Chapter 1

I missed Papá.

Or the Papá from my childhood.

We used to be two gears in a well-oiled machine, but after Mamá’s death, being with him was as stifling as the gloves he insisted I wear for my own protection.

As server bots passed out another round of sparkling drinks for the hundreds of guests, Papá stood and gestured for the orchestra to finish their song. He cleared his throat and raised his glass. The buzz of conversation fell silent, leaving only the hiss of the tiny steam engines as the bots retreated. They had a similar design to some we had at home, standing about three feet high with round cylindrical bodies, wheels for feet, and brass goggles for eyes.

“Thank you for coming to my daughter’s engagement party.” Papá’s words boomed with the same practiced tone he’d used countless times in his speeches. His gaze shifted to me, no doubt checking to make sure I still wore my gloves. Aether forbid I ever went anywhere without them on. “I appreciate everyone who has gathered to celebrate the betrothal of my daughter, Kyra Annandale, to Desmarc Kingsford.”

I tuned out the rest of his carefully planned speech about duty, legacy, and opportunities for a bright future and took a deep, bracing breath—but not too deep for fear that my leather corset might break my ribs. Tucking a hand into the pocket of my dress where I kept Mamá’s brass thimble, I rubbed the ridged surface. The familiar motion calmed my racing pulse.

While I was used to the way things were now, having been without Mamá for eleven years, it was impossible not to think of her on a night like tonight, when she should have been beside me.

Above us, a smattering of fireworks went off with percussive booms, signaling the end of Papá’s speech. I jerked to attention and tilted my head toward the large glass ceiling supported by metal beams and arches. Brilliant colors bloomed on the sky’s dark canvas outside. One blast created a scintillating rendition of the Epoch Clock. The sparkling light reflected off the large mural that took up the wall behind the band, depicting one of the first airships flying over the city at night.

Next to me, Desmarc stood from his seat, so I rose to join him.

“Are you all right?” he murmured through the polite applause filling the room.

“Yes.” Now that the engagement was official, I’d be married in a month and no longer stuck with Papá trying to control every aspect of my life.

Before well-wishers could swarm us, Desmarc claimed my hand and swept me onto the mostly empty dance floor in the center of the room. The polished wood and metal shimmered as the chandelier overhead came to life. Its rotating crystals caught the light and reflected off everyone’s practiced smiles and their finery. They were here to schmooze Papá and grease each other’s machines—the bunch of cogs. After all, what was a social event if not a chance to network and monitor your opponents?

Not that I was any better.

Despite all my attempts to avoid Papá’s political machinations, I was now nothing more than another of his pawns. Papá might have picked Desmarc for me, but I was the one who’d accepted. How could I not when agreeing to the arranged marriage meant I’d finally be free? And if I was going to play Papá’s game, I wanted Desmarc, with his dashing smile and suave manners, to be my partner. He looked extra handsome tonight in his fitted pants, polished leather boots, high-collared white shirt, and a sapphire vest.

Desmarc stopped us over a large bronze circle about ten feet across engraved in the center of the floor that was bare of other dancers. My skirt settled around my legs with a swish, effectively hiding the knives strapped to my thighs. He snapped his gloved fingers, and the string quartet started a new song.

Gears under the floor activated with a rumble, and our platform rose with quiet clicks. Air tickled my neck, left exposed by my updo, as the rest of the ballroom fell away, leaving us alone on a miniature stage. When it stopped, I glanced at the ground fifteen feet below which rotated in a clockwise pattern, helping the dancers along as they twirled through the ballroom. It all felt so graceful yet orchestrated, just like the rest of my life. A beautiful facade where no one ever moved out of step.

While this was the perfect vantage point to search for Professor Sophronia, my stomach tightened at the distance to the ground, so I shifted my focus to Desmarc’s cravat. Since I couldn’t bring myself to look down right then, I’d search for her later. Papá didn’t know I’d invited the professor, nor that I was planning on talking with her about my enrollment at the university. In a month, Papá wouldn’t have a say in my life at all, and I’d be free to attend AIR U as a married woman.

“Now that we have a moment of privacy, I have something for you.” Desmarc got down on one knee and pulled a small metal container that looked like a tiny airship from his pocket.

“Oh, thank you.” I accepted it and admired the details on the tiny ship, from the tiny brass propellers to the aether-powered glow.

He grinned and reached over and pressed a hidden switch, and the cargo area of the airship sprang open with a soft click, revealing a gold ring with a small sapphire that glowed like a piece of aether.

My stomach twisted at the sight. Even though I’d suspected it was coming, I’d been hoping for an engagement necklace instead to avoid the chance of having to remove my gloves. I forced a smile, making it as genuine as possible. “It’s lovely.”

“I had it made for you.” He gestured to the ring. “May I?”

“O-Of course.” I held out my left hand automatically, even as dread curled in my stomach.

Desmarc pulled the ring free and steadied my shaking hand with his so he could slide it onto my finger. It didn’t make it past my knuckle. His brow furrowed, and he looked up at me. “I think you’re going to have to take off your glove.”

“I can’t,” I said too quickly, before adding, “You know how Papá is, always saying it’s unladylike to remove them in public.” This would have been so much easier if Papá hadn’t insisted I wait to tell Desmarc about my...ability.

“Don’t you think he’ll make an exception for tonight?”

I gave him a brilliant smile to make up for making a mess of things. At least he’d waited to give me the ring when we were mostly out of sight of the people below. “I don’t think so, but I’ll put it on at home. I’m sure it’ll look lovely.”

His grip tightened on my hand for a moment, and I fought the ridiculous urge to pull my hand free in case he tried to take off my gloves. Instead, he put the ring back in the tiny airship box. “I don’t want to give you something you can only wear at home.”

“I’ll get it resized,” I offered, reaching for it.

“That’s all right. I’ll figure something else out.” His tone was light but his expression unreadable as he put it back in his pocket. Silence hung between us while the song drew to a close, but as a new one started to play, Desmarc held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Of course.” I accepted his hand and he pulled me to him, effortlessly syncing into the music’s beat.

“You look lovely.” Desmarc spun me out, and my skirt flared around me with layers of tiered ruffles and cascading pleats edged with delicate lace. A few loose curls settled around my face as he pulled me back in.

“Thank you.” I blushed and looked down at my dress, an old one of Mamá’s I’d reworked so it would feel like she was with me tonight in some small way. White chiffon sleeves overlaid the snug-fitting brown leather bodice with brass grommets and gold thread.

Desmarc turned his head and scanned the crowd below us, providing me with his profile of a chiseled jawline and straight nose. “Good turnout tonight.”

“I’m sorry your uncle couldn’t make it, though. I’d hoped to meet him.” I pressed my lips together to try to cover my disappointment at the thought that his uncle’s absence might indicate his lack of approval for our union. Desmarc was always closemouthed about his family and his past, saying he preferred to focus on our future instead. All I knew was that his parents had died when he was little and his uncle had raised him in a neighboring city.

“You can meet him soon.” Desmarc pulled me closer and murmured, “This way I get to have you all to myself for a bit.”

My heart stuttered in counterpoint to the music.

He looked down at the couples twirling below us. “Plus, I thought you might like it better up here.”

“Thank you.” It meant a lot that he had granted me this brief reprieve from the crowds. In general, I didn’t love being the center of attention, although it was difficult to avoid at my own engagement party, especially with Papá’s aim of becoming the Prime Meridian and governing the city.

His ambition was why he’d had a governess tutor me in all the rules of deportment and decorum from the time I was ten until eighteen when I came out into society, three years ago. She’d done her best to turn me into a perfect little lady. Not that perfect ladies walked around with knives strapped to their thighs. Even though Papá had been the one who’d taught me never to go anywhere unarmed, he wouldn’t be pleased to know I’d brought a weapon to my engagement party.

I smiled at the thought.

“We’ll be back in the thick of it soon enough.” Desmarc spun me out, then back in, his movements fluid and graceful.

“Back among the cogs.” I sighed.

“You really shouldn’t call them that.” A wry chuckle softened Desmarc’s reproof.

“Why? It’s the perfect name,” I said. “They’re stuck fulfilling the role to which they’ve been assigned.” Not that I had any right to speak. The harder I tried to break free, the tighter Papá’s noose became.

“Yes, but don’t forget that we also need them. Politics are all about who you know.”

“You really are perfect for Papá. Are you sure you aren’t marrying the wrong person?” I was only partially joking. Desmarc and I got along, but this marriage was more a union of him and Papá.

“I’m sure.” Desmarc laughed, his deep green eyes twinkling at me. “You look much better in a dress.”

We fell into the comfortable silence I’d grown accustomed to. The sound of turning gears and the puff of steam added an ambient layer to the orchestra’s lively melody.

With Desmarc’s political connections to some of the big wheels in the Guardian faction, he was the perfect person to boost Papá’s chances of becoming the Prime Meridian. My marriage to him meant consigning myself to a life of hosting parties for people I didn’t care two sprockets about. It wasn’t the most ideal situation considering how closely he worked with my father, but my chances of Papá approving another suitor were slim. At least being with Desmarc didn’t make me feel like I was being smothered.

The song ended, and people clapped, a tittering of noise flurrying around our ears. As our platform lowered to the ground, I worked up the nerve to scan the room for Professor Sophronia. She wasn’t on the dance floor or any of the couches lining the opposite wall, where quite a few guests sat in quiet conversations.

I looked down and tucked one of my loose black curls behind my ear to hide my disappointment as I mastered my expression.

“May I have this next dance as well?” Desmarc asked. His hopeful smile and short brown curls softened the angular features of his face.

“It would be my pleasure.” I smiled and let him sweep me into the next number. While I’d told Desmarc about my desire to do more with my life, I hadn’t yet told him about my plans to enroll in AIR U. I was waiting for the right moment to bring it up, even if that moment happened after we were married. I was pretty sure Desmarc wouldn’t discourage me as he didn’t have a reason to worry like Papá did yet, but I wanted to tread carefully.

After dancing the next few songs together as well—nothing scandalous about it now that we were publicly engaged—Desmarc escorted me off the dance floor.

Geneve, her black curls piled on top of her head with metal pins, caught my eye and gave me a small wave. She took in my dress with a nod of approval, her eyes welling up slightly.

After losing Mamá, Papá had turned to politics to fill the void, and I’d turned to Geneve, Mamá’s best friend. She taught me everything I knew about sewing and also about Mamá, since Papá refused to talk about her after the sickness stole her from us when I was ten. Geneve was one of the few people from the Middle Chimes in attendance tonight, since I’d insisted she be on the guest list.

A plump man with thinning white hair walked between us, cutting off my view of her. He gave me a wide smile, which I returned with a polite one.

“I don’t even think Papá likes half the people here,” I mumbled to Desmarc while keeping my smile in place.

“You know what they say: Keep your friends close and your voters closer.” Desmarc inclined his head to the man but didn’t stop walking until we reached the refreshment table. Unlike on the dance floor, the music here was only a soft background melody. Instead, laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversation suffused the air.

Meridian Eliver—a political leader from the Revolutionist faction—edged in to engage Desmarc in conversation, and I smothered a sigh. His name was almost too easy to remember because it spelled revile backwards and perfectly described my feelings for his terrible mustache.

A server bot refilled a tray of biscuits.

“Thank you,” I murmured to it, snagging a green bolt-shaped biscuit that sat next to a blue one shaped like a nut as I absently scanned the room. My gaze caught on a woman with curly gray hair, a red shirt, and a pair of goggles resting on her top hat.

Professor Sophronia.

She linked arms with a portly man I didn’t recognize, and the two walked toward one of the many doors leading to the property’s expansive gardens, deep in conversation.

I freed my hand from Desmarc’s arm. “Excuse me, I think Papá is calling.”

“I’ll find you later.” Desmarc kissed my cheek and turned his attention back to his conversation, giving me the chance to escape.

A few women my age waved at me in an obvious attempt to invite me over, but I pretended not to see them. I was done playing the part of the socialite for the moment, especially considering those women only pretended at friendliness because their parents wanted to curry favor with Papá.

Unwilling to risk making eye contact with anyone else, I kept my head down and forged a path toward the garden. This was my chance to talk to Professor Sophronia about my enrollment options. I’d chosen her because, according to Geneve, she’d been one of Mamá’s favorite professors.

I ducked my head at the man who held the door for me as I followed Professor Sophronia and her companion into the brisk autumnal air, heavy with the smell of chrysanthemums. Hints of a quiet conversation enticed me down a mosaic path where shadows disguised statues as people. But the gurgling sounds of water grew louder and the voices softer until I arrived at a fountain where the path split off in three directions. Professor Sophronia was nowhere in sight.

I sighed and looked around. Instead of interrupting her conversation, I’d wait here for her. If she was coming back to the party, this was the main path that led back, and if she wasn’t, then I’d probably already lost her. Either way, I was in no hurry to return to the crush of people inside.

Plopping down on the fountain’s edge, I stared into the water mindlessly. My distorted reflection stared back, looking like Mamá had at my age, at least according to family portraits. I’d gained her sleek black hair, blue eyes, and pointed chin.

“I wish you were here,” I mumbled as my throat closed up. The older I got, the harder I had to fight to keep my memories of Mamá alive. Going to university was another chance to follow in her footsteps and be closer to her. Why couldn’t Papá see that?

Although my parents had met at AIR University as students, every time I approached the subject of my enrollment, Papá shut it down faster than a faulty factory. His immediate refusal the first time I’d asked had broken the fragile peace we’d lived with growing up while I strained against his restrictions and domineering nature. That day three years ago was when I started Slipping again. It was my personal rebellion so it wouldn’t feel like Papá controlled every aspect of my life.

Tears clouded my vision, and I swiped them away angrily. After losing Mamá, I’d tried to hold on to my relationship with Papá by being the perfect daughter, going through with his ridiculous knife training, comportment lessons, and endless political dinners. But the more I tried to be like Mamá, the stricter he became until he was nothing like the playful, caring person from my childhood.

I yanked off my right glove and reached into my pocket for the thimble once more. This time my bare finger rubbed against it, and even though I knew nothing would happen, disappointment coursed through me. It would’ve been nice to see a memory of Mamá, but I’d long since drained the emotion from the thimble after discovering it years ago, when it first pulled me into one of Mamá’s memories.

Cool water misted refreshingly against my skin as it poured from the mouths of the mechanical creatures in the fountain’s center—winged horses with exposed clockwork muscles and serpentine creatures with slitted vents resembling scales. Brass gears rotated under the water, creating mesmerizing ripples that reflected the play of light from the surrounding aether lamps.

Something glittered at the bottom of the fountain, its form distorted by the water. A bracelet?

I dropped the thimble back into my pocket and leaned over to see it better. My hand slid off the fountain’s ledge, and I tumbled in with an icy splash.

As I sat up in the foot-deep water and wiped my wet hair away from my face, my bare hand brushed against something smooth. A blue spark sprang from the bracelet to my finger, sending a jolt through me.

My spirit Slipped from my body.

I clutched the bracelet to my chest as time rushed by me in a barrage of sights and sounds like a carnival ride. I cursed myself for taking off my glove, my sole defense against being unwillingly pulled into the past by seemingly innocent objects. While I had no problem Slipping when I was safe at home and Papá was gone, doing it in public was asking to get caught.

The world jerked to a stop, leaving me standing in a sudden quiet. I held a hand to my forehead and took a few deep breaths to push off the residual dizziness.

Around me, the world was little more than blurry shadows. Pulse racing, I waited for things to fall into focus. One hand drifted to the knives strapped to my legs, not that they would do me any good since I couldn’t interact with the past.

The bracelet pulsated with a deep resonance, like a slow, steady heartbeat. A woman wearing a white tunic and a pair of dark pants tucked into high leather boots materialized in the mist. Goggles rested around her neck above two necklaces, and she wore a flash of metal rings that glinted along with a sapphire bracelet—not just any bracelet, the one I held in my hand.

Her black hair, twisted in a simple braid, and the clothes she wore, reminded me of when Mamá would take me on her charity trips to the Lower Chimes with Geneve. Or maybe I just thought that since she appeared around the age Mamá was in my memories.

I shook off the nostalgia and focused on the woman standing in the shadows. She was the reason I was here—the owner of both the bracelet and memory who had accidentally called me to the past. Well, she didn’t call me so much as I’d been sucked in by whatever powerful emotion her bracelet held.

Hopefully whatever emotion was in the bracelet would be short-lived because I needed to get back to my party before anyone found me sitting in the fountain like a bot without a charge.

The woman flipped open a pocket watch with a swirling silver crest, studied it, then thrust it into her pocket. She paced a few steps from me, then came back, revealing a cobblestone street. She sat, and a metal bench appeared under her with rusted wooden slats and a warped iron frame. Although it wasn’t much to go on, the details confirmed that I was nowhere near the fountain at my engagement party. I could be almost anywhere.

The bracelet thumped, a demanding pulse that counted down my time in the past. All I could do now was wait for its energy to run out and send me back to the present.

The woman’s head whipped to the side, and she tilted her head back to stare at something overhead.

I looked up too, although I couldn’t see anything at first. But as she focused, fireworks created an azure rendition of the Epoch Clock overhead—the very same fireworks I’d seen at the party not even an hour ago. They were slightly impeded by the puffs of smog escaping from a nearby smokestack from a factory. That meant I hadn’t Slipped very far into the past and that I was still in or near Chronovale, possibly in the First Chime. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, quieting my pounding heart. Sometimes I Slipped back years, decades, or like tonight, only minutes.

The woman crossed her legs and traced the groove of a heart-shaped gear etched into the bench. The tender symbol seemed at odds with the bench’s coarseness.

The bracelet pulsed again as the woman jumped to her feet, her red lips lifting in a simpering grin. “What took you so long?” She rushed down the street and threw herself into someone’s arms. The shadows blurred and edged around her until they morphed into the shape of a man.

Even the pitch of her voice reminded me of Mamá.

I followed a few steps after the woman, staying close so the swirling mist wouldn’t swallow me. It had happened once when I was younger. I’d wandered too far from the memory’s originator and gotten lost in the fog of darkness. I’d missed the rest of the memory and had spent the next few minutes terrified that I’d be stuck in the past forever. Now, I knew better than to get separated.

“You look tired,” the man murmured, his voice husky.

In the gloom, all I could make out was his silhouette.

“I came straight from work. We’ve been so busy lately, but I don’t want to talk about that. In fact, I don’t want to talk at all.” She tilted her head to face his, lips turned down in a pout.

“My apologies.” He leaned down and kissed her, his hands traveling over her waist.

The more the woman interacted with him, the more he fell into focus, but I quickly spun around, my cheeks heating. These were always the most awkward memories to stumble into.

Tendrils of smoke curled around my ankles, but the bracelet beat faster in my hand like I held someone’s heart. Time was running out. Thank the aether, because I needed to get back to my engagement party and away from this little tryst.

“I shouldn’t stay long,” the woman whispered breathlessly. “I have so much to do tonight.” A quiet click sounded, the same sound that her pocket watch had made earlier. She was probably checking the time again.

“I do too.” Satisfaction rang in the man’s voice.

The woman gasped. “What are you doing?”

At her pained tone, I whirled around and my eyes widened.

The woman pressed a hand against her midsection. Blood trickled between her fingers, its crimson color bright against her white tunic.

“Just wrapping up business.” The man pulled his knife free of her torso and ducked his head, so his hat hid the majority of his features.

My heart pounded in my ears, and the bracelet throbbed a panicked rhythm in my hand.

The woman fell to her knees, still clutching her gut. He knelt next to her and removed the woman’s bracelet, watch, and other valuables.

“No!” I rushed over to shove him away, but my hands went through him.

He tucked the jewelry into a satchel around his waist, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for your service,” he whispered. A ring on his finger in the shape of an hourglass created from two scythes glinted faintly as he stood again. He took a few steps away and the shadows swallowed his form, leaving me alone with the dying woman.

The bracelet’s panicked thumping reminded me I only had a few seconds left.

The woman convulsed and fell on her side. A feeble cry escaped her, but no one came to her aid.

Watching her pale, anguished face felt like losing Mamá all over again. She’d been fine and healthy one moment, then gone the next.

The woman let out a final gasping breath, and as her chest finally stilled, three truths hit me with painful clarity.

I’d just witnessed a murder.

The murderer was most likely at my party.

And if I told anyone, they probably wouldn’t believe me.

Chapter 2

As the woman took her last breath, the world shattered. The cobblestones collapsed under me, plunging me into nothingness. I screamed as I reached a hand up, or what I thought was up. Darkness surrounded me as I fell through time and space. My stomach jumped to my throat, and the air whistled around me.

Was this what happened when the memory holder died while I was Slipping? Normally, everything dissolved around me like rain smearing a painting.

My spirit slammed into my body—my cold, wet body—still sitting in the fountain.

“—yra! Kyra! Are you all right?”

I blinked and met Desmarc’s worried green eyes. My gaze darted to the towering trees and the shadowy garden path. The heady scent of the chrysanthemums proved that I was back. I was safe.

“Are you all right?” Desmarc asked again.

“I’m fine.” And I was. There was no murderer here. A chill crept down my back, and I shivered in my sodden clothes.

“Are you sure? You were screaming.”

“I was?” I exhaled shakily. That had never happened before, but then, I’d never seen anything quite so traumatic. “Oh, yes, the cold water was quite shocking.”

Desmarc helped me stand, and his gaze raked over me in concern before catching on the bodice of my dress. My soaked white dress with a now very see-through material except for what the leather corset covered. My cheeks flushed.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around me, enveloping me in its musky scent. “What happened?”

I gave him a grateful smile and pulled the jacket close, relishing its warmth. “I fell.” It was the only excuse I could give since no one except Papá knew about my ability. Besides, it was true enough.

I gripped the cold metal of the bracelet I still held tighter and hid it inside Desmarc’s jacket.

His eyebrows drew together, and he wrapped an arm around me and urged me back toward the party. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I don’t want to go back.” I worked to lower my voice and smother any trace of panic that might’ve leaked into my expression. Could the killer be inside? That might explain how the bracelet had ended up out here. “I think Papá would prefer if I went home. Can you imagine the scene I’d cause like this?” And I definitely couldn’t meet Professor Sophronia this way. I needed to go home, dry off, and figure out what to do next.

“Then let me escort you.” Despite Desmarc’s firm tone, his gaze flicked back toward the party.

“You should stay,” I said. He shook his head and opened his mouth, but before he could protest, I added, “We can’t both disappear from our engagement party.” Even having one of us leave was a terrible idea, but I could at least claim an illness. And since I couldn’t talk to Desmarc about why I was so shaken—not yet, anyway—it would be easier to work through things on my own.

He stared at me for a long moment.

Would there come a time when I’d know him well enough to read the furrow in his brow or to decipher his calm mask? Or for him to tell when I was lying?

“You said yourself it’s all about meeting people.” Though I held his jacket lapels together with one hand, I placed the other on his chest and looked up at him with what was hopefully a reassuring smile. “I don’t want you to miss this, and Papá will be happier if at least one of us stays.”

“All right.” Desmarc nodded slowly, his lips pursed. “Then let me call my steamcab for you.”

“I’d hate to ruin your seats.” I gestured to my soaked gown. “I’ll hail one on the street.”

He sighed. “At least let me do that much.”

“Thank you.” I started to take off his jacket. “Will you tell Papá I’m not feeling well?”

He pulled it around me again, then wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led me down a separate path. “I’ll take care of your father. You just take care of yourself.”

Gratitude rushed through me. I wanted to tell him the truth so he could accompany me home, but Papá’s warnings from my childhood were ingrained too firmly. Tell no one about my cursed ability—at least not until Desmarc and I were married. I couldn’t risk losing my shot at freedom.

A twig cracked under his foot, and I jumped.

“Are you truly all right?” Desmarc asked again.

“I’m fine.” I gave him another quick smile and tucked my shaking hands in the folds of his jacket. After a minute, we exited through a side gate and stood on the cobblestone street.

Desmarc raised a hand, and a steamcab pulled up next to us, its large, spoked wheels clattering against the cobbled street. It wasn’t unusual for them to hang around large parties like this since passengers from the Upper Chimes often tipped generously.

The driver ducked his head at us and spoke loud enough to be heard over the sound of the steam puffing out of the engine at the back. “Where ya goin’?” Though he said nothing about my apparel, his mouth twisted down at the corner as he took in the puddle accumulating beneath my gown, clearly regretting his decision.

“Take her to Annandale Manor,” Desmarc said.

At the name, the man straightened and bobbed his head again, all traces of a frown gone.

“Sorry about my dress,” I said to the driver as I climbed into the cab’s enclosed portion, doing my best to keep Desmarc’s jacket between me and the velvety seat cushions. I gave Desmarc another grateful smile before he closed the door behind me. After handing the driver a few coins, he turned and made his way back down the path.

The driver headed toward the Tenth Chime. In less than a quarter of an hour, I’d be safe at home. The rumble and hiss of the engine, the clack of the wheels, and the plop plop plop of water dripping off the edge of my dress and onto the floor created a rhythmic reassurance that soothed my frazzled nerves.

I pulled a lever on the side of the cab, and vents released warm air into the interior. Twisting the bracelet around and around in my hands, I stared down at it and shuddered. Blighted aether. I’d left my glove at the fountain. I must’ve been more shaken up than I’d thought if I’d forgotten my glove. I’d have to be careful not to touch anything with my bare hand until I got home again. People were safe, but I also didn’t plan to be touching any of them either.

If Papá found out I’d taken my glove off, and in public no less, he’d be furious. At least there was no danger in touching the bracelet now that I’d spent its emotional energy. An object could only make me Slip once, and the Slip lasted as long as it had the emotional energy. Once the energy was gone, I came back to the present, and it was nothing more than a normal object again.

Then again, I was basing this off of everything I’d taught myself since there wasn’t anyone to teach me—as far as I knew, there was no one else with my ability—but this last Slip was hardly like the other times.

I passed pedestrians hurrying down the street, eager to get home to their families and completely unaware of the killer on the loose. The memory of the woman’s gasp echoed in my ears. The sound of her body thumping to the ground. The man’s whispered, almost reverential, “Thank you for your service.”

How strange to kiss a woman, then kill her only for a bit of jewelry. The thought didn’t sit right with me. Maybe the man had wanted it to look like a robbery. He obviously wasn’t truly after her jewelry if he’d dumped the bracelet in the fountain. But why bring it to a fountain in the Eleventh Chime if that woman had been killed in the First? I had to be missing something.

I should report the murder to the Iron Watch, but was it worth the risk of going behind Papá’s back? I’d been so careful to play the part of the perfect daughter these last few years, but Slipping in public and going to see the Blue Capes would infuriate Papá if he found out. He’d watch me more closely than ever, and what little freedom I still had would be gone—along with my chance at meeting Professor Sophronia before the wedding.

But how could I simply let that man walk free after killing someone?

My breathing sped up at the thought of the murderer. I curled my hand around the thimble to try to calm my racing pulse. According to Geneve, Mamá had never hesitated to do what was right. She stood up for those in the Lower Chimes, found ways to help, started charities, and freely gave of her time.

Regardless of how scared I was or what I was risking, it was time to be more like Mamá, no matter how much Papá loathed it.

Or maybe I was just telling myself that because the woman had reminded me of Mamá. I squared my shoulders and curled my hands into fists. Whatever it took, I wouldn’t let that killer go free. I couldn’t do anything about the sickness that had stolen Mamá, but I could at least help catch this man who stole someone else’s loved one from them.

After all, maybe it was the red wire of fate that had brought me to the bracelet. If I hadn’t gone in search of Professor Sophronia, I never would have found it, and if I hadn’t found it, I wouldn’t know about the murder. I tightened my grip on the bracelet and stuck my head out the window to speak to the driver, but then realized we were almost home. It would be better if I changed clothes first. It would cost me an extra half hour, but I’d draw less suspicion if I didn’t show up in my engagement gown soaking wet.

A few minutes later, we arrived home, and the man drove off. I rushed inside and Cogsley, my favorite server bot, helped me change into the plain cotton tunic with a high neck, linen vest, and leather pants I often wore when Geneve and I delivered our monthly donation of clothes to the Lower Chimes. I dried my hair as best I could and braided it back, then pulled on a hood and dropped my knives into the sheaths in my boots.

“Take care of my mother’s dress for me,” I called to Cogsley before rushing back outside. I yanked on a fresh pair of leather gloves and walked a ways from our property so no one would recognize me, then I hailed another steamcab.

“Can you take me to the Iron Watch?” I asked the driver. I’d report the murder and leave before anyone figured out who I was.

The new driver, who was so pale it looked like he’d absorbed the moonlight, ducked his head, and I climbed inside.

I wrung my hands in my lap, my worries hitting me again now that I was motionless and could do nothing but think. How could I explain how I knew there was a dead body somewhere in the city when I didn’t know where it was? If I had to guess, I’d say she died somewhere in the First Chime based on the smoke from the factory I’d seen, but I hadn’t even gotten a good look at any buildings. Maybe going to Iron Watch was silly when I couldn’t tell anyone who the killer was or where it happened, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

I needed a cover story. Maybe I could pretend as if someone had reported the murder to me but was too scared to come forward. Then I could blame any vagueness on what I was or wasn’t told.

Outside, a tendril of fog curled around the street, the fluorescent blue light from a shop giving it an eerie glow. It twisted around the white plaster houses, reminding me too much of the smoke from my Slips. If only I could’ve seen more of the woman’s surroundings.

When the steamcab finally clanged to a stop, I checked to make sure my hood covered most of my face, then climbed out and tossed a knob to the driver. “Thank you. No need to wait. I’ll find another way home.”

Using my gloved hand, I pushed open the brass front door. A few heads turned my way, so I tucked my chin to better suit my camouflage. For a long moment, the only sound was the clock against the far wall ticking down the seconds.

I strode to the empty desk that stood like a wooden sentinel near the front doors, ignoring the squelch of my shoes and trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. The interior was a mixture of polished mahogany, rich leather, and exposed metal components like the copper pipes snaking along the ceiling. Vintage maps of the city, weathered wanted posters, and a few oil paintings covered the wall. The Blue Capes wrote reports at their desks, flipped through thick leather-bound books while taking notes, or checked the siphons—a series of brass pipes that ran under the city and used aether chips to direct messages.

After clearing my throat, I stuck my bare hand into my pocket and said, “I’m here to report a murder.”

Almost every head whipped up to stare at me, though a few men continued working. The sound of pens and quills scratching against paper felt like they were scratching at my nerves and anxiety.

A lanky man with a mustache strolled over wearing the traditional royal blue cape embossed with golden patterns that hung to his waist. Brass buttons, in the shape of the Iron Watch’s emblem, ornamented the front. His name badge read Barbany.

My mind raced to come up with some way to make his name stick as he stopped in front of me. Barbany—he was so bony that his knees would feel like barbs if they touched me.

“You say you’re here to report a murder?” he asked with a drawl that told me he’d come from another city. No one in Chronovale had an accent like that. “That’s quite the statement.”

“I’m here on behalf of my friend who witnessed it. She was too scared to come in.”

“Whose murder?”

I gripped the bracelet with my other hand. “A woman’s. She didn’t know her.”

“When did it happen?”

“Just a few hours ago.” At least that question I could answer with certainty.

“And where did the murder occur?”

“I’m...not sure. She thought it was the First Chime, but she wasn’t sure.” My voice came out too quiet. My story had sounded a little better in the steamcab, but now it felt ridiculous. But I couldn’t give up, not when someone had been killed.

In the background, a few officers snorted and went back to their paperwork. I fought to keep a blush from staining my cheeks. The tension in the room dissolved as they dismissed my story.

“Your friend saw a murder and isn’t confident where she saw it...” Barbany’s sharp eyes bored into mine. He fiddled with the goggles hanging around his neck, brass frames with tinted lenses.

“Yes.” I raised my chin.

“Bring in your friend or go home.” Barbany gestured me toward the door. “We’ve got work to do.”

“You don’t understand.” I grabbed his sleeve impulsively, and my hood fell down at the sudden motion. Quickly, I pulled it back up. “A murderer is walking free. We can’t let him get away with it.” The woman’s gasp would haunt my nightmares for weeks.

“What you don’t understand is that you’ve given us nothing to go on. My men have better things to do than spin gears with vague, pointless leads.”

At least his curt tone meant he hadn’t recognized me. But he was dismissing me.

“But I—”

“I’ll handle this, sir.” A young man, maybe a few years younger than Desmarc, placed a hand on Barbany’s shoulder.

Officer Barbany huffed and twirled his mustache with a finger, then stalked back to his desk.

“Sorry about that.” The man smiled, revealing even, white teeth, except for one incisor which was sharper than the rest, like it had been chipped in a fight. Unlike the other officers, he wore a button-up white shirt as if he’d come from a party, though it was rolled up to his elbow, revealing a tanned, muscular forearm. He’d covered it with the traditional leather vest and gloves from the Blue Capes uniform.

But his cape had a blue star sewn onto the right breast of his uniform, marking him as a detective.

“My name’s Hiram Atwood.”

Like wood from a tree, strong and reliable. He was exactly how a detective should be, unlike the rest of the useless Blue Capes who’d ignored me.

He paused, waiting for my name.

Although ignoring an introduction went against my upbringing, I said, “Detective, can I look through your recent missing person reports?” Considering the woman had only been dead for three hours or so, she likely hadn’t been reported missing yet, but I had to start somewhere even if I was grasping at loose screws. After all, maybe someone had found the body.

He quirked a brow that was much darker than his blond hair. The move highlighted a faint scar on his left temple. “I suppose that won’t hurt, since it’s a matter of public record. How far back do you want to go?”

Hope fluttered in my chest. Finally, someone was taking me seriously. I straightened my shoulders. “Anything from the last few days.”

He gestured for me to follow, and I rushed to catch up to his long strides. We walked down a hall to the right, and I squinted in the bright aether lights.

Detective Atwood pulled a small brass key from his pocket and unlocked a door with the words “Records” stenciled onto the glass. File folders and a few desks filled the otherwise empty room.

“The reports are in here.” Detective Atwood strolled to a cabinet and pulled something out of his pocket. His blond hair curled a little at the nape of his neck as he bent over a drawer, and his broad shoulders hunched under the short blue cape while he rifled for a file. He turned and plopped a folder on the table right in front of me.

“Thank you.” Without meeting his gaze, I began flipping through the papers in the folder. I tried to focus on the faces on each report and not the intent way the detective studied me—the silly girl with the silly story.

“Are you sick?” he asked abruptly.

“No.” I glanced at him, then back to my task.

“Then why is your face so red?” He sat on the corner of the table. “Your cheeks look like poppies.”

“They most certainly do not,” I said, despite the heat in my face. I fiddled with the corner of a paper.

“It isn’t a bad thing, you know. They were my ma’s favorite flowers.” He leaned back again, giving me some much needed space.

Instead of responding, I internally cursed my makeshift hood for not hiding my blush and went back to flipping through the recent missing persons file. But with each report, my hopes dwindled. A minute later, I put down the final one with a sigh.

“Didn’t see her?”

“No.” Which wasn’t surprising, just disappointing. “Have any other reports come in that might not have been filed yet? Maybe in the last hour or two.” At the shake of his head, I sighed.

Detective Atwood’s eyes narrowed. “You really have no idea where this murder happened?”

“I’m sorry. My friend gets lost easily, and it was dark and she couldn’t see well.”

“Fear can do funny things to our minds, and I’m sure your friend was scared,” he said. “Besides, where’s the fun in a case where all the answers are handed to you?”

“Yes, I can see how that would be extremely inconvenient when you’re trying to solve murders,” I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.

A grin flitted across his face, revealing a dimple hidden in his scruff. “Did she give you a description of the man, by chance?”

“Just a little,” I said. “He wore a top hat that hid his face, but he was tall and had dark hair. Oh, and he wore a ring on his finger in the shape of an hourglass made from two scythes.” I bit my lip realizing all of that detail completely contradicted the rest of my story about my friend not being able to see well, but the detective took it all in stride.

“And can you tell me anything else? Any detail, no matter how small, could be important.”

“She mentioned a bench with a warped iron frame and wooden slats.”

Detective Atwood rubbed his chin. “That could be anywhere in the Lower Chimes.”

“She also saw a factory,” I added.

“That could narrow the location down to the First.”

“She’s pretty sure she did.”

“I grew up in the Lower Chimes, and I know those streets as well as I know the gears in my father’s pocket watch, but, unfortunately, that still isn’t enough detail to get this case off the ground.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, searching my memory for details. The woman had looked at her pocket watch, then she’d sat on the bench. And she’d traced a design on the bench. It was so little to go on, but... “My friend also mentioned a heart-shaped gear etched into the right side of the bench.”

Detective Atwood leaned forward, his blue eyes shining. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, hope giving my heart a wild, pounding rhythm. “Does that mean something to you?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll go check it out.” He straightened and returned the file to the cabinet. “If I find anything to report, I’ll call in a team.”

The woman’s horrified face flashed through my memory again.

Although my instincts screamed at me to leave now before I got any more tangled up in the case, I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of watching that woman die. I couldn’t walk away now. I would help them find her body, even if it risked exposing my identity.

I squared my shoulders. “I’m going with you.”

Chapter 3

“Are you sure—”

I was out the door and before Detective Atwood could even finish.

“Are you always so impulsive?” He laughed as he caught up to me in the hall.

“I prefer to think of it as proactive.” I smiled at him and reached up to tug my hood further over my face as we passed the half-empty room of officers from before. “Are you honestly not going to try to stop me?”

“Considering I don’t even know if there is a crime scene yet, I have no real reason to stop you,” he said. “Besides, maybe you’ll recognize things your friend mentioned.”

The hint of challenge coating his voice had me raising my head higher. “Maybe I will,” I said before throwing my own challenge back at him. “Do you often visit possible crime scenes on your own?”

“I’m not alone now, am I?” He winked at me.

I looked down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another blush.

“Besides, I don’t have a partner at the moment.” His tone wasn’t as flippant as before, but before I could ask anything else, he added, “You can ride with me on my hovercraft if you want. Otherwise—”

“I’ll do it.” I tried to tamp down my excitement, but judging by the amused glint in his eye, I didn’t succeed. Papá never let me ride on hovercrafts, claiming they were too dangerous and not something someone of our status did.

I followed Detective Atwood to an alley running along the side of the station. Even this late at night, the Seventh Chime was alive with movement. People bustled down the street, passing in and out of the gas lamps’ warm glow. In the Upper Chimes, it was more common to have the aether lamps with their blue glow, which was brighter and also easier for airships to spot, but in the rest of the city, gas lamps were far more common.

