it. But he had been the best trick rider and knife man she’d ever seen.
And her most loyal friend. If it hadn’t been for their incompatible magic, there might have been more.
But he’s gone now, too. I can’t even think about that
. The pain of it closed her throat until she felt as if she were suffocating.
There was scrabbling inside the bag. Since there was no other human in sight, Evelina set the bag on top of her trunk and opened the catch. Mouse and Bird poked their headsout. They were both tiny, barely four inches long, but the bird was the flashier of the two. Whereas Mouse, with its gray steel fur and velvet-tipped paws, had been made for stealth and silence, Bird was as beautiful as its wild cousins. She’d given it crystal-tipped wings and eyes of paste emeralds—but there were also scars and patches where a streetkeeper named Striker had repaired it.
But what made them precious to her were the spirits that gave her clockwork creations life. The tiny creatures were a synthesis of her mechanical arts and the magic her Gran Cooper had taught her as a child. Like many circus folk, her father’s family was of the Blood—and Evelina had a unique gift that could coax devas into inanimate objects.
But no magic—light or dark, high or low—could make earth devas civil. Bird flitted to her shoulder with a whirr of wings and looked around critically.
You’ve taken us to the end of the world
.
“We’re not even to Scotland yet. The end of the world is a bit farther north.” Evelina sat down on her trunk and checked the watch pinned to her jacket. The train had been on time, so it was the cart that was supposed to meet her that was late.
Did I hear something about shooting birds?
“You did. This is a shooting party, so don’t go flying about unless you want to end up in someone’s game bag.”
Or slobbered on by a dog
, Mouse added darkly from the mouth of the carpetbag.
Bird gripped her jacket, driving brass toenails into her shoulder.
A party for shooting birds? What sort of bizarre, sadistic impulse prompted you to take me to a mass murder?
She plucked Bird off, setting it on the edge of the trunk. “I could have left you with Uncle Sherlock.”
Hardly. Every time he sees me, I can see him thinking about unbolting my hide so he can see what makes my gears turn
.
“He looks at everyone like that.”
Bird hopped across the top of the trunk disconsolately while Mouse cleaned its whiskers. The devas had melded so closely with their mechanical bodies that one would never guess they were beings of pure energy. The elemental spirits—mostlysmall and harmless, but sometimes quite the opposite—were at the heart of the magic her Gran Cooper had taught Evelina as a child. Of all the varieties of devas—water, air, fire, earth, and all the shades in between—the Coopers had an affinity for the devas of the woodland places. They were the ones she could see most clearly and speak to with her mind.
Evelina scanned the landscape around the train station, wondering what manner of spirits lived here. Then she heard the rumble of wheels. Bird flew back to the bag, perching on the clasp.
At first, Evelina saw nothing, but then she rose from the trunk and looked around, finally spotting a two-horse carriage coming up behind the train station. It was far nicer than the dog cart and driver she’d been expecting, but Jasper Keating did everything in style. “Hello!” she called. “Are you from Maggor’s Close?”
A female head in a smart green hat emerged from the carriage window. For a split second, Evelina’s heart seized, half expecting Alice Keating simply because she was the last person Evelina wanted to see. But her fears were unfounded, because it was Imogen who got out of the carriage. Tall, slender, and with hair the color of pale wheat, she had captured every available heart—and then some—in her first Season. She gave Evelina a huge smile. “There you are. I’ve missed you so
And her most loyal friend. If it hadn’t been for their incompatible magic, there might have been more.
But he’s gone now, too. I can’t even think about that
. The pain of it closed her throat until she felt as if she were suffocating.
There was scrabbling inside the bag. Since there was no other human in sight, Evelina set the bag on top of her trunk and opened the catch. Mouse and Bird poked their headsout. They were both tiny, barely four inches long, but the bird was the flashier of the two. Whereas Mouse, with its gray steel fur and velvet-tipped paws, had been made for stealth and silence, Bird was as beautiful as its wild cousins. She’d given it crystal-tipped wings and eyes of paste emeralds—but there were also scars and patches where a streetkeeper named Striker had repaired it.
But what made them precious to her were the spirits that gave her clockwork creations life. The tiny creatures were a synthesis of her mechanical arts and the magic her Gran Cooper had taught her as a child. Like many circus folk, her father’s family was of the Blood—and Evelina had a unique gift that could coax devas into inanimate objects.
But no magic—light or dark, high or low—could make earth devas civil. Bird flitted to her shoulder with a whirr of wings and looked around critically.
You’ve taken us to the end of the world
.
“We’re not even to Scotland yet. The end of the world is a bit farther north.” Evelina sat down on her trunk and checked the watch pinned to her jacket. The train had been on time, so it was the cart that was supposed to meet her that was late.
Did I hear something about shooting birds?
“You did. This is a shooting party, so don’t go flying about unless you want to end up in someone’s game bag.”
Or slobbered on by a dog
, Mouse added darkly from the mouth of the carpetbag.
Bird gripped her jacket, driving brass toenails into her shoulder.
A party for shooting birds? What sort of bizarre, sadistic impulse prompted you to take me to a mass murder?
She plucked Bird off, setting it on the edge of the trunk. “I could have left you with Uncle Sherlock.”
Hardly. Every time he sees me, I can see him thinking about unbolting my hide so he can see what makes my gears turn
.
“He looks at everyone like that.”
Bird hopped across the top of the trunk disconsolately while Mouse cleaned its whiskers. The devas had melded so closely with their mechanical bodies that one would never guess they were beings of pure energy. The elemental spirits—mostlysmall and harmless, but sometimes quite the opposite—were at the heart of the magic her Gran Cooper had taught Evelina as a child. Of all the varieties of devas—water, air, fire, earth, and all the shades in between—the Coopers had an affinity for the devas of the woodland places. They were the ones she could see most clearly and speak to with her mind.
Evelina scanned the landscape around the train station, wondering what manner of spirits lived here. Then she heard the rumble of wheels. Bird flew back to the bag, perching on the clasp.
At first, Evelina saw nothing, but then she rose from the trunk and looked around, finally spotting a two-horse carriage coming up behind the train station. It was far nicer than the dog cart and driver she’d been expecting, but Jasper Keating did everything in style. “Hello!” she called. “Are you from Maggor’s Close?”
A female head in a smart green hat emerged from the carriage window. For a split second, Evelina’s heart seized, half expecting Alice Keating simply because she was the last person Evelina wanted to see. But her fears were unfounded, because it was Imogen who got out of the carriage. Tall, slender, and with hair the color of pale wheat, she had captured every available heart—and then some—in her first Season. She gave Evelina a huge smile. “There you are. I’ve missed you so
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