up at the officer, Charlotte noticed similarities between the two brothers. Coe was the taller of the two. While both boys had brown hair and sideburns, Coe’s hair was dark as chocolate, whereas Jack’s shone like bronze. Jack wore his hair long at the crown, but neatly clipped at the nape of his neck. Coe preferred the more traditional style—his hair would have grazed his shoulders had it not been tied back. Jack’s eyes were sharp and hazel, but Coe and Linnet had blue eyes, speckled with brown like a sparrow’s egg. All three siblings had the same straight, narrow nose.
“Jack and Ash are safe?” Charlotte asked Coe.
Coe laughed roughly. “In this world no one is ever safe, but if you mean did they escape the raiders’ notice—then yes, they’re both safe enough.”
Charlotte knelt and returned her blade to its sheath. She stood up and took Coe’s hand.
“Let’s go.”
Coe smiled at Charlotte, and her chest tightened. It was Jack’s smile, the one that made her pulse quicken, even when she was furious with him. Coe started toward the gap in the tent through which Linnet had first grabbed Charlotte.
Charlotte pulled back. If Lord Ott was all he claimed to be, she could use his help.
Charlotte turned to address the large man. “There’s someone else you need to find,” she said.
“And who might that be?” Lord Ott asked, hooking his thumbs through his waistcoat.
“A boy,” Charlotte said. “The raid frightened him, and he ran off, but he’ll be in danger in the city. He’s sick.”
Charlotte didn’t want to say anything more about Grave, hoping that Lord Ott would accept her brief explanation at face value.
“It’s not our practice to go chasing after infirm runaways,” Linnet scoffed, but she glanced at Lord Ott. “Right?”
“Did your brother say anything about this?” Lord Ott asked Coe, who shrugged.
“No, but the girl has no reason to lie to us.”
“Very well,” Lord Ott said. “And, Linnet, you’re right. It’s not our practice to go chasing after infirm runaways. But in this case, we’ll make an exception. Go fetch him.”
“Fine.” Linnet sighed. “But I should change. Can you get my cloak?”
She turned to Charlotte. “What’s your boy look like?”
Charlotte described Grave as best she could, which left Linnet frowning.
“No color to him? What kind of sickness does he have?”
“I’m not sure,” Charlotte told her, but quickly added, “He’s been with us for many days, though, and no one else has sickened.”
That seemed to satisfy Linnet. “Do I bring him here?”
“What am I going to do with him?” Lord Ott replied. “Return the missing boy to his companions at Winter mansion.”
“A trip to my home that never was?” Linnet smirked. “How lovely.”
Coe grimaced. “I haven’t ever told you to stay away.”
“Your mother has said I’m not welcome there,” Linnet replied. “And I’m happy to oblige.”
She pushed her way past Lord Ott and out of the room.
“Are you sure she should come to the house?” Coe asked. “If my mother sees her—”
“Linnet doesn’t want to see your mother any more than your mother wants to see her,” Lord Ott said. “Just don’t let that brother of yours give Linnet trouble.”
“I’ll keep Jack in line,” Coe said, but he didn’t look happy.
Lord Ott half turned. “I’ll chat with Linnet, remind her to behave.” He left the room, and Charlotte found herself looking up into Coe’s blue eyes.
The smile he gave her this time was bitter. “The House of Winter—such a happy family are we.”
18.
AFTER LINNET HAD swapped what she called her “reconnaissance” garb for a linen shirt paired with a leather corset and muslin skirt, she accompanied them from the pavilion into
the darkness beyond the fairgrounds. Linnet bade them farewell before they slipped into the shadows, taking opposite routes.
“Don’t worry, kitten,” Linnet said to Charlotte. “I’ll find your sick boy and get him home safely.”
“You can stop calling me that,” Charlotte replied, lifting her skirts to reveal her stiletto. “You know that I’m no kitten.”
“You act like I’ve insulted you.” Linnet smiled. “But like I already said, even kittens have claws.”
“Take care, Linnet,” Coe told his sister.
“If a storm’s to come, may the wind be with us,” Linnet answered.
Coe nodded. “May the wind be with us.”
When Linnet was gone, Coe said, “You’ll have to forgive my sister. She’s used to speaking her mind.”
“Don’t let my clothing fool you, Commodore Winter,” Charlotte answered. “Where I come from, we speak our minds too.”
“You’re right to chastise me.” Coe laughed. “But if you don’t mind my saying, you make that finery more appealing than any of the ladies on the Colonial Platform.”
Glad the darkness hid her suddenly warm cheeks, Charlotte murmured, “You flatter me, Commodore.”
“It’s not flattery, it’s the truth. And please, call me Coe.”
“If that’s what you prefer,” Charlotte said. She felt strange walking beside Jack’s older brother and found herself wanting to watch him, to observe the similarities and differences between the two siblings.
“It is what I prefer, Charlotte.”
They were passing through a tangle of metal pipes and glass tubes that snaked from high above to the floor of the Commons. Some of pipes disappeared underground. Others reached all the way to the Hudson River.
Coe sniffed the air and grimaced. “I apologize for the smell. I’m trying to avoid as many of the sewage pipes as I can, but we can’t steer clear of them all.”
“It’s fine.” There was a sour stench in the air, but not one that Charlotte found intolerable.