Detective Atwood pulled a green, glowing orb from his pocket. In response, the engine of a small vehicle lit with the same green. It looked like the motorbikes used at the races in the Lower Chimes except its sleek, streamlined exterior had been painted over with black and the usual steam engine was gone.

“How does this work without an engine?”

“Oh, it has an engine.” He tapped a little glass box holding small charging panels in the front with wires that connected under the seat where I imagined the elusive engine hid.

“It’s solar powered?”

“And lunar.” He climbed onto the seat that didn’t look big enough to hold both of us, at least not at a respectable distance. “It doesn’t last as long, but I prefer the silence when I’m on duty.”

I studied the predicament with a frown.

Detective Atwood turned to face me. He wasn’t smiling, but I got the distinct impression he was laughing from the suppressed amusement in his gaze. “It’ll be a little cramped.”

Riding a hovercraft was one thing, but riding it while holding onto a Blue Cape on the night of my engagement party was unquestionably a terrible idea. But that also made it that much more appealing. One more rebellion against Papá.

“That’s all right.” I eased onto the seat behind him, trying to keep space between us, an impossible task. My knees pressed against his legs somewhat inappropriately, and my leather pants suddenly felt more like a second skin than a covering.

“You might want to hold on.”

“Where?” My heartbeat quickened.

“On to me.” His voice still had that laugh in it.

“Oh, right.” My heart jumped to my throat. This definitely wasn’t proper, but anyone who saw us would assume I was just another witness riding along with a Blue Cape. This ride would mean nothing; it would be like snuggling a tree.

Detective Atwood pressed a button with his left thumb, and the hovercraft lurched forward. I jolted back, then wrapped my arms around his waist to keep from falling off.

A tree with impressive biceps and a muscular stomach.

I flushed and forced my thoughts to Desmarc as the hovercraft coasted almost soundlessly over the cobblestones, especially compared to the clattering steamcabs. We glided under an arched bridge and through an empty intersection as we headed toward the Epoch Clock, the tallest edifice in Chronovale. It stood directly in the center of the city on the spot of land where the Steele River split but wasn’t part of any Chime. It was like the center of a wheel, with the twelve Chimes branching out from it like spokes.

“I’d like to hear all the details from you one more time, if you don’t mind,” Detective Atwood said over his shoulder a few minutes later.

His careful tone jarred me from my thoughts, and I stiffened. “All right.” I spent the next bit of the ride filling him in on everything I remembered, careful to frame it like the story I’d practiced in the steamcab.

“I should be honest with you,” he said once I finished.

“Oh? About what?” Things would be a lot easier if I could be honest with him too.

Detective Atwood was silent for a long moment as we drove alongside the Steele River. The flickering gas lamps cast a soft glow over the nightscape and reflected off the river. In a few weeks, all the leaves would fall from the trees and paint the river’s surface red, orange, and yellow.

I studied the fog rolling in from the Steele River that cut through town. It turned the city into looming edifices and darting shadows, and my heart rate kicked up. Somewhere out there was the murderer. Goose bumps prickled across my skin as the cold wind whipped against me, and I fought to resist the allure of Detective Atwood’s body heat.

“I was trying to respect your privacy since you seemed to want to stay anonymous,”—his broad shoulders raised and fell in a shrug—“but I feel it’s only fair for you to know that I recognized you the moment your hood fell off.”

My cheeks heated in response, and I ducked my head, though he couldn’t see me. “You did?” All of my embarrassing subterfuge for nothing.

“Why did you hide your identity?”

“My father wouldn’t be pleased if he knew I was here.” It was hard to know what he’d be more displeased about—that I was with another man when I was now engaged to be married or that the other man was a Blue Cape.

I smiled at the thought even though I still didn’t want him to find out, but then it morphed into a frown. Was Detective Atwood just humoring me because of my last name? “Is that why you listened? You couldn’t afford to ignore an Annandale?” I asked as we sped under another taller, more ornate bridge near the Epoch Clock. It curved across the sky, lit with the blue glow of aether lamps to make it visible for airships.

“I listened because even though you were lacking many crucial details for a case, you were also insistent and oddly specific,” he said. “It seemed worth investigating.”

Some of the tension in my shoulders dissolved. “Oh.”

“But now that I know the truth,” he said, “does that...change...how much you know about the case?”

He thought I was being vague to protect my identity? In a way, I guess I was. “Not really.”

“If we’re sharing the truth,” he said, “then I might as well admit that I was at your engagement party tonight.”

My eyes widened. That explained his attire. I couldn’t imagine Papá inviting any Blue Capes as guests, so he must have been part of the security duty assigned to the party. They always brought in extra protection when multiple high-ranking politicians gathered in one place.

But talking about my engagement party was the last thing I wanted to do right now considering I’d snuck away from both Desmarc and Papá to come here. I pressed my lips together, hoping that if I didn’t ask any more questions, he wouldn’t either.

Detective Atwood turned down a street to take us to the First Chime, and we rode the next quarter of an hour in silence. A labyrinth of walkways, suspension bridges, and catwalks crisscrossed overhead, providing passages from one factory to another. Unlike the Upper Chimes, the air here was thick with the scent of steam and coal and the sound of clanking gears and whirring machinery from the towering smokestacks.

Steam escaped the pipes snaking along the building next to us with a hiss, filling the street with a humid white mist. I ducked my head, wishing I had my goggles to protect my eyes.

Somewhere behind us, the Epoch Clock chimed twenty-three times.

I tightened my grip on Detective Atwood and bit my lip. If I didn’t get home soon, Papá would realize I wasn’t there.

“We’re here,” Detective Atwood said, drawing me from my worrisome thoughts as he parked. As the green glow died, the hoverboard lowered to the ground with a quiet clatter.

I stepped off and bumped into a low bench. “The fog is going to make things difficult.” I rubbed my aching shin with another muttered curse. It appeared to be the same slipshod kind of bench I’d seen when I’d Slipped, which meant we were on the right track. Hopefully.

“I know where we’re going.” Dead leaves crunched underfoot as he prowled forward.

I followed his broad-shouldered form through the fog while my heartbeat thudded in my ears. The writhing fog looked too much like the smoke in my Slips, and my heartbeat sounded too much like the panicked thump of the bracelet as I’d watched the woman die.

Going to the scene had seemed like a fine idea originally. But now that I was at the place the murderer had been, with the fog limiting visibility, my pulse echoed in my ears and my breath froze in my lungs. At least Detective Atwood’s presence provided a modicum of comfort. He would protect me.

And if it came down to it, I had my knives. While I’d never understood Papá’s insistence that I learn how to use them after Mamá’s death—it wasn’t like learning to defend myself would keep me from getting sick like she had—I had to admit that right then I was grateful for his paranoia. Not that I’d ever tell Papá that.

“It should be around here.” Detective Atwood crossed the street and stopped in front of a pub, then looked around. Despite his casual tone, his gaze darted from side to side and his hand was never far from the saber at his side.

I trailed behind him quietly. I’d seen nothing of this area when I’d Slipped.

We followed the street, then turned down a narrow alley filled with rusted pipes and shanties haphazardly built from mismatched bricks, wood, and iron. The fog thickened and roiled, and my hand fell to the sheath on my leg. The districts closest to the river had it worst at night.

“Are you sure you know—”

“Here.” Detective Atwood knelt, the bottom half of his body partially disappearing in the fog, and traced a small design on a bench. “This is the bench with the clock face etched into it.”

“How did you know that?” I wasn’t sure why, but I whispered.

“Because my friend was the one who did it a long time ago.” He stood and surveyed the area, putting his back to me.

I glanced at the gear once more, then looked around, fighting off a tremor. We were standing where the murderer had been. The old buildings lining the street loomed tall and imposing, their windows dark and foreboding. A stiff wind blew through the area, bringing the Steele’s musky smell and a hollow mournful sound as it rustled along the patchwork tin roofs overhead. It cleared some of the fog temporarily, and the brief reprieve revealed a glimpse of a woman’s still form.

I sucked in a breath and gripped Detective Atwood’s arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, I pointed with a shaky finger. I’d never been this close to a dead body before, except for my brief Slip earlier. Even with Mamá, Papá had never let me see her body.

Detective Atwood’s expression fell into a study of grim lines, and he moved to the body. He knelt next to the corpse, careful not to touch her.

“I need to call this in.” He pulled a small, square walkie-talkie from his belt and held it to his mouth. The aether battery glowed blue, glinting off the brass pipes and wires and giving his face an eerie hue.

“May the aether guide your soul,” I whispered reverentially to the woman.

“Don’t touch the body.” Detective Atwood gripped my arm.

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” I folded my arms across my chest and took a step back.

Detective Atwood requested backup and provided his location.

A scrap of paper on the ground caught my eye. It was thick and creamy but blank. I shoved it in my pocket and focused on the victim. She seemed extra pale compared to the vibrant woman I’d seen when Slipping, as if the mist had leeched all the color from her except for the congealed pool of blood staining her clothes.

“Perhaps a robbery gone wrong,” he said almost to himself. He tilted his head and studied the woman in the walkie-talkie’s blue light. “The city is being overrun by thieves.”

“Maybe not.” I knelt next to him, staring at the woman’s bare wrist.

“I mean I’d like to believe so too, it’d mean we’re doing our job, but—”

“I mean I don’t think it was a robbery.” That still didn’t sit right. Not with the way they’d interacted.

“They aren’t uncommon in the Sootworks,” he said, using the slang term for the First Chime. “There are clear signs she was wearing valuables. Maybe she simply attracted the wrong sort of attention. Look, there.” He pointed to a faint line around her neck, still careful not to touch anything. “It looks like a necklace was pulled off.”

I hesitated a moment, then pulled the bracelet from my pocket and held it out to him. Considering I had an alibi for the whole night, there was no real risk of him thinking I was involved. “This was hers.”

“If that’s true”—he cleared his throat and shot me a shrewd glance—“then why would you have it? Did you know this woman?”

“No.” I swallowed down my nerves. “My friend found this in a fountain in the Eleventh Chime. She saw the woman wearing it and recognized it.”

“Your friend. Right.” He accepted the bracelet and gave me a long look. “If it wasn’t a robbery like you say, why did the man kill her?”

“I don’t know, but if it was one, why would he throw away something so valuable?”

“Fair question.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “If we want any answers, we first need to figure out her identity. Then we can work on finding the killer and his motive. I’ll have some officers canvass the area and question locals about anything unusual that happened this evening. Once we have the body examined, we’ll have an approximate time of death to compare with the details you provided.” His eyes were dark as he stared at the woman, and his jaw clenched, revealing that dimple again. As if he sensed me studying him, he looked up at me. “With this being an active case now, I’ll have to verify your alibi.”

I tensed, even though I had nothing to lose. He already knew my identity.

“It’s just protocol. I don’t think you’re involved,” he said. “There weren’t many chances for you to sneak off during the time frame. And even if you had, I see little reason for you to orchestrate a murder only to come and very poorly report it”—he flashed me a small smile—“a little while later.”

“Can you check my alibi without alerting my father?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Yes, I can do that.”

I turned away and stared at the woman, my hands shaking. I’d accomplished exactly what I’d set out to do, but the victim’s soulless eyes called to me. I couldn’t help but hear her scream from my vision.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Now the Blue Capes find the person who did this, and I get you a steamcab to take you home.”

I let out a long breath, and the crushing weight of witnessing a murder lightened in my chest. This case was in more than capable hands. I’d done my part and been a little like Mamá.

Detective Atwood placed a hand on my shoulder. “There is one other thing.”

“What?” My heart raced at the serious look in his eyes.

“I’m going to need to talk to your friend myself.” A glint of challenge coated his words, as if he still didn’t believe my story.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” My words came out in a rush.

Hs eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“I told you, she’s too scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of getting involved,” I said softly.

A beat of tension passed, settling between us like the mist that rolled in again and hid the woman’s body. I shuddered and turned away.

He sighed and chased a hand through his hair before his eyes met mine. “I’ll get that steamcab.”

Needing to beat Papá home, I didn’t argue with him any further. Less than an hour later, I was safely home and tucked into bed with a steaming cup of whistle mint tea Cogsley had brought. Thankfully, I’d beaten Papá back so no one was around to disturb me as I held the blank scrap of paper from the crime scene in my hand, absently running a finger along the torn edge.

Even without my gloves on, I didn’t Slip. The odds had been low, but I’d hoped to find some sort of clue to track down the killer. Maybe it wasn’t related to the case at all, but it seemed unusual to find paper this nice in the First Chime. I brought it closer to study it, careful to hold my tea beneath it so I wouldn’t spill. But no matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t make out anything. Maybe I’d been wrong, and the paper really was just a bit of trash.

Words shimmered on the surface and I squinted at it and brought it closer. They faded, making me doubt if I’d seen them at all. I put it back where I had it, took another sip of tea, then lowered my cup. Steam wafted around the paper, and an outline and a few words glimmered.

I froze, then held the paper closer to my cup of tea. The longer I did, the bolder the words and the design became until I could finally make out what it said. The heat from the steam revealed the hidden message on the scrap. Despite the soothing scent of the mint, my stomach tied itself into knots.

Even though I only held a corner of the paper, the design made it obvious. Someone had used thermochromic ink—or ember’s ink, as it was more commonly called—to make a copy of my engagement party invitation that would only be visible when held over heat. It was the exact design as those that had been sent out, and the only visible words were Gideon Annand—

Papá.

Chapter 4

Four days after the murder, I finally had a break from the endless social calls with well-born women wanting to congratulate me on my engagement and the meetings with the wedding planner. They were used to working in short time frames, since custom dictated that most engagement periods last a month, but that demanding schedule left little time for the rest of my duties or my sewing projects with Geneve. The copper lining was that it also gave me less time to worry about that forged invitation I’d found and what it meant, especially since I hadn’t had a chance to sneak away to tell Detective Atwood.

Once I had some time to myself, I planned the meals for this week. Papá was throwing more and more dinner parties as he prepared for the major upcoming debate that would heavily influence his chance of becoming the new Prime Meridian. After that, I dealt with the usual correspondences, went over the month’s ledger to allocate the correct amounts to any server bots who had errands to run, and checked the server bot maintenance. One had broken last week and had to be sent in for repairs. To make up for its loss, I had to reprogram Cogsley to cover extra duties around the house. I didn’t use to know how to reprogram them, but after I’d discovered a bug in Cogsley’s personality that made her far more outspoken than any normal bot, I hadn’t wanted to risk sending her in for repairs in case they “fixed” her personality too. She was the closest thing I had to a friend at home, especially since Papá had dismissed all the workers years ago.

Half an hour later, I found myself glaring at the uninspired design for my wedding gown in my sketchbook. Thankfully, Cogsley had replaced it since I’d used up my old one. I crumpled up my latest drawing, realizing I’d started to incorporate pieces from the murder victim’s clothes. The woman’s sightless eyes and her gasp haunted my dreams each night. I hadn’t heard from Detective Atwood again, nor had I had a chance to inform him of my discovery, but maybe it was for the best. I’d already risked enough just by going to the Iron Watch and seeing the Blue Capes. Surely they would track down the connection to my engagement party even without my help considering the victim’s bracelet had been found outside my party. For now, I needed to focus on my wedding in three and a half weeks.

Even though I was looking forward to marrying Desmarc, inspiration for my wedding dress design eluded me. I crumpled up my latest sketch and tossed down my charcoal before collecting a knife and polish from underneath my four-poster bed. Plunking down in the leather armchair I’d moved by the window for better lighting, I rubbed polish into the knife’s already gleaming surface. The familiar motions helped calm my racing thoughts.

Your knives will treat you as well as you treat them. Papá’s voice came back to me from our many hours of lessons together, but I pushed it away and found my gaze drawn to the map on my wall. Not even my knives could keep my thoughts from trailing back to the case.

If you compared the city to a clock, the Steele River ran between the First and Twelfth Chime until it branched at the Epoch Clock in the center, effectively splitting Chronovale into the three sections: the Lower Chimes from one to four o’clock, the Middle Chimes from five to eight o’clock, and the Upper Chimes from nine to twelve o’clock.

My gaze settled on the First Chime, where most of the city’s factories ran along the Steele, or the Sootworks as Detective Atwood had called it. I still had no idea what had brought the killer from the First Chime across the river to my party in the Eleventh Chime. Could Papá be the killer’s next intended victim? I sucked in a breath and pushed the thought away. I was letting my imagination run wild. There was no real reason to assume the killer would even strike again or that it had anything to do with my family. It could have simply been a convenient place to meet. Doing my best to shove thoughts of the murder from my mind, I focused on the Twelfth Chime, where the religious and academic buildings were, including the university. I hadn’t had a chance to sneak out since the night of the engagement party, so I still needed to arrange a meeting with Professor Sophronia. Even though I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study, just being a student there would help me feel closer to Mamá. Sort of like how I’d felt the other night when I’d helped Detective Atwood.

The whirring sound of an engine came from the hall, followed by a knock on the door. Cogsley rolled into the room and sighed. “You’ve made a mess again.”

I glanced around at the discarded designs, peppering of charcoal dust, and my unmade bed. “That’s because I didn’t want you to run out of things to do and get bored.”

“That would not be possible with you around.”

Her words made me grin, even though they weren’t affectionate or teasing, just true. Cogsley didn’t know how to banter, but her blunt way of speaking was refreshing. “Thanks for replacing my sketchbook, by the way.”

“That was not me,” she said as she picked up a small trashcan in the corner of the room.

“It wasn’t?”

“Your father was the one who did that.” She collected the pieces of paper scattered around the floor.

I blinked, trying to process the news.

“Meridian Kingsford is here to see you,” she said.

Butterflies took off in my stomach. He was early. I hadn’t seen him since the party, though he had sent a note to check on me the next morning.

“Thank you. Will you bring tea for us?” I pushed away thoughts of the mystery that was Papá and slipped my knives into the sheathes around my legs. After straightening my skirt, I headed into the hall. The thick, red carpet lining the hall softened my footsteps, and wide windows flooded the hall with natural light and glinted off the family portrait hanging at the top of the stairs. It was painted sixteen years ago, just before Mamá passed.

I exhaled sharply and hurried down the steps—well, not hurried. My old governess insisted ladies never hurried, but I definitely walked with haste.

“I wanted to check on Kyra in person since she didn’t seem well the night of the party,” Desmarc’s smooth baritone reached me through the cracked door. “I would’ve come sooner, but business kept me otherwise engaged.”

“I can already tell what a fine addition to the family you’re going to make,” Papá’s said.

I knocked on the door to announce my presence, then stepped inside.

“Kyra, how are you?” Desmarc asked as he and Papá stood at my entrance. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I gave them both a small curtsy.

“I have something for you.” Desmarc rose to his feet and stopped in front of me, giving me a chance to admire his top hat, his crisp, white shirt and the way the brass buttons on his jacket gleamed. His outfits didn’t look like Geneve’s handiwork, but the quality was just as good.

“You do?”

“Can I see your hand?”

I held it palm up, and he turned it over and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of my gloved hand.

“Oh,” I said somewhat breathlessly, before my gaze darted to Papá.

“That was just because I wanted to.” He reached into the pocket of his black waistcoat, then turned my hand over and placed my silk glove in it. “But this is what I wanted to give you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I smiled at his thoughtful gesture. I hadn’t expected to see this glove again after leaving it at the fountain.

Papá cleared his throat. “I hadn’t realized you’d lost your glove.” His voice held a hint of warning.

I bit my lip and tucked the glove behind my back. “I went outside for some fresh air during the party and it came off when I fell in the fountain.”

“I take it this was before you went home early.”

I winced. So Papá had guessed I’d Slipped. I was sure to get an earful once Desmarc left. “Yes.”

Desmarc took my hand and smiled. “I’m glad you seem to be feeling better.”

The door opened and Cogsley wheeled in with a tray of tea. Her engine gave a little hiss as she worked to cross the thick carpet.

“Allow me.” I pulled my hand free and poured a cup for Papá, Desmarc, and myself before settling into my seat.

“The renewal will be on us in a fortnight,” Papá said, his expression growing stiff like it always did when he talked about the upcoming elections.

“With my union to Kyra, you’ll surely be the Guardians’ top contender as a candidate for Prime Meridian.” Desmarc smiled at me but was clearly speaking to Papá. “The other factions pose little threat at the moment with the Revolutionists’ radical demands and the Neo-Unionists promising all sorts of things they won’t be able to deliver.”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on them all the same to see who they choose as their candidates.” Papá crossed one leg over the other. “Meridian Eliver has been pushing hard for more aether technology even though much of the city is still against it.”

I frowned as I thought of the man from the Revolutionist faction who’d been at my engagement party.

“We should also keep an eye on Meridian Lambkins,” Desmarc said. “He’s moved up the ranks to be a top contender for the Neo-Unionist faction.”

The other meridian’s name was easy to remember because his ears stuck out a little on the sides and his poofy white beard looked like a lamb. He also had a meeker disposition, which made it hard to imagine him doing well in politics—and yet, it seemed he was so far a success.

The talk of the three main political factions had me fighting back a yawn. All Papá and Desmarc ever did was talk about who would be nominated as candidates from each faction to run in the upcoming election for Prime Meridian.

I zoned out of their conversation and cast a sideways glance at Desmarc. Speaking of those who’d moved up the ranks, I still wasn’t sure how Desmarc had become a meridian by the age of thirty. Anytime I asked about it, he attributed it to his connections and hard work, but he was easily a decade younger than the others.

“It would be helpful if we scheduled more press for you before the debate.” Desmarc took off his top hat and rotated it in his hands.

I hid a sigh. I wasn’t against politics—I couldn’t be, considering I was marrying Desmarc—but I hated how it had stolen Papá from me. He’d been an engineer before, something that was fairly unusual considering most upper-class families like ours didn’t do traditional work, but after Mamá’s death, he’d suddenly become obsessed with climbing the rungs of the political ladder.

Next to the door, Cogsley’s engine hummed quietly. I stood and walked over. “You can go now,” I whispered, trying not to disturb Papá and Desmarc’s conversation.

“I still have a duty to perform,” she said in her inflectionless voice at an equally low volume.

“What is it?”

“A man came to the house and requested I deliver a note to Kyra Annandale at a convenient time.”

Maybe it was Detective Atwood. I couldn’t imagine who else would be calling on me, considering most of my acquaintances were female. “Well?”

“I’m waiting for a convenient time,” Cogsley said.

“Now is a convenient time.” I extended my hand. Honestly, these bots. Well, just Cogsley, really.

Another glance at Papá proved he and Desmarc were still deep in conversation. If this was concerning the murder the other night, I didn’t want anyone else to find out, but leaving the room now would draw more attention to myself. I accepted the note right there and skimmed its contents.

Dear Poppy,

I hope you don’t find this message too presumptuous, but I wanted to thank you for your help the other day. I know how deeply you value your anonymity, so I thought you, of all people, would appreciate an alias.

My cheeks flushed at his teasing. He was definitely laughing at me.

We checked the fountain you mentioned and found more of the woman’s valuables. Unfortunately, besides learning that the killer was at your engagement party, our leads have run dry. If you or your friend find yourself with any additional insight, we would be at your service. Someone with your abilities would be most welcome.

Detective Hiram Atwood

My breath caught at the thought of him knowing about my Slipping, but that was preposterous. With me being the only one with powers like this, it was not something Detective Atwood could guess. Especially since I couldn’t even explain why I had these powers.

I folded the note with shaking hands. It was almost like the detective thought I stumbled upon murder cases every day. Either way, his asking for information must’ve meant that he’d finished confirming the time of death and my alibi for the murder.

“What do you think, Kyra?” Papá asked.

Stiffening, I surreptitiously shoved the note in my pocket next to Mamá’s thimble, which I always kept with me. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m a bit distracted.”

“Are you feeling poorly again?” Desmarc asked.

“I simply need some fresh air is all.” And a chance to process that note. “I have a bit of a headache. Maybe from all the wedding planning,” I lied with a twinge of guilt. But I needed to get away from Papá’s scrutiny, and Desmarc was one of the best distractions I could ask for.

“A walk in the garden sounds like a wonderful idea,” Desmarc said. “I’ll join you once your father and I finish ironing out this next campaign idea.”

I left them to their political discussions, which would continue with or without me, and escaped into the cheerful sunlight. Leaving the manicured yard behind, I stepped through the wrought-iron gates and onto a garden path paved in weathered gears and cogs.

I fingered the note in my pocket. Ignoring the detective’s cryptic wording about my abilities, I focused on the rest of the message. They’d hit a dead end with the case and needed help, not that he’d asked for it explicitly. Men rarely did.

But maybe this was my chance. Doing so might risk whatever was left of my relationship with Papá, but at least it wouldn’t affect my engagement to Desmarc. He had no problems with the Blue Capes. And even if Papá found out, there wasn’t much he could do to punish me at this point. He couldn’t take away a marriage he’d arranged himself, at least not when it would also jeopardize his chances at becoming Prime Meridian. Plus, it could be my chance to find a connection between the killer, my family, and the reason for why he was at the engagement party.

If I could make it work, the opportunity was exactly what I needed to get some answers. But even if I could use my ability to help the Blue Capes, would I be able to do it without revealing my secret? Slipping at home was different from Slipping outside where people might realize something was wrong with me.

I continued down the main path, which led to a large fountain surrounded by clockwork statues. My favorite was a towering sculpture that resembled a graceful dancer posed in a leap over an automaton of a swan in flight, complete with flapping wings powered by gentle bursts of steam. Or maybe it was just my favorite because it had been Mamá’s favorite.

Stepping onto a platform off to the side, I pulled a lever and the ground fell away as I rose two dozen feet into the air to the entrance of Mamá’s tree garden. This was about as high as I liked to go. Well, liked was putting it strongly. I forced myself to come up here despite my fear of heights because it was one of Mamá’s favorite places. Three floors in total with thirty-six steps and forty-two varieties of plants. Leather armchairs, wooden tables, and bookshelves filled some of the space from when Mamá would read out here, but it was mostly plants.

Carefully, I stepped onto the top floor of Mamá’s tree garden, one of the few pieces of her Papá had kept alive after her death. An assortment of colorful flowers, both natural and mechanized, bejeweled the top floor. Vibrant daisies and hydrangeas grew alongside mechanical blooms adorned with tiny brass filigree. Metal roses emitted soft whirs as they swayed in the wind from an open window, and the sunlight glinted off the copper vines wrapped around trellises. While most of the flowers in the other garden were already dying in the colder weather, the ones here stayed in bloom all year. It was the perfect place to go to feel closer to Mamá and to think.

I brushed a hand over the target hanging on the far wall. Numerous nicks and indents marked the surface from years of practice. I’d moved it here once I’d claimed Mamá’s garden as my own. But I wasn’t in the mood for knife throwing now.

Instead, I turned and adjusted the angle of the brass eyepiece of Mamá’s telescope. The air filled with a soft whirring as a few gears turned, then part of the eyepiece fell to the floor with a quiet clank. I bent to retrieve it, and a gleam under a table caught my eye. An old pair of goggles rested in the dust.

I swallowed hard as hope rose in me. Slowly, I pulled off one glove and reached for it. When I’d first started Slipping again, the house had plenty of objects packed with strong emotions for me to use, but as I’d drained more and more of them, it was harder to find chances to see memories of Mamá again. Maybe these goggles were a sign and would show me something to help me decide.

My finger brushed the frame, and a blue spark jumped and sucked me into the past.

Chapter 5

The world turned dark and rushed around me until it came to a jarring stop.

The goggles thumped, sending out the familiar shock wave that pulsed through the mist. Papá appeared next to me.

I gaped at the goggles—Papá’s goggles. It made no sense for them to be out here unless... I swallowed hard. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who came here when missing Mamá.

“What’s wrong with her?” Papá’s face was a mask of concern as he looked down at something in his arms.

No, not something. Someone. The smoke shifted, and a little me appeared in his arms. She appeared to be ten or eleven.

“I don’t know, sir. I found her like this.” A servant materialized from the mist. He wrung his cap in his hands, casting worried glances at me.

I struggled to remember his name—it had been years since we’d had human helpers.

“She was already like this when you found her?” Papá laid Little Me on a couch, the same one that sat in our living room at the front of the house. Goggles dangled from his neck as he leaned over her.

As if in response, the goggles in my hand thumped.

“Yes, sir. Should I call the doc—”

Little Me stirred, then opened her eyes and blinked groggily. “Papá?”

“I’m here, Kyra.” He pulled me into a hug, his voice rough. “Are you all right?”

Little Me straightened and pulled away from him. A wide smile displayed her small teeth splitting her face. “I saw Mamá.”

“You must’ve been dreaming.” He smoothed back my hair.

I blinked back tears at the tender gesture. He hadn’t done that to me since I was a little girl.

“No.” Little Me shook her head. “It wasn’t a dream. I really saw her. She and I were playing upstairs, and she was telling me about our plans to go on a picnic. It was just like last month.”

Last month. That meant I was ten then and this was not long after Mamá’s passing.

Papá straightened like Little Me had shocked him. He turned to face the servant. “You may go, Percy. I’ll take it from here.” His voice was suddenly deeper, but it didn’t hide the slight tremble in it.

Percy opened his mouth as if to object, then took one look at Papá’s worried squint and the tight lines of his mouth and simply bobbed his head. “As ye wish, sir.”

The goggles thumped again, almost in time with the click of the door that closed behind Percy.

Little Me still smiled happily, staring off into the distance while she relived the memory. With Papá’s back to her, she couldn’t see the worry tightening his expression or notice the tension radiating from him. But from my position in the mist, I could see it clearly.

Somehow, Papá knew I’d Slipped before I’d even explained it to him. But that made no sense. I was the only one with this ability; he’d told me that for years.

Papá drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before turning to kneel next to me. “Has this happened before, Kyra?”

I shifted around so I had a better view of both their faces as Little Me said, “Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “When did it happen the first time?”

Little Me scrunched up her face in thought. “A week after Mamá died.” Her voice trembled. “I went up to her tower.”

I smiled at the memory of how I’d used to call Mamá’s garden her tower, even as the reminder of my fresh pain tugged at my heart.

The goggles thumped twice. I was running out of time, but I had so many questions still.

“—and when I touched her telescope, suddenly I could see her showing me how to use it for the first time after you gave it to her.” Little Me sat up and swung her legs over the side of the sofa. “At first it was scary because I didn’t know what was going on, but once I realized whatever it was helped me see Mamá, I’ve been going around touching lots of things. It isn’t so bad once you get used to it, and it makes me miss Mamá less.”

Papá took Little Me’s small shoulders in his hands. “You can’t do that again, Kyra.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she rubbed at her chest over her heart. “But it helps it not hurt so much.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I know.” Papá pulled her into a hug. Anguish lined his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I miss her too, but you have to promise me you’ll stop with this. Slipping is too dangerous.”

“Slipping?” Little Me asked before a stream of questions bubbled from her. “Is that what you call it? Can other people do it? Can you? Why can I? Why is it dangerous?”

Papá smiled gently, but now that I was older, I could see the conflict raging in his expression. “I can’t do it, but it’s very dangerous, and I don’t want you to do it again. No one can find out about this.” He stiffened. “Have you told anyone else?”

Little Me blinked, and a tear trailed down her cheek. “No, Papá.”

“Good.” He wiped the tear away. “Promise me you won’t Slip anymore and that you won’t tell anyone. It’s a curse, Kyra, and I need your help to keep you safe.”

“A curse?” she whispered. At his nod, she sniffled. “I promise, but I don’t—”

The past faded around me, dissolving like steam clearing from the air.

I closed my eyes as I returned to my body, my head whirling with revelations. Papá knew more about Slipping than he’d ever let on. As a child, I’d taken his vague answers as absolutes. Even as I grew up, his claims had morphed into something so matter-of-fact I hadn’t considered it again until this memory reminded me of the pieces missing from Papá’s story. While I’d been hoping for a memory of Mamá, this brought up more questions I hadn’t realized I needed to be asking.

Could Papá Slip too? I dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. He hardly wore gloves, and I’d never seen him demonstrate any of the signs of Slipping. But clearly, he knew something for him to have immediately called it that. Despite his insistence that I was the only one in the city with this ability, there had to be someone who’d told him about it. Maybe I’d gotten my ability from Mamá? But that didn’t make sense, since I had no memory of her constantly wearing gloves or suddenly becoming unresponsive.

With a sigh, I turned away from the goggles—which had provided some answers, but not the ones I’d expected—and retreated down the series of zigzagging stairs that led the way to the ground level. I’d lost time while Slipping and needed to get back to Papá and Desmarc.

The day from that memory marked the beginning of a series of changes in my life. Papá got me gloves—another sign that he knew what was going on—and insisted I wear them everywhere. Just a few weeks later, he replaced all our workers with the server bots. And just a few months after that, he started training me with my knives. If he thought Slipping was dangerous, that could be the real reason behind those lessons. Not that that made much sense either, since my knives were useless in the past.

Detective Atwood’s note rustled in my pocket, reminding me of why I’d come out here. Honestly, it was probably best not to respond to it. My life was far from perfect, but it might still not be better to take unnecessary risks. While I didn’t think Desmarc would have a problem with me interacting with the Blue Capes like Papá would, I had no idea how he’d feel about me involving myself in murder cases.

But the urge to do something still nagged at me like a loose thread on a piece of fabric I couldn’t help but pull at.

“There you are.” Desmarc walked over as I rejoined the central path.

“Sorry, were you waiting long?” I smiled up at him, glad he’d come to find me, and we strolled together around the garden—the mostly dead one that sprawled horizontally across our lands instead of vertically.

“Not at all. An urgent message came in for your father, so I thought I would come find you.”

“I see.” I stifled a sigh. Despite how Desmarc and I had grown closer during our six-month courtship, it was impossible to forget this was still an arranged marriage. He often chose Papá and politics over me, although that wasn’t totally fair considering I had my own reasons for entering this marriage.

Desmarc took my hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. The black silk of his glove was stark against his starched shirt.

“Have you ever had to decide between your brain and your heart?” I dropped my other hand into my pocket to wrap around the note.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean have you ever had to choose to follow everyone’s expectations over what you truly wanted?”

“What’s this about, Kyra?”

I chewed my lip. Should I tell him about Slipping, despite Papá’s warnings? But again, the fear of his reaction kept me silent. “Nothing.”

He stopped and turned to face me. “Are you talking about our engagement?”

I blinked up at him in surprise. “Of course not.”

“So, what are you talking about?”

“Just hypothetically. With life.”

His expression grew serious, and he squeezed my hand. “I’m the type who almost always chooses duty over love. It’s how I was raised.”

“I see,” I said softly, unsurprised. I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, even though I couldn’t blame him. I was choosing my own happiness and freedom over love, although I still held the faint hope that someday it would bloom between us.

Duty over love. Expectations over dreams.

Seeing that murder and meeting Detective Atwood was a wake-up call, giving shape to this desire that had been growing in me the last few years. I wanted to prove that I could do more, that I could be more than a pawn in someone’s political games. I’d thought getting away from Papá and going to university would be enough, that it could help me feel closer to Mamá in some small way. But there was no better way to feel close to Mamá than by helping people.

And if I worked with the Blue Capes, maybe I’d have access to more resources and be able to learn more about my ability. No one else had an ability like mine, and I had no idea how people would respond if they found out. In a world of science and technology, my ability didn’t fit in. I’d tried to come up with thousands of excuses over the years to explain it—some weird side effect of aether power, Mamá ate something strange when she was pregnant with me, there was something strange about my DNA, something had happened to me as a kid... But no matter what I did, they remained just that. Theories.

We turned a corner, bringing the front of the house into view again. The sun glinted off the mismatched curved windows and metal turrets.

Papá stood on the second-story balcony, an intense frown on his face as he puffed on his pipe.

“It looks like your father is free,” Desmarc said. “Maybe you can stop by the kitchen and ask the bots to prepare some food for us while I meet with him?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent.” He kissed my cheek and gave me one last smile, then hurried up the steps to the front porch and let himself in.

Though Desmarc said he’d choose duty over love, he’d still treat me well. It was obvious in the small things he did. Like how he wore gloves when he was around me to help me feel more comfortable about how I always wore them too. He’d asked me about it once, but since Papá had forbidden me to tell, I’d given him an excuse. He must’ve seen the distress in my expression because he hadn’t brought it up again. Hopefully, once we were married, we would both learn to be more open with one another.

After swinging by the kitchen and asking the bots to make some finger sandwiches and scones, I made my way back to the living room. The door was still ajar, but now their voices were much more subdued.

“Are you sure?” Desmarc asked.

“The message was unmistakable,” Papá said heavily. “There’s been another—”

The squeak of his chair as he sank into it drowned out his last word, and I had to resist the urge to swear. As soon as I had a chance, I’d put some oil on that chair.

Another meridian rising in the ranks? My steps were silent on the thick carpet as I crept closer to the door.

“Once word of this leaks, the city will be on high alert,” Desmarc said.

If it was about something political, it wouldn’t put the city on high alert. Maybe it had to do with the aether technology.

I shifted, giving me a view of Desmarc’s back and Papá’s tense expression. Something bad had happened, but I was stuck trying to fit together a puzzle with only half the pieces. Despite what Desmarc had said about me joining them, it wasn’t like I could barge in and ask for more details. Papá considered many things unsuitable topics for me and preferred shielding me from bad news rather than letting us face it together, and Desmarc would surely follow his lead. I’d have to get my information through less-than-conventional methods.

“Not to sound heartless, but isn’t this good for the Guardians?” Desmarc asked.

“Is death ever good for anyone?” Papá said harshly.

I inhaled sharply at the same moment Desmarc said, “True, but if it’s true that there’s been another murder after the one the night of the party, that just goes to show that the Neo-Unionists aren’t up to keeping their promise about protecting the city.”

My heart raced hearing them talk about the murder from the night of the party, even though they seemed oblivious to my involvement in the affair. Not to mention the news of another death. Why hadn’t Detective Atwood said anything about it in his note?

But the most important question of all was: If more people were dying, could I really sit by and do nothing? Not like crime didn’t happen constantly, but the experience from the other day had proven that I could help with my ability. Even if I didn’t get any answers, the fact that I could make a difference like Mamá was reason enough to pursue this opportunity.

Slowly, I reached into my pocket and gripped the note with one hand. The next time Papá was out, I’d return to the Iron Watch and convince Detective Atwood to let me help solve the murders.

Chapter 6

Between knife training with Papá, different political events, my usual duties around the house, and wedding planning, I couldn’t get away the next day. By the following afternoon, my impatience was nearly boiling over, leaving me like a bot with a short circuit.

“I’ll see you tonight, Kyra,” Papá called from the other room before leaving for his lunch appointment.

“Goodbye.” I was in my room with my sketchbook in front of me, scraps of paper and fabric littering the floor. While most brides bought a premade dress, I was determined to design mine myself, but with the wedding three weeks away, I was running out of time. And while Geneve and I had already made the bulk of it—the basics that would be the same no matter what—I’d insisted on coming up with the finishing touches myself.

Papá poked his head back into the room and fixed a stern glare on me. “Be careful and keep your gloves on.” Which was code for No Slipping. “I shouldn’t have to remind you how dangerous it is to leave your body unattended. Anything could happen to you.”

“I know.” Thankfully, he didn’t repeat the rest of his lecture from last night about the dangers of Slipping or the necessity of keeping it a secret.

After another minute, the slamming of the door announced his departure.

I counted to one hundred, then raced to the entryway. Outside, the bright morning sun revealed the flowers in the garden rustling in the breeze and an empty pathway leading to the road. Perfect.

Returning to my room, I changed into the same cotton tunic, linen vest, and leather pants as before. There was little I could do about the materials’ finer quality and make, but at least they helped me blend in.

I pocketed my watch and thimble and slid my favorite knife into my boot since I didn’t have a skirt to hide my leg sheaths. Papá had given me this knife to me for my eighteenth birthday before turning down my request to go to AIR U. But the terrible memory associated with the gift didn’t dull its sharp edge or throw off its excellent balance.

Cogsley wheeled into the room and started to clean up my mess. “Is there any assistance you require?”

“No,” I grunted as I exchanged my skirt for breeches.

“When your father returns, shall I tell him you went out garbed in unusual attire?”

“No, you should not.” I grabbed a pair of short brown gloves from my bedside table, plopped Mamá’s old top hat with her favorite pair of goggles on my head, and left my hair hanging down my back. “If he asks about me, just tell him I went for a walk. Nothing more,” I added over my shoulder as I ran to the front door.

I couldn’t help the smile that took over my face as I hustled down the road that led from our estate to the main road. Though I could’ve had one of the server bots drive me in a steamcab, the Annandale cabs drew too much attention and walking felt like another way of exerting my independence. Our estate was in the Tenth Chime, along with all the other elites and those with old money who had more land than they knew what to do with. To get to the Iron Watch, I had two options. I could either cut through the Ninth Chime, where most of the high-class merchants and government buildings were, cross the Steele, and then continue through the residential areas in the Eighth until I reached the Iron Watch in the Seventh. Or I could head straight east through the Tenth to the Epoch Clock, then go south to the Seventh. Either way, it would be at least an hour of walking, which would give me time to clear my head and enjoy my freedom. Since the Iron Watch was fairly close to the city center, I headed to the Epoch Clock.

The wind whispered its encouragement as I walked, like it was proud of me for finding a way to finally help people. Eventually, I wanted to tell it to stop being so proud of me, because it was making my hair a mess. Maybe leaving it down had been a mistake. I untied the scarlet ribbon from the brim of Mamá’s hat and used it to tie my hair back low on my neck while I thought about what I’d planned to say to Detective Atwood.

My resolve had hardened while I slept until I couldn’t imagine not helping him with the case. Not only might it have something to do with my family personally, but this was my chance to be like Mamá. Following in her footsteps wasn’t as black and white as going to university. I didn’t have to attend classes or have the same professors; I just had to live like she had. Now my small rebellion of Slipping had a purpose: to catch a killer.

I just had to convince Detective Atwood I could help. Revealing my secret completely was out of the question, but maybe I could convince him with a partial truth. The thought of telling anyone anything about my ability made my stomach tighten, but I pushed my nerves down as best I could.

As I made it to the edge of the area around the Epoch Clock, the smells of the city grew stronger. The fishy scent of the Steele. The pungent tobacco stench from the factories drifting from the First Chime. The sweet doughy aroma of fresh steamed buns from the street vendors. Overhead, an airship floated under one of the arched bridges connecting two buildings. They were fascinating to watch, but I trembled at the thought of riding on one—I hated heights.

I ducked my head at a couple walking past. The woman’s cotton dress and the man’s crisp button-down shirt and tweed pants were all well-made, though nothing compared to Geneve’s handiwork. And they didn’t look twice at my attire. They inclined their heads at me and kept walking, appearing not to give me a second thought. The Epoch Clock was a gathering place for those from different Chimes, but it was much more common to see those from the Lower Chimes walking. I grinned at my anonymity. I could be anyone. Do anything.

I made it to the Epoch Clock, where the gurgle of the Steele grew louder where it split into two as it continued south. The Epoch Clock had been built on the narrow piece of dry land where the river branched. On days when big political events happened, like the upcoming debate, the market shut down.

The Epoch Clock chimed thirteen times, calling out over the cacophony of voices at the market. I wove my way through a crowd of shoppers and turned south toward the Seventh Chime. Unlike in the Eighth, with its brick and stone townhouses lining cobblestone streets, the Seventh was mostly businesses crafted from iron, brass, wood, and glass—something the Lower Chimes could never afford.

Nothing physically stopped people from moving around the city, but it was usually obvious at a glance where people belonged, and no one enjoyed feeling out of place. A couple of men bumped into me on the crowded street. They ducked their heads and mumbled an apology before continuing on, though I could feel their gazes on me. The city was bound by societal rules as strict as gravity with a person’s Chime based on their income. The affluent families in the Upper Chimes rarely mingled with those in the Lower Chimes and vice versa, but those in the Middle Chimes had a bit more flexibility. And right now, I looked like I belonged in the middle.

The men’s attention set me on edge, and my hand drifted to my side, ready to reach for the knife in my boot. It wasn’t their status or gender that had me wound up, so much as the memory of the killer on the loose. He’d already been close to me once, and I couldn’t forget that he was out here somewhere.

Finally, I made it to the Iron Watch and drew in a few calming breaths. Now that I wasn’t frantically trying to report a murder, I could admire the building’s majesty. Its tall walls and wide, sweeping arches, domed roof, and its spires cutting into the sky. Not to mention that most of it was gilded in iron that glinted brightly in the sun as if demanding attention. It was one of the oldest buildings in the Seventh Chime thanks to the fact that the original Prime Meridian had decreed that the Iron Watch be built first.

My heart pounded as I stared at the plaque above the door—a metal saber in front of a blue star. I smoothed down my hair, then pushed my way inside. The clack of typewriters, the squeaking of shoes on the floor, and the distinct scent of sweat and oil that filled the room.

“Excuse me,” I said to the closest Blue Cape. “I’m looking for Detective Atwood.”

“He’s not here,” he grunted, barely giving me a glance.

“Oh.” I frowned. Detective Atwood probably had better things to do than sit around at his desk all day, especially when I hadn’t told him I was coming. “Do you know where I can find him?”

A few paces away, a man with disheveled brown hair who looked around my age glanced up from a desk piled high with paperwork. “He left for his lunch break a few minutes ago.”

I bit my lip. Maybe talking to him outside of the station was a better plan anyway. “Do you know where he went?”

The disheveled man eyed me, as if deciding what to share.

“He asked me to come see him if I had information about a case, but I’m in a hurry, so I don’t want to wait.”

Something like recognition flickered across his face. “He went to Nuts and Bowls today. It’s over in the Fourth Chime.”

“Thank you.” I dipped my head at him and headed outside. Fifteen minutes later, I’d made it back to the center of town, but this time I headed east toward the Iron Docks in the Fourth Chime. I stopped a passing woman for directions to the restaurant, then I quickened my pace, passing a house with boarded-up windows and a door hanging off its hinges. The buildings and shops leaned against each other as if to hold one another up, sort of like how the people here walked around in huddled groups.

While I’d grown somewhat used to it during my visits to the Lower Chimes with Geneve—she frequently reminded me that Mamá had been against the inequality—I rarely came alone. But I hadn’t left home to be bound by Papá’s stifling rules. If he expected me to sit at home with the server bots all day, he shouldn’t have bothered teaching me how to defend myself.

The further I got into the Fourth Chime, the more apparent the poverty became. A few children darted past with dirty faces and bare feet, probably left unattended while their parents scraped together a living on the docks. A woman with a baby on her hip hung up laundry outside a run-down shanty made from scrap metal and wooden planks. If only there were more I could do to help. My visits with Geneve to hand out clothes and the occasional financial donation I convinced Papá to contribute never felt like enough. Clothes hardly mattered when what they really needed were jobs and safe places to sleep. What they really needed was structural change in the Lower Chimes, and that was more than I knew how to tackle.

But for all the difficulties those in the Lower Chimes experienced, I envied their freedom and equality. The women worked just as hard as the men and they were often treated the same. While Papá was worse than most in the Upper Chimes with his stifling rules, it wasn’t uncommon for the elites to deal in arranged marriages and political alliances. It kept the power and money among the same families, while the poorer classes got to marry for love.

I made it to a crowded, circular building where the scent of fresh rolls and steamed fish beckoned me inside. The sign had once read Nuts and Bolts, but someone had crossed out the word Bolts and painted BOWLS in large block letters.

Over the years during my visits with Geneve, I’d realized the Lower Chimes had more of a “if the gears are turning, let them be” mindset. But that said, even many of the places that were broken still didn’t get fixed.

Ignoring my rumbling stomach, I pushed my way into the throng. Inside, tables and chairs were shoved into every viable space and the windows hung open, letting in fresh air and sunlight and letting out the tantalizing aroma of food and the chatter of conversation. I scanned for the flash of blue that would give away Detective Atwood’s uniform.

A man bumped into me from behind.

“Pardon me,” I said reflexively as I spun around.

“That’s just fine.” He leered at me with bloodshot eyes and took a step forward, tottering to the side. He reached for me and said, “You can make it up to me by coming back to my place.”

“I’d rather not.” Stepping back, I glanced toward the knife hidden in my boot.

His eyes narrowed, and he growled, “I insist.”

I tensed and started to bend for my blade. “I’m not—”

“Return to your lunch so I can return to mine,” a familiar voice said, “unless you’d rather finish your meal behind bars?”

The tension in my shoulders eased, and I glanced over at the detective.

The drunk man squinted at Detective Atwood, taking in the aether gun and saber at his belt, the blue star sewn onto the right breast of his leather uniform, and his bright blue cape. His commanding air and sharp uniform amounted to quite the impressive image... Objectively speaking, of course.

The man’s response was slow, but, finally, he shuffled back, mumbling an apology.

“You all right?” Detective Atwood asked, apparently not at all surprised to see me. Maybe he’d been expecting me ever since he sent that note.

“Yes.” I hadn’t needed saving, but his interference had helped avoid my causing a scene. Nothing made people mind their own business faster than a blue cape.

“Want something?” He dropped back into his wooden seat at a small table set flush against the wall and pushed a menu toward me.

“Oh, um, sure.” I sat across from him and stared at his sandwich for a moment. It looked delicious. After a minute of trying, I finally managed to wave down a boy taking orders. I pointed to Detective Atwood’s sandwich then held up one finger. He bobbed his head and turned around.

“I’m glad you didn’t let me down, Poppy,” Detective Atwood said.

I flushed at the nickname. “By coming?”

“By blushing.” He smirked and took a bite of his sandwich, then cocked his head to the side, studying me. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would see you again. But I’d hoped so. That’s why I let my friend know where to send you, if you came calling while I was out.”

“I had to come after hearing about the latest”—I leaned closer and lowered my voice—“murder.”

He peered at me over the rim of his cup for a long moment, then took a sip. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you heard about that, considering who your father is.”

“He’s not what I came here to talk about,” I said. “I’m here to talk about your note.” I was careful to keep my wording vague considering we were in a public setting. Being here would help me fit in since no one would expect to see me here, but it also increased our chances of potentially being overheard.

“Does that mean your friend knows something else about the first case?” His emphasis on the word proved he was still questioning me even while he kept his questions as vague as mine.

I shook my head. “I’m afraid not.”

“That’s a pity.”

My pulse quickened. If I didn’t have any information for him, our meeting might end before it even started. “Should my friend know something about it?”

He chewed slowly as if lost in thought. “There were similarities between the cases, and while two in a month is standard, having two in less than a week is...nearly unheard of.”

I leaned back a little in my chair as he confirmed my theory. “You think they’re connected.”

“If they are, then I really shouldn’t get you any more involved,” he said. “Especially if you don’t have any more information.”

I straightened my shoulders and met his clear gaze. “I’m the reason you knew about the case in the first place. Plus, I think we both know that I’m already involved.”

One eyebrow rose. “Meaning?”

I waited as the boy returned with my sandwich on a tray with a small serving of nuts and a bowl of soup, then I pulled out the scrap of paper. I held it against the side of my steaming soup bowl. After a few seconds, the words shimmered to life. “I don’t think it was a coincidence that the bracelet ended up in the fountain so close to my party, and I think you agree with me.”

He pressed his lips together and looked around. “That’s all the more reason not to let you help. It’s dangerous.”

With great effort, I kept myself from glaring at him. I was so sick of people trying to tell me what I could and couldn’t do all the time. I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “You’re the one who mentioned my abilities.”

“It will take more than being insightful and having a good head on your shoulders for me to involve someone with no training in a case as dangerous as this.”

He had no idea I could Slip through time. But even as I bit back a sigh of relief, my frustration boiled. Things would be easier if he already knew the truth, since the choice to tell him would be out of my hands. If only he knew, he’d be begging for my help. “You must need some help if you’re turning to my friend for information.”

“I like to cover my bases,” he said evenly.

I could feel him, and my chances of helping, evaporating like the morning mist from the Steele.

“I could be useful to you.” Especially if I Slipped again. I twisted my fingers together in my lap under the table.

He leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table and minimizing the distance between us. “How exactly do you think you could help?”

“I have connections that could come in handy. And I’m good at reading people,” I said. “Growing up around the people I did, you have to be.”

He tilted his head to the side. “And what’s your read on me?”

“You take your work very seriously and you seem like someone who values control and having all the facts.” I studied his posture a bit more, especially the protective way he often sat or stood as if always ready to leap into action. “I’d say you have siblings, most likely you’re an older brother, and the way you meet my eye tells me you’re straightforward and comfortable with hard conversations.”

He let out a low whistle. “Not bad.”

“And you’re clearly highly motivated and dedicated to your job to have risen in the ranks as quickly as you did.”

His gaze dropped to the table as he suddenly became absorbed in the last bite of his sandwich.

“Am I right?” I tackled the soup; its sweet, tangy flavor danced on my tongue as the cool liquid slid down my throat. It was heavenly.

“Some of it,” he hedged.

Interesting. I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

“So I can come?” I asked hopefully.

“No.” He smiled, revealing that pointed incisor. “But thanks for the demonstration.”

Disappointment fluttered in my chest. If he didn’t need me for my connections or observations, I only had one thing left to offer. Maybe I was rushing into this, but the small chance that this could be an opportunity to learn more about Slipping made it worth going out on a wire. Plus, I couldn’t let it go so easily knowing Papá might be in danger. No matter how bad our relationship was, I’d never wish for him to be hurt.

And maybe, just a small part of me, wanted to see if people would react as poorly as I expected them too. I could tell him at least part of the truth and see how it went.

“There is one other thing,” I said slowly.

“Which is?”

I looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to us before focusing back on him. “There’s another way I can help, but it’s probably easier to show than explain.”

“I’m going to need a little more than that.”

I lowered my voice until it was so quiet that my pounding heart and the rumble of chatter almost drowned it out. I’d known it might come to this, and while I wasn’t the same girl who’d blindly listened to Papá for all those years, ignoring the warning that had been ingrained in me for years left my pulse racing. “I can see things.”

“That makes two of us.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean I can see things that have already happened.”

Detective Atwood’s eyebrows shot up and I didn’t blame him. What I was saying made me sound like I had a screw loose.

“If you give me a chance, I can prove it.”

Detective Atwood leaned back in his chair, studying me. I finished my soup and tried not to fiddle with my spoon while I waited. Finally, he said, “How?”

“Take me to your office, and I’ll show you.” I met his serious gaze with my own.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you accompany me to the station,” he said. “If you can prove you can be beneficial to the case, then we’ll talk.”

I blinked, then tried to cover my surprise and pleasure by cutting into my neglected sandwich. He’d accepted that more easily than I’d thought he would. The hearty bread, toasted to perfection, was filled with seasoned meats, tangy pickles, and a creamy spread. I focused on the flavors instead of my nerves to keep them from getting the better of me. I’d never Slipped to prove anything to anyone before, and I wasn’t sure how Detective Atwood would react. But it didn’t matter how strange he thought I was if it would allow me to help...

“We can go as soon as you’re done eating,” Detective Atwood said with a smile.

“Then, I’m done.” I started to stand.

Detective Atwood looked down at my plate. “You don’t want to finish that?”

I flushed, realizing how very Upper Chimes I must’ve looked. I’d learned how precious food was in my trips to the Lower Chimes, yet I’d let myself forget. “I’m taking it with me,” I said as if that had been my plan all along. I wrapped the remaining half of my sandwich in a napkin and made my way to the front as Detective Atwood grabbed his saber from where it leaned against the wall.

A woman in an apron bustled around behind the counter.

“Can I open a tab for this establishment?” I asked her, realizing a moment too late that I hadn’t brought enough money to cover a meal. A tab would blow my cover, but I didn’t have many other options.

She snorted and looked me up and down, gaze lingering on my gloves. “Honey, how am I gonna feed my family with a tab? We only accept cash here.”

My stomach sank. Since I’d walked today, I hadn’t even brought fare for a steamcab. Cheeks burning, I admitted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any money.”

“Then you can work off your debt in the back, scrubbing dishes.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder and jerked her head to the side.

Now my face was really burning. “All right—”

Detective Atwood caught up and grabbed my hand. “That’s not necessary, Mazel. Today’s meals are on me.”

The warmth of his hand bled through my glove, and I looked down, hoping my cheeks weren’t heating even though I could feel them.

With his free hand, he pulled out two knuts and passed them to Mazel, who snatched them up in a wrinkled hand. “A pleasure as always,” he said as he pulled me out the door.

As soon as we were outside, he laughed. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

I pulled my hand free and stuck my chin up. “I do, just not like this.” Geneve and I had been here many times, but only to pass out the bundles of clothes and food. I’d never been in a restaurant in the Lower Chimes. “Thank you for earlier,” I said. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave me a wide grin but kept walking. At least he didn’t say anything about my red cheeks. “Shall I get a steamcab to take us back?”

“I don’t mind walking.” Any chance to walk around the city freely felt like a chance to experience it in a brand-new way.

Detective Atwood gave me a bemused glance as he led us down another path that took us closer to the Iron Docks. The soft slap of water on the hulls and the scent of fish drifted to us.

“What?” I asked a little self-consciously.

“I’ve just never met a woman quite like you from the Upper Chimes.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Oh no, not at all.” He rested a hand on his saber while his gaze continuously scanned the crowded streets, searching for danger. Even now, he wasn’t off duty. “I admire people who aren’t afraid to do the unexpected—it isn’t always an easy thing to do.”

I smiled at his praise. I didn’t know many people like him either. My world was filled with men like Papá and Desmarc, men of words rather than action.

“Well, as long as different is good,” I said, “please take me to the victim’s things.”

Chapter 7

I held back a smile as Detective Atwood’s eyebrows drew together in consternation at my request.

Instead of questioning me, he merely said, “Everything is at the station. I can get a report that lists all the items in the case—”

“I need to see the items themselves.” I followed him toward a bridge spanning the Fourth and Fifth Chime. “Sketches won’t be enough. I need to touch the things.”

He looked at me with an inscrutable expression. “I suppose we can go back to the records room, but none of the stuff can leave the room.”

“That’s fine,” I hurried to assure him.

“Hiram!” a little kid leaning against the side of a run-down building yelled excitedly. He scooped up some glass marbles and a few pieces of metal and ran over. “Play Crystal Flight with me!” At his cry, other small heads poked out of dilapidated doorways and alleys, then ran over giggling in excitement.

Soon, a swarm of eager hands and smiling faces mobbed Detective Atwood, bringing a fishy scent with them. They’d probably been playing at the Steele earlier.

“Here you go, you little terrors.” Detective Atwood laughed and pulled a handful of rock candy from his pocket. “I can’t play right now. The lady and I have some work to do.”

“Ooh, Hiram has a lady friend,” teased a young boy with a lanky frame and a worn cap pulled over his mud-crusted face.

“That’s more than you can say, Lucas.” Another kid, who also appeared to be around ten, elbowed the first boy in the side, and the two began wrestling.

Hiram shook his head but smiled. “I’m serious. Off with you now or I’ll have you behind bars for hindering official Iron Watch business.”

A sea of hands shot into the air, followed by the eager cries of “Ooh, arrest me!” and “I want to see where you work!”

I laughed, then stopped as a girl with dirt smudging her cherub cheeks and hair pulled back in a faded kerchief stepped closer. Her gaze darted from my face to the wrapped sandwich in my hand.

“Do you want this?” I knelt down and held out the sandwich.

She snatched it from me and took a huge bite, threw her arms around me in a hug, then scampered away to hide behind an older boy with the same wide eyes and dimpled smile. He must’ve been her older brother because she split the sandwich with him and the two devoured it in seconds.

He wiped his face, then stepped closer. “Thanks for sharin’. My sis and me, we ain’t got much.”

“I’m glad I could help.” I smiled at him, trying to stop the tears pricking at my eyes.

Guilt filled my chest. I’d never been hungry a day in my life, and they’d probably never had a day without it. They looked like too many other kids in the Lower Chimes while the Upper Chimes continued to thrive. The rich grew richer, and the poor grew poorer. Each time I visited the Lower Chimes the disparity hit me again, making it more and more difficult to return to my normal life. If Papá became the Prime Meridian, maybe I could convince him to change things for the better, bigger changes than what Geneve or I were capable of on our own. Maybe something good could come out of his insatiable thirst for power.

The little girl wandered closer and grabbed the back of her brother’s jacket. She tugged on her patched wool coat with pink flowers that was distinctly familiar, then looked between him and me.

His eyes widened. “You’re the one who gave my sis that coat, ain’t ya? I thought I knew ya.” He glanced over his shoulder, then whispered to me, “She loves that coat.”

“I’m glad,” I said to him before turning to her. “You look beautiful in it.”

She gave me a timid smile before hiding behind her brother again.

“I better get going now,” I said, “but it was lovely to meet you.”

They both ducked their heads and scampered off.

I stood to find Detective Atwood watching me. The other children had scattered while I talked with the siblings.

“That was generous,” he said as he walked over.

I wasn’t sure if he’d overheard the conversation about the coat or not, so I went with the food. “You can’t call it generosity when it wasn’t a sacrifice. I didn’t even pay for that meal.”

“It was more than many in your position do,” he murmured cryptically as we crossed the bridge to the Middle Chimes.

“It’s far less than what you do.” And I was starting to see that now. It was clear how trusted and beloved he was by those in the Lower Chimes, which made me feel better about trusting him too.

“I would do more, if I could. The Lower Chimes need help. Badly.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face, bringing back my guilt. The Upper Chimes had so much, but he was right. Most in power did so little.

“So, what do you know about the victim?” I changed the subject and started back toward the Iron Watch, trying to take in everything around me as we entered the Fifth Chime. It had a gritty, utilitarian feel with the brick and steel buildings crammed together. And though the buildings were also crowded together like nosy neighbors who had to be in everyone’s business, they were well-built and clean. Workshops and warehouses offered a variety of goods and services, and above the shops, the owners lived in duplexes or small apartments with exposed pipes running along the outside. Geneve and I didn’t visit the Middle Chimes as often since they didn’t need help as badly, and when Papá and I came, it was always in a steamcab.

Detective Atwood raised his voice to be heard over the hiss of steam and clank of hammers as we passed another workshop. “The second victim’s body was discovered around three a.m. two nights ago here in the Fifth Chime. Like the other victim, most of his valuables were taken, with just a few baubles left in his pocket. We have no way of identifying him.”

I looked around, as if I’d see signs of the murder on the street. “Age?”

“Probably late fifties or early sixties.”

“How was he killed?”

“A stabbing, though he also had a sprained ankle.”

I shuddered. “And that’s why you think it’s related to the other murder?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “On first inspection, a dead young woman who seemed to belong to the Middle Chimes and an older man in the Upper Chimes don’t appear to have any connections, but if I dig hard enough, I’m sure I’ll find one. Two robberies gone wrong is two too many.” He emphasized the word, showing me how little he believed it.

We fell silent for the rest of the walk, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As we passed a dilapidated building with a cracked rectangular window, the jagged shards reflected Hiram’s frown back at us. I sidestepped a puddle of water mixed with oil from a nearby workshop, its surface shimmering like a rainbow. It was like that in the Lowers—beauty when you least expected it and the people making the best of bad situations.

In the distance, the Epoch Clock’s clear chime rang out fifteen times as we made it to the station.

“Follow me.” Detective Atwood pushed open the station’s front door and led the way inside, nodding his head at fellow officers but not stopping to chat with anyone.

I pulled Mamá’s hat lower and kept my head down, avoiding any eye contact. We followed the same path toward the records room. I stayed close to Detective Atwood, whose footfalls fell on the wooden floor with a militarist exactness.

A female officer wearing the same uniform as Detective Atwood but without the badge on her chest walked down another hall that intersected with ours. The two exchanged nods before she dropped her attention back to the paper in her hands. I stared after her as she moved in the opposite direction and climbed a staircase before disappearing from view. I had heard there were female officers but rarely saw them. Then again, I’d hardly had any excuse to interact with Blue Capes growing up.

“Here we are.” Detective Atwood stopped at the room with Records engraved on the door and peered around the empty hallway before ushering me inside.

Once the door shut behind us, he exhaled sharply and pulled a small metal cylinder from his pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked as he held it to the handle and the door unlocked with a soft snick.

“An aether key.” He untwisted the middle, revealing a glowing blue tube inside. “It’s been marked so each key is distinctive to the officer it was entrusted to.”

“So they know who’s been accessing the records,” I guessed.

“Exactly.” Detective Atwood nodded once, something like approval in his eyes, then snapped the key shut.

He pulled the door open, revealing a small, windowless room lined with metal shelves and pipes along a wall. A single naked bulb hung from the ceiling, revealing items littering the shelves in an orderly yet somehow still cluttered manner.

“These are all the items the victim had on him.” He pointed to a section of the shelf labeled Case D.23.

“Great.” I stepped up next to him, scanning the objects. An old, broken pocket watch along with a small, circular, metal device about the size of my palm with designs engraved on it. Next to it sat a metal cog that looked like it could’ve come from another watch, a pair of spectacles, and a single knob.

“So, what now?” Detective Atwood asked.

“I just need a chance to examine everything.”

“All right...”

I glanced at him, then at the items on the shelves, then back to him. “You’re making me nervous.”

He quirked a smile. “I’ve been known to have that effect on people.”

My cheeks warmed, and the room grew smaller. That wasn’t what I’d meant, but maybe I could use it to my advantage. I wasn’t used to Slipping in front of people. “Perhaps some privacy? This isn’t something I usually try to do in front of anyone.” And all I could do now was hope I wasn’t making a terrible mistake. The memory of the inherent trust in the children’s eyes bolstered my confidence. Even if I didn’t know Detective Atwood that well, he was trustworthy.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not allowed to leave you alone with the evidence, but I could wait by the door?”

The tension in my shoulders eased. “Yes, please.”

He took a few hesitant steps back, then turned and faced the door. “Better?”

“Immensely. Thank you.” I glanced back at him. “Is it all right if I touch them?”

“You won’t mess anything up as long as you don’t try to walk out of here with something.”

I could hear the teasing smile in his voice, but just underneath it lurked a hint of worry. He wasn’t totally comfortable bringing me in to help, and I needed to show him I could be useful.

“I just need a few minutes.” I gathered the evidence in a pile on the floor, then sat with my back against the wall. I pulled on the finger of my left glove until I could yank it off. The cool air rushed to my hand, and I inhaled slowly. A fluttering in my stomach betrayed my nerves. Even though I could Slip to any point in the victim’s life, my chances were good that I’d be taken back to the time of the killing. Murder was bound to stir up strong emotions, and since these items were on him when he died, some of those emotions easily could’ve transferred to these objects. Which meant, I’d be face-to-face—well, spirit-to-face—with a murderer. But I couldn’t back out now. This was literally the one thing I had to offer that could convince him to let me join the case.

I reached for the pocket watch, which was surprisingly heavy and cool in my palm. After a moment, I put it back and picked up the next object—the unfamiliar metal device. I tensed, waiting for it to pull my spirit from my body. But, again, nothing happened. It also didn’t have any emotions strong enough to call me into the past.

Shakily, I checked the metal cog and the glasses, both with the same result. I swore under my breath. All that was left was the single knob, though I had no idea what sort of sentimental value a coin would have. If it didn’t have any memories attached, I’d have nothing to offer Detective Atwood.

My hand shook harder as I reached for it. Please let this wor—

As soon as I touched the metal, a blue spark yanked my spirit from my body. The world rushed around me again, a disorienting cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells. Only the weight of the knob in my hand grounded me in place as I Slipped. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the barrage of sensations to slow. The world jolted to a stop, and I stumbled once, then regained my footing.

I looked around while the silence pressed in on me with an invisible, smothering weight. Until the knob’s owner appeared, I’d be alone in the nothingness. My fingers flexed automatically for my knife even though it was useless here.

The knob pulsed in my hand, like it was sending out a shock wave across the expanse of swirling black smoke and darkness.

In response, a man—probably in his late fifties—appeared beside me. His salt-and-pepper hair graced the sides of his head much more than the top, belying the youthful appearance he was going for by being clean-shaven. He wore a navy button-up shirt, gray slacks, and a pair of spectacles rested around his neck on a metal chain.

He looked around, his attention focusing on something in the distance. A skyscraper appeared—a towering monstrosity made of glass, polished brass, and clockwork mechanisms whose spire reached into the sky. We were definitely in the Upper Chimes, which didn’t make sense considering Detective Atwood had said the body was found in the Fifth Chime.

“How could I be late tonight of all nights?” the man muttered as he opened a pocket watch, the same pocket watch I held, with ink-stained fingers. He snapped it closed and took off down the street.

I hurried to keep up with him. Under his feet, the world transformed from smoke and shadows into paved cobblestone.

The knob thumped in my hand, counting down my remaining moments. Tension prickled across the back of my neck.

“Hurry, Arthur.” He glanced over his shoulder, then walked faster, crossing a bridge that arched over the river. He ran a hand along the rail, and the brass filigree details came into view. The man blinked and tilted his head up. A moment later, an aether lamp materialized, casting a blue glow on everything. If I’d had any doubt to where he was, the higher-quality aether lamp and fine craftsmanship of the bridge confirmed that he was in the Ninth Chime.

The fact that no one else appeared made me think he was talking to himself.

The man, Arthur, must’ve heard something, because his head whipped around. “Who’s there?”

I turned around, and the area transformed into the bridge with fog drifting across its surface. The murderer could be approaching right now, and I couldn’t see a thing. A sense of unease crept across my skin as I imagined being watched by unseen eyes from the shadows.

Arthur spun around and began walking more quickly, clutching a gear-adorned satchel-style briefcase to his chest.

Detective Atwood hadn’t said anything about a briefcase, meaning the killer must’ve taken it from the scene of the crime. It was hard to know if the briefcase was the motive for the murder or just another attempt to throw the Blue Capes off. But it had to be important.

“Someone, help!” Arthur swung his head to the side again, but this time he didn’t bother to stop or call out to his pursuer. He simply took off running, holding the satchel tightly to his chest.

His fear leaked to me, and my heart beat faster as I ran to keep up with him. I couldn’t risk getting separated and lost in the mist, not when I needed to see the killer.

Arthur ducked between two buildings, whose long shadows loomed over him in the blue light of an aether lamp.

The knob thumped again in my hand. A constant reminder that I was running out of time.

“Leave me alone!” Arthur’s heavy breathing and the thump of his footsteps on the paved cobblestones were the only sounds until the echo of footsteps sounded behind him. He was being chased.

Arthur tripped and went sprawling, his briefcase flying from his hands.

Behind us, the footfalls grew louder. Nearer.

I turned, but the footfalls were bodiless, a sinister echo coming from the empty street. I wouldn’t be able to see the murderer until the victim did.

Thump. Thump.

The knob continued its relentless countdown; the pace growing frantic to match Arthur’s wide-eyed gaze and my own racing pulse.

Arthur tried to climb to his feet, then winced in pain. Instead, he reached for his briefcase and pulled it to him, then he wrapped a hand around his ankle.

The sound of footsteps grew louder.

“Good evening, professor,” a man said from the shadows. “Lovely night for a stroll, innit?”

I stiffened at the dark, familiar voice. It really was him. The man from before. The murderer.

“Stay away from me.” Arthur—the professor—turned and stared at the killer with wide eyes.

“Come now,” the killer said. “Don’t be like that. Just give me the briefcase, and I’ll be on my way.”

My gaze darted to the object Arthur clutched tightly. Something in it was worth killing for.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Not everyone around you is as trustworthy as you think.” The murderer emerged from the mist like a wraith, his dark clothes blending in with the swirling mist on the edges of the street. His mouth twisted into a grin while I tried to commit every detail to memory.

The killer’s sharp, angular features exuded an air of malevolence and cunning, but maybe that was just because I knew what he was about to do. His piercing eyes were set deep within their sockets and almost hidden under his top hat, making them nothing more than glints of black that seemed to track the man with his shadowy gaze.

“Help! Somebody, help!” Arthur cried as he scrambled away with his one free hand while the other still clutched his briefcase to his chest.

“Now professor, you know as well as I do that no one is around right now.” The killer took a step forward.

“You can’t have my research,” Arthur said.

The fear in his voice sent my pulse racing faster. If only there was something I could do, but it was impossible for me to interact with the past. I was even more helpless than he was.

The killer’s thin, cruel lips lifted in a sneer as he closed the remaining distance between them. “I’m simply here to make sure it’s put to good use. After all, isn’t that what the technological advancements are for—to benefit the people?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The knob continued its countdown.

“Please, no—” The professor’s cry cut off as the man stabbed him. He collapsed to the ground, mud splattering across his clothes.

“Thank you for your service.” The killer leaned down and wiped his knife on the man’s clothes. The ring on his finger glinted, and the hourglasses winked at me. He pocketed a few other valuables, including some knobs and knuts, then rifled through the man’s wallet and took his identification cards before retrieving the briefcase and walking off.

I knelt at Arthur’s side, wishing there was something I could do. “May the aether guide your soul,” I whispered.

He let out one last, shuddering breath, and giant fissures cracked the road and sucked up the smoke and his lifeless body.

I plunged through the darkness, choking back the scream that clawed at my throat. I hadn’t been able to save the professor, but at least this time, I’d seen the murderer’s face.

Chapter 8

My spirit slammed back into my body, and my eyes popped open to find Detective Atwood watching me intently with his hand on my forehead.

He jumped a little and pulled his hand back. “Are you all right? You weren’t responding.”

“Yes, well...” I rubbed my chest, where my heart still pounded from watching Arthur get killed. “That happens sometimes.” I stood and replaced the knob and other items on the shelf.

“Don’t be stubborn, Poppy. I think we should get you checked out,” Detective Atwood said. My reassurance hadn’t banished the furrow that had taken up residence between his eyes.

“I’m fine. Truly. That’s normal when I do this,” I said. “More importantly, I’ve figured a few things out.”

“Such as?” His eyes widened, but he still watched me carefully, as if he expected me to pass out at any moment.

“I know what the murderer looks like now, and I can tell you that you were right about them being connected. It was the same man as last time.”

Detective Atwood straightened like he’d touched pure aether with his bare hands. “How do you know?”

I gave him a look. “I told you. I see things.”

He clenched his jaw. I could tell him what I’d seen until I ran out of steam, but it was up to him to believe me or not.

“With my job, blind leaps of faith often get people in trouble,” he said. “I prefer to deal with cold, hard facts, as you guessed over lunch.”

“Here’s a fact for you: the information I got from my ‘friend,’ I actually got from seeing things, but I couldn’t tell you the truth then.”

His eyes lit with understanding—he’d always doubted my cover story—but it didn’t soften the sharp line of his jaw. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “So why did you decide to tell me the truth now?”

“Part of it was feeling like I didn’t have a choice. I think my family is tangled up in this somehow, and I can’t sit back and do nothing.” I pulled my glove back on, giving the action more attention than it necessitated. “And the other part is that I do trust you to do your best with your job, and for now, that has to be enough.”

We cleaned up the evidence and walked outside. The door’s soft click sounded like the end of our partnership before it even began. If only I had some way to corroborate my information.

Detective Atwood rubbed a hand over his face. “You don’t like to make this easy on me, do you, Poppy?” His determined gaze seared me, as if he was saying one thing but he meant something else, but then he sighed. “So what else did you learn?”

I hesitated a moment. He still didn’t believe me, but he was trying.

“I think our victim’s name is Arthur, and he’s a professor.”

Detective Atwood gave me another curious glance. “Why do you think that?”

“I heard it.”

He blew out a breath.

Since he was already annoyed, I might as well finish my list of information now, that way he’d know everything before asking me to leave if that’s what he decided. “The killer took Arthur’s briefcase when he killed him.”

“What briefcase? There wasn’t anything like that near the body.”

“Because it was taken,” I repeated.

Detective Atwood stayed silent, but I could almost see the gears in his head turning as he processed my words. Disbelief seemed to war with the desire to believe me, but based on the tightness in his expression, disbelief was winning.

The same female officer we’d seen earlier threw open the door to the records room.

“Sir, we’ve got news about the vic’s body,” she said as she came to a stop in front of Detective Atwood.

When she cast a curious glance my way, he said, “Give me your report.”

She straightened and saluted, putting two fingers in a sideways V across her chest. “One of his colleagues came in not twenty minutes ago and identified the victim as Arthur Knight, a professor in the science department at AIR University.”

Detective Atwood’s mouth fell open, and he stood in silence for a full two seconds.

Instead of giving him an “I told you so” look, I repeated the victim’s name in my head until it stuck. Arthur Knight was killed at night.

“Sir?” the female officer asked.

He snapped his mouth shut. “Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Thank you. You may return to your station.” As soon as the woman hurried away, Detective Atwood turned to me. “Blighted aether, Poppy. That’s insane.” He shook his head and whistled. “If I thought I didn’t understand women before, you just took things to a whole new level.”

A thrill ran through me at the admiration, and shock, in his gaze. While I hadn’t told him the full truth, his reaction was still better than I would’ve believed possible. “So, you believe me now?”

He chewed on his lip, then nodded once. “You’ve given me little room for doubt.”

But the gleam in his eye hinted at something he wasn’t sharing. I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut again. If I wanted to stay, I’d be better off not asking about things he clearly didn’t want to talk about.

“We need to get you to a sketch artist,” Detective Atwood said, “but before that, we need to talk.”

My chest fluttered. I’d done it. I’d convinced him to let me help. “About?”

“If we do this, I have some conditions.”

“Which are?”

“First of all, when we’re out on a case, you have to do exactly what I say when I say it. If I say hide, you hide. If I say run, you run. No arguing.” His gaze dropped to the hidden pocket in my boot where my knife rested, and he added wryly, “Not that I don’t think you can defend yourself, but if your life is in my hands, I have to know you’ll listen.”

So he’d noticed. “Fair enough.”

“You also aren’t allowed to talk about the case to anyone else. Anything shared with you is strictly confidential.”

“Noted.”

“And as an unofficial helper, you won’t be compensated by the city.”

A surprised laugh escaped. “Trust me, I’m not interested in getting paid.”

“If only we could all afford to work for free.” At my flush he gave me a grim smile and added, “I just wanted to make sure you knew so you wouldn’t be disappointed later.”

“I won’t be disappointed because that’s not why I’m doing this.” I cut myself off.

“Why are you doing this? Just because you think your family is involved?” he asked.

I chewed my lower lip.

“If you want me to trust you, you have to give me that much at least.”

Our eyes met, and the earnestness in his gaze helped settle my nerves. Despite our short time together, it really felt as if I could tell him anything.

“You’ll think it’s silly, but...I want to be like my mother,” I said. “I want to help people.”

A grin tipped up one corner of his mouth again, revealing that slightly sharp incisor again. “You’re right. That is silly.”

“I told you.” I couldn’t look at him, so I stared at my feet as we began to walk.

“It’s silly that you’re embarrassed about it. Helping people is always a noble cause. It’s why I do what I do every day.”

His words lit a warm glow in my chest, one that had been missing since Mamá’s death. Not wanting to lose me like he had her, Papá had trained me to defend myself, but he’d never trusted me enough to actually go out and do things.

Detective Atwood started down the hall, matching his steps to mine.

“If we’re going to work together, I have a request of my own,” I said.

He raised one eyebrow. “This should be interesting.”

“You can’t tell anyone who I am. If word got back to my father, he’d stop me faster than you can say hovercraft.” I wasn’t sure about Desmarc’s reaction, but until we were married and he saw me as his wife instead of Papá’s daughter, I was better off keeping this a secret.

At the memory of his hovercraft and how close we’d sat on it, I suddenly couldn’t meet Detective Atwood’s gaze. Hopefully I wouldn’t blush again.

“I’m not sure if that’s wise. Your father has eyes and ears everywhere.” He folded his arms across his broad chest and studied me. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell him? I’m guessing I can earn his trust. Benefit of the job, ya know?” He gestured to his blue cape, which happened to match his eyes.

“Not with Papá,” I said firmly before extending my hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

He stopped outside the door to the main office and studied me intently, his expression betraying nothing. “It would seem so.” His grip was steady and reliable, just like him. After a moment, he released my hand and opened the door to the front room. “Liam, can I borrow you and your sketchbook for a few minutes?”

A pale detective with short brown hair rose, grabbed some supplies from his cluttered desk, and wove between the crowded room to make his way over. “What can I do to help?”

It was the same man I talked to earlier—the one who’d told me where to find Detective Atwood. He appeared close to my age, and gazed at the detective with wide, worshipful eyes.

“I need you to work with this woman to create a sketch for me,” he said. “Can you do that?”

“Of course.” Liam saluted, leaving a smear of black across his shirt.

I stifled a smile.

Liam turned to me. “I see you found Detective Atwood.”

“I did. Thank you for your help.”

He ducked his head. “I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

Before Detective Atwood could introduce me as Poppy or something equally silly, I said, “I’m K, an unofficial consultant for the case. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He shook my hand, juggling his supplies with the other.

“I’m going to work on a report,” Detective Atwood told me. “Come find me when the sketch is complete.”

“All right.” I followed Liam back down the hall to the first door on the left. Opening it revealed a small room with a high window and a table with chairs. For the next twenty minutes, I worked with Liam—whose name was easy enough to remember since there was a famous artist named Liam Edison—to make sure we got the drawing just right.

“No, his face was a little narrower than that. More angular,” I said as he sketched. “And his jaw was less defined—you’re making it too much like Detective Atwood’s.”

Liam bit his lip as he worked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Don’t forget his thin lips,” I said. “And the extra hard look in his eyes.”

“So who is this guy, anyway?” Liam asked as he shaded in his dark hair.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to say. But Liam was also an officer. He’d probably be aware of the case anyway. “He’s the one who killed that woman a few days ago.”

“Wait, how do you know about that?”

I bit my lip. “Because I was the one who told Detective Atwood about it.”

“That was you? I heard about that.” Liam laughed. “I’m impressed you got him to work with you. He doesn’t usually allow civilians to work on cases.”

“So what can you tell me about Detective Atwood?” I asked as casually as I could.

“What do you want to know?”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-five.” Liam didn’t look up as he shaded in a portion of the drawing.

Just five years younger than Desmarc and only four older than me.

“But he became a detective a few years ago. I think he was twenty-two,” he continued.

“That seems young.”

“That’s because he’s amazing. When he was a new officer at the station, he solved a huge case and was promoted as a result.” Liam shook his head but kept sketching. “I wish I was more like him.”

“What was the case about?”

“Actually, I don’t know the particulars. All the higher-ups are pretty hush-hush about it.”

“I see.” I watched as a very lifelike replica of the man’s glaring face bloomed to life under Liam’s hand, so real I could almost hear him whispering, “Thank you for your service.”

I shuddered and looked away.

“All right. That should do it,” Liam said. “It’s amazing that you’re part of a real investigation. You’re so lucky.”

“Isn’t this what you do every day?”

He sighed and continued shading his drawing. “I do the sketches and desk work, but I’m hoping to do more in the field soon.”

“Your sketching is important as well,” I said. “I could never do that.”

He ducked his head.

Clearly it was a touchy subject for him, so I shifted gears. “While we’re here, could you also sketch a few other details about him? I don’t know if they’ll be useful, but I’d rather do it while it’s fresh on my mind.”

“Sure. You never know what will end up being helpful in a case.”

As I told him everything I could remember from the two times I’d seen him, Liam created a full body sketch of the man with his top hat. He even did a drawing of the man’s ring, careful to capture every detail of the hourglass made from two scythes.

Looking at it like this, it was hard not to feel like I’d seen it before somewhere. Even if I couldn’t put my finger on the reason, the design called to me.

“I’ve seen this ring,” I muttered.

Liam laughed. “Of course you have. You’re the one who just described it to me.”

“No, I mean somewhere else. Somewhere unrelated to this case.” I gasped and straightened in my chair as it came back to me. I’d seen this same ring at AIR U.

A knock sounded at the door, and Detective Atwood poked his head in. “You about done?”

Liam jumped to his feet. “Yes, sir. We were just finishing.”

Detective Atwood walked over and picked up the sketch of the man, then clapped Liam on the back. “Excellent work.”

A wide grin split Liam’s face. “Thank you, sir.”

“You know what to do with the sketches?”

“Yes, sir. Leave it to me.” He collected his supplies and left.

“Is he an officer?” I asked once we were alone.

“He’s in training.” Detective Atwood escorted me down the hall. “His scores at the academy were too low, but his talent for sketching landed him a desk job here, anyway.”

A desk job. That would explain what he’d said earlier.

“I have to go, but I’ll get a steamcab to take you home.”

I gave him a sideways glance, trying not to let my disappointment show. “I want to come to the university too.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I appreciate your help so far, Poppy, but I don’t think that’s wise.”

“All right.”

“All right?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, all right?”

“I mean that it’s fine for you to go on your own. I won’t accompany you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re being awfully agreeable about this.”

I smiled sweetly at him as we made it out the front doors. “I wish I could say the same about you.”

Outside, the wind had picked up a bit, blowing the fluffy clouds across the sky. I shielded my eyes and looked up at an airship as it flew overhead, casting a long shadow on the ground.

“Give me a moment, and I’ll get you that ride,” he said.

“Don’t bother. I’m going to walk.” I hadn’t planned on quite this much walking today, but since I hadn’t brought any money for a steamcab, it was my only choice if I wanted to get to AIR U. It was in the Twelfth Chime, straight north of the Iron Watch in the Seventh Chime.

“You’re walking home?”

“I’m not going home; I’m going to AIR U.”

“Poppy,” he said warningly. “You said you would go home.”

“I believe I said I won’t accompany you,” I said. “I’m going on my own. I have some personal business to take care of at the university.”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “How convenient that you have business there as well.”

“Indeed.” I smiled brightly at him and started down the street. What was another forty-five minutes after the rest of the walking I’d done today? At least AIR U wasn’t too far from the Epoch Clock, so I didn’t have to go too deep into the Twelfth Chime. The only risk to my plan was if Detective Atwood took his hoverbike. He might get there and finish his questioning before I even arrived.

But if I was lucky, his protective instincts would kick in and he’d feel the need to walk with me.

As if on cue, he fell into step beside me with a heavy sigh.

We continued in silence all the way to the Epoch Clock. I studied the detective from the corner of my eye. His detective badge, a cog fashioned in the shape of a dodecagon, held his short cape in place. His short hair rustled in the gentle breeze, and his brows were drawn together in thought.

“Becoming a detective at twenty-five is quite impressive.” I finally broke the silence between us.

“And thirty is young for your fiancé to be a meridian, yet here we are.” Like before, instead of looking at me, he scanned the streets, giving the market around the Epoch Clock careful attention.

He was right about Desmarc, but that didn’t soften my curiosity. “I heard you solved a big case not long after starting at the Iron Watch,” I prodded as we crossed a bridge, leaving the center of the city behind and entering the Twelfth Chime.

“I caught a lucky break.” His jaw clenched as he spoke, betraying his discomfort with the subject.

My curiosity grew. “A big case about what?”

“A drug ring.” His hand drifted to the scar on his temple, but then he quickly dropped it and cleared his throat. “But that isn’t what’s important right now.” He paused, and his gaze darted from side to side as we walked through a street lined with vendors selling food to the hungry students milling about in their uniforms. The men and women alike wore a jacket or vest, usually in some shade of burgundy, navy, or green. Underneath, the men wore cream-colored shirts with slim ties, suspenders, and fitted pants with leather knee patches, while the women had cream blouses with lace cuffs and a bow tied around the blouse’s collar and a choice of skirts or pants.

Half-timber beams gleamed against the polished white houses, and the skyline had a succession of peaked, gable roofs since many of the houses connected at the top. Transitioning from the First Chime to the Twelfth was the most dramatic change in the city since you went from the poorest of the poor to the richest of the rich with only the Steele separating them. It never made much sense to me, but that was how the city had been since it was founded by the original Prime Meridian. He’d taken the splitting of the Steele as a chance to divide the city into three separate classes, and the disparity had only grown worse over the years.

Despite that, the university was a place of equality, where knowledge was the focus and everyone wore the same clothes so you couldn’t tell at a glance what Chime people came from. While the students could modify their accessories for a bit of individuality, overall they wore the same uniforms.

I stared at the shape of the university in the distance. Its whitewashed marble walls covered in vibrant creeping vines, the plethora of windows glinting in the sun, and the soaring towers created a magnificent picture—a marvel of engineering and design, with a clock tower, ornate spires, and intricate masonry work.

Someday, I would be a student there too. It wasn’t just a chance to be closer to Mamá; it was a chance to be known for more than my name. At the university, family background mattered less than what you accomplished, and I wanted to accomplish a lot. I’d keep learning sewing from Geneve while studying mechanics at school. Once I graduated, I could design my own line of server bots to produce high-quality, low-cost clothing. With their help, production could increase, giving tailors more time with their families, while prices could decrease so those in the Lower Chimes could afford clothes more easily. It wouldn’t solve every problem, but it was something I could do.

A block behind us, the Epoch Clock rang sixteen times, reminding me I needed to stop daydreaming and convince Detective Atwood to let me help with the questioning, then get home before Papá. I was always running out of time, which was somewhat ironic considering I could visit the past.

“There are two more things I need to tell you about the victim,” I said to ease into the matter of the case. I needed to convince him I should accompany him during his questioning, and mentioning the ring and the missing research might be enough to do it.

“What?”

“I’ve seen the killer’s ring before...on campus.”

He looked at me sharply. “The connections just keep appearing, don’t they?”

“Indeed.” I gazed up at the stained-glass windows, and the smokestacks releasing plumes of steam. It was nothing compared to the smoke constantly rising from the factories in the First Chime.

“And the other?”

“You might have found the body in the Fifth Chime, but I’m pretty sure he was killed somewhere in the Ninth.”

“What was the killer’s motive,” Detective Atwood mumbled to himself as the street around us filled with more students. He seemed to do that a lot while thinking.

“Can I join you for the interrogation?” I asked.

He looked up and blinked, as if resurfacing from the depths of his mind. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“There’s one more thing I forgot to mention earlier.” I should’ve told him about the research from the beginning, but in the rush of things, I’d forgotten, and now it was my last bargaining tool I had.

“What is it?”

I bit my lip and met his gaze. “I’ll tell you if you let me accompany you.”

“Poppy.”

“I promise I think this is important. I believe it’s related to the motive.”

“Remember when you said you would listen to me?”

“I’m not not listening to you,” I said. “I’m just pleading my case.”

He sighed and rubbed his nose. “Fine.”

“Fine I can join you?”

“Yes, you can join me. Now what’s this other information that’s so important?”

The large clock standing guard outside the main building released a series of harmonious chimes that resonated across the campus, and the statue of Araminta Ina Rowley standing next to it tipped her metal hat from her head and put it back on. The university had been renamed after her—though everyone called it AIR U for her initials—after she’d snuck onto campus pretending to be a man to gain an education. Her fight for women’s rights was the gear that triggered the chain effect that led to so many women being on campus. If I could do something even a fraction as impressive as her, I’d be satisfied.

“There was something in the briefcase. It—” The statue tipped the hat again, and my attention fell to the ring on her finger.

“What’s wrong?” Detective Atwood put a hand on my shoulder.

“Look there. At her ring.” I pointed to Araminta’s hand.

Detective Atwood stepped closer to the statue and squinted at it. “Is that the same ring from the sketch Liam did?”

“Not quite. It has the same hourglass shape in the center, but it doesn’t have the scythes.” I stepped closer and ran a finger over the ring’s smooth metal. “This is what I was thinking of when I said I’d seen it before.”

“Maybe they’re related.”

“Seems very coincidental.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said as we continued walking. “Now, what were you saying about the motive?”

I looked around as we made it to the literature building, where Professor Sophronia worked. Now that Detective Atwood had agreed to let me join him, I’d have to visit her after we finished at the science building. Instead, I sucked in a bracing breath of crisp autumn air, then angled my steps toward a circular building in the distance with a large brass telescope coming out of the dome at the top.

He copied me, so we walked under a path where vibrant hues of red, orange, and yellow leaves rustled on the trees on either side.

“The killer mentioned something about the professor’s research,” I said in a low voice.

“Research about what?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “But it was obviously worth killing for.”

Chapter 9

We passed a tall tower whose aged copper and steel glinted in the sun. Gears on the side started to grind, and steam shot out of it before a deep gong sound echoed around the campus.

We kept walking as students flooded the area, but after a few minutes and quite a few strange looks at the detective’s blue cape, we made it to the science building. We climbed the front steps and entered an expansive entry foyer covered with polished brass and maple wood. Elaborate mechanical contraptions and ornate scientific instruments lined the walls inside glass cases.

“Hello,” Detective Atwood said to an elderly lady at the front desk with expressive brown eyes with crow’s feet, “We’re looking for Professor Knight’s office.”

She stiffened and her gaze jumped to his blue cape and the detective badge on his chest. “Is this about Art?”

“Yes,” he said.

“We just heard an hour ago.” Her hand fluttered between her heart and her mouth as if it was a moth that couldn’t decide where to settle.

“My condolences.” Detective Atwood took off his hat and pressed it to his chest for a moment.

I did the same out of respect. It was unfortunate the killer had struck over the weekend. Otherwise, the professor’s death might’ve been discovered much sooner.

The woman sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, then waved us down the hall. “Go up the stairs to the third floor, then it’s the second door on the right. He shares—shared the office, so it should be unlocked. If you’ve hit the planetarium, you’ve gone too far.” She wiped at her eyes again.

“Thank you,” Detective Atwood said before returning his hat to his head.

We passed a lecture hall where a man used a steam-powered projector displaying a complex diagram before reaching an elevator. We stepped inside and rode the two floors in silence except for the gentle hiss of steam and a soft ticking sound.

Detective Atwood knocked on the second door on the right before pushing it open. There was so much going on in the office—a collection of different sized globes hanging from the ceiling, a table covered in glass vials with colorful liquids, glowing blue balls, a hollow clock with different symbols on its face—that I almost missed the man bustling around the brightly lit space.

“Can I help you?” He straightened papers into a slightly less messy pile, then peered up, revealing a pair of spectacles on a chain quite similar to the victim’s. He had a high forehead, and a long silver beard that matched the locks hanging down his back.

“We’re here to talk about Arthur Knight,” Detective Atwood said. “Are you the one who identified the body?”

The man’s face crumpled, and he tugged at his long hair, which was tied with a metal wire. “Yes.”

A collection of brass tubes of varying heights that looked somewhat like the back of an organ whistled loudly, and the man rushed over and pressed a few buttons, leaving us in silence.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Detective Atwood walked to the empty desk and glanced at some papers but touched nothing, though he scribbled a few things in a notebook he pulled from his pocket.

The man’s hands shook as he fiddled with a vial on his desk. “Many of us were worried when he missed this morning’s lecture. It isn’t like him not to show up for work. So I went to his house to look for him,” he continued, still straightening glass vials even as his voice trembled slightly. “When I still couldn’t locate him, I called the Iron Watch. They said a man matching his description had been found, and I was asked to come down.”

“And you just went right back to work?” I blurted out.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” The man shrugged helplessly, and his eyes betrayed his torment.

I looked down as heat flooded my cheeks. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I knew what it was like to lose someone and how helpful a distraction could be.

“And your name is?” Detective Atwood asked while I leaned against the wall near the globes hanging from the ceiling and watched his questioning unfold while trying to get a read on the man.

“Jay McNeil.”

McNeil. I repeated the name, imagining him dropping to his knees in sadness.

“Did you share this office with Professor Knight?” Detective Atwood asked.

“Yes,” McNeil said softly. His high cheekbones and bright eyes revealed a keen intellect and an even keener sense of grief. He glanced to an empty desk on the other side of the room.

“Were you and Knight working on anything in particular?” Detective Atwood asked it casually, but McNeil’s hand jerked, knocking a vial to the ground. The glass shattered and the edge of the rug started to smoke and curl.

McNeil swore and pulled a knife from his pocket. He sawed at the carpet until he cut off the contaminated chunk, then he placed it in a sealed container.

“Sorry. That chemical is toxic,” he muttered.

“So, about that research...” Detective Atwood prodded.

McNeil looked up, almost guiltily. “Yes, we were researching something.”

“Something that could have gotten him killed?”

McNeil swallowed and straightened. “Possibly.”

“What was it?” Detective Atwood’s stern tone matched the hard lines on his face.

McNeil fidgeted with the glass container holding the still-smoking carpet edge.

“This information could help us find the murderer.” Detective Atwood crossed his arms over his broad chest, but McNeil said nothing.

I had attended enough political events to recognize McNeil’s discomfort. Maybe he just needed someone to put him at ease and press the right buttons to get the gears turning—someone like an interested female.

“I hate the thought of a killer on the loose in the city.” I forced a shiver, though the words were true enough. If I could get McNeil to worry for me, it’d be easier to ask questions when his defenses were lowered.

Detective Atwood shot me a questioning look but didn’t interfere.

“I’d feel so much better knowing we had a lead with the case.” I let my gaze drift to Knight’s desk. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of this.”

“Me neither,” McNeil murmured.

I closed the distance between us and rested a hand on his arm over the rough tweed of his jacket. “You know something that might help, don’t you?” I glanced around the room and widened my eyes, trying to appear impressed. “It’s clear you two must have been working on something incredible.”

“Something that could change our entire society.” Professor McNeil puffed out his chest. “We were researching new aether technology and ways to harness its energy.”

“But we already use aether technology.” I tilted my head to the side, going for a confused yet curious look. Considering I’d never studied aether technology, it didn’t take much acting.

“Not like this. Right now, we’re only using a fraction of what aether is truly capable of. As opposed to our finite natural resources, with the right technology, we could generate an indefinite amount of aether energy. We’re so close to stabilizing it.” He went off for a few minutes, spouting words like “Hexaphene charges,” “Splicing,” and “Refraction Emissions.” Finally, he seemed to catch the glazed look in my eye, and he said, “What I’m saying is, if we unlocked the rest of its potential, we could power entire cities, fuel hospitals and—”

“And create a very dangerous weapon,” Detective Atwood said.

“Well, maybe.” Once more, McNeil started organizing his desk. Or rather, he moved things around, though there didn’t appear to be a system. “But Art and I have been very careful with our research. We aren’t—weren’t—going to tell anyone about it until we presented at the next scientific council.”

Detective Atwood sighed. “Someone else already knows.”

“What do you mean?” McNeil asked.

“We have reason to believe that some of Professor Knight’s research was stolen when he was killed.”

He froze, eyes wide. “That’s... That’s impossible. No one besides us knows what we’re working on.”

“I deal with the impossible every day.” Detective Atwood’s gaze cut to me.

I looked down to hide my blush.

“Well, even if they did get the information, they probably didn’t get all of it.” He picked up a small glass ball with a mechanical figurine in the center and turned it over again and again in his hands. “Art and I were careful to make sure we never carried too much on us at once, and we keep the rest of the information hidden in a secure location when we aren’t here.”

Detective Atwood frowned. “You might be their next target. I’m going to assign you an officer as an escort until we get this wrapped up.”

McNeil swallowed and bobbed his head. He dabbed at his weathered face with a handkerchief in his pocket and put the ball back on his desk.

“Anyway,” Detective Atwood said, “if you could gather any information you have on your research, as well as anyone who has access to your lab and who could’ve potentially overheard your discussions, I’ll need to take that to the station.”

“But I can’t just send you our research,” he blustered. “It’s confidential. It’s our life’s work. It’s—”

“Part of my investigation until I find who killed your friend,” Detective Atwood said bluntly.

I wandered the circumference of the room before ending up near the northernmost wall, which housed a window divided into multiple glass panes forming a geometrical design. Outside, students bustled by chatting happily, completely unaware that one of their professors had been killed in cold blood.

Even though we were only a few stories up, my legs threatened to give out on me at how high we were. I started to look away before my gaze snagged on a familiar head of brown curls walking among the students. Oh no. Desmarc was here! Why in the blighted aether was he heading for this exact building where he’d find me investigating a murder with a Blue Cape?

I spun around, heart pounding as I tried to remember if I’d seen any other exits on our way up. Maybe taking the stairs would reveal more options. “I have to go.”

Detective Atwood caught the panic in my expression and straightened. “You have twenty minutes to gather the information before your escort arrives from the Iron Watch,” he said to McNeil. “I’m going to walk my...partner here out, and then I’ll be back to stay with you until they arrive.”

Detective Atwood strode out the door after me, leaving Professor McNeil opening and closing his mouth without saying anything.

“You don’t have to come. You probably want to stay and guard Professor McNeil.” I was already halfway down the hall and heading to the stairs.

“That’s all right. I don’t believe he’s in any immediate danger here. I’ll accompany you to the edge of campus, then come back and stay with him until another officer arrives.” Detective Atwood grabbed my elbow to stop me. “Poppy, what’s wrong?”

“I saw my fiancé outside.” I scanned the hallways, looking for another exit.

“And you don’t want him to see you with me?” The concern melted from his expression into something I didn’t have time to decipher.

“Nothing good will come of it.” I quickened my pace and practically ran down the stairs while scanning for other exits. “He’ll inform Papá, and if that happens, you can say goodbye to my chances of helping with anything else.”

“Oh,” he said as we made it back to the first floor and headed down the checkerboard hall.

Desmarc’s tall form leaned over the desk as he spoke with the woman who’d given us directions earlier.

“Go down that hall, and you’ll find it,” the woman said most unhelpfully, pointing Desmarc in the worst possible direction. “If you—”

My heart jumped to my throat. He was heading right for us!

“Come on.” I yanked on Detective Atwood’s hand and pulled open the first door in the hallway to reveal a dark storeroom no more than a few feet deep. I ran inside, pulling Detective Atwood behind me and shutting the door.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” I strained to hear any noise and almost tripped over a broom handle in the darkness. My panicked breathing threatened to drown out all other sounds.

A door opened across the hall, then a man spoke. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“My pleasure,” Desmarc replied. “Thank you for the invitation.”

I exhaled in relief. One second slower and he would’ve seen my mad dash into the broom closet with Detective Atwood.

“I know many of the Guardians have expressed an interest in what we’ve been working on,” the other man, who must’ve been a professor, said. “I understand that Meridian Annandale is incredibly busy these days, and I appreciate you coming in his place.”

“The Guardians would prefer to stay on top of anything that could give us an edge in the next renewal,” Desmarc said. “And since I’m part of the Technology and Innovation Guild and working closely with Meridian Annandale, it made the most sense.”

I chewed on my lip. I’d thought AIR U was more removed from politics, but maybe I was wrong.

Detective Atwood shifted, possibly trying to hear better, but it made me intimately aware of how close we stood. How improper this was. How my hand had somehow landed on his arm and how incredibly hard his muscles were. His body was one giant ball of heat pulling me toward him.

“You’re too close,” I whispered as a thick metal pipe running from floor to ceiling dug into my back. The closet was small enough to leave us standing chest to chest. One of his arms rested on the wall next to my head, making him loom over me.

“You’re the one that pulled us in here.” His warm breath tickled my face from his proximity, but I dared not shift away when it might wedge us in even more tightly.

The thought sent my heart rate spiking. I’d been an idiot to pull Detective Atwood in here with me. I should’ve let him stay in the open. He had nothing to hide, but now that we were in here together, we looked extremely guilty. Not to mention that if anyone found us, it could ruin my engagement with Desmarc.

A thread of guilt slithered through me at the way my pulse raced. It shouldn’t be doing that. I was engaged to be married, and I cared for Desmarc, yet I was hyperaware of how close Detective Atwood was.

“Are you always so impetuous?” he whispered with a soft laugh.

I quivered at the feel of his breath, grateful for the faint light that surely hid my blush.

He put a hand against the wall near my head, putting it close enough to me that if I twisted my head a little, my lips would brush his arm.

I was careful not to move even though it felt like my pounding heart might give away our location.

“I’m afraid I don’t have long,” Desmarc said, drawing me back to the conversation taking place in the hall. “I’m planning on visiting my fiancée after this.”

“Of course. Of course.” There was a muffled thump, as if the man was clapping a hand on Desmarc’s shoulder. “I’ll try not to take too much of your time.” A door closed in the hall, then silence fell.

I tilted my head up to look at Detective Atwood through the sliver of light coming between the cracks of the door, and my hat started to slide off before getting caught on the wall. “I have to get home.”

“I know.” He reached around me in the cramped space and replaced my hat on my head, then he swallowed.

In the semidarkness, I was strangely aware of the chiseled line of his jaw above me and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes gleamed, and I had to look away.

“Do you think it’s safe?” I whispered.

“I’ll go first and make sure,” he said just a moment before he opened the door and stole into the hall.

The burst of light was blinding, but I only had a moment to be dazzled by it before he shut the door again, leaving me in near-darkness.

I let out a breath of relief. That was too close.

The door opened again. “The coast is clear. Come on.”

I stumbled into the hall and walked toward the exit without looking at Detective Atwood. Hopefully his own eyes were still adjusting so he couldn’t make out how red my face was. As long as I didn’t pull us into situations like that anymore, I’d be fine. It wasn’t fair to Desmarc either.

We made it all the way back to the university gates without saying a word.

“Well, I should go home now,” I said, twisting my fingers together behind my back. “I don’t want any more unexpected visitors sneaking up on me today.”

Detective Atwood laughed, though it sounded a little strained. “Yes, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Good luck with the case.” I forced a slight smile, trying to ignore the way my stomach knotted with residual nerves.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Good luck?”

“Would you rather I wish you bad luck?” I fidgeted with my gloves.

His lips twitched. “We’ve had more progress in the last two hours than in the last two days,” he said. “I don’t need luck, I need you.” His eyes widened a little. “I mean in a professional sense. For the good of the investigation.”

“Oh.” My heart fluttered. I’d done it. I’d proven to someone how useful I could be, and I was going to be able to help. “I look forward to hearing from you, then.”

Chapter 10

At home, I changed clothes to prepare for Desmarc’s visit. I didn’t want him to see me in what I’d been wearing earlier since it wasn’t an outfit Papá would approve of.

Cogsley helped me fasten the fitted bodice, and I trailed a hand down the brocade fabric I’d chosen before cinching the wide leather belt with gear-shaped fasteners. I took a moment to decide if I wanted puffed sleeves, before undoing the small brass buttons along my shoulder, leaving the dress sleeveless. It was one of my favorites I’d created for many reasons. The navy silk skirt, full and flowing, was layered with tiers of ruffles for volume, and its asymmetrical shape revealed glimpses of underlying layers. I’d strategically picked the under fabrics with clockwork designs, so when I moved, it gave the illusion of gears in motion.

The doorbell rang, but I took my time getting ready. One of the server bots would escort Desmarc inside. Ten minutes later, I glanced at my closet to make sure the clothes I’d worn today weren’t visible, then joined Desmarc in the sitting room. Cogsley wheeled in after me, taking up an innocuous position as chaperone. Another thing Papá obsessed over even though most women didn’t require one. Instead of standing around, Cogsley dusted the brass-framed paintings depicting scenes of steam-powered cities and enormous airships.

“Desmarc, what a surprise.” Well, it had been a surprise an hour ago when I’d overheard his intentions to visit. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He turned toward me as I entered the room, letting the velvet drape fall back over the window where he’d been gazing over the manicured lawn. “Does a man need a reason to visit his betrothed?” He walked over and took my hand, raising it to his lips and brushing a kiss across my knuckles. His black gloves were a stark contrast to my white ones, and he was handsome as usual in a gray shirt with a black vest and pants.

His casual touch made my pulse jump.

“Of course you don’t need a reason.” But it would be hard for me to keep working with Detective Atwood on the murder cases if I constantly worried about Desmarc popping in. Even though I wanted him to visit, maybe there was a way to convince him that surprises weren’t the best way to go. “I’m just glad I was here.” I sighed and dropped my gaze to the side. “It would’ve been a shame for me to miss your visit.”

“I thought you stayed home most of the day.” He sat in one of the dark mahogany chairs near the grand piano.

“I get tightly wound if I’m home too long, lately.” I thought fast, trying to come up with a cover that would work for both Papá and Desmarc. “I’ve been going for long strolls. Plus, I still go on my visits to the Lower Chimes with Geneve.”

“Oh, yes. Your father mentioned that,” he said. “If I think about it beforehand, I’ll send you a note.”

That was probably as good as it was going to get. Holding the victory close, I pressed a button to call another server bot and claimed the seat opposite Desmarc.

“Speaking of your father, is he here?”

“Unfortunately, he’s in town for a meeting.” And double unfortunate that Desmarc hadn’t come to see me.

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to congratulate him on his official appointment as the candidate for the Guardian faction.”

A few days ago, the announcement might’ve filled me with dread as it brought Papá one step closer to becoming Prime Meridian, but now I couldn’t help but wonder what he could accomplish for the city—and the Lower Chimes—with that sort of power. Not that he usually listened to me, but I couldn’t let go of the hope that I could convince him of the benefit of helping them.

“I’ll pass your congratulations along,” I said. One had to be a meridian for at least ten years before they could be nominated—leaving Papá just barely qualified.

“Did you hear who the candidate for the Revolutionist faction is?”

“Yes, I simply cannot believe it’s Meridian Eliver.” I frowned, remembering the man’s well-trimmed beard but hideous mustache.

“I guess he wasn’t just a mere cog after all, then,” Desmarc said with a laugh, referring back to our conversation the night of our engagement party. “We’ll have to keep our eye on him. Otherwise, I’d hate to see what he astonishes us with next.”

“Indeed. His sudden rise in the ranks is most unexpected.” While the meridians had all been campaigning the last few months, with the newly announced list of the official candidates, the rest would drop out of the race. Only the meridian elected by each of the three main factions would participate in the debate happening in two weeks.

The soft sound of Cogsley dusting in the background filled the temporary silence between us while I figured out how to turn the conversation toward his visit to the university.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Busy as usual.”

“What did you do?” I tried again.

“Mostly meetings. There’s always some wheel to grease or be greased, especially now that I’m working with your father on his platform for the renewal.” He fell silent, not going into the usual detail about work like he did when Papá was present.

“Being a meridian doesn’t sound like any fun,” I said carefully, trying to set the groundwork for what I really wanted to ask. “Why did you want to be one?”

He raised a brow but still answered. “I wanted the power to make a difference.”

I nodded, then forged ahead with another question I’d been curious about for months. “I don’t remember you or Papá ever mentioning how you became a meridian so young? I know your ambition is one of the things Papá finds most impressive about you, but I’m curious how you managed.” It was especially impressive considering there were only ten meridians for each political faction.

“I just worked my way up the ranks like everyone else until I found a spot I liked in the Technology and Innovation Guild.”

“But how?”

“By being relentless,” he said. “You know what they say: In the world of politics, there’s no rest for the weary.”

“Isn’t it no rest for the wicked?” I asked with a grin to cover my disappointment. Desmarc was still as vague as ever.

“Wicked is simply a matter of point of view.” He waved a hand in the air as a server bot entered the room with a tray of tea and cookies. “To the Revolutionist like Eliver, we’re most definitely wicked because we refuse to let the people use aether energy fully.”

My stomach tightened, at his reference to today’s conversation and at the implication. Maybe Professor McNeil and Professor Knight were Revolutionists. I tried to keep my expression smooth as I poured us both a cup of tea. “Isn’t aether energy dangerous? I’ve heard that, when used in large amounts, it can be rather volatile.”

“Exactly. They don’t even care for the danger it might pose to the people. It’s incredible to think they could garner any votes, yet if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the general populace is full of steamheads.”

I nodded sympathetically, inhaling my tea’s fragrant bergamot and dried orange aroma of my tea before taking a small sip. “Have things been going well with the Neo-Unionists?”

Desmarc grimaced and took a sip. “They’ve built their platform around the promise of a stronger reform of the city’s infrastructure and cracking down on crime, so all the recent—” He cut himself off and glanced at me. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I feel like I’m always boring you with politics when your father is around, and we don’t have to do this song and dance when we’re alone.”

“I’m not bored, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” A twinge of disappointment struck me. It wasn’t like I wanted to chat about politics all the time either, but I did want Desmarc to tell me about things that mattered to him, like his career or the murders. Plus, it wasn’t like I could come right out and ask him if the Revolutionists, with their aether technology, could be tied to the murders.

Desmarc smiled at me, then gazed out the sliver of window visible through the curtain. He drummed his fingers on his knee and took another sip of tea.

“Did anything else noteworthy happen today?” I asked after a moment. Like maybe a visit to AIR U? I shifted and crossed my legs in the other direction, trying not to seem too eager. But if he didn’t bring it up, I definitely couldn’t.

“Hmm.” Desmarc continued to gaze out the window. “On behalf of your father, I had a rather interesting visit with a professor at the university today who wanted to talk to me about some recent developments so I could stay on top of what the Revolutionist faction is planning.”

“Oh? How was it?”

“What do you mean?” He finally turned to me.

“I mean how was the campus and everything?”

“The school has an inviting atmosphere, and I found my discussions with the professor most illuminating. If I’d grown up here, I wouldn’t have minded attending AIR U myself.”

I studied him from beneath my lashes. While I hadn’t planned on telling Desmarc about my desire to attend the university until we were married, I didn’t want to miss out on such a perfect opportunity. Desmarc’s admission proved that he wasn’t against women attending the university either.

“You know, Desmarc...” I hesitated at the thought that he might still choose Papá’s side, then steamrolled ahead. If we were going to make a life together, we had to be able to trust one another. “I’d love to enroll in AIR U once we’re married.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose again, disappearing into his head of curls. “Truly?”

“Remember how I said I wanted to do more with my life?”

He smiled fondly. “That day at the Steele.”

I nodded. “I’ve wished to attend AIR U for as long as I can remember.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Papá isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I murmured softly. Of course, Desmarc didn’t know the real reason Papá didn’t want me around people.

Desmarc studied me thoughtfully while his fingers continued to drum against his knee. My heart thudded painfully in my chest while I waited.

“I can understand wanting more knowledge and power.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t know any politician who doesn’t want that.”

“So you aren’t against it?”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the public appearances and social gatherings we’ll need to attend, I see no reason why I should be,” he said. “We can discuss it more once we’re through the wedding.”

My heart leapt at his response. “Thank you for understanding.”

He smiled, then glanced down at his watch. “I’m afraid I have to go soon, but I wanted to give you this.” He pulled out a small black box wrapped with a red silk ribbon from his jacket pocket—which was draped over the chair—and handed it to me.

“You shouldn’t have.” But I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.

“Yes, I should have. In fact, I should’ve given it to you earlier, but there was a delay with the order and it wasn’t ready in time.”

“Can I open it?” At his nod, I pulled on one end of the ribbon, letting the silk pool in my lap. Then I pulled the lid off the box, revealing an exquisite watch attached to a delicate silver chain. The lid was engraved with a tiny representation of the city, each district shrunk down and immortalized in metal, down to a delicate line of sparkling blue running horizontally across it for the Steele River and a tiny ruby in the center that represented the Epoch Clock.

“It’s perfect,” I breathed, tracing a finger over its intricate face. Part of me was tempted to take my glove off and touch it to try to learn more about my fiancé right then and there.

“I thought instead of the typical engagement necklace, I’d give you something a bit more practical.”

“I love it.” I leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek.

In the main hall, the grandfather clock rang, and we both paused to count the chimes. Seventeen.

Desmarc frowned. “That’s my cue to leave, but before I go, may I?” He gestured to the necklace dangling from my finger on its delicate chain.

“Of course.”

He reclaimed the pendant from my hand and stepped behind me, sweeping my hair to the side to expose my neck. Then he reached around me with the necklace and fastened the lock.

“Thank you,” I whispered again, brushing a finger over it where it nestled between my collarbones.

“My pleasure.” His words feathered across the back of my neck like a warm summer breeze.

I turned around slowly and met Desmarc’s deep green gaze, which darkened as it dropped to my lips. I stilled, my heart pumping wildly. Would Desmarc try to kiss me? In the corner of the room, Cogsley continued to dust along the bookshelves. Some chaperone. Or maybe Cogsley wasn’t programmed to care now that Desmarc was my fiancé.

The air in the room grew charged as if a word might shatter it, and I dared not move for fear of ruining the moment.

For all of Desmarc’s charm and kindness, he had never really kissed me—never even tried.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and nerves stole my breath for a moment.

But then Desmarc dipped his head and our mouths met in a startling combination of sensations. The softness of his lips. The heat from his hand on my waist. The faint taste of citrus from his tea.

My hand landed on his forearm as if disconnected from my body, the small touch grounding me in place.

It was soft and sweet and over long before I was ready.

Desmarc pulled back and smiled softly. “I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have waited.” I blew out a breath and tried to calm my still-pounding heart. Kissing Desmarc was everything I thought it could be, which gave me hope for our future. No matter how involved in politics he was, this kiss proved he cared. And the more time we spent together, the more we’d grow to be in sync. We could become like Mamá and Papá.

He smiled and brushed a thumb across my cheek before kissing it too. “I should go. There’s still much to be done tonight.”

“All right.” I covered my disappointment with a smile. It wasn’t fair to be greedy. I walked him to the door, where he kissed my gloved hand before slipping outside. I stared after him as he walked down the drive. At the end of the walkway, his steamcab waited to take him back to town. He climbed in and settled into his seat, then turned and waved.

I waved until he disappeared around the bend, then my hand drifted to my lips. There was so much I wanted to know about Desmarc, and maybe he was slowly opening up to me.

Shutting the front door behind me, I leaned against it and studied the necklace once more. There was one other way I could potentially learn more about my fiancé without having to wait.

I ran up to my room and slipped off a glove, then hesitated with my hand just over the necklace. I really shouldn’t be going behind Desmarc’s back to learn more about him, but with him so reluctant to talk about himself, it left me with few other options. I touched the necklace with one finger, holding my breath in anticipation.

No blue spark jumped at the contact, and my body stayed firmly in the present.

Glaring down at the cold, unresponsive metal, I pulled my glove back on with a sigh.

Chapter 11

After Desmarc left, I pored over sample sketches from other designers I’d gathered and skimmed through my design book searching for a spark of inspiration. The scratch of charcoal and the rustle of paper filled my otherwise silent room.

I wanted it to be elegant like the wedding dress I’d helped Geneve make last year with the pleated ruffles and full skirt, yet chic with shorter sleeves. Stylish with a clockwork design to match Desmarc’s engagement necklace.

When the grandfather clock chimed, I jumped, scattering papers into the air, then I glanced at the dark window. It wasn’t uncommon for me to lose myself for hours when designing or sketching, but as I glanced around at the piles of discarded paper, I frowned. I still hadn’t come up with a good enough design to send to Geneve.

With a sigh, I started gathering up my supplies. I was running out of time to send my design in, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of sending it in unfinished or wrong.

Cogsley came in and started to clean up my room with a sigh. I patted her on the head as I walked out the door.

Since Papá was still gone, I took advantage of his absence to go into his room. If I couldn’t get answers from him about Slipping, maybe I could find the answers I needed in his memories. I left the lights off to hide evidence of my trespassing.

A twinge of anxiety went through me. Papá wasn’t usually out this late, and I couldn’t help but think of the murderer who may or may not be after him. But he was rarely alone, meaning he wouldn’t be as easy of a target.

Pushing down those worries, I entered his room. Nothing appeared changed here. It never did—like Papá was trapped in the past even more than I was when I Slipped. Shadows hid the metal beams crisscrossing the tall ceiling. His ornate knife collection hung on the far wall, a glimpse of the man he’d been before politics took over. Only a sliver of light from the hallway illuminated a portion of his dresser.

The veranda doors tempted me outside. I walked through them and studied the city’s outline. The buildings’ dark shadows were a mixture of arches and spires lit, in part, by the brilliant blue glow of aether lamps that sparkled across the Steele. In the distance, a pack of clouds moved in as stealthily as a predator on its prey.

My gaze drifted to the shape of AIR U where the moonlight glinted off the copper dome and large telescope from the science building. Had Detective Atwood found anything else after we parted?

A gust of wind blasted into me, flattening my clothes and mussing my hair. I retreated to Papá’s dark bedroom and studied the portrait of him and Mamá resting in the center of his dresser on a gilt frame with two curved legs. It showed a three-year-old me sitting on Mamá’s lap while Papá stood behind us with a hand on her shoulder. I’d looked at it so many times I could see it with my eyes closed. Mamá’s graceful figure and impeccable posture. Her fair, porcelain complexion with a hint of a flush on her cheeks. Her long black hair, styled in an elaborate arrangement with hairpins shaped like cogs. But what I could most clearly visualize were her eyes—large and expressive with long, dark lashes and arched brows, almost like she was looking at me through the painting.

I traced a finger over the oval frame, wishing Mamá were here now to talk me through my upcoming marriage. To see if it was normal to feel so nervous. To know if she’d also be afraid of my powers or if she’d want me to use them. There were so many questions and no way to ask them. No way to see her again.

Shaking off my melancholy, I pulled my glove off. I didn’t have time to waste. Papá could be home at any minute and I needed answers.

Lightly, I trailed a finger along the joints of the dresser where the smooth wood met the cool metal, then I moved my hand over each of his belongings. First, the single pearl resting on a bowl on his dresser. It was one of Mamá’s, of that I was sure, but I had no idea why it was important. I had so many questions about her that Papá would never answer. I picked it up and rubbed it between my fingers, but there was no spark, no yanking sensation. The pearl was a window to the past, but not one I’d ever get to look through.

I put it back in the bowl and moved to the next object, a spiky metal key that had been there as long as I remembered. When I was younger, I’d taken the key to every door in the house trying to figure out what it unlocked before I’d finally given up. I traced a finger over the key, though I didn’t expect anything from it. I found an old drawing I’d done for Papá years ago—one that I’d Slipped into before but hadn’t realized he still kept. When nothing happened, I also tried a simple black comb, a glass bottle on its side with a miniature airship inside, and a few other items. Over the last few years, I’d already Slipped into some of these objects and drained the memory from them, and touching them now was more of a ritual than anything.

Finally, all that remained was a framed painting of my parents. I glanced at it, then stopped. At some point, Papá had replaced it with one that included me as a baby. I reached for the frame with a shaking finger and opened it up to touch the paper inside. At the contact, a blue spark jumped from my finger to the frame.

My spirit Slipped from me as easily as pulling off a layer of clothing—well, not a corset. Those were nearly impossible.

Time rushed around me in a blur, conversations, smells, voices, and sights. Snatches of life too quick to pick out. I jolted to a stop and my spirit form slammed into the ground, disrupting the swirling black smoke that slowly settled back into place. Like a heartbeat breathing life into my dreary surroundings, the paper thumped in my hand. It sent out an echo that went off like a sound wave in the black smoke, then Mamá appeared next to me.

This was Mamá’s memory, not Papá’s! The thought made my heart skip a beat. I rarely got to see anything to do with Mamá these days.

She appeared just like she did in the photograph, young and beautiful. Which made the sickness that took her life so much harder to believe. Papá’d always said it had been so unexpected. She must’ve thought of this moment a lot when looking at the painting for the memory to have been imprinted on it.

The paper thumped in my hand, but I wasn’t ready for it to count down my time. I could stay here forever if it meant staying with Mamá. I stepped closer and breathed in her vanilla and rose scent.

Mamá stared down at a small bundle in her arms with a soft smile.

I moved closer to peer down at the bundle, careful not to step on the train of her elegant pink day gown. It was me, a few months older than the baby from the image in my hand.

Young me cooed, and Mamá started humming. The familiar lullaby, like a memory from a dream, tugged at me, and I swallowed past the tightness in my throat as she began to sing.

Hush now, dearheart, let your fantasies fly,

As airships carry your hopes to the sky.

Dreamscapes of slumber await in the deep.

Steam-whispered lullabies guide you to sleep.

Mamá smiled as a deep voice joined her lilting alto, and the frame continued its relentless countdown.

Pass the night gently as clocks tick along,

While starlight and cogs blend into a song.

In a world full of wonders, goggles, and lace,

Rest peacefully, love, in my clockwork embrace.

Heavy footsteps sounded, then a man materialized in the smoke—a young Papá, who lacked the wrinkles and bags under his eyes. The black wisps wrapped around him until they became a white button-up and a gray vest with a pair of trousers. “Your voice is as beautiful as ever.”

“And you’re as late as ever,” Mamá scolded.

“I hurried home as soon as I could.” Papá kissed her, then leaned down and placed one on my forehead too.

Young me squealed and raised a tiny fist in the air, while I blinked rapidly to fight off the rising tears.

“How were things today?” Mamá rocked me in her arms.

Papá loosened his tie and walked off into the darkness, though his disembodied voice carried back to where the current me stood a few feet from Mamá. “Dreadful, as they have been. The Revolutionists are getting more out of control.”

“The Prime Meridian will do something about it.” Mamá walked over to the darkness where Papá’s voice came from, and the surroundings blossomed under her feet like she was the sun.

We were in the old nursery—a room now filled with dust and cobwebs. There was the rug I’d played on as a child and the crib with the mobile of the airship Papá had made for me.

The photograph thumped so quickly it was like holding a hummingbird’s heart in my hand. Any moment now I’d get pulled out.

“Did you and Geneve finish your runs?” Papá asked.

“Yes.” Mamá sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Papá came back and wrapped an arm around her.

“The Lower Chimes still need so much help.”

Papá kissed her forehead. “You do more than anyone I know.”

“Yet it’s never enough.”

I watched them for a moment, my thoughts returning to Detective Atwood’s comments. He and Mamá were more similar than I’d thought.

“Did you open the vault for Kyra like I asked?” Mamá rested her head on Papá’s shoulder.

“Of course. I’ve got the key right here.” He took out a small metal key with pointy edges—the same one that I’d just seen on his dresser. That was why I’d never been able to find what it went to at home. It was for a vault.

Mamá leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, but when I started fussing in her arms, she began humming to me once more.

“You know I’ll make sure Kyra is well taken care of, right?”

“She needs to be able to take care of herself. There’s no way to know when something might happen to us,” she said. “Besides, what if she marries and her husband isn’t as wonderful as mine?”

Papá wrapped his arms around Mamá from behind and nuzzled into her neck. “You think I’d let just anyone marry her? I’ll only accept the best of the best for our little girl.”

“What’s best for her now is a nap.” Mamá laughed and sidled free of Papá’s grasp. “So stop distracting me.”

Tears blurred my vision, and I held a hand to my mouth so no one would hear me cry, though no one would anyway. I’d never known about that account, and I’d forgotten how independent Mamá was. How did she and Papá get along? Then again, the Papá I was looking at now didn’t seem like the same person I knew today. Mamá’s death had changed him.

I stepped closer to Mamá and reached, but my hand went through her shoulder. If only I could talk to her. There were so many things I wanted to say.

“I miss you,” I whispered as she walked by to sit in a rocking chair in the corner.

The photograph thumped again and pulled me from the past. The world dissolved around me, not shattering violently like when the people had died, but the shapes and lines melting and blurring like watching rain on a window distort the outside world during a storm.

A breath later and the world shifted until I was back in my body, leaning against Papá’s dresser.

Just in time too. The door in the main hall closed with a loud thud and Papá called, “I’m home, Kyra.”

“Welcome back, Papá.” I tugged my other glove back on, snagged the key from Papá’s dresser, and hurried out of his room. If I moved quickly, I could hopefully get the key back in the next few days before he noticed it was missing.

It was another secret Papá had kept from me—something Mamá had left specifically for me yet he’d never said a word. And I was going to find out why.

Chapter 12

“I’m heading into town, Papá,” I called to him in his study as I checked my pocket to make sure I still had the vault key. I hadn’t heard from Detective Atwood the last few days and now that I finally had another break between wedding planning meetings and social calls, I was going to get answers about that vault.

“Where are you going?” Papá glanced up from his paper, taking in my clothing at a glance. I’d chosen a structured bodice made from a gray velvet with a high-necked blouse and a deep purple skirt.

“I have a few errands to run.”

Papá’s gaze fixed on my lace gloves for just a second too long. “Such as?”

“I need to see Geneve and talk dress details, and then I thought I’d do a little window shopping.” I shrugged and readjusted my wide-brimmed hat and the goggles resting on them, trying to play it casual. With the wedding two and a half weeks away, Geneve and I were running out of time to finalize my dress.

“Are you done planning tomorrow’s dinner?”

“Yes,” I said. “And I’ve already worked with the bots to make sure the house is prepared when the other candidates come.” It was another political dinner and more wheel greasing. Nothing of interest, except that Desmarc would be coming over.

“Maybe I’ll come with you.” Papá folded his paper and stood.

“What? Why?”

“It’s been a while since we’ve spent some quality time together, especially with how many late nights I’ve had lately.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by me questioning him. “Is that a problem?”

If by a while, he’d meant years, then yes.

“Of course not.” I struggled to regain my composure. “I just thought you had another meeting this morning.” In fact, I’d been counting on it, since I wasn’t sure when I’d have time to sneak out again. The closer we got to the wedding, the busier everything became.

Papá collected his jacket and decorative cane and walked over to me. “My meeting with Meridian Eliver was canceled, and I’ll push the rest back.”

With Papá in tow, today’s mission was going to be much more difficult, but I wasn’t willing to put it off. I was tired of waiting for answers.

“Prepare the steamcab,” Papá commanded a waiting server bot as he scribbled a note. He disappeared to send his message through the siphon, presumably to his now-canceled meetings, as the bot wheeled to the back entrance.

Papá returned and offered me his arm, and together we walked outside to wait by the front door. A minute later, the same bot pulled the cab around and stopped in front of us. The Annandale sigil—an elaborate brass A over a background with a sun bearing wings on the sides—gleamed in the light. Papá opened the door so I could climb inside.

Once he’d settled next to me on the plush velvet seat, he tapped the mahogany-paneled roof of the car with his cane.

The bot pulled out of the driveway and onto the road heading north. In truth, we were lucky to have bots capable of driving us around since Papá refused to have human servants. Considering most bots were only entrusted with basic household chores, only the most expensive ones were advanced enough to navigate the city safely in a car. But money was never an issue for an Annandale. And as Papá always said, a bots’ loyalty was much easier to ensure than a person’s.

I glanced back at the house. Steam escaped from a few pipes on the roof, leaving small white circles puffing against the blue sky. I tried to remember it the way it had been when I was a child. For a moment, I could imagine her chasing me across the lawn that stretched around the manor. I could see the servers polishing the brass detailing and the hodgepodge of circular and rectangular windows until they glinted in the light.

“Let’s go to Geneve’s first, then get some lunch.”

“All right.” I covered my surprise at him suggesting more time together and thought fast. Geneve’s shop and Papá’s bank were in the Eleventh Chime, which made it the best place to start my search. If I struck out with Papá’s bank, I’d have to find time another day.

I cracked open the window and gazed outside at the Steele as it wound through the countryside like a molten snake of liquid silver. A mechanical riverboat glided along its surface, billowing steam. The scent of spiced tea and roasted chestnuts teased us from another estate as we passed, and I breathed it in with relish. The scent helped calm my racing heart.

We passed only a few other estates of the elite, mixtures of architectural masterpieces with arched roofs and swooping designs, as we headed to the Eleventh. After last night’s storm, the sky was bright and clear. As the light reflected off the metal, the city gleamed and shone like it demanded attention, and the red and orange trees almost made it look like the countryside was on fire.

I stared at Papá from the corner of my eye as we bumped along. Aside from my knife lessons, it’d been quite a while since we’d spent quality time together out of the public’s eye for no other reason than simply to be together.

He sat with one hand on his cane and the other fiddling with the goggles hanging from around his neck. The sight reminded me of the ones I’d found in Mamá’s garden, making my curiosity boil over like an unwatched kettle. Maybe now was my chance to get some answers. If I brought up Slipping, most likely Papá would find out I’d been doing it more and more, but I needed answers more than I needed to avoid another fight.

“Papá, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Kyra.” He stared out the window, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. I reveled in the last moment of peace before I rocked the airship.

“Why do you think Slipping is dangerous?” I got straight to the point, hoping the abruptness could startle the truth out of him.

He stiffened and his gaze swung to mine. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

“Have you been Slipping?” His tone hardened.

My stomach clenched, but after a moment, I said, “Yes.” Better to tell him the truth now instead of him finding out some other way. Now that I’d decided to try to get more answers, I’d have to be more upfront as well. “And I haven’t found anything dangerous.”

His hand tensed on his cane. “You promised you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

“I made that promise as a little girl,” I said. “I didn’t know any better.”

“You’re still a little girl.”

“I’m either old enough for you to marry me off and use in your political games, or I’m your little girl, but you can’t have it both ways.”

His expression tightened, making the lines around his eyes more prominent. “Slipping leaves your body defenseless,” he finally said. “Plus, it’s too unknown, too unpredictable. What if you didn’t come back? I won’t risk losing you.”

We stared each other down across the steamcab, but I couldn’t read the emotion that flickered through his eyes. He was telling the truth, or at least part of it, but there was more to it.

“Why do you call it Slipping?” I kept my tone as disinterested as I could manage so he wouldn’t hear the suspicion or hurt in it.

He dropped his attention to his cane. “Because you slipped through time. It felt like an easy enough name for you to understand as a child.”

My heart twinged. Papá had broken eye contact. He was no longer being honest. “But how did you know that? If I’m the only one with this ability, why were you so quick to believe me? Why didn’t you question me more? How did you know that’s what I’d done? What aren’t you telling me?” The questions that had been building over time poured out of me like oil leaking from a bot—and just like oil, they could easily cause an explosion.

“Whatever I do or don’t tell you is for your own good,” he said firmly, meeting my gaze again. But his belief that he was helping me didn’t soften the blow.

“I deserve to know the truth, Papá. If there’s someone else you know with these abilities, you should let me talk to them,” I said hotly.

“No.” His voice cracked like a whip, and his nostrils flared. “There is no one for you to talk to. This discussion is over.”

I stilled in my seat as his furious gaze met mine. Either he was too angry to worry about lying or he honestly believed what he was saying. But that didn’t make sense. If there wasn’t anyone else, he would have been more surprised about my Slipping as a child.

I pressed my lips together and stuck my head out the window to tell the bot, “Please stop at the edge of the Chime. I’d like to walk from there.” That would be my best chance to get Papá ensnared in conversation with someone.

“No, get closer to Cogs and Corsets,” Papá countered.

“Papá, we’re in the Eleventh Chime.” I said in exasperation. “What’s the worst that could happen here? I don’t even have any money on me to steal.” Something which had come back to bite me in the Lower Chimes. As an Annandale, I had an account open in Papá’s name with every store in the Upper Chimes. The only thing I had of value on me at the moment was Desmarc’s engagement necklace.

“Nevertheless, I’d like to get closer to the shop.”

I gritted my teeth and stared out the window. He acted like I never went out on my own, but then again, he didn’t know half of the things I did. At least Cogs and Corsets wasn’t too far from Papá’s bank. Maybe I could recruit Geneve to help me slip away for a bit once we were inside. Common sense told me I’d be better off waiting for another chance, but I was done waiting. I’d done that my whole life.

The steamcab rolled to a stop, and I opened the door and slid out before Papá could offer me his hand. The scent of flowers drifted to me from the many boxes hanging from aether lamps and though it was still early afternoon, a humid cloud hung over the city.

Papá followed me into the store.

Warm light streamed through the large display windows, casting gentle shadows across the polished wood floors and onto the dresses suspended from brass hooks and hangers in the main area. Each was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, featuring intricate lace, delicate brocade, and fabrics in deep, rich hues. They all bore Geneve’s distinct whimsical and innovative style with embellishments such as gears, keys, and clockwork motifs along the bodices, hems, and sleeves.

A contented sigh escaped, and I looked around at the fabrics and dresses happily: bolts of silk in a deep emerald, designs made from ivory and black lace, a pastel pink chiffon that gently shimmered in the window’s breeze. In a world where so many things were out of my control, sewing was the one time I got to make all the decisions.

The attendant scurried over and started simpering to Papá. “Thank you for gracing the shop with your presence, Meridian Annandale.”

A royal blue fabric along the wall caught my eye, and I wandered to it, leaving Papá with the attendant while I tuned out their conversation and focused on the striking color. Running a hand over the smooth material and holding it up to the window to watch the light play across it, I debated on what I could make. Maybe a new pair of gloves. Looking more closely, I realized it was the same material used to make Detective Atwood’s cape.

“That’s one of our most popular colors, Miss Annandale,” Geneve said, emerging from a back room pushing a lock of curly black hair out of her face. Her comment jerked me back to the present. I had a mission, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“What have I told you about calling me Miss Annandale? You know better than that.” I put the fabric down and turned to her.

“And you know I have to treat you as your station demands when we’re in town.” She cast a pointed look at her attendant and Papá, then back toward me.

“My station?” I laughed. “Geneve, you’ve known me since I was running around the house half-naked.”

She tsked and picked up the fabric. The movement made the silver knitting needle stuck through her messy bun glint. “This would look lovely on you.”

“I’m actually here to discuss my dress,” I said.

“Of course,” Geneve said. “Have you brought the sketch of the design for the finishing touches?”

“I’m struggling to find some inspiration.”

Concern filled her green eyes. “Can I help?”

“No, I can do it. I’m sure something will come to me soon.”

“I’ll need it in the next few days at the latest,” she said. “Are you going to help me with the embroidery?”

I chewed on my lower lip. “I want to, but I’m not sure I trust myself.”

“Cogswash.” She gave me a small smile. “I’ve never taught someone more gifted.”

I smiled at her, letting her praise soothe away the lingering irritation from my argument with Papá. “All right, then. I’d like to work on it with you. I’ll send the design to you as soon as it’s ready.”

“So, we can go?” Papá looked almost relieved to be leaving so soon.

“Not until I try on what we already have of the gown.” If I went to a changing room, I could buy myself some time out of Papá’s sight and figure out how to get to the bank.

Geneve collected my dress and started to lead me toward one of the changing rooms, but I shook my head and pointed to another—one that was farther from Papá and closer to the shop’s back door.

Once the door closed behind us, Geneve hung the dress on the wall and gave me a pointed look. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” I tried to give her an innocent smile.

“You think I don’t recognize the mischievous look in your eyes? Like you said, Kyra, I’ve known you since you were small. I know that you’re up to something. You’re as out of place as a kitchen bot working on one of my dresses.” She folded her arms. “Spill.”

“Oh, all right.” With Geneve’s help, this would be much easier anyway. “I’ve found a key to an old vault. It was Mamá’s, and you know how Papá is.”

“You want to go behind his back and see what’s in the vault?”

I grimaced. “That’s a terrible way of wording it, but yes. He would never show me otherwise. He refuses to talk about Mamá. Please, Geneve, I just need you to make sure Papá stays distracted long enough for me to slip across the street to his bank.”

“Actually,” she said after a long moment, “if I’m remembering what Gwen said correctly, the vault wasn’t at your father’s bank.”

“You know about it?”

“I know that your mother mentioned opening a vault at Copper Haven a few years before she passed.”

My heart thumped in excitement. That was only a few minutes’ walk from here. “Does this mean you’ll help?”

She pursed her lips, then nodded. “I will this time, but you need to be back here in a quarter of an hour, or your father will get suspicious.”

“Thank you!” I clasped her hands.

I’d found the next clue that could lead me to Mamá.

Chapter 13

Geneve shooed me out the door of the changing room. “Go now while he’s waiting.”

I hurried through the back room filled with fabrics and automatons wearing half-finished designs, then slipped into the alley behind the shop. With a deep breath, I rejoined the throng of pedestrians on the street and let myself get lost in the hiss of hydraulics from airships overhead, the flutter of newspaper pages being turned, and the hum of polite conversation. I walked to Copper Haven without a backward glance. Unlike the Lower Chimes, I knew the Upper Chimes as well as Cogsley’s lack of humor.

“...It could be worth considering adding a provision about the Lower Chimes into his platform for the debate,” a man said from nearby, his voice cutting through the symphony of sounds.

“We have bigger issues to think about than the Lower Chimes,” a second voice said. “They aren’t worth our time.”

I froze at the familiar voice. It was Desmarc.

The foot traffic bustled around me, and I earned a few disgruntled looks from my abrupt stop. I ducked behind an aether lamp for partial protection and scanned for my fiancé. If he spotted me, I’d definitely lose some, if not all, of my precious fifteen minutes.

Over the chatter of voices from the street, I picked out the voice of Desmarc’s companion again, growing louder as they approached my pathetic hiding spot. “You say that, but they’re still a large percentage of the voters.”

I joined a group of women walking by and ducked my head as we passed Desmarc.

“The Lower Chimes contribute nothing to our society. They’re a drain on our resources.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“If they had more ambition, they would’ve bettered their situations already, and—”

A steamcab drove by, drowning out the rest of Desmarc’s remark.

I stepped away from the group and leaned against a shop wall, my heart pounding. Whether from the close call or Desmarc’s words, I wasn’t sure. He didn’t just dismiss the idea of helping those with less—he was against it. And if he opposed my trips to the Lower Chimes with Geneve once we were married, would I let that stop me?

I shook off my questions and forced myself to keep moving. I had a mission to accomplish and only a short time frame to do it in.

A few minutes later, I entered the coolness of Copper Haven through the massive brass and glass revolving door. Tall pillars supported the high, vaulted ceiling and the engraved black metal decorating the walls and desks reminded me of the key in my pocket.

I hurried to the shortest line, which held just a middle-aged woman, and took my place behind her. I glanced at my pocket watch and bit my lip. I only had eight minutes left, but I couldn’t go back to Papá now when I was so close to finding another piece of Mamá. While I waited, I studied the woman’s bank uniform. What I could see of her clothes appeared the same as the men at nearby desks—a white blouse with a black bowtie—but her hat had a more elegant curvature.

Once it was my turn, I stepped up to the desk before the woman invited me forward.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a tone of bored politeness.

“Yes, I was hoping you could tell me my vault number. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it.” I drummed my fingers along the marble surface.

“Of course. What’s your name?” She pulled a ledger from a drawer and opened it.

“Kyra Annandale.”

The woman gaped at me, her brown eyes widening, then quickly lowered her gaze back to the book. “Of course. Annandale, Annandale,” she muttered as she slid her finger down the page. “Ah, here it is. Vault 20A.”

“Excellent.” My heart pounded in my chest.

“And I’m assuming you have your key?”

“Of course.” With a trembling hand, I drew the key from my pocket and passed it to her, praying it was right.

She examined it for a minute, then handed the key back. “Everything appears to be in order.” She stood, and the legs of her chair squeaked against the floor. “I’ll escort you there.”

“Oh, thank you.” My heart skipped a beat as I followed her down a long hallway. I’d actually done it. After a minute, we turned down another corridor into a different area. “Can I not get into my vault on my own?”

“For the security of our customers’ belongings, each vault is safeguarded with a double security measure.”

“I see.” What sort of things would Mamá have saved for me in the vault? I was only ten when she died, leaving me with precious few memories of her.

I followed the woman down yet another hallway and a stone staircase with pipe railing.

“If you’ll insert your key into that side, I’ll help open the door,” she said, drawing to a stop next to a large door made of reinforced steel and brass with 20A inscribed on the front. The woman pulled out a pocket watch, then opened it with a soft snick and pressed it into an indentation by the door. So the double security feature she’d mentioned had been referring to a pocket watch.

A loud click echoed off the stone walls and pipes, and a massive cogwheel emerged from the wall. The woman turned it carefully before giving me an expectant look.

I pulled out the metal key and slid the pointy end into the hole, then watched while she typed a code into a small frame by the door that glowed with a blue light—another aether-powered device. The door creaked open, and the smell of dust and stale air hit me. It had been a while since anyone had opened this vault.

“I’ll wait down the hall.” She dipped her head in a slight bow. “If you need anything, just call for me. My name is Eleanor. Otherwise, let me know when you’re done, and we’ll relock the vault.”

“Thank you.” I barely spared her a glance as I stepped inside a small room. “Wait, what of this is mine?”

“This whole room belongs to your family,” she said before walking off.

I’d been expecting the key to lead to a box of things, not an entire room. Granted, it was only about ten feet by ten feet, but still. Piles of coins littered the floor like sparkling mounds of treasure—easily enough money to support me for life even if I wasn’t an Annandale—but it wasn’t the money that interested me so much as the items.

In a corner, a grand clock with a frame constructed from aged brass rested on clawed feet. The body exposed gears and cogs intermixed with crystals that glowed with a blue light—probably aether powered. Symbols engraved along the edges caught my eye, but I couldn’t read any of them. The same symbols decorated the iridescent clockface, which looked almost like the moon, and instead of traditional numerals, the hands pointed to more mysterious sigils. I ran a finger over the smooth wood, wondering who it belonged to and why it was locked in here instead of being used.

Giving up on the strange clock, I turned to the shelves, which were littered with items such as a few blueprints and other mechanical knickknacks. Any of these could be links to Mamá—objects filled with her memories and links for me to get to know her better. Now wasn’t the time to touch them and try to Slip. That would take too long, and I had to get back to Papá.

I traced a finger over the things on the shelf one last time. I’d come back later. Now that I had the key and knew the location I could come whenever I wanted. But for now, I didn’t have time to waste down here.

As I turned to go, a small silver ring on a shelf caught my eye. The elaborate design appeared almost like a shield with swirls and shapes worked into it with a diamond in the center. Something about it called to me. But if I wore it, surely Papá would know that I’d been in this vault. If I was going to take it—and the way my hand was already unconsciously reaching for it told me I wanted to—I’d have to wear it under my glove. It was like I could feel Mamá telling me she wanted me to have it.

I pulled off my left glove and reached for it with a trembling finger.

Blue sparked from the contact, and the world around me dissolved into black.

After everything stopped spinning, I sucked in a bracing breath, then looked at my dark surroundings. In my hand, the ring pulsed once in a gentle warning.

Mamá appeared through the black mist, her white dress making her look like an angel. She smiled and bent down, then scooped a smaller version of me into her arms.

I stepped closer, inhaling Mamá’s soft rose perfume. The ring thumped, warning me this memory was going to be short.

“Papá is s-s-so mean,” Little Me cried and buried her face against Mamá’s neck. I appeared to be about six years old.

Mamá laughed softly and patted her head. “Oh, dearest. He isn’t saying no to be mean; he’s saying it because he loves you.”

Instead of responding, Little Me burrowed deeper against Mamá, rubbing a hand down her soft velvet sleeve.

The ring thumped again, and I stared at Mamá’s face, absorbing every detail.

Mamá looked over her shoulder and gave someone a rueful grin. “Did you hear that? Apparently, you’re mean because you said no.”

“All I did was tell her not to play with your ring.” Papá materialized, still wearing a top hat with a pair of goggles. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes she’s far too much like you.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Mamá, still running a hand up and down my back, raised one eyebrow at him.

He came over and kissed the top of her head and wrapped an arm around them both, then slipped Mamá’s ring onto her finger. “It means that I have no way to win. You two are my greatest weakness.”

“Good answer.” Mamá tilted her head back and kissed him, then rested her cheek against my head. “Besides, the ring will be hers one day anyway.” She started to hum the old lullaby as Papá walked back into the darkness, and Little Me stopped crying to listen.

The thumping grew faster, more urgent.

“Dearheart, right now you need to listen to Papá and me because we want what’s best for you.” Mamá put Little Me down and looked her in the eyes. “As you grow up, listen to those who love you, but never let anyone change who you are. You can only give up so much of yourself before you start resenting those around you.”

Little Me stared up at her with wide eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“You will one day.” Mamá gave me a soft smile.

The ring pulsed like an overactive heart, and I cursed the shortness of the memory.

“For now,” Mamá said, “just remember that my love for you is more reliable than...”

“The Steam,” the little voice piped in dutifully.

“It’s more powerful than...”

“The aether.”

“And it’s brighter than...”

“The sun.”

Mamá kissed her head. “That’s my girl.”

My throat closed up as Mamá’s words rushed back. She used to say that to me every day. It had been our thing, and yet, somehow, I’d forgotten. Time had stolen my memories, but this ring had given one back.

With one final resonating thump, the world dissolved, and I came back to my body. I blinked and stared down at Mamá’s ring. How different would my life have been had I had Mamá here as well as Papá? Someone to soften his edges and be on my side. Someone who might’ve encouraged me to practice Slipping instead of urging me to be afraid of it. Someone to keep me company on the long nights Papá worked and helped us navigate the fights that had driven us apart.

Mamá’s words echoed in my head.

Don’t let anyone try to change who you are.

For years I’d let Papá tell me what to do. Even the things I did for myself I did in secret, but I couldn’t let Papá, or anyone else, dictate my choices anymore. This marriage to Desmarc was no more than me running from one cage to another—even if the second cage had more space. I had to live for myself.

That didn’t mean I had to cancel my engagement with Desmarc. I’d grown to care for him, and I still wished to get married. But I did need to learn to be more honest with him and get him to be more honest with me.

It was freeing knowing that Mamá had expected me to make my own mistakes. That’s where she and Papá differed. She would’ve been there to help me through the hard things, but all Papá wanted to do was protect me from them. But really, he’d just kept me from living my life in the eleven years since Mamá’s death.

Her words shattered the restraints holding me back. With Mamá’s permission—not just her permission, but her encouragement—I was going to find out who Kyra Annandale truly was.

I slid the ring onto the middle finger of my left hand and admired the way it glowed as if with some sort of inner light. I glanced around the vault regretfully and pulled my glove back on. It was hard to tell how much time Slipping had cost me, and with Papá waiting on me, I couldn’t afford any more delays.

But I would be back.

Chapter 14

When Eleanor and I reached the bustle of the lobby, the hum of conversations and clack of shoes pulled me from my thoughts of Mamá.

Eleanor pulled her pocket watch from her uniform and glanced at the time. Now that I wasn’t distracted by my vault, the swirling silver design on her watch caught my eye.

“That watch...” I hesitated, trying to place where I’d seen that design before. “Does every employee get one?”

“Only those who work with the vaults have this pocket watch. It serves as our staff identification for which division we belong to.”

Considering I’d never even been to this bank, I wasn’t sure why the watch looked familiar. Maybe I was imagining things.

She slid it back into her pocket. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, thank you.” I’d have to deal with the mystery of her pocket watch later. For now, I needed to hurry back to Cogs and Corsets.

“Thank you for your patronage,” she said as I turned toward the exit. A hat resting on a head of blond hair caught my eye.

Detective Atwood disappeared through the revolving doors onto the street, the swish of his short cape trailing behind him.

I rushed across the lobby after him and caught up to him just outside the bank. “Detective!”

He turned around, and his eyes widened, drawing my attention to the faint silver scar on his left temple. “How did you find out about this, Poppy?”

“Find out about what?” I asked. “I was just visiting my vault.”

“I guess I’m just used to you making all sorts of unfounded yet accurate connections.” He turned to the officer next to him, who had an oiled handlebar mustache. “Return to the station ahead of me and add today’s information to the report. I’ll be along shortly.”

The man saluted, then disappeared down the crowded street.

“We found a lead.” Detective Atwood lowered his voice as he leaned toward me.

“Mind if we walk and talk?” I asked. “I need to be somewhere.”

He smiled briefly, giving me a glimpse of his single slightly sharp incisor, and started walking beside me. “Same, actually.”

“So, what did you find out?”

Detective Atwood stepped closer and lowered his voice so I could barely hear him over the clanking of gears and soft hissing of steam-powered engines as a steamcab passed. “We finally ID’d the first victim and discovered that she was an employee here. We just finished interviewing some of her colleagues.”

My heart jumped with hope. “Did you learn anything helpful?”

“My gut tells me that we’re on to something, but I’ll need to go through our notes again and cross-reference it with the other case to see if I can find any similarities.”

I gazed up at a massive dirigible cruising overhead as I thought. Its propellers cut through the air while the sunlight winked off the copper sides. “Does she have some connection to the college?”

“Not that we know of, but if we can figure out the motive for killing the woman, it could tell us a lot about the perpetrator.”

“I wish I could help more.” I looked up, only then realizing how close we were. It brought the memory of us in the storage closet to the forefront of my mind. How inappropriately close we’d been then. Whatever happened, I couldn’t be disloyal to Desmarc... Even if Detective Atwood shared my passion for helping the Lower Chimes.

I took a surreptitious step to the side to put more space between us.

“You’ve already done plenty.” Detective Atwood shook his head. “In fact, I should thank you for your service and tell you not to—”

“Thank you for your service.” The familiar words rang in my ears, bringing back the terrible memory of the woman’s murder.

I gasped. That was it. I’d seen that pocket watch when Slipping. The woman had it on her when she met the killer.

I grabbed Detective Atwood’s arm, bringing us both to a stop.

“What’s wrong, Poppy? You look pale.”

I swallowed and met his worried gaze. “You said you found the rest of the woman’s valuables in the fountain that night, right?”

“Right.”

“Did you find a pocket watch among her things?” My heart pounded loudly in my chest, each beat begging him to confirm my theory even though I didn’t want to consider what it might mean.

“A pocket watch?” He wrinkled his nose in thought. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“That’s what the man was after,” I whispered. “He took her pocket watch and scattered the rest of her valuables to hide his trail.”

“Why would he want the watch?”

I let out a slow breath, trying to catch my bearings while I pieced together all the clues I’d missed. “Because they’re necessary to open the vaults.”

“Poppy, you’re so amazing that I could kiss you.” The tips of his ears turned red, and he cleared his throat. “That’s just a figure of speech, of course.”

I couldn’t tease him about how his ears were red since I could feel my own cheeks heating. It brought back memories of my kiss with Desmarc.

“They aren’t worth our time.”

I shook my head to rid it of Desmarc’s words about the Lower Chimes and continued down the street, turning down the alley that led to Cogs and Corsets.

“If that’s true, this could be the break we need.” Detective Atwood seemed to follow me without realizing where we were going. “So the question is, whose vault was he aiming for?”

“And does he already have the key?” Trying to figure out the vault owner wouldn’t be too difficult as long as they got a warrant for the bank, which could mean we were only a few clues away from cracking the case. I came to a stop again as we made it to the back door of Geneve’s shop.

Detective Atwood took my hand for a moment, and a shock went through me. With his sincere blue eyes boring into mine, it was almost like I’d Slipped again—like he was the only thing around me.

“I haven’t said this enough, but I’m grateful for your help. You’ve done more than you realize.” He released my hand, but I was still caught in his earnest gaze.

No one had ever said anything like that to me before.

“What’s going on here, Kyra? Why are you outside?”

I stiffened at Papá’s voice.

“Where’s a good broom cupboard when you need one?” Detective Atwood muttered under his breath as Papá’s furious countenance approached.

I glared at him before addressing Papá. “I’m sorry. I stepped outside for some fresh air and ran into this detective.”

“Did you need something from my daughter?” Papá asked coolly, his gaze swinging between Detective Atwood and me.

Detective Atwood glanced at me, then focused back on Papá. “No, sir. I just happened to cross paths with her.”

I tried to keep my expression smooth, although my heart pounded in my chest. If Papá found out I’d been to Mamá’s vault or that I was helping the Blue Capes, who knew what he’d do. I couldn’t let him interfere with my chance of seeing more memories of Mamá or of protecting him. Our relationship might have rusted, but I still couldn’t stand the thought of losing my last parent.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your day, but I better get back to the Iron Watch.” Detective Atwood tipped his hat to Papá and me, then walked down the alley and turned onto the main street without looking back.

Before Papá could lecture me, although he was probably planning on waiting since he didn’t like to make a scene, I stepped through the back door of Cogs and Corsets.

I shook my head once at Geneve in a silent promise to tell her what happened later. “It seems like the main part of the dress won’t require too many alterations, but I’ll get those designs to you as soon as I can so we can begin the final touches.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Geneve’s dark eyes promised she meant for more than just the design.

I could sense Papá’s rising frustration in his unnecessarily tight grip on his cane and how he seemed to hold each breath for a second too long. But he pasted a smile on his face once we were outside and nodded to anyone we passed as he ushered me to a restaurant farther down the street. A gleaming brass sign hung above the entrance.

Inside, I stared anywhere but at him, admiring the patent drawings and steam-powered landscapes hanging on the walls. A server bot with legs instead of wheels led us past the bar, a copper countertop covered by a variety of glass jars filled with herbs and spices that filled the air with a sweet, spicy aroma.

A man filling drinks from an array of gleaming copper and brass pipes nodded his head at us. “Your usual table is available over there.”

I followed Papá to an empty table that provided a modicum of privacy and claimed a seat by the window.

I studied the menu on the table, written in an elegant, swirling script, while Papá glared out the glass window. I only had a few more minutes of silence at most, because once our food was delivered and we were alone, the lecture would begin.

A waiter came to take our order and returned not long later, setting the plates between us. The clink of the porcelain tried to break the thick silence at our table, but the awkwardness swallowed it up. Although my stomach rumbled at the delicious scent of steamed fish, lemon, and rice wafting from my plate, I didn’t eat yet. Instead, I watched Papá from the corner of my eye.

“You know better than to spend time with Blue Capes,” Papá said as he cut into his food. He had mastered the art of quiet scolding.

“Like he said, we just happened to run into each other when I stepped outside.” Granted, it had been when I stepped outside the bank, but it was better to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“And why would a Blue Cape need to talk to you?”

“He needed directions.” Granted, it wasn’t a location I’d been leading him to, but a killer.

Papá harrumphed. “With the way you were looking at him, anyone walking by would’ve thought you were in love with that Blue Cape instead of Desmarc.”

I flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Papá.” Not wanting to give him time to dwell on that absurd claim, I asked, “And why have you always been so against them?” His resentment made no sense. Detective Atwood was everything a Blue Cape ought to be. Reliable. Trustworthy. Determined to protect those around him.

“They’re dangerous.”

All my anger from our earlier argument rushed back, and a bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. I pulled a knife from the slit in my skirt and whirled it around my hand. “You think everything is dangerous. Isn’t that why you taught me how to use these?”

“I taught you how to use those so you could protect yourself, not so you could deliberately throw yourself into perilous situations.”

His eyes glinted sharper than my blade, so I tucked it back into its sheath.

“You can’t protect me from living, Papá,” I said.

“I will if I have to.” He slammed a hand on the table, rattling the silverware against the plates. “I refuse to lose you too.”

At the unspoken mention of Mamá, we both fell silent. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I couldn’t tell if they were from sadness or frustration. “You shouldn’t have to protect me from the Blue Capes. They’re the protectors of the city. If we can’t trust them, who can we trust?”

“I thought I taught you better than that.” Papá took a bite of his fish, swallowed, and looked me straight in the eye. “We can’t trust anyone.”

Chapter 15

The clock from the vault sparked something inside me, and whatever marginal downtime I had over the next few days were filled with rigorous sketching. Or maybe it was the relief of finally knowing Detective Atwood had caught a break in the case. Either way, I’d finally finished the design for my dress.

I held the sketch at arm’s length, examining the pen strokes of my masterpiece. The gown was perfect. A clockwork bodice of tiny rings with a skirt of leather, organza, and lace.

I copied the design onto a fresh sheet of paper, then made notes for Geneve. With only two weeks to the wedding, I was pushing things, but as long as I found a metalworker willing to build the mechanical parts of the dress, we could finish the rest between us.

“It’s time for lunch,” Cogsley said from the doorway.

“All right.” I stood and stretched.

When the bot didn’t move, I looked up and said, “Was there something else?”

“There’s a message for you in the siphon. Would you like me to bring it to you?” she said in a monotone voice.

“No, thank you. I was heading that direction anyway.” I stood and stretched, then pulled on my satin robe and slid my feet into a pair of matching slippers before padding downstairs. It was probably one of the girls from last week’s dinner party with Papá inviting me to some social event or another.

As I walked down the hall, I could faintly make out Cogsley muttering to herself, “Why does she insist on making a mess of the room every single time?”

I pulled my robe tighter as I walked into the server bot’s charging room, where the cold from the floor crept through the soles of my slippers. A fire burned in the kitchen as one of the server bots cooked breakfast, but the heat’s warm fingers hadn’t yet reach here.

“Who could it be?” I muttered to myself as I reached for the brass pipe on the right. The one on the left was Papá’s, and a small light blinked above it as well, announcing that Papá also had new messages. Flipping open the bottom of my pipe, a small glass bottle with a scroll of paper inside fell onto the desk with a quiet clink.

Before I read it, I sent off my finalized design to Geneve, adding a note asking if we could push back our monthly visit to the Lower Chimes to deliver clothes until after the wedding. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have much spare time to make extra clothes between now and then since I needed to complete my wedding dress and the final preparations for the ceremony.

With that off my circuit, I focused my attention on the new message. I broke the seal on the paper and unrolled it.

Poppy,

I pulled a few strings to receive a copy of your aether chip so I could check on you more discreetly instead of sending a note to your house again. I wanted to make sure you were all right after the incident with your father the other day.

P.S. Attached, please find a copy of my aether chip you can use to respond. I would appreciate it if you would do so with haste.

-H.A.

I smiled as I shoved his note in my pocket and studied the blue chip about the size of my thumbnail. After pulling a piece of paper from the desk, I scribbled a reply, keeping my message as vague as his. Clearly, he didn’t want to go over any details unless we were in person.

H,

I paused for a moment and stared at the letter. It felt weird to be calling him H, because that was practically the same as calling him Hiram, which felt far too intimate. Yet writing H.A. as an address felt too formal and writing “Detective Atwood” completely ruined whatever anonymity he’d been attempting with his note when he’d failed to sign it.

Shaking my head, I pushed away my reservations and penned on.

I appreciate your concern. Everything is all right on my end, though it’ll be a little while before I can easily leave the house. In the meantime, I’d love to know if you have any updates for me.

I hesitated a moment, debating between signing with a K or a P. The first felt strange after he’d already called me Poppy, but if I signed P, that would just encourage his nickname. With a firm nod and a flourish, I signed K.

I rolled the letter tightly and sealed it with a drop of wax. I almost pressed my family ring into the seal before I caught myself. I wasn’t writing the detective as Kyra Annandale, but merely K. I used a basic seal, put my message into the glass container, then placed the tube inside the pipe. I slid Detective Atwood’s aether chip into one of the empty niches next to Desmarc’s—his and Geneve’s were the only other aether chips I used regularly—then sent the message.

If we didn’t wrap up this case before my wedding, would Desmarc be all right with me working with the Blue Capes? I had no intention of stopping, but I also didn’t want to put a strain on our marriage from the beginning.

My stomach growled. I pushed aside my worries and made my way to the dining room, where Papá sat at the long table, reading the paper.

“Hello, Kyra.”

“Papá,” I said stiffly as I took a chair in the middle of the table.

A bot wheeled over to me, its tiny steam engine puffing like a mechanical heartbeat. It poured me a cup of tea, and steam rose from the china cups, bringing with it the scent of chamomile and honey.

“What are your plans for the rest of today?” His paper rustled as he turned a page.

“I’ve been working on the design for my dress all morning, and this afternoon I have another meeting with the wedding planner.”

“Good.” Papá finished his tea, then poured himself a cup of coffee. He must’ve had a late night. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever before. Despite my frustration with him, a twinge of concern ran through me.

“Are you doing all right, Papá? Do you need to talk about anything?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He waved a hand, dismissing my worries. “Let’s make sure we stay on top of the wedding preparations. I don’t want there to be any issues.” Papá looked at me over his cup, his gray eyes sending a silent message: No more spending time with the Blue Capes. Don’t do anything to draw undue attention. Don’t mess up this wedding.

“You aren’t the only one with something to lose here, Papá.” It’s not like I wanted to ruin my engagement with Desmarc.

We ate the rest of the meal in a strained silence.

“Would you like to go to the training room together?” he asked as I stood to leave.

“Right now?” I raised a brow. “I thought you were busy.”

“I need a break.” He stood and pushed his chair back, watching me warily.

I hesitated a moment. Papá and I had hardly talked since our outing together, and while I was still upset about his refusal to answer my questions, there were other things I wanted to talk to him about—like his platform for the upcoming debate.

“I’ll change and meet you there.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face before he spun and left the room.

I returned to my room and changed clothes, then joined him in the training room attached to the back hall. A massive cogwheel mural decorated the only wall not adorned with targets, dummies, and weapons. I closed the door, then crossed the space to one of the polished wooden workbenches that held a variety of blades.

Papá leaned against one wall, watching to see what I’d pick.

The session had already begun.

I studied my options, running a gloved finger across the smooth brass handles: a robust blade with a clip point for slashing and cutting, a double-edged dagger with a wickedly sharp point that was perfect for close-quarter fights, and a straight-edged blade with a sharply angled point for stabbing through tough materials.

But I wasn’t in the mood for any of that.

I lifted a throwing knife off the table, testing the balance and admiring the symmetrical design. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the Lower Chimes.” I tried to keep my tone as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t like it when I reminded him of Mamá; I’d have to be careful how I went about this.

“Oh?” He didn’t move from his position against the wall, still studying me silently.

“My visits to the Lower Chimes with Geneve don’t feel like enough these days.” Nothing I did before felt like enough anymore.

I spun around and hurled the knife at a contraption standing near the far wall that resembled a clockwork dummy. Its articulated limbs could replicate human movements, but for now it was still, and my knife pierced it in the stomach a few inches from where I’d hoped.

“It’s good to have a cause to work toward.” His words felt carefully chosen, but his voice was steely, hinting at something.

“So you’re fine with it?”

“With what exactly?” Papá nodded toward the next target, so I picked up another throwing knife. Before I released it, Papá hit a brass switch on the wall, and the target started to move.

“I want to find more ways to help.” That time I took an extra few seconds before releasing. The knife’s point buried itself in the dummy’s leg, the handle quivering slightly from its continued movement.

“Yes, but how?”

“You could include the Lower Chimes as part of your platform for next week’s debate. If you fought to improve their quality of life, think of how many votes it would get you.” And how much good it would do.

Papá flipped another switch and a burst of steam released into the room with a loud hiss, making the air hot and humid. I waved a hand in front of my face, wishing I had my goggles. The next knife went wide.

“If you want a sure way to help the Lower Chimes, then don’t do anything to endanger your engagement to Desmarc. My influence will be much stronger once I’m Prime Meridian, and we will finally be able to do things that were out of reach before.” Papá’s eyes held a strange, fevered light that made me curious about what he was referencing. It didn’t feel like we were just talking about the Lower Chimes anymore.

But more pressing than asking what things he thought he’d be able to do if he became Prime Meridian was finding out why he kept bringing up my engagement.

“Why do you think I’m going to ruin things with Desmarc?” I reached for another knife, but my fingers met empty wood. The throwing knives were gone. With a sigh, I went to retrieve them, trying not to think about Desmarc’s words about the Lower Chimes. Honestly, with our opposite views on something so fundamental, I was beginning to worry about us myself.

“I don’t think you’re going to, but a reminder for extra vigilance is never out of place.” Papá pressed a button, and the dummy stopped moving. “And with the debate a week away, it’s a critical time for your relationship and the press.”

I collected all three knives and returned to my spot. “I know, Papá.”

Papá and I kept at it for another ten minutes before he returned to his office and I went to check the siphon for another message. Now that I had a way to contact him directly, it was going to be much harder to be patient for updates on the case.

A glass tube waited for me.

Poppy,

Glad to hear everything is fine. I have updates on what we talked about, but we need to talk in person. Your quick response was much appreciated.

-H.A.

That was it? Didn’t he know what it was like to have to wait for news?

I grabbed another sheet of paper.

H,

Your reply left much to be desired. Is there anything you can tell me now so I don’t have to wait?

-K

I slid the glass container back into the pipe, then trudged back to my room to shower and change for my meeting in an hour.

The hot water unknotted my muscles, and I stared at Mamá’s ring while I brushed my hair. Despite my newfound resolve for independence, I didn’t want to risk Papá taking away any chances to see Mamá, so I’d returned the key to my vault to Papá’s dresser once we’d arrived home that night.

After I changed clothes, I hesitated before putting my gloves back on. It was nice to be free of them, even if only for a bit.

With a glance down the hall to make sure it was empty, I closed my door and locked it. Without my gloves on, the textures in my room jumped out at me. The soft velvet of my cerulean comforter, the cool metal of my bed frame, the smooth wood of the windowsill that overlooked the gardens.

I crossed the room to my closet and opened the door, running a hand over the various gowns. Then I touched the white chiffon top with the leather corset and tiered lace skirt I’d worn at my engagement party.

A blue spark jumped from the gown to my finger. I inhaled sharply and braced myself for the tug as my spirit Slipped into the past.

As usual, time rushed by me like a raging river of memories and sensations until it disappeared, leaving me in the dark. My dress hung from my hand, startling bright against the blackness around me.

It pulsed in my hand, and the darkness whirled around me. A mirror version of myself from two weeks ago appeared next to me.

It was the strangest thing, being so close to me—and not just the infant or toddler version of myself I’d seen before—but me from just a few weeks ago.

Past Me sighed and looked around while nibbling on a green macaron, and pieces of the ballroom fell into focus. She stood at the refreshment table with Desmarc as he spoke to someone I couldn’t see. Soon she’d see Professor Sophronia and follow her outside. Maybe it was my excitement at seeing the professor that had pulled me back to this moment.

Thump.

Her gaze homed in on the server bot, then a crowd of people along the far wall fell into focus as she scanned for Professor Sophronia. Their outfits were blurry, hardly differentiating them from the smoke, but I scanned their faces for Professor Sophronia.

Except this time, my gaze caught on a familiar pair of blue eyes, a straight nose, and button-up white shirt with a navy vest. Detective Atwood.

Past Me’s gaze skipped right over him in her haste to find Professor Sophronia. Yet even still, he must’ve made some sort of impression on me for me to be able to see him so clearly while Slipping.

The dress pulsed again. I was running out of time.

Past Me whispered something to Desmarc, who kissed my cheek before resuming his conversation.

Detective Atwood scowled at Desmarc, then shifted his attention to Past Me as she crossed the room.

The world around me dissolved into shadows as the distance between me and Past Me grew. I hurried to catch up, though I couldn’t help one final glance at Detective Atwood.

Past Me nodded in thanks at the man holding the door open, but I skidded to a stop and stared at him, my heart pounding wildly. I’d recognize that face anywhere. It was the killer, and he was staring at Papá.

Just like I’d suspected, he’d been at my engagement party, but I’d had no idea how close to danger I’d been. But knowing he was there wasn’t the same as knowing why he was there. Had he forged a fake invitation to the party in an attempt to get closer to Papá?

Questions buzzed in my mind, but I forced myself to move past the murderer and into the garden before I got too far from Past Me and the shadows swallowed me.

The path unfurled under my feet like a scroll someone unrolled with each step. Every second longer I spent here, the scenery fell into place, but my thoughts still whirled with how close I’d come to the killer.

Thump. Thump.

Past Me sat on the edge of the fountain, and it dissolved into place around me, like someone had taken a giant eraser to the air and removed the graphite pencil covering everything else.

She leaned forward and reached a hand into the fountain and lifted the bracelet. The familiar blue spark jumped to my finger and my body splashed into the fountain.

I stared at my expressionless face as I sat in the freezing water with the bracelet in my hand. For all the times I’d Slipped into my own memories, I’d never ended up in one where my past self was also Slipping. What would happen if I touched the bracelet now?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I stepped forward and reached for the bracelet. A blue spark jumped to my finger before going through me. It was like I was half-here but half-not. Glimpses of the other Slip flickered across my vision. The woman’s bright shirt. A flash of fireworks. Then I was back at the fountain, staring at my motionless self.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I gaped at the bracelet. Nothing like that had ever happened before, and I was bursting with the need to talk to someone, but the only option I had was Papá, which was no option at all.

The world melted around me like candle wax until I fell back into my body.

I stared at the dress hanging in my closet, my heart still racing while a small headache formed behind my eyes. Maybe it was just from tension. Slowly, I let go of the material and leaned against the wall, steadying my shaky breathing.

There was definitely more to Slipping than I’d ever suspected.

Chapter 16

The next week passed in a flurry of wedding meetings, working on my dress, visits from Desmarc, Slipping around the house, and exchanging messages with Hiram about the case.

“Kyra?” Papá called from his study.

“Yes?” I stopped by the door and peered inside. His face was a mask of worry that tugged at my heart despite my frustration. “Is everything all right?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He sighed and straightened the papers on his desk into a pile.

I gritted my teeth and stared at the floor. Would he ever stop treating me as if I was still the same little girl I’d been when Mamá died?

“Will you go to my room and fetch me my pipe? I need a smoke before we leave for the debate.”

“All right.” I went to his dresser and grabbed the pipe, only then realizing the key was gone. Pulse racing, I scanned the room once more to confirm it. The dresser held many of the same mementos as before, the pearl in the bowl, the black comb, and the glass bottle with the airship inside.

But the key to Mamá’s vault was missing.

I curled my fingers around the pipe and breathed deeply. This was probably because I’d told him I’d been Slipping again. I’d ask Papá after the debate.

I went downstairs and checked the siphon, finding a note from Hiram and one from Desmarc. I put the first into my pocket as I walked back to Papá’s office.

“Thank you, Kyra.” Papá took a puff of his pipe, then said, “Who is it from?”

“Desmarc.” I skimmed the missive, then handed it over, but my tone came out too curt. “He’s coming over before today’s debate to go over details for the wedding.”

“Good lad.” Papá scanned the note as well, then put it on his desk. “Then he can accompany us when we leave.”

That was probably what he was planning. “I’m going upstairs to get ready.” Unable to stop thinking about the missing key, I didn’t look at Papá as I turned and made my way to the door.

“You know I love you, right?” Papá asked just before I left as if he could sense my frustration.

“I do, Papá.” But it wasn’t enough with the secrets between us. Maybe once Desmarc and I were married and Papá and I had more space, we’d be able to improve our relationship.

I made my way up to my room without a backward glance and waited until the door shut behind me with a resounding click before I pulled the second note from my pocket.

Poppy,

We received a tip that there might be trouble at the debate today. I doubt you’ll listen to me even if I ask you to stay home, so I at least wanted to ask you to be careful. If I can, I’ll check on you.

-H

My breath caught as his anxiety bled to me through the note. What sort of tip had they received and would Papá be in danger? I couldn’t tell him not to go when he was participating in the debate, especially with something as vague as “it might be dangerous” when he didn’t even know I was in communication with Hiram. I would have to keep a wary eye out.

I walked to my desk and opened a drawer, then wiggled out the false bottom I’d found in the desk as a child. The note joined the handful of others I’d received over the last few days.

A knock on the front door pulled me down the stairs. Instead of letting a server bot answer, I opened the door.

Desmarc was stunning in a tastefully tailored black suit with a top hat, pocket watch, and a pair of sleek leather shoes. “You look beautiful,” he said.

I shoved my nerves for this afternoon to the back of my mind. “Thank you.” I’d changed into a ruffled skirt with a silky green top with puffy sleeves that fit under a leather corset that had matching leather boots. And, of course, I wore our engagement necklace, which settled snugly between my collarbones. But with Desmarc’s comments about the Lower Chimes still ticking through my thoughts, the compliment didn’t cause the same flutter as before.

“Please, come in.” I waved him inside before he could notice anything amiss, then shut the door.

“Did you make that dress yourself?” Desmarc asked as we walked to the sitting room.

I claimed a chair and smoothed my skirts. “I’m impressed you noticed.”

“How could I not? If it looks marvelous, I have to assume you made it.” He kissed my hand, then took the seat across from me and rested his hat on his knee.

I smiled and twisted my finger into a ruffle on my skirt. “Papá said we could wait here while he finishes rehearsing his speech for today, then we can head to the debate together.”

“Excellent.” Desmarc rotated his hat in his hand again and again. It seemed like a nervous tic, which I guessed made sense. We were all a little on edge about today’s debate. If Papá failed here, all his hard work until now would have been for nothing, which meant less chance to help the Lower Chimes. “Can you believe our wedding is only a week away?”

I shook my head, my stomach tightening with nerves. “I really can’t. It’s all happening so fast.” The thought made my hands shake.

“And with the renewal around the same time, it makes things even busier.”

Of course, that was precisely why Papá had chosen to announce our engagement when he had. He’d planned it perfectly to maximize publicity for our wedding so it would coincide with the close of the voting period. Anything to get the Annandale name on people’s tongues and boost his chances at becoming the Prime Meridian.

“I’ve reserved the airship for the ceremony, and—”

“An airship?” I reached into my pocket and gripped the thimble there. In all the planning, I’d never heard anything about an airship.

“Didn’t your father tell you? He and I discussed it earlier. We thought it would be a good way to limit the guest numbers for the ceremony itself.” And make those who were actually invited feel extra special, no doubt. “We’ll perform the ceremony while we fly over the city, and then we can have a larger group for the reception after we dock.”

“I see.” I swallowed past the nausea in my stomach.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m a little nervous.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re afraid of heights.” Desmarc left his chair and knelt in front of me. “Once you’re on the airship, you don’t even have to look out over the city if you don’t want to. It’s so smooth, it won’t even feel like we’re flying.”

I smiled weakly. Thankfully, the conversation ended abruptly when Papá came downstairs. He placed his top hat on his head and picked up his sleek black cane.

“Are you both ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” I took Desmarc’s offered hand and rose to my feet in a rustle of skirts.

“Is there anything I can do to help before we leave?” Desmarc asked Papá.

“The time for preparation is over.” Papá straightened his top hat and patted his pocket. “Now is the time to see if our hard work pays off.”

A prickle of anticipation raced down the back of my neck.

An hour later, Desmarc and I stood at the front of the crowd in the city center. Expectant energy roiled through the throng of onlookers like the electricity in the air before a storm. A brisk fall wind swept through the area, sending goose bumps over my exposed skin.

The Epoch Clock’s long shadow fell over us, while the gurgle of the Steele River provided a hum of background noise to match the crowd. This close, it was impossible not to note the imposing structure of the giant clock. The top was a dodecagon adorned with ornate numerals and hands pointed toward each Chime. The body of the Epoch Clock, embellished with intertwined gears and cogs, was crafted from the finest materials and built for longevity since every other clock in the city was based on it.

Traffic had been blocked off around the roundabout, leaving all the streets and bridges open for people to gather and hear the speeches. Papá, Meridian Eliver from the Extremists faction, and Meridian Lambkins from the Neo-Unionists faction stood at the base of the clock where three daises had been constructed. Once today ended, the twelve-day voting period—one day for each Chime—would open. Every citizen was expected to cast a vote to help decide the next Prime Meridian.

Blue Capes roamed through the crowds, their very presence demanding order and peace in a situation that could otherwise spark into chaos quite easily. Although their presence was mandatory at events like this, I couldn’t help a sense of foreboding as I watched them, thinking of Hiram’s warning.

Every time I spotted a flash of blue in the crowd, I searched for Hiram, but I’d yet to spot him. Not that we could’ve talked, anyway. Here in public, I was very much Gideon Annandale’s daughter and I had no business talking with anyone from the Iron Watch, especially not after what had happened outside Cogs and Corsets.

After half an hour, the city center felt like it was going to burst at the seams. The Epoch Clock chimed twelve times, the sound extra loud with our proximity. A hush fell over the rambunctious group.

An old woman, whose frayed clothes told me she probably lived in the Lower Chimes, brushed against us as more people joined the ranks and the crowd surged forward. Her hair was tied back in a kerchief, and she looked tired and worn but determined to be there.

Desmarc grimaced and wiped a smudge from his clothes, then turned his attention back to the front. “I can’t believe Prime Meridian Emerson insisted on keeping all the spectators together. It’s outrageous.”

“It makes sense to me,” I said, though his reaction brought his words about the Lower Chimes to the forefront of my mind. “The Prime Meridian is over the whole city, not just the Upper Chimes.”

Desmarc opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it as Byron Emerson, the current Prime Meridian, took the stage to a roar of cheering and applause. His top hat sat on his head at a jaunty angle and he wore a winning smile. It was easy to see how he’d won the last renewal eight years ago. His charisma was almost tangible, and if he’d been allowed to run twice in a row, he might’ve won again.

At his appearance, the crowd rolled forward, and the woman collided with Desmarc before falling to her knees.

“Watch it,” he said, barely sparing her a brief glance before returning his attention to the Prime Meridian.

“Desmarc!” I scolded him and offered the woman a helping hand.

He turned back to us and gave her a short smile. “My apologies. I’m just anxious for today’s debate.”

“Aren’t we all?” The woman fixed her hair, then faced the front again, but she squeezed between a few other packed bodies and disappeared.

I’d always thought Desmarc was thoughtful, but maybe that was only how he behaved toward people he perceived as equal. Could I marry a man who treated those from the Lower Chimes so poorly? Maybe if this was all I’d seen, I could’ve brushed it off with his apology, but I couldn’t stop thinking of his conversation in the street I’d overheard on my way to the bank. That, more than anything else, told me his true feelings since he’d had no idea I’d been listening.

“Thank you for coming today.” A microphone amplified Prime Meridian Emerson’s voice, but even still, it took a few seconds for the hum of the crowd to quiet enough to hear him. “I’m sure we’re all thrilled to have the opportunity to hear from these wonderful candidates, and we’re dying to know which of these men will be the one to fill my very large shoes.” He glanced down at his feet, and a few people laughed. “So, without further ado, I’d like to begin the debate by having each speaker introduce themselves, then we’ll start the questions.” He waved the three men forward, and they each took their place at a dais.

“I’m Asriel Eliver, and I’m here today to represent the Revolutionist faction.” He took off his top hat and swept it under him in a low bow.

“Do you think Prime Meridian Emerson will put a time limit on each candidate?” I asked Desmarc as Papá and Meridian Lambkins introduced themselves.

“If so, that will help keep things moving. Otherwise, this could easily continue for a few hours. But each Prime Meridian has their own way of conducting the debate.”

Another Blue Cape appeared at the corner of my eye, and I craned my head to see if it was Hiram, but it was an officer I didn’t recognize. Disappointment curled through me, but I focused my attention back on the debate.

“And now that we’ve met our wonderful candidates, let’s focus on why we’re really here. To see which of them is most devoted to taking care of our city, and how exactly they plan to do that.” After the roar from the onlookers quieted down, Prime Meridian Emerson continued, “The first question is: If you were elected as the next Prime Meridian, what would you do differently than what’s being done? Please keep your answers to two minutes or less.”

Again, the men answered in order, starting with Meridian Eliver.

“That’s simple,” he said. “I’d increase the funding for aether technology development. When you consider the money we could save in the future which could be used to better the city, it’s the only logical course of action.”

I remembered Professor Knight’s research and how worried Hiram had been that someone could use it to create a powerful weapon.

“Better the city how exactly?” Meridian Lambkins asked. “Do you have some sort of program in mind to improve the city’s infrastructure?”

Knowing politics, whatever money they gained from improving the city would end up lining the pockets of those in the Upper Chimes instead of going where it needed to go, widening the gap between the Chimes even further. I glanced at Desmarc but didn’t ask what he thought. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Instead, I scanned the crowd for Hiram again, listening to the debate with half an ear.

“Of course, we’d choose programs to improve the city once we’d made the adjustments,” Meridian Eliver said.

“But is aether technology really of the highest priority right now when there are so many in the Lower Chimes who need help?” Papá said. “We should be prioritizing the citizens’ current needs over those of the future. I would work to improve the housing situation for those in the Lower Chimes and—”

“I’m surprised he went this direction,” Desmarc murmured. “He mentioned it earlier, but I didn’t think he was going to go through with it.”

I jerked my attention from the crowd to stare at Papá. He’d mentioned what we’d talked about...maybe because of what I’d said. Soft currents of hope swept through me.

“Are you all right?” Desmarc asked.

I wiped away the tears gathering in my eyes. “Yes, I don’t know why I’m crying. I guess I was just surprised.” Maybe it wasn’t too late for Papá and I after all.

“If I were the Prime Meridian,” Meridian Lambkins said, “I’d work more closely with the Iron Watch to crack down on crime in the city and make the streets safer for everyone. I’d also work on improving infrastructure in the city, like Meridian Annandale stated.”

“Smart move mimicking your father’s statement.” Desmarc tsked. “It weakens your father’s position if he only had that supporting him, while strengthening his own platform.”

I glanced at him. Was he going to provide a play-by-play of the entire debate like this, as if I didn’t understand what was going on?

“Now let’s move on to the next question,” Prime Meridian Emerson said. “What would you implement to encourage a culture of innovation and inspire the next generation of inventors to ensure our city keeps progressing?”

The debate continued like this for another twenty minutes. I half-listened to the candidates while they debated education opportunities, work programs, tax breaks for those implementing aether power, my attention catching on every flash of blue among the multitude while Desmarc continued to provide unnecessary commentary.

I sighed and his attention returned to me again. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, I’m—” My eye caught on another Blue Cape, but this time it was Hiram. He made his way toward me through the host of people separating us. If we were going to talk in public, I needed to be away from anyone who might be paying attention.

Our eyes met. The alarm in his expression had me straightening.

Something was wrong.

My stomach tightened uncomfortably, and I stiffened.

“Kyra?” Desmarc took my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said, casting about for an excuse. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to go sit down over there.” I gestured vaguely toward the edge of the gathering in the direction of the Ninth Chime, doing my best not to let my attention drift to Hiram again.

“I’ll go with you,” he said with a reluctant glance toward the stage where Papá stood. It was clear he didn’t want to lose his spot in the front, but he also didn’t want to leave me alone.

“Why don’t you stay here? I’ll sit for a bit, then come back and join you.”

Desmarc glanced back at the stage again as Prime Meridian Emerson questioned Papá about his specific plans for how to help the Lower Chimes.

“Really, I’ll be fine,” I insisted. Though I also wanted to hear about Papá’s plans—if I was being honest, this was the only part of the debate I truly cared about—I couldn’t focus on the debate knowing something was wrong.

“All right.” Desmarc brushed a kiss against my other hand, then turned his attention back to the speakers.

Over his shoulder, I met Hiram’s eyes and pushed through the crowd. His expression was grave—whether from frustration that I’d ignored his warning or because his concerns had just become reality, I couldn’t tell.

Finally, I broke free of the press of people and made it to one of the shops that bordered the street. Even here, quite a few people listened to the debate.

As Prime Meridian Emerson asked everyone about energy policies and labor rights, I glanced over my shoulder. Hiram had almost caught up, so I led him down an alley where there would be fewer eyes to spy on us.

He glanced around once as if making sure we were alone. “Poppy, I was hoping you wouldn’t come,” he said in a low voice that sent goose bumps across my neck. “But also, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why?” Despite the warm sunlight filling the space, it couldn’t warm me past the chill in the air and the way my blood turned icy as I imagined the worst.

“We found another body.”

Chapter 17

My breath caught. “Another murder? From when? Who is it?”

“A citizen discovered the body less than an hour ago in the Ninth Chime,” Hiram said. “Blue Capes are there now.”

“Was this what you were warning me about in your note?”

“No.” He shook his head. Worry and frustration bled through the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his eyes. “We received a tip that there might be some trouble at the debate today, but then an officer found the body. We haven’t identified it yet, but it’s close. I’m going to check it out now.”

“I’ll come with you.” The words were out before I could second-guess them. If I Slipped, maybe I could find some clues and be back before anyone noticed.

“Honestly, I was hoping you would. I thought you might be able to help.”

His words lit a warm glow in me. While Desmarc dismissed the Lower Chimes, Hiram devoted his life to helping others. The warmth spread to my cheeks, and then I shook my head. I shouldn’t be comparing them.

“Thank you for believing in me,” I said. “I know it probably still seems crazy.”

“It helps that you aren’t the first person I’ve met with a strange ability.” He scanned the people around us. “We should go.”

He took off before I could question him about the others with strange abilities he’d met. Even if they weren’t the same as mine, the fact that other people were out there with any abilities just confirmed that Papá had lied after all. There were more people out there than just me.

My head spun as I followed Hiram down an alley where the buildings towered over us on both sides. His admittance made other things fall into place—why he’d been willing to let me join him all those weeks ago and his strange reaction after watching me Slip the first time.

The debate behind us shifted to discussing environmental stewardship and social equality, but the voices grew fainter as we left the Epoch Clock behind and firmly entered the Ninth Chime until I could no longer make out the responses over the sounds of the city. Once we left the relative isolation of the alley, people pressed around us once more. It was easy enough to keep track of Hiram with his azure cape flashing in the crowd, but keeping up with him was another matter, especially in a leather corset.

Hiram grabbed my hand. “We have to hurry. It’s only a matter of time before word of this gets out, and with it so close to the debate, things could get bad.”

“Right.” I followed him, trying not to pay too much attention to the warmth of his fingers through the gloves. He was just guiding me. Nothing more.

We cut through one of the major roads of the Ninth where brass and glass sky-bridges connected the towering high-rises overhead, then joined the traffic on a smaller street. Narrow alleyways with wrought-iron fences, trailing ivy, and intricate filigree arches branched off it.

“Almost there.” Hiram squeezed my hand.

Did he know he did that?

We passed a large clock shop on our left, a majestic grandfather clock in the display window demanding attention, and an apothecary shop, whose large glass window displayed bottles filled with colorful liquids and whirring gears. Steam rose from a few vents on the ground, reminding me of the city at night when mist rolled in from the Steele.

At the scene, a few officers had an alley roped off and were directing curious bystanders away. The sounds of the amplified voices at the debate were just a faint background rumble. We weren’t too far from the city center, fifteen minutes at most. It was almost like the killer hadn’t cared that he’d cause a commotion so close to the debate, where all the Blue Capes would be.

Hiram pushed past everyone, pulling me behind him, and I got my first glimpse of the body covered by a brown canvas.

“We need to clear the area,” Hiram instructed the handful of officers. He let go of my hand, making me feel suddenly adrift in the chaos and panic.

“We’re trying, sir,” an officer with short curly hair said. “There are a lot of people out today because of the debate.”

Officers and curious civilians surrounded the crime scene. I fiddled with the edge of my glove and pulled up my hood. Any number of them could blow my cover.

I tugged on Hiram’s sleeve, and he turned his piercing gaze on me. “Do you trust me?” I asked softly.

“Of course.”

“Then I need to touch everything the victim has on them right now, but I need to do it in a less conspicuous place.”

He studied me for a long moment, and I waited to see if he still doubted my ability. The sound of my pounding heart filled the space between us.

Hiram turned to one of his men. “Has someone already taken tintypes of the crime scene? Yes? Good.” He gestured to another alley. “Move the body there and block off the alley on both sides and redirect traffic around this spot.”

The men around him jumped to do his bidding.

“You’ll have a few minutes at most.”

“That should be enough.”

He caught my wrist as I turned to go into the alley. “I hope you find something we can use.”

“Me too.” I swallowed and tried to ignore the nerves twisting in my gut.

“We have to stop this guy before he kills anyone else.”

“I know.”

Minutes later, I was kneeling in the alley next to the dead body and peeling off one of my gloves. “May the aether guide your soul,” I whispered to her before moving closer. I pulled back the canvas to reveal an older woman who appeared to be in her sixties or seventies. Bile rose in the back of my throat at the hole in her chest. It looked like no wound I’d ever seen before, cleaving straight through her chest. The edges almost seemed cauterized. No bullet left a wound that large nor did that sort of damage.

I took slow, deep breaths and forced myself to rummage through her things. The harsh feel of the cobblestone pressing through my dress to my knees. The sounds of voices echoing back from the street. The faint noise from the debate reminded me that I only had a little while before Papá or Desmarc questioned my absence.

In one pocket, the woman had a coin purse, a small fan, and a glass vial filled with a colorless liquid. In the other pocket, she had a handkerchief and a miniature rabbit made of gears and cogs, though one ear was broken. What could a woman with a curious assortment of items such as these have to do with our serial killer, and how was she connected to the other victims?

The noise of the crowd grew louder, and though my engagement watch around my neck was closed, it was as if I could hear the seconds ticking by. I needed to hurry.

My attention fell to a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, and, instinctively, I reached for it. A blue spark jumped from my finger, and I braced myself for the inevitable tug as my spirit Slipped from my body into the past.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the world race by me until I dropped into the memory. Darkness surrounded me, but this time I didn’t let myself panic. I had to see what I could learn from the past to help us prevent the murderer from striking again. He was just going to keep taking lives until we stopped him.

And we would stop him.

The paper pulsed in my hand, sending out a shock wave that traveled through the darkness and temporarily pushed back the black clouds.

A moment later, the woman appeared next to me. A small smile rested on her wrinkled face as she hobbled down the street. A cane in her left hand clacked against the street as she walked while she squinted at a letter she held close to her face with her other hand.

I followed beside her, the world unfolding around me. Black clouds gave way to cobbled streets in the Ninth Chime, similar to the streets in the area where we’d found the body. Maybe she hadn’t been moved after being killed like the others.

The woman looked up from the letter and smiled. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief, then placed both the letter and the handkerchief into her pocket.

The letter thumped again. My time in this memory would be short.

I scanned the letter to see if it was anything important, but it just appeared to be a message from one of her children. Maybe this memory had nothing to do with her murder. The letter could just be a strong emotion related to a loved one.

The woman stopped and turned to stare at something. Seconds later, it materialized as well, revealing a clock shop—the same clock shop with the imposing grandfather clock. The top opened and a tiny, metal bird popped out and chirped before it hid inside the clock once more.

Noon.

That meant I was only forty minutes or so in the past.

My heart jumped to my throat, and I watched the woman, waiting for some sign that this memory was related to her death or not. With how close it was to the time she was discovered, it was unlikely for it not to be.

She sighed wistfully as she looked up at the clock, then kept walking. Her hand dropped into her pocket, and a rustle told me she was holding the letter again.

As the clock shop melted back into the writhing shadows behind us, the woman continued forward.

I increased my pace to keep up with her and the letter’s incessant thumping. Disappointment settled in my chest as we continued for another uneventful block.

The woman pulled the letter out again, and another smile creased her wrinkled face. A moment later, her lips twisted into a frown a second before I became aware of a strange buzzing noise filling the air. She must’ve noticed it too for me to hear it.

She lurched forward and caught herself on a wall, then slid to the ground. The space further developed around me, revealing that we were in an alley.

“Are you all right?” Unsure of what had happened, the words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them.

The woman looked down, revealing the wound I’d seen earlier. She pressed a trembling hand to the bloodstain spreading across her chest.

Swearing, I scanned the area. All I could make out besides the alley wall and stone floor was black smoke but no sign of a weapon.

The letter thumped incessantly in my hand.

I was running out of time, and even though I’d come to the right time, I’d discovered nothing.

The woman stared at some fixed point in the distance. I followed her gaze, and a man came into view from the other end of the alley.

He had the same slender build as the first killer, but his scruffy low hat and pair of gray coveralls made it hard to tell for sure if it was him. He also had on a pair of black gloves and held some sort of smoking device that he hid in his jacket.

“Help...please.” The woman said in a breathy, gurgling voice as she tried to scoot away.

“Now, now. Fear not. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.” The man leaned down and placed a hand on the side of her face, as if he thought he really were comforting her.

His voice slithered across my skin. It was the same man, but in disguise.

“Why did you...?” Her gasping breath failed her, and her face paled further.

“If we want to keep the city from being ruled by hypocrites who will only guide us into further chaos, some must die for the greater good.”

“I don’t...understand.” Her breath came in wheezing pants.

“You don’t have to. Just know that I won’t let those who use the misfortunes of others for their own gain rule our city.” He eyed her for a moment, as if deciding to finish her off, but then turned and strolled away. “Thank you for your service,” he said as his form grew blurry.

I rushed over and knelt down and pressed my hand not holding the letter against the wound. Of course, it went through her.

The woman’s attention fell on the form of the retreating man.

Thump.

He was about to disappear into the darkness.

Even if there was nothing I could do, I had to try.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the woman before jumping to my feet and sprinting after him. Already the world was fracturing around me, cracks tearing through the sky and across the ground while the cobbled streets collapsed. I sprinted faster.

I needed more information. What I had now wasn’t enough to save anybody.

The man reached into his jacket, possibly readjusting his weapon, and a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. It shone brilliantly white against the encroaching darkness.

I reached, fingers spread to snatch the fluttering paper. The pebbled road beneath me cracked as darkness bled into the corners of my vision.

“No!” I brushed the edge of the paper and forced one more step against the disappearing ground, then plunged into darkness as I hurtled through time.

Tears pricked my eyes. It wasn’t enough. Nothing I saw would solve the case. I curled my hands into fists, and something crinkled between my fingers.

Endless moments later, my soul snapped back into my body like a recoiling spring and my eyes popped open.

“Kyra, are you all right?” Hiram shook me gently by one shoulder.

“Yes.” I clenched my fists and sucked in a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

“What’s that?” Hiram looked down at my hand where a bit of white peeked from between my fingers.

I gaped down at it. I’d actually brought the paper back from the past. I’d never taken anything from a memory before—hadn’t even known it was possible—but I didn’t stop to give myself time to think of what that meant.

Uncurling my fingers revealed a corner of a piece of paper with the scribbled words Debate. One o’clock.

The man had said the woman was a sacrifice. He must’ve killed her as a distraction, meaning his real target was elsewhere. If his target was at today’s debate, only a handful of people were guaranteed to be there. Only a handful of people were confirmed to attend, like the Prime Meridian and the three candidates.

My entire body stiffened like aether coursed through my veins as the pieces fell into place. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Hiram asked, but I could barely hear him over the echo of the man’s words in my head.

I won’t let those who use the misfortunes of others for their own gain rule our city.

Papá, who had adjusted his platform the last week on trying to improve the lives of those in the Lower Chimes because of me, was the man’s target. Papá, whom I’d been worried about from the moment that man snuck into my engagement party.

“This was just a distraction,” I said faintly as I struggled to my feet, despite a wave of dizziness that swamped me. Though I wasn’t Slipping anymore, the floor still felt like it was about to fall away. “The killer is going after Papá.”

Chapter 18

“Why?” Hiram helped me back to my feet.

“I don’t know.” I shoved the scrap of paper at him so he could read the words and pulled my glove back on. Despite how real everything had felt in the memory, there was no blood on my hands from the woman’s wound.

A headache radiated behind my eyes, but I didn’t have time for the pain.

Hiram read it, his brow furrowing. “This murder was just a distraction to draw attention away from the debate.”

My breath caught, and I pushed through two officers guarding the alley entrance and took off down the street. My footsteps slapped heavily against the cobblestone, matching the pounding in my head.

I remembered Papá’s tired I love you, Kyra, the bags under his eyes, and his overprotectiveness. Since Mamá’s death, he’d become my shadow, smothering every ounce of freedom I craved. All I’d wanted was to get away, when I should’ve just told him the truth.

He was far from perfect, but he was my father. I’d seen a spark of the old Papá from my memories at the debate today—the one who listened and cared—and I couldn’t lose him now. He was all I had left, and no matter how tangled things had gotten between us, he was my family.

“Poppy, wait!” Hiram called after me.

But I couldn’t wait. I wouldn’t. Not when Papá’s life hung in the balance.

He caught up a minute later, his long strides eating the distance between us.

“Don’t try to stop me.”

“I’m not going to stop you.” He rested a hand on the hilt of his saber as we ran. “I’m coming with you.”

I blinked at him, taken aback by how he wasn’t like everyone else in my life. Hiram never held me back. My chest ached from a combination of fear and exhaustion even though I hadn’t been moving that long, and my headache grew worse. Something was wrong with me since I’d Slipped, but I didn’t have time to think about it now.

We took off running again, darting through the crowds. My breath exploded with each gasp. My corset felt like it was closing in around me, making it harder and harder to breathe as my fear grew bolder. It nipped at my heels and urged me forward while adrenaline powered my steps. I gasped out the story between ragged breaths while we ran, doing my best to describe the killer’s disguise and why I thought he was targeting Papá.

In less than ten minutes, we were back at the edge of the city center. Meridian Eliver’s voice reached me as he talked about specific reforms for the city. The crowd was too thick for me to see Papá, but some of the paralyzing tightness in my chest eased. If Papá was injured, the debate wouldn’t still be running.

Prime Meridian Emerson cleared his throat. “What steps would you propose for encouraging the aforementioned reform of our city’s education?”

I glanced at the Epoch Clock, whole large metal hands revealed it was twelve fifty. Only ten minutes left before the killer would strike again. I had to get Papá off the stage.

I pushed my way through the throng as the men took turns answering the question. Their words went in one ear and out the other, the pounding of my heart drowning everything out. The crowd swelled and contracted around me like a living entity trying to keep me from reaching Papá. I shoved and sidestepped around people. My pulse racing as my anxiety spiked.

Nine minutes left until the murderer would strike again.

The cacophony of voices melted into a disorienting dissonance, and panic clawed its way up my throat.

A hand grabbed my arm and jerked me back. “Poppy, wait,” Hiram said.

“Wait for what? To watch Papá die?” I tried to squirm out of his grip.

“Give me a minute to search for the killer,” he pleaded. “This could be our chance to arrest and keep him from killing anyone else. If you go up there and alert your father and the rest of the crowd, he’ll slip away.”

“But what if you fail?” I yanked free, almost losing my balance, and tried to push through the crowd again. “What if you don’t find him in time?”

We had eight minutes to find the killer.

Hiram grabbed me again, spun me around, and placed both hands on my arms. “Do you trust me?”

Having my own words thrown back at me stopped me cold.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still while I stared into his eyes—eyes that begged me to believe in him. Trusting him meant I risked losing the only family I had left. But after how much blind trust he’d shown me, how could I not trust him?

I swallowed and nodded once, then whispered, “Yes.”

“Then let me do my job, Kyra.” He squeezed my shoulders, his expression betraying nothing but confidence and determination. “Give me and my men a chance to end this once and for all.”

I opened my mouth to ask what his plan was, but the explanation would only take more time. Instead, I let the warmth of his fingers bleed through my clothes and filter through the cold wrapping around me. “Don’t forget about his disguise.”

“I won’t.” He squeezed my shoulders one last time, then let go. “Thank you, Kyra. You did a great job getting us this far, but now it’s our turn.”

He spun without another word, the soft material of his cape brushing against my bare arms. Every part of him seemed taut, from his expression, to his shoulders, to the way his hand rested on his saber as he stalked down the stairs to meet up with a few other Blue Capes.

Seven minutes left until time ran out.

Were they being too obvious in their search, or did it just seem that way to me because I knew the truth?

My gaze flicked to Papá. I’d promised Hiram I wouldn’t rush onto the stage and give it away, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get closer. I pushed my way through the swarm of people and prayed to whoever might be listening that Hiram found the killer in time.

The clock read six to one.

“If I were elected to become the Prime Meridian, I would work to put a stop to the resurrection of prejudicial crimes that have plagued the city,” Meridian Lambkins said. “Like the recent killings in the Middle Chimes.”

I made it back to the front, and Desmarc grabbed my arm.

“Kyra, are you all right now?” he asked. “Your face is quite red.”

“I’m still not feeling well,” I admitted as I scanned the area around Papá, except now it was true. My headache was worse, and my entire body ached as if I were coming down with a sickness. I blinked and shook my head to focus.

There weren’t many places around the base of the Epoch Clock, and the rest of the stage was empty aside from the Prime Meridian, the other two meridians, and Papá. But the killer had to be somewhere nearby.

Five minutes to save him.

Would he wait until exactly one? There was nothing to stop him from killing Papá early and escaping. Then I’d lose Papá and our lead.

“Maybe you need to sit down again.” Desmarc put a hand on the small of my back, but I shook him off.

“I don’t feel like sitting.” The banners hanging above each podium snapped in the wind with a loud crack as if demanding attention. I glanced up and scanned the surrounding balconies. Many of the shops and houses in the Upper Chimes were multistory, with balconies jutting out at uneven angles. My gaze combed through the potted plants, hanging gardens, and mechanical contraptions decorating the iron railings and curling designs, searching for danger.

A whisper started from the back of the crowds and worked its way to the front like a roll of thunder as the minute hand shifted again.

Four minutes to go.

“Did you hear there was a murder?”

“Not too far from here.”

“Serial killer on the loose and the Blue Capes are doing nothing to protect us.”

With each comment, tension grew thicker among the assembly, trying to smother us. The comments were like a stone thrown into a pond as fear rippled among the spectators. And the sense of expectancy and tension for the debate morphed into something darker. More violent.

But I couldn’t waste time on the murder that had already happened. All I could focus on was preventing the next one.

Three minutes left.

A scream cut through the rising intensity and pandemonium broke out. Someone bumped into me and knocked me to the ground. My knee and hand smarted from the impact, and I wasn’t sure if I could pick myself up again with how tired I was, but Desmarc pulled me back to my feet and tucked me into his side.

The crowd buzzed like an engine roaring to life.

“Silence,” Prime Meridian Emerson said after a Blue Cape whispered something in his ear.

Shouts and cries rumbled through the air, mixing with the stampede of pounding feet that sounded like a primal drumbeat.

Over the remaining heads between us, I met Papá’s worried gaze. But he was worried for me, not himself. He had no idea what was coming.

I scanned the faces around me again, searching for the killer’s scruffy pair of coveralls and rough black gloves. With the crush of people surging like the rolling sea, it was difficult to make out anything.

Two minutes.

“SILENCE.” Prime Meridian Emerson next shout cut through the panic like a wave of calm.

Slowly, the panicked murmurs quieted, and the throng of people stilled.

“It would appear we’ve all heard what occurred in the Ninth Chime, but panic isn’t the answer.”

A man leaning against the railing of a balcony leading to the Eleventh Chime caught my eye. More specifically, his gray coveralls caught my eye. From where he stood, he had the perfect vantage point of the stage.

The sight of him flooded me with one last burst of adrenaline, pushing away the pain and exhaustion.

“No!” I cried out and flung myself from the protection of Desmarc’s arms. There was no way I’d make it to the man in time. I had to get to Papá. I lifted my skirt and darted up the steps to the stage.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Prime Meridian Emerson stared at me with narrowed eyes.

I ran past him and shoved Meridian Lambkins out of the way as an all-too-familiar buzzing filled the air.

Memories of the woman collapsing against the wall with crimson seeping across her chest filled my head. Stealing my breath. Making each step too slow.

I jumped into Papá, trying to knock him back.

He fell back a few steps, then steadied us. “Kyra, what are you—?”

I glanced over Papá’s shoulder and locked eyes with the murderer. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I shoved against Papá again. “Move!”

The man lifted his strange weapon, and my stomach clenched in dread.

Hiram jumped onto the balcony, knocking into the man.

The podium between Papá’s and Meridian Lambkin burst into flame.

I covered my head with my hands, but a sharp chunk of metal hit the side of my face with a flash of pain.

“Kyra!” Papá reached for me, but I twisted from his grasp and scanned for the killer again. My head swam from the pain and, for a moment, my vision blurred, then cleared to reveal Hiram and the killer pressed against the metal railing. A potted plant fell to the ground as Hiram tipped dangerously over the ledge before shoving the other man off. The assassin turned his weapon on Hiram as the men grappled for control.

“Hiram!” I screamed his name as a wave of dizziness hit me. The edges of my vision turned black. It was just like when I Slipped, except this was real. The blood was real. The pain was real. All of it was real.

My heart leapt to my throat, pounding in time with the pain pulsing in my cheek and the ache in my head. Blood dripped from between my fingers—my blood.

Blue Capes rushed onto the stage, forcing each of the meridians to take cover.

“But that’s my daughter—” Papá argued behind me.

A Blue Cape approached me too, one I vaguely recognized from the station.

“Give me a minute,” I told him before he could drag me away too.

With a shaking hand, I pulled a knife from my sheath and made my way to the edge of the stage. Inhaling slowly, I did my best to push away the panicked shouts of the spectators, thumping of their footsteps that sounded like the anxious heartbeat of the city, and the way my vision swam in and out of focus. This knife wasn’t weighted correctly to be used as a throwing knife and I was in no shape to be doing this, but I couldn’t sit by and let Hiram get hurt.

I waited a moment until the killer was between Hiram and me, then did my best to shove the pain aside for a moment and adjust for the balance differences in the knife. I pulled my arm back and released.

It glinted in the sun as it sailed through the air, then the point buried itself in the man’s arm. I’d been aiming for his shoulder, but close enough.

More black crept in along the edge of my vision, and I swayed on my feet.

Papá ran over and caught me. “Kyra! Kyra, look at me.”

I turned my head, and the blackness descended.

Chapter 19

“Kyra. Kyra, wake up.”

The world fell into place slowly. Something hard and unforgiving was under my head. Worried voices washed over me. Pain in my cheek.

“What happened?” I mumbled and cracked my eyes open, then raised a heavy hand to cover them as I squinted at the sudden brightness.

I was lying on the wooden floor of the stage, and Papá and Desmarc bent over me. Behind them, the meridians, the Prime Meridian, and a few others watched me with wide eyes.

“Papá, you’re safe,” I whispered.

“Thanks to you.” He squeezed my shoulder gently.

The memory of Hiram wrestling with the murderer on the roof and my knife sailing through the air rushed back, and I sat up with a gasp. “Where’s Hiram?” I held a hand to my forehead until everything righted itself. My fingers came away sticky with blood, reminding me of my injury.

“If you’re talking about that Blue Cape, he’s with the suspect.” Desmarc’s stiff tone helped clear the fog in my brain.

“You mean, we caught the killer?” With Papá supporting one side and Desmarc the other, I clambered to my feet.

Desmarc tilted his head to the left, where Hiram stood talking to one of his men. Behind him, two Blue Capes flanked the handcuffed murderer, and a ring of them surrounded the stage, keeping the crowd and reporters at bay.

As if he’d been watching the whole time, Hiram’s gaze flicked to mine, and the moment our eyes met, relief flooded me. He was all right. Papá was all right. I was all right. And we’d caught the murderer. Everything was going to be fine.

Hiram fought his way through the crowd of reporters and spectators toward me. I pulled free of Papá and Desmarc and shuffled down the stairs to meet him.

Papá reached for me. “Kyra, don’t.”

“Gideon, we need to talk,” the Prime Meridian called behind me.

I ignored them as I stumbled down the stairs. I couldn’t calm down until I knew Hiram was safe—knew more than just by looking at him, and I probably only had a minute or so before Papá would come for me.

My feet got caught in my skirt on the steps, and I tumbled forward into a pair of strong arms that caught me easily. Heart pounding, I met Hiram’s gaze. His arms tightened around me for a moment so brief I might have imagined it, then he helped me stand on my own again and took a step back.

Disappointment flared through me, bright and hot.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” With my heart in my throat, my voice came out breathy.

Hiram’s attention fell to my stinging cheek, and he clenched his jaw and surveyed the rest of me. The attention felt more intimate than any touch. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I jumped in on my own.”

“Typical Poppy.” He gave me a tired grin. “That’s something I admire as much as I hate.”

“Are you all right?” My gaze traveled over him greedily, taking in every detail from his disheveled hair to the scrapes on his forehead and a bloody scratch on one arm. His pants were dusty, and his blue cape had a few tears in it.

He exhaled heavily. “I am now. But when I saw you go down, I thought the worst,” he said. “I would’ve never forgiven myself if something had happened to you because of me.”

His words caused my heart to do a strange flip-flop. “It wasn’t your fault. You were the reason the man missed us.”

Hiram met my gaze again, and for a moment, time stood still. Looking at him, all ruggedly handsome, brave, and smart, made my chest squeeze painfully.

A heavy arm wrapped around my shoulder and pulled me away from Hiram. “You shouldn’t have involved my daughter in any of this.” Papá’s jaw clenched.

The sudden intrusion jarred me back to reality and the fact that I was in public—very much in public—and everyone had seen what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” Hiram murmured with another glance at me.

I gave him a sad smile. No point protecting his promise to keep things a secret now that the screw was out of the bot. I tried to pull away, but Papá’s grip was too firm and I was still too weak. “It wasn’t his fault, Papá,” I said. “I wanted to help.”

Papá’s grip around my arm tightened. “Don’t say anything else, Kyra.”

“How long has Meridian Annandale’s daughter been working with the Iron Watch?” a reporter shouted, having broken through the Blue Cape’s temporary barrier. A swarm of them had made it through, and now we were surrounded by a horde of shouted questions.

“No comment.” Papá’s voice was hard, but with frustration for me or the reporters it was hard to tell. “And we won’t be answering any questions at this time.”

“Is this the man behind the string of murders in the city?”

“What sort of weapon is that?”

“How long have you two secretly been courting?”

The last question could’ve knocked me over if not for Papá’s support. It was preposterous to think of Hiram courting me. I was engaged to be married to someone else.

“They aren’t.” Desmarc appeared on my other side and claimed my hand. “Kyra is engaged to me.”

Hiram glanced at me, his dusty, scratched cheeks betraying just the faintest hint of a blush. In return, my heart skipped a beat. That one look sent my walls crumbling down. A simple question and the sight of Hiram’s blushing face smashed to pieces the ignorance I’d been fighting so hard for.

This whole time I’d thought of Hiram as a friend—someone precious to me who saw me as I truly was and encouraged me to be more than I thought I could. But I was wrong.

At some point, I’d crossed the line and started to care for him more than I should.

Maybe I’d fallen for him the moment he’d believed me at the Iron Watch when no one else had. Or maybe it was when he’d agreed to let me help him because he’d seen me as someone who could be more than I was. Or when he’d played with those children and spoken so passionately about reforming the Lower Chimes. I’d been falling for Hiram since the moment I met him.

Hiram opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally saying, “This is the suspect for the last few murders. We’ll take him to the Iron Watch, and further details will be released at a later time since it is an ongoing investigation.”

Desmarc glared at the suspect, or maybe he was glaring at Hiram. But looking at him, then down at our clasped hands, brought reality crashing back as painful as that piece of flying shrapnel earlier. No matter what I felt for Hiram, I was engaged. I couldn’t hurt Desmarc or Papá’s chances at becoming Prime Meridian.

Next to me, Papá and Desmarc discussed what to do, but I focused on Hiram.

“Is this also the person responsible for the murder earlier today that caused a panic?”

“What about the weapon? Is that some sort of new aether technology?”

“And how long have you been working with Kyra Annandale?” another reporter shouted. “What sort of relationship do the two of you have?”

“Relationship?” Hiram floundered, as if forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to be responding. “We aren’t in any sort of relationship aside from a professional one.”

His words were like a wrench in the gears of my heart, making them grind to a painful stop. Of course we were just in a professional relationship. Just because I’d developed feelings for Hiram didn’t mean he had. After all, he’d known I was engaged the whole time. Unlike me, he’d been smart to protect his heart.

The reporters turned to me, and the shouting intensified.

“Why did you decide to get involved?”

“How long have you been unfaithful to your fiancé?”

The questions came like an unforgiving avalanche, and I flinched under their weight.

“I said we won’t be taking any more questions right now.” Papá pulled me to the side, shielding me with his body, and I let him. My feet seemed to be working independently of my body while I processed this strange revelation. “Kyra, can you walk?”

“Yes.” Briefly, my gaze met Desmarc’s, and I dropped my eyes hastily. Despite our engagement, I’d let myself develop feelings for another. I turned away from the reporters to hide my face.

Prime Meridian Emerson gaped at the crowds. The media’s attention had shifted to the murderer and scandal and away from the debate. More officers came to escort the killer, and one came forward holding a gun with an energy core that emitted a pulsating blue glow.

I glanced over my shoulder once more and Hiram’s gaze found mine. My heart soared and dipped in quick succession. Yes, I cared for him, but this was the end of it. I couldn’t allow it to go any further, not when I’d already promised myself to Desmarc. We had a future we were working toward, one with a purpose I truly cared for—a purpose Hiram had helped me discover. If I chose the man I should care for instead of the one I actually cared for, I could still make this work, for everyone’s sake.

From that moment forward, I wouldn’t allow myself to work with Hiram. I needed to stop before my feelings got any more out of hand. Besides, we’d caught the murderer; there was no need to see him again.

My heart twisted painfully at the thought, like when I caught my finger in a clamp.

“Are you all right?” Desmarc asked.

“Yes, just a bit of pain.” I pressed a hand to my forehead so he’d think I was talking about that.

“Here, let me bandage your cheek.”

Desmarc borrowed a first aid kit from a nearby Blue Cape and tended to my wound. I peeked over my shoulder for one last glimpse of Hiram while he fended off more questions from the reporters.

Today would be the last time I’d see Hiram Atwood.

Chapter 20

“I’ll let your father escort you home,” Desmarc said as he finished bandaging my cheek. His face was a mask of cool indifference, almost as if he were oblivious to the shouts of the reporters and curious gazes behind us. The perfect politician’s mask. But with me this close, he couldn’t hide the tension radiating from him or the stiffness that dripped from each syllable like oil from an old drone. He was upset, and rightly so. I’d carelessly embroiled us in the thick of a scandal a week before our wedding.

“Desmarc, I—”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” he said. “I’ll come over once this mess is under control. You and your father should go.”

“Come, Kyra.” Papá bustled me into our waiting steamcab on the edge of the crowd before I could say anything else, though, in all honesty, I wasn’t even sure what to say anymore.

“Meridian Annandale.” Desmarc inclined his head.

“Meridian Kingsford.” Papá did the same, then climbed in after me.

I winced. We were back to titles instead of names.

Desmarc shut the door, cutting off any chance of reading his expression, and the clack of the steamcab’s wheels on the cobblestones filled the taut silence.

“Are you all right, Kyra?” Papá asked.

“I am.” The words came out more like a question than a statement.

Papá studied me, worry hanging off his slumped shoulders, and his hands curled into fists on his knees. He gave me one last searching look before tipping his head against the wall and closing his eyes. The tension radiating from him told me he wasn’t going to sleep, but he was clearly waiting until we were home, giving me half an hour to stew silently and let my worries percolate.

I rested my non-injured cheek against the window’s cool glass. My heart pounded a bit harder at the sight of the Blue Capes riding hoverbikes on either side of our steamcab—Hiram’s attempt to protect us, no doubt. I forced my attention to the city instead, pushing thoughts of Hiram from my mind. A soaring metallic bridge that crossed over the Steele River glinted in the late afternoon sun, and the gabled roofs and cramped architecture gave way to the large estates of the elites as we made it to the edge of the Tenth Chime. In the distance, an airship floated over the city, its brass and copper detailing flashing in the light as its steam engine propelled it through the air like a ship through water. I bit my lip as I watched it glide through the sky. If only I could soar away from my problems that easily.

If I’d ruined my engagement with Desmarc, would it be so bad? I blinked and looked away from the airship. Even if running away from my problems with Papá wasn’t the right answer, I’d already made a commitment to Desmarc, and I could make this work. I would.

The steamcab rolled to a stop in front of our estate. Papá opened the door and climbed out, then offered me a hand down. He didn’t even glance at the Blue Capes who took up position outside our house. With apprehension dragging at my steps, I followed him up the gravel path to the front door.

“How could you have been so careless?” he asked as soon as the door closed behind us with a hollow thud.

“I was trying to save your life.” I clasped my hands behind my back and glared at the floor, trying not to cry. The polished marble in the entryway, inlaid with brass filigree that formed the shape of gears, glinted at me from the overhead light as if they too were scolding me.

Papá exhaled heavily, then unclenched his hands and walked the space of the entry hall. His shoes clacked against the tile floor and echoed against the tall ceiling. “I’m thankful for that, of course I am. But don’t you realize how dangerous it was? I could have lost you.”

“I could have lost you too,” I said. “I had to do something.”

“It isn’t your job to protect me.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” I cried. “I’m your daughter, and I didn’t want to lose you. Isn’t that enough?”

“No.” His voice cracked the space between us. “Not when it means putting yourself in danger.” Papá rubbed his temples and exhaled slowly, then walked over and took one of my hands in his much larger one. “Promise me you won’t work with the Iron Watch again. We can talk about the rest later, but that, at least, I need to know now.”

I stared into his worried gray eyes. Years of hesitation and fear reflected back at me. He couldn’t order me around anymore if our relationship was ever going to improve, but this wasn’t a battle worth fighting. I’d already promised myself to give up Hiram.

My heart thumped painfully at the thought. As long as I didn’t see him again, these feelings would fade. They’d fade and I could focus on building a life with Desmarc. If he would still have me.

I shook the thought away and folded my arms across my chest. “I’ll promise not to work with the Blue Capes anymore if you’ll tell me the truth about why you’re against them.”

Papá stilled, and the action drew all the life from the room. His expression shuttered, and he seemed to age before my very eyes. “That isn’t any of your concern.”

“How can you say that?” I wanted to scream the words at him.

“Go to your room.” He turned and put his back to me. “You need to rest.”

“No, Papá.” I straightened my shoulders. “Tell me the truth. Why are you always keeping secrets?” His silence only provoked more words, the anger from the last few years and months spilling out of me. “If Mamá were here, she’d tell me the truth.”

“But she isn’t here, is she?” he snapped.

The words were like a slap to the face. I stepped back and blinked at him.

“That’s the most honest thing you’ve said in a while.” I forced the words out through my tight throat.

He shook his head. “I’m the one that’s been keeping secrets?”

I rocked back on my heels. “At least I was trying to help. All you do is lie and try to control everyone around you because you can’t stand the thought of not having things your way. Just like you lied about Mamá’s vault and my abilities.”

“How do you know—”

Tears flowing down my face, I darted up the stairs. My thoughts swirled in a tangled mess that matched my battered body and even more battered heart.

Once inside the safety of my room, I yanked off my bloodstained glove and threw it to the floor. The glow of Mamá’s ring was somehow muted now, as if even she disapproved of what I’d done.

I pulled off my ruined clothes and threw myself on my bed, burying my face in the pillows to cry.

Everything was so wrong now.

A while later, Cogsley came in and wheeled to a stop beside my bed. “You have been leaking.”

A smile tried to fight through the tears but lost. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Can I do something to fix the leak?”

I wiped my eyes and sat up with a sigh. “Sometimes crying is the best way to feel better.”

Cogsley’s engined hummed in thought. “It is a waste of fluids.”

“Even still, sometimes humans need that.”

“If humans could be more like us bots, I think things would be easier,” Cogsley said before adding, “And less messy.”

The sound of a knock on the front door drew me from my bed. My heart leaped at the thought that it might be Hiram.

Hurriedly, I wiped my face and straightened my hair, then Cogsley helped me put on a clean dress and fresh gloves. I descended the stairs, only to stop as the soft tenor of Desmarc’s voice reached me. Disappointment flitted through me, but now wasn’t the time for such selfishness. I tightened my grip on the railing, letting the metal give me the push I needed. Whether I’d meant to or not, I’d hurt Desmarc, and we needed to talk.

I pushed the door open and entered the sitting room.

Desmarc, still wearing the same impeccably stylish suit from when we’d gone to the debate, although it was a bit dusty now, turned to face me. His eyes were tired, as if the last few hours had been unimaginably hard on him.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Papá left the room, and the door clicked shut behind him.

I peeked up at Desmarc, then turned my attention to the floor. It was too hard to look him in the eye after remembering the way the reporters had asked about Hiram and I secretly dating.

“I’m sorry.” I clasped my hands behind my back to hide their trembling.

“For what?”

“For all of it. For not telling you the truth and getting caught up in a scandal.” My voice grew soft by the end.

Desmarc shifted a step closer to me. “And what about your feelings? Are you sorry for those?”

“What do you mean?”

He tugged at the fingers of his glove, then pulled it back on and repeated the process. “Don’t play coy now, Kyra,” he said. “We both know you care for that detective.”

I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“So where does that leave us?” Desmarc sank back into a chair as if my admission was too much for him to take standing.

“Where do you want it to leave us?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Do you often answer a question with a question?”

“Only when I don’t know the answer,” I admitted with a hesitant smile. How could I tell him that my feelings for him had shrunk while my feelings for Hiram had grown? Guilt twisted inside the thought. I never should have let this happen.

Silence stretched between us, growing as long as the late afternoon shadows outside. I rang the bell for Cogsley to bring tea, then I took a seat in the chair opposite Desmarc. The same chair as when he’d returned my glove, kissed my hand, and given me my engagement necklace.

“Do you want to end our engagement?” I asked suddenly, unable to bear the silence.

“No. Do you?” He looked at me imploringly.

“No.” But even I could hear the hesitance in my voice.

Desmarc’s shoulders slumped. “So you really don’t know how you feel about it.”

I bit my lip and looked down as tears burned at my eyes again. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Desmarc knelt in front of me and cupped my uninjured cheek with his hand. “It’s all right, Kyra. I know you weren’t trying to betray me.”

I winced at the word betray and clenched my hands in my lap.

“Just know that I care for you, and I still want to be with you.”

His words settled over the room, leaving a blanket of silence while I struggled with what to say or do. If I ended things with Desmarc now, that would make it seem like there was some validity to the rumors going on about Hiram and me. That would hurt everyone involved, including Desmarc, who had done nothing wrong. Just because our ideas didn’t match up or my feelings weren’t as deep as I’d thought didn’t mean he deserved any of this.

And ending things would reaffirm how selfish I’d been in agreeing to the marriage in the first place. Yes, Desmarc had been Papá’s choice, but saying yes to the agreement had been mine. I’d cared for Desmarc, but I’d also seen him as a way to escape Papá’s iron fist. I’d thought it was fine having a marriage of convenience as long as we both knew where the other stood, but now I wasn’t so sure.

No, I cared about him once, so surely I could grow to care about him again. Especially if I stopped seeing Hiram. Then I wouldn’t be hurting anyone. And not seeing Hiram would be better for everyone. It would help the scandal blow over, so Hiram could keep working. It would keep Desmarc from getting hurt. And it would stop my feelings from growing any more than they already had.

Even if I had my doubts about how good a match Desmarc and I actually were, if I brought them up now, it would feel like I was just using excuses to get out of it so I could be with Hiram.

“Are you sure I’m what you want?” I asked softly.

“More than anything.”

He tilted my chin up so I had to meet his gaze, which was filled with conviction. Maybe he did care for me as much as he said, but his easy forgiveness reminded me yet again that this was a political match for him as well.

“And if you don’t believe me, I’ll fill you in on a secret,” he said, almost as if he could read my thoughts. “I wanted to surprise you with this after our wedding, but I spoke to a few professors at AIR U. They’ve already promised to enroll you for the next semester.”

I swallowed thickly. Desmarc had been planning for our future and listening to my dreams when I’d been off falling for another man. I never should’ve questioned his feelings. He’d done nothing to earn my suspicion.

“You deserve better than me,” I whispered.

“Don’t say that,” he said. “You’re all I want, Kyra. I care for you.”

“I care for you too.” Maybe it wasn’t as much as before or not in the same way, but I still did.

His eyes lit up. “So you’re going through with the marriage?”

I nodded slowly.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

His thumb traced my cheekbone. “Please don’t work with the Blue Capes anymore. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” He looked down, then back up at me. “Especially not to that detective.” His request was fair. If he wanted to be able to trust me, I needed to give him a reason to.

I closed my eyes. “You don’t need to worry about Hir—him anymore. I won’t see him again.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t notice how stifled you felt. If you were so unhappy that you had to help solve murder cases to keep busy, I should’ve done something earlier.” He dropped his hand from my cheek to my knee, staring at the floor.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, “and you did do something. You agreed to help me enroll at AIR U just like I always wanted.”

“It was the least I could do,” he murmured.

“Besides, I wasn’t doing it to keep busy. It was because I wanted to be able to do more with my life. I wanted to help.” I sighed and waved around the room in general. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but once I started helping with the cases, I realized how much I enjoyed feeling like I was being helpful to someone.”

His eyes met mine. “You’re more helpful to me than you know.”

I smiled and cleared my throat, trying to ignore the blush in my cheeks. “Now that we’ve caught the killer, I have no reason to continue working with the Blue Capes. I can turn my attention to my studies.” And forgetting a certain blue-eyed detective.

“Wonderful. I hate to think of you putting yourself in any more danger.” He looked me over once more. “If you’re up for it, we should call your father in and we can go over a statement about today and reassure everyone that our plans are still on track.”

“All right.”

After Papá returned, we spent the next hour discussing the wedding.

“Unfortunately, my uncle asked me to return home the day before the ceremony,” Desmarc said. “But it shouldn’t affect anything. We’re essentially done with the planning, and I’ll be back that morning in plenty of time for the evening ceremony.”

“Is everything all right?” His uncle had never seemed to approve of us—evident in the way he’d never come to meet me—and after what happened today, he was probably more against me than ever.

“Everything’s fine.” He smiled and laid a hand over mine. “I’ll meet you at Edison’s Aircrafts the morning of so we can run through any final details and make sure everything is all right. Then after the ceremony, we’ll have a short reception back on land before you and I take the airship for our honeymoon.”

A knock sounded on the door, so I took the chance to pop out of my seat. “I’ll get it.” I walked through the front hall—behind me, their conversation was already shifting back to politics—and opened the door.

“Hello, Poppy,” Hiram said.

Chapter 21

“What are you doing here?” My heart pounded.

“I came to see you.” The scrapes and dirt from the scuffle were still there. He hadn’t even had time to change yet. Under his cap, his blond hair was tousled as if he’d been running a hand through it.

My fingers itched to straighten his messy locks. I clasped my hands firmly behind my back and glanced over my shoulder to the room where Papá and Desmarc sat planning my wedding. “You can’t be here.” Not after I just promised not to see him anymore. I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the front steps, closing the door behind me.

“But—”

“Not here.” I dragged him to the side of the house onto the pathway with the weathered gears and cogs, then I pulled him onto the platform and took him up to Mamá’s tree garden.

“This is a bit more spacious than the last place you pulled me into,” he teased as he ran a finger over a rose’s metal petal.

“Be serious, Hiram. What were you thinking coming to my house after what happened today?” I asked, though my heart gave a ridiculous happy little thump. I let go of his hand, suddenly realizing I still held onto him.

“I know I shouldn’t have come, but I needed to make sure you were all right.” Once more, his gaze landed on the bandage on my face, and his hand drifted into the air as if he were going to cup my cheek.

I froze, and the air between us grew electric. Butterflies took off in my stomach, making it suddenly hard to breathe.

His gaze dropped to my engagement necklace, and he lowered his hand. “I wasn’t sure if I’d get the chance to talk to you again.”

I exhaled slowly.

So he knew. He knew me well enough to guess that I wouldn’t be coming back to the Iron Watch.

“There’s no need for me to come in anymore,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even. “We accomplished what we needed to.”

“No need?” His head whipped up to face me. “You think there’s no need for you to come? There’s a great need.”

My traitorous heart beat a little harder at his words, further confirming my decisions. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Because your father discovered the truth?”

“That’s part of it.” I lowered my gaze to study the plant in front of me, but even still, I was so aware of him standing so close. The way the air was heavy between us with the scent of flowers and the expectation of things better left unsaid.

“And what’s the other part?” he asked softly.

I bit my lip and didn’t look up; it’d make it too easy for him to see the longing in my gaze. “I’m getting married in a week.” Saying the words to Hiram felt wrong, but it needed to happen.

His body grew rigid. “You deserve better than him.”

I flinched as he echoed my own words back to me. Desmarc deserved better than me, not the other way around. “Why would you say that? Desmarc is a good man.”

“Not good enough.” Hiram shook his head but didn’t answer my other question, making me wonder if the two had some sort of history together.

Hiram stepped closer, and my pulse sped up. “You should be with someone who looks at you like you crafted the gears that turn the heavens, not someone who marries you for your connections.”

My heart broke at his words. It wasn’t like Hiram was saying he was that person, but it’d be too easy to let myself imagine it. “Desmarc isn’t like that. He cares for me.”

“Do you care for him?”

I felt his gaze on me, but when I peeked up, he was studying a bright orange flower. “I... I do.” I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. I needed Hiram to leave. Seeing him was an unnecessary test of my resolve, and if I wanted my feelings to fade, I needed distance. And time. And maybe a new heart.

Cogsley was right. Things were so much simpler for the bots.

“I appreciate you checking on me,” I said, leading the way down the endless twisting stairs, “but I’m all right.” Or at least I would be once my heart had time to heal.

“Poppy, I—”

“Should I return your aether chip? In case you need to give it to someone else.” I forced the last half out, trying to sound natural, but my voice came out as hollow as my footsteps on the wood.

“That’s all right,” he said. “You keep it just in case you need anything. Consider it a personal line, as a way of saying thank you, to partially repay our debt of gratitude.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. You saved Papá’s life.”

“And you saved mine.” He stopped me with a soft touch on my arm.

“My pleasure.” I had to look away from the warm appreciation in his eyes. A bit flustered, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Did you figure out what sort of weapon the man was using?”

“I thought you were done with the cases?” he asked with a small smile.

“I am.” I flushed and kept descending the next staircase. Curse him and his adorable smile. “But I can’t help but be curious.”

“It appears to be some sort of new aether technology. We’re looking into it, as well as that woman’s identity.”

“Do you think it’s related to the research that was stolen from Professor Knight?”

“It very well could be,” Hiram said grimly. “We’ve asked Professor McNeil to come in to question him about it, but I won’t have any answers until I get back to the Iron Watch.”

My thoughts flashed to Meridian Eliver and his comments about increasing funding for research on new aether technology.

No, that was ridiculous to think they might be related. Meridian Eliver was running to become the Prime Meridian. There was no way he’d risk his position by having someone killed. Odds were, the murderer was just another man in the Revolutionist faction looking for ways to impose his ideals. Or maybe he was someone trying to make the Revolutionists look guilty.

“I wanted to return this to you.” As we reached the bottom floor, Hiram pulled out a knife from his vest—my knife—and a scrap of paper fluttered to the ground. “I’m more grateful than you know that you trusted me enough to put your father’s life in my hands. I know it must not’ve been easy.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye and cleared his throat.

It was easier knowing it was Hiram, but I didn’t need to say that. “Thank you.” I slid it into a sheath through the hidden seam in my pocket, then bent to retrieve the scrap of paper. Flipping it over revealed the words Debate. One o’clock. The sight of the hurried scrawl punched the air from my lungs. With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten that I’d somehow brought this paper back from the past with me.

“Kyra, are you all right? You look pale.”

I raised my gaze from the paper in my trembling hand to Hiram’s worried gaze. “I don’t know. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This.” I brandished the paper at him. “I shouldn’t have this.”

“Why not?”

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly why. I shouldn’t be able to interact with the past. I’d never brought anything back before. It didn’t make sense. But then I snapped it shut again. I shouldn’t open up to Hiram anymore, not when I was supposed to be putting distance between us.

“I was just surprised to see it again. It reminds me of the killer.” I opened the door and scanned the empty garden. Papá and Desmarc weren’t searching for me yet, probably still engrossed in politics. “Good luck...with everything.” I didn’t want to wish Hiram luck; I wanted him to take me with him, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

“Thanks,” he said. “Things might make more sense if I could speak with the Bartholomews but—” He closed his mouth and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m just used to talking to you about this.”

I tried to hold back my smile since I shouldn’t be happy about that. “Why do you need to talk to them? They’re one of the oldest families in the city.” They were another of the elite families who lived in the Tenth Chime.

“They’re the owners of the vault that was broken into. They’ve been testing out a new airship cruise the last few days, and we’ve been unable to reach them,” he said. “Once they’re back, we’ll go over the contents of their vault with them and see if they can tell us if anything was taken.”

“I suppose there’s not a huge rush for answers now that the case is resolved.”

“That’s what my superiors say.” Hiram frowned. “They seem less concerned with the why now that we’ve taken care of the who. Especially since we’ve already found evidence connecting today’s culprit to the other murders.”

I bit my lip, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but still the words slipped out. “You don’t agree?”

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t sit quite right with me.” He sighed again. “I’m at least going to leave the security detail on Professor McNeil and the meridian candidates for another few days.”

“I see.” I led Hiram to the front gate and opened it, even though my heart screamed at me not to let him go.

“If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” He hesitated for a moment.

“Thank you.” But I couldn’t change my mind. I kept my hands behind my back to keep from reaching out to him.

With one last regretful glance, Hiram stepped onto his hovercraft and sped down the street. Soon he was nothing more than a small shape on the horizon. I could only pray that today’s choice—today’s sacrifice—was the right one.

Chapter 22

The next week passed in a blur, my unanswered questions pressing in at every turn. The man’s motive for the killings remained a mystery, as did his reason for targeting Professor Knight, especially if he was missing half the research still. Whatever the killer had been searching for in the Bartholomew’s vault was still unknown—and then there was that scrap of paper I’d brought back from the past, something which still defied explanation.

But while I had questions in abundance, I had no one to turn to for answers. And also no time to look for them. With the renewal only two days after the wedding, each day was packed and the tension at home was almost unbearable. Things with Papá had been more strained than ever since our fight, even during our daily knife training. At least I had my wedding dress to keep me busy. Sewing hadn’t provided its usual escape, but it at least gave me a reason to avoid the house’s stifling atmosphere. Just because I’d decided to confront my relationship with Papá didn’t mean it was going well.

All too soon, it was the day before the wedding and my final dress fitting at Cogs and Corsets. I’d already been in three times to see Geneve. I slipped a pair of goggles around my neck and adjusted my lace gloves that matched the fabric of today’s dress. My bodice was made of the delicate white lace covered by a supple, brown leather corset with filigree patterns resembling gears. Sheer lace billowed from shoulder to wrist before tightening at my wrist with brass buttons.

“Where are you going?” Papá put down the paper he was reading, revealing a large scowl etched into his forehead.

“I have a final fitting at Geneve’s, but I’ll be back in time for tonight’s dinner.” My skirt, dark gray tulle edged in more lace, rustled as I drew to a stop and took in his sour expression. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in the paper again.”

“Oh.” I frowned and fiddled with my skirt, then peered over his shoulder at the headline. Annandale family helps catch murderer. “At least it’s for something good. You’re always looking for chances for more good press, especially this close to the renewal.”

“I’d rather have no press at all than press linking you to the Blue Capes,” he growled, tugging on the sleeve of his crisp ivory shirt.

And just like that, the weird tension that had been between us snapped. “I don’t understand why you hate them so much, Papá. Just tell me the truth.”

“No,” he ground out.

“How am I supposed to trust you if you won’t trust me?”

“Because I am your father and I know what’s good for you.”

“I’m not just one of your server bots you can order around!”

He flinched, and for a long moment, we both stood motionless. Me, waiting for I don’t know what, and Papá, battling with something.

“Well?” I resisted the urge to go to him and comfort him even though he looked so old and broken again.

He inhaled a slow, shaky breath, then his tortured gaze met mine. “It has to do with your mother.”

The room shifted, like someone had pulled the rug from under me. “Mamá? But how?”

Papá sat heavily, as if the words he were about to share weighed him down. “While we courted and after we were first married, she...” His hands clenched into fists in his lap.

“She what?” I asked quietly and took a step toward him. His words were a magnet, drawing me inexorably closer.

“She also worked with the Iron Watch.”

“Truly?” There was so much I didn’t know about her. Even more than I thought, but this didn’t surprise me as much as it could have. She’d also wanted to help people. “Then why are you so opposed to my being involved with them?”

“Because they’re the reason she’s gone,” he said sharply, then closed his eyes.

“Mamá died from a sickness,” I whispered.

Papá shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t. She was completely healthy.”

If this was true, that meant Papá had lied to me—to everyone, really—my entire life. Even though I didn’t want to believe it, I did. His words clicked into place like a long-lost gear, and everything else made so much more sense. The reason I never remembered Mamá being sick. Papá’s distrust, no, his hatred of the Blue Capes. His overprotectiveness. He hadn’t lost her to sickness, he’d lost her to something, and he’d been determined to avoid repeating that with me.

Yet even as it answered some questions, it generated a hundred more, like a spark of electricity going through a circuit and booting up a hundred different systems I hadn’t even known were there.

“Why did you lie about Mamá?” I whispered. “What really happened to her?”

“I didn’t want rumors going around about Gwen.” He looked at me, almost apologetically. “It isn’t easy to bear the burden of unanswered questions, and I thought that would be easier for you to accept.”

“I’ve borne that burden my whole life.” I blinked back tears. “You should have told me. I deserved to know.”

Papá rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Knowing would have just made you as obsessed with her loss as I am. I didn’t want you getting mixed up with the Blue Capes.”

“But... But...what did Mamá even do with them?”

Papá stared at me for a long moment, and an expectant silence settled between us. It was heavy. Too heavy. My legs had trouble holding me up, and I felt breathless.

“You’re just like her,” he said softly.

“Don’t avoid the question, Papá.” I curled my hands into fists inside my gloves. “Not now, when you’re finally telling the truth.”

“I’m not avoiding it; I’m answering it.” He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. Although Papá was looking at me, it felt like he was seeing Mamá. “You’re like her in more ways than you know.”

“All I know is that you hate it when I do anything that reminds you of Mamá.”

“Because the more like her you are, the greater my chances of losing you too.”

I bit my lip, trying to piece together the crumbs he was giving me. “What do you mean?”

He met my gaze. “I mean you inherited more than her stubborn personality and tendency of caring for the downtrodden.”

My stomach tightened as his words confirmed something I’d suspected for years but had never really been able to get myself to believe. Because if it were true, it brought up even more questions.

Papá took my hand, his touch warming my hands that had grown cold even inside my glove. “Gwen could Slip through time too.”

Chapter 23

“What?” I shook my head. “No, that can’t be.”

“It’s true, Kyra.”

I pulled my hand from his to grab Mamá’s thimble in my pocket. “How could you have kept it from me all this time?” Although I wanted to shout, to scream at him, shock stole the force from my voice. It was almost like I’d Slipped again, and the world was crumbling around me. I leaned against the wall for support.

“I’m sorry, Kyra.” Papá took a step toward me. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to protect you like I wasn’t able to protect Gwen.”

“By lying to me?” I folded my cold, shaking hands against my chest so he couldn’t touch me again.

“Not lying,” he said with a pained expression. “Just not telling you the full truth.”

I scoffed and stepped back. “You’re a politician through and through, Papá.”

Someone knocked on the door, and I stiffened, remembering Papá’s afternoon appointment with people from his faction. I was in no shape to deal with guests right now. I had to get out of here.

I spun on my heel and ran to a side door.

“Kyra, wait!”

My hands shook as I pulled it open and escaped into the yard. Despite my overwhelming need for answers, I couldn’t be with Papá right now or be around other people. I needed time to calm down and think.

I turned onto the road without waiting for a steamcab or a server bot. Thank the aether the reporters and the guards from the last few days had finally let up. No one was around to stop me. The wind whispered against my face, cooling my heated cheeks and the tears streaming down my face as my leather shoes pounded against the road.

Papá—the one person who’d known about my ability—had been lying to me my entire life. My thoughts swirled through my mind. If Mamá was a time Slipper too, she’d somehow managed to hide her power without constantly wearing gloves. And if this ability was genetic, I might pass it to any children Desmarc and I had.

After a few minutes, a sharp stitch appeared in my side. I slowed to a walk, pressing a hand against the smooth leather of my corset. Even though I’d dismissed the thought before, it made sense that Mamá could Slip too. It explained how I inherited this strange ability—but it also unraveled a tangle of new questions I might never have the answer to. How did Mamá learn about her ability, and was that how she’d been able to avoid wearing gloves? Had my family always been able to do this? Were there even more people out there with these abilities than I thought?

I froze in the middle of the street as another thought hit me. I hadn’t been able to take that paper from the past until I’d been wearing Mamá’s ring. I pulled off my glove and stared down at it. The ring sparkled in the sunlight. Though its glow didn’t seem quite as bright as it had been in the vault’s dimness, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Something about the ring had changed my Slipping.

My brow furrowed as I thought. After getting the ring, I’d Slipped two times: once in my room with my engagement dress and once with the woman’s body during the debate. I’d thought bringing the letter back was the first strange thing that had happened, but even when I’d gone back in my own memory, I’d almost Slipped while already in the past. Maybe that had been because of Mamá’s ring, and not just because it was something new. That would explain why I’d come back with headaches after Slipping the two times since I started wearing it. Maybe Papá was right, and it was more dangerous than I thought.

Pulling my glove back on, I kept walking while my thoughts chased each other in circles. Even if I asked Papá after his meeting, he might be honest about Mamá or he might give me more half-truths. Maybe that was hypocritical considering I’d been lying about Slipping, but at least my choices didn’t affect him. At least Papá wasn’t my only option. I could also ask Hiram to look into things for me at the Iron Watch.

My heart clenched. No, I shouldn’t see Hiram. I was supposed to be cutting things off with him, not looking for excuses to visit him.

After half an hour of walking, I reached the edge of the Tenth Chime and crossed into the Eleventh, where Geneve’s shop was. Even as the streets filled with shoppers, I kept walking, not making eye contact with anyone. I considered stopping to hail a steamcab, but the exercise gave me a much needed chance to clear my head.

An airship passed under some of the large arches connecting the buildings. It was much smaller than the one Desmarc and I would use for our wedding. The thought of him brought back my dilemma. I’d planned on telling him about Slipping after we married, but now that I knew about Mamá, it wasn’t fair to wait. If this would affect our future, he needed to know before making the choice to marry me. But with him called away to that emergency meeting, I wouldn’t have a chance to tell him until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

A woman across the street whispered behind her fan, and her friend pointed and looked at me with wide eyes.

I turned down the street away from them, my feet automatically taking me to Cogs and Corsets as if seeking some sense of normalcy, but the streets only grew more crowded.

“That’s her,” a woman whispered to a friend as I passed. “Meridian Annandale’s daughter from the paper.”

“The one who helped catch that killer?”

“I’d consider working with the Blue Capes too if it meant getting to see that detective’s handsome face every day,” the first woman said with a giggle.

“Isn’t she engaged to Meridian Kingsford?”

I stared straight ahead and pretended not to have heard. At least the slight chill in the air helped counter my burning face. I increased my pace to get away from the women and their speculations, though I kept my head high and facing forward as I passed a clock shop with a bright blue roof.

I turned down the closest street, one that didn’t really bring me any closer to Geneve’s but was slightly more abandoned. Once I was out of view, I pulled up my hood to hide my face. A quarter of an hour later, I made it to Cogs and Corsets and practically threw the door open as I hurried inside.

“Oh.” Geneve, her wild curls piled high on top of her head, held a hand to her heart and looked at me with wide eyes. The dress she was putting on an automaton fell to the floor in a puddle of silky fabric.

“Sorry to startle you.” I closed the door behind me, much more gently this time, and checked to make sure the store was empty before pulling my hood off. Her assistant was nowhere to be seen. Probably off making a delivery somewhere.

Geneve shook her head and gave me a knowing look. “That’s all right, dear. I’m surprised you came out today considering all the gossip.”

“I had to.”

“I see.” Geneve, used to my struggles with Papá, said no more about it. She bustled into the back and returned with a dress in her arms. “Let’s see if we’re going to need any final alterations. I finished the hemming last night.”

“All right.” Did Geneve know about Mamá’s ability to Slip? I’d never told her after Papá forbade it when I was a child, but now knowing about Mamá and how close she’d been to Geneve, I couldn’t help but wonder.

I followed her into a fitting room draped in velvet curtains with brass tiebacks. “Geneve?”

“Hmm?” She hung up the dress, then helped me out of the rest of the clothes that were tricky to navigate without a server bot.

“Did Mamá ever do anything unusual?” I fiddled with part of the skirt.

“All the time, but were you thinking about something specific?” Geneve laughed and raised an eye at the knives strapped to my leg. “Like knife training, you mean?”

“No, you know that’s just because of Papá.” A bitter laugh escaped. “He always says a girl can never be too prepared.” And yet I’d still been completely caught off guard by his news. Once I finished here, I’d go back and wait for his meeting to be over so we could finish talking. It was a conversation we couldn’t avoid any longer and there was much that needed to be said.

“I mean did Mamá ever lose track of herself or stare off into the distance?”

Geneve’s hands slowed, and her expression grew nostalgic. “Now that you mention it, she did.” She sighed. “She was quite the daydreamer.”

“I see.” That was enough to confirm Papá’s story so far, but it didn’t seem like Geneve knew anything more.

Without another word, Geneve pulled the dress off the wall and held it open for me to step into. The metal slid across my skin like satin and Geneve quickly helped sort it all out, her nimble fingers making quick work of the corset and ties.

To give my mind a break, I did my best to shove thoughts of Hiram and Desmarc, Papá and Mamá, and everything else aside and only focus on the dress Geneve was tying up.

“Oh my.” She gasped and stepped back. “It gets better every time you try it on.”

I turned so I could see myself in the large mirror with a carved frame standing in the corner. Despite everything else going on, I smiled. Geneve had truly outdone herself. Even my engagement necklace, with its miniature mechanical copy of the city, perfectly complemented the outfit.

The dress combined ethereal layers of lace and gauze, cascading ruffles, and shimmering metallic and glass accents. The flowing skirt and the way it glimmered in the light made me feel like a mechanical fairy creature while the pieces of glass sewn into the design caught and reflected the light.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure this was going to work, but somehow we pulled it off.” She tugged at the sheer sleeves across my shoulders, pulling them this way and that until they sat just right. “Now I’m sure your soon-to-be husband won’t be able to wait to pull it off,” she added with a wicked grin.

“Geneve!” I flushed and looked away from her knowing smirk while my thoughts went all-too-unwillingly to Hiram. We hadn’t kissed, but the thought of him doing something like that— No, wait. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of him. I was supposed to be thinking of Desmarc.

Flustered, I ran a hand down the tiny loops of metal covering my stomach. They were smooth and thankfully cold against my skin. Maybe it would cool my heated cheeks. Around my waist, the material switched to lace and feathers to create a full, flowing skirt.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“I’m just nervous,” I said.

“You know I don’t give two sprockets about your father’s political ambitions. You need to marry for love. Gwen would’ve wanted that for you.” She put her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Are you in love with Desmarc?”

“I was. Well, I am. Or, I could be.” I just needed to give my feelings for Hiram time to fade.

Besides, even if I didn’t care for Desmarc as much as I’d thought, he would still treat me well. There was no doubt of that based on how he’d acted over the last half a year. And maybe once we were married, he’d open up to me, as I was planning on opening up to him, ideally before we married. Plus, I was sure I could convince him to help the Lower Chimes if we talked about it.

“That might be difficult if you’re already in love with someone else.” Clearly, Geneve had been reading the papers too.

I flushed. “I’m not in love with him. Maybe a crush, but not love.” She opened her mouth, but I steamrolled over whatever she was about to say. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I haven’t seen Hiram in days, and I can already tell my feelings are fading.” I had only thought about him fifteen times yesterday instead of twenty. That was an improvement, right?

“Hiram, huh?” She gave me a knowing look.

“I meant Detective Atwood.” I spun around so she couldn’t see my flushed cheeks. “Let’s focus on the dress.”

“All right, but I’m here if you need to talk.” She fiddled with some of the tiny cogs worked into the top of my dress, then straightened the skirt before stepping back and whistling. “I’m not sure if you’re the genius or if I am, but either way, I don’t think we need to change another thing about this dress. It fits you perfectly.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled at her, grateful she’d changed the subject, even though nerves churned in my stomach at the thought of marrying Desmarc when I still cared for Hiram. But I’d already told myself it was the right choice. It was too late to back out on him now. As long as my feelings for Hiram really were just a crush, I could overcome them.

For a moment, I imagined what it would’ve been like to have Mamá here gushing about my wedding dress and talking about her little girl getting married. What words of advice would she have? Would she have told me about her time working with the Iron Watch? I reached for the ring on my left hand and rubbed at it absently through the glove.

Maybe there was still a way to get answers about Mamá without having to talk to Papá or Hiram—after all, he wasn’t the only person I knew at the Iron Watch. I could ask Liam to look into cases Mamá might’ve worked on so I could confirm whatever Papá told me. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to help, but it was worth asking.

Geneve silently helped me change back into my original outfit. “Since the dress is complete, do you want to take it home with you?”

“Actually, would you mind sending it to my house? I have another stop today, and I don’t want to carry it around.”

“Of course, dearest.”

Minutes later I was out the door and heading toward the Eighth Chime. I hailed a steamcab and told them my destination, then sat back and tried to calm my racing pulse by reminding myself that this was a business call, and I was going to see Liam, not Hiram.

Once we arrived, I paid the driver and climbed down. My boots tapped softly against the cobblestones, mirroring my pounding heart. The subtle hiss of steam vents dotting the path sounded as an undercurrent to the bustling Chime. I’d ask Liam for this favor, then I’d go straight back to talk to Papá. No delays and no distractions.

I hurried up the front steps and walked inside without giving myself time to let my nerves overtake me. A few heads turned my way, though the room was fairly empty. No sign of a blond head of hair. Thank the aether.

Unlike my previous visits, I wasn’t in disguise. I was Kyra Annandale, and, based on the way a few of the officers’ eyes widened, they realized it.

Liam stood from his desk in the corner and hurried over.

“Ms. Annandale, what can we do for you?”

“Please, Liam. You can still call me K.” I smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. “We need to talk.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “How did you find out? We haven’t released a statement to the press yet.”

“Released a statement about what?”

“So you don’t know?” His brow furrowed. “I thought that’s what you came to talk about.”

“I came to ask you for a favor.” A trickle of dread slid down my spine. Had something happened to Hiram? “Know about what?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.” Liam took a step back.

I caught his hand. “It’s all right. You can tell me. If not, I’ll just find Hiram and have him tell me.”

Liam hesitated, then he took a step closer and lowered his voice again. “There’s been another murder,” he said. “Meridian Lambkins is dead.”

Chapter 24

“Meridian Lambkins is dead?” I repeated the words numbly. I’d just seen him at the debate last week—the same debate where someone had tried to kill Papá. But that man was behind bars now. He couldn’t hurt anyone.

Liam lowered his voice. “A pair of officers went to arrest Meridian Eliver. There were a few pieces of evidence linking him to the death.”

“Is that where Detective Atwood went?”

“No, Detective Atwood is tracking down a lead. His reaction was a little strange when he heard about the murder.” Liam scratched his head, revealing graphite-stained fingers.

“Does he think that Meridian Lambkins’s death is related to the other murders?” It was preposterous to think we might have caught the wrong person. We weren’t just following some clues and hoping we’d caught the right suspect. I’d seen that man murder those people with my own eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that he was our culprit. But...what if he hadn’t been working alone?

Liam looked around, then pulled me into a small office down the hall. “I don’t know. He was at his desk for a while going over the old case notes.” He paled. “Actually, don’t mention that to anyone. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that he’d reopened the file.”

“Why not?” A trickle of foreboding slithered through me.

“The higher-ups closed the case once we caught that man at the debate.”

I reached a hand into my pocket and held Mamá’s thimble. “Why would they do that? We’re—you’re still lacking so many answers.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, reminding me he was a sketch artist and not a typical Blue Cape.

If only I hadn’t told Hiram not to contact me anymore. But, of course, I’d had no way of knowing something like this would happen. I’d assumed the case was closed just like everyone else had—well, everyone but Hiram.

“Where is Detective Atwood now?”

Another shrug. “He rushed out the door after studying some notes.”

“Alone?” Cold dread slithered through me like spilled oil.

Liam shrugged. “He doesn’t have a partner assigned at the moment, and he couldn’t very well take someone with him when he isn’t supposed to be investigating that right now. I’m sure he’ll be fine, though,” he hurried to tack on after a glance at my face.

“Did you hear anything else?”

“I think he said something about ‘a target’ as he rushed out the door.”

Did Hiram think that Meridian Lambkins had been the target all along and it wasn’t Papá the murderer had been after? After all, Meridian Lambkins had been at the debate that day too. It made sense in a way. If Meridian Eliver had hired someone to kill Lambkins, that was less competition for him. Maybe Papá would’ve been next. Why had I thought it was Papá the man was after?

I thought hard, then remembered the man’s comment about those who use the misfortune of others. I’d assumed he was talking about Papá because he’d just talked about helping the Lower Chimes as part of his speech, but Papá hadn’t been the only one to mention them. Meridian Lambkins had also brought it up in his opening remarks.

I curled a hand into a fist around the thimble. Papá had never been the target from the beginning. I’d been wrong and had let my fear for my family cloud my judgment.

And if I was wrong about this, the odds were good that I was wrong about other things as well.

Liam frowned. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, but I have to get back to work.” He looked around worriedly. “You won’t tell anyone what I told you, right?”

I put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small, forced smile. “Your secret is safe with me, Liam.”

He blushed a little, then stumbled into a desk on his way through the room.

If Hiram believed Meridian Lambkins had been the target all along, then that meant Meridian Eliver was somehow connected to the man they arrested before. And if I was wondering about it, surely Hiram had been too.

As casually as I could, I meandered to Hiram’s desk and perused the papers on it. There wasn’t much there. Being the fastidious person he was, he’d probably been careful to put the case folder back in the records room. And considering how I had no escort, no aether key to open the file cabinet, and no connection to the case anymore, I doubted I could get back there.

A notepad on Hiram’s desk caught my eye. Most of the page had been ripped out, but a few words remained on the sliver left behind. It read Vault. Epo—

The rest of the words were gone. I looked around, sucked in a deep breath as I prayed not to get pulled into a Slip, then pulled off a glove and felt the indentation left from the quill. The indent on the paper spelled out Epoch Clock.

“Hey, what are you doing over there?” an officer called to me.

“Oh, sorry. I was going to leave Detective Atwood a message, but I changed my mind.” I pulled on my glove and hurried out of there before anyone else could question me. Surely none of them would be as helpful as Liam. He’d given me more than enough to think about.

In the distance, the Epoch Clock chimed fourteen times, reminding me that I only had a few hours until tonight’s charity dinner with Papá, not that I could imagine sitting next to him and pretending everything was fine right now. But I also couldn’t miss it with how much negative press we’d been getting.

I should go home and get ready, but my curiosity about the Epoch Clock and Hiram’s mysterious lead ate at me. I’d promised Desmarc I wouldn’t see Hiram again, but that was because I’d believed the case was closed. Now that I knew it wasn’t, it changed everything. If necessary, I’d help the Blue Capes again, but this time I wouldn’t keep it a secret.

I could make this work. I just needed to find Hiram, keep it professional, then explain to Desmarc that the case wasn’t closed. I left the Iron Watch and turned down the street leading directly to the center of town. A steamcab rumbled past, so I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled. It would take less than an hour to walk to the Epoch Clock, but time was of the essence.

The steamcab rolled to a stop. “Take me to the Epoch Clock, please,” I told the driver, jumping inside.

“Aye, miss.”

We clattered over a bridge that spanned the river while I tried to connect the dots between the Bartholomew’s vault to the Epoch Clock. Maybe the family had finally come back and he was meeting them there.

Once the cab arrived at the roundabout surrounding the Epoch Clock, I jumped out and tossed a knob at the driver, shouting “Thank you,” over my shoulder. I darted around a few pedestrians and charged into the roundabout around the market.

Steamcabs surged around the street, their gears whirring and pistons pumping rhythmically as they occasionally used their horns. A rush of wind brushed against me as I narrowly avoided someone on a hovercraft.

“Get out of the way!” the driver shouted.

“Sorry,” I called without looking back. After a few more harrowing close calls, I made it to the clock. This close, whir and ticking was audible even from outside the clock. I climbed the steps leading to its base, then walked in a slow circle around the black edifice while I scanned the crowds for Hiram.

Women in petticoats and leather, men in top hats and goggles, steamcabs and hovercrafts and pedestrians. People were everywhere but none of them had Hiram’s bright eyes and blond hair.

Over my head, the minute hand on the Epoch Clock moved again, the clank of the metal and grinding of the gears extra loud.

Wait a minute.

I spun around and stared at the building. The base was huge, at least twenty feet on each of the twelve sides, with engraved metal designs spiraled along the surface. Maybe Hiram wasn’t at the clock but inside of it.

Closing the distance to the base, I slowly walked around, searching for an opening. My gloved fingers brushed along the rough metal surface, weathered with age and rust. On the side leading to the Sixth Chime, I found a door whose grooves and seams blended into the design.

Hesitantly, I pushed on the handle. It was unlocked. That couldn’t be normal.

My heart thumped uneasily, but I peeked my head in. The faint scent of oil and soft hiss of steam escaping from pipes and valves reached me. The only light inside trickled in from the twelve clock faces high above, so I waited a moment to give my eyes time to adjust.

A network of pipes and conduits crisscrossed the space, carrying steam and compressed air to power the clock’s machinery. Which made sense since the Epoch Clock was built before aether technology was advanced enough to power it.

“Hiram?” I whispered, then cleared my throat and spoke it a little louder to be heard over the grinding gears. “Hiram? Are you here?” I took another step inside, and the heavy metal door closed behind me with an ominous click.

The hiss and clank of the pipes added a rhythmic undertone to the symphony of moving parts, eliciting the feeling that I was trapped in a living, breathing mechanism. The ticking of the pendulums was like a giant metal heartbeat going off every second with tense half-beats of silence between.

“Is anyone here?”

Nothing but the whirs of cogs and gears answered me.

I started to turn around, but a dark glint on the floor caught my eye. I crouched down and studied the specks of dark liquid on the ground. Hesitantly, I touched one spot with my gloved finger, and the lace came away red. It was blood...and it was fresh.

My pulse sped up at the thought of Hiram being injured.

I held my skirts in my hands, careful not to let any of them get caught in the gears around me, and took a few more steps and the pathway narrowed to a black catwalk with stairs leading up. The smell of old metal and oil grew stronger, along with a charred stench, almost like when I’d accidentally burned a hole in the rug at home with Papá’s aether lamp. I wrinkled my nose and stopped. Tilting my head back, I looked up and found that the winding staircase went all the way to the top, weaving between a complex network of gears, levers, and weights.

“Hiram?” I called again.

A groan sounded in the distance, almost drowned out by the noise of the clock, and I froze. I hadn’t imagined it, had I?

“Hiram, are you in here?” Heart pounding in my ears, I stood and listened for another sound to prove I hadn’t imagined the first.

No answer came except for the sound of the Epoch Clock, and dread pumped through me. If I was right and Hiram was here, then something was wrong. Otherwise, he would’ve responded. He wasn’t the kind of man to make me worry needlessly.

Unless...it wasn’t Hiram here at all. Maybe I was in here with someone else. I pulled out one of my concealed knives and clutched it to my side.

Despite the foreboding silence that made goose bumps crawl across my skin, I couldn’t leave until I confirmed who the voice belonged to. The stair rail, not nearly as smooth as the outside, was almost harsh under my lace gloves, but I gripped it tightly and forced myself to keep climbing. Above me, twelve brass pendulums swung rhythmically with an almost hypnotic precision while gears of various sizes spun and meshed with one another in harmonious choreography.

When I reached the first landing, I looked around. A few boxes that didn’t match the rest of the decor littered the limited space as if someone was storing things inside the Epoch Clock.

I made my way around the sealed boxes, weights hanging in the air, and the rotating gears and continued to the next floor. In the brief moments between ticking, another groan came from somewhere above me.

“Hiram?” I said it louder this time.

“Poppy?” an exhausted voice whispered so quiet I almost missed it. A dark shape, different from the wheels and boxes slumped against the far wall of the next landing.

That one word confirmed all my worst fears. “Hiram!” I rushed across the narrow catwalk and dropped to my knees by his side. Tears filled my eyes, and my heart squeezed in my chest. “What happened?”

“Poppy, you have”—he wheezed in a breath and his eyes fluttered—“to go.”

“Who did this to you? Was it Meridian Eliver? What happened?” I held his face between my hands, but even in the dark I could tell he was pale, much too pale, and his cheeks were cold under my touch. There was something wrong with the way he was lying, as if he’d fallen in that position and hadn’t been able to get up. As I ran a hand over his chest, the now all-too-familiar feel of warm blood squished between my gloved fingers.

“Not safe.” He grimaced, and my heart twisted at the pain lining his face.

“Save your breath. I’ll get help.” I started to stand, but the faintest pressure on my hand urged me back down. Hiram was holding my fingers. Seeing him like this broke something inside of me.

“No.” Hiram’s fingers tightened just barely around mine, but his eyes told me what he wouldn’t.

I was too late.

“Please don’t leave me.” With shaking hands, I ripped off the under layer of my skirt and pressed it against his chest to slow the bleeding.

He winced at the pressure but looked at me again. “You have to go and don’t come back.”

“No.” Tears streamed down my face. “Don’t ask me to do that.” I wasn’t strong enough to carry him down the stairs, and I wasn’t sure he’d survive being moved. All I could do was go for help, but I couldn’t leave when he was watching me like that—like I was the only thing he wanted to see for however long he had left.

For a moment, we looked at each other and the world around us faded, leaving just Hiram, me, and the knowledge that my time with him was slipping away as surely as if I were in the past.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” With my free hand, I traced the faint scar on his left temple, down his jawline, and to his lips—lips that would never curve into that lopsided smile again. I’d never see the dimple that appeared when he tried not to laugh or that chipped tooth that somehow made everything seem all right in the moment.

The ticking of the clock was a cruel reminder that his heartbeat was slowing.

Hiram raised a trembling hand to my cheek and placed it there, the touch soft and faint. A sprinkle of sunlight fell on him from the clock faces above, making his blond head glint like a halo.

His gaze met mine, and despite the pain he was in, something like peace filled his expression before his eyes slid shut. His hand fell from my cheek and thudded against the ground.

“No!” I screamed the word and clutched his hand. “Hiram, please. Please be all right!” Sobs racked my chest and carried through my whole body, making it feel like I was coming apart at the seams. “Please,” I whispered brokenly.

Tears streamed down my face as I pressed my forehead to his.

But it was too late.

Hiram was gone.

Chapter 25

I stared down at Hiram’s still, lifeless form, hot tears spilling down my face. I couldn’t imagine never seeing the playful glint in his eyes or never hearing him call me Poppy again. Without Hiram, the world was much like this clock: dark, overwhelming, and hollow.

With the possibility of the killer still being around, I needed to leave, but I couldn’t make myself move. Instead, I pulled off my bloodied right glove and traced a hand down his cheek for one last touch. His stubble was rough against my fingers.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered as I moved my hand to the hollow of his throat, then to the area over his heart, which was still and silent beneath my touch. My finger brushed his badge, and the cool metal sent a chill through me. A blue spark jumped to my fingers, pulling me into the past.

My breath caught at the thought of leaving my body defenseless, but there was no stopping it as my spirit left my body. The world rushed around me for a few indeterminable moments, and my thoughts darted to Mamá’s ring. I’d have to be careful since the last few times I’d Slipped had affected my body once I returned to the present.

I crashed to the ground and took a second to catch my bearings. The darkness around me didn’t look too different from the shadows in the Epoch Clock I’d just left behind. In my hand, Hiram’s badge pulsed with the first warning that traveled through the room like a shock wave, pushing back the rolling mist until Hiram materialized next to me.

Seeing him move again, breathe again, made my chest clench. Maybe I could save him. The thought hit me like a steamroller, making it hard to breathe.

“I know you’re in here,” Hiram said as he ducked under something. A metal pipe came into view, then Hiram hurried across the open space and took cover near the far wall, one hand on his saber.

The catwalk appeared underfoot, and I looked up to find a pendulum overhead, which meant we were still in the Epoch Clock, but now we were much higher up, almost near the top.

“Hiram, you’ve got to get out of here.” I rushed to his side and tried to grab him, but my hands went right through. “Go get another officer. Don’t stay here alone!”

He cocked his head to the side, as if he were listening.

For a moment, my heart leapt. I’d never interacted with someone in the past before, but since I’d brought that paper back from the past, who knew what else was possible? But then the pervasive ticking sound started up along with a softer scuffle barely audible over the grinding of gears.

Someone else was in here with him right now. Most likely, it was Meridian Eliver, since that was who the officers had gone to arrest.

The badge pulsed with a warning.

The same strange buzzing filled the air as from the debate, and Hiram dove to the side. A beam of blue energy burned a hole in the catwalk, and the metal groaned and twisted, almost snapping in half.

The attack almost hit me, and my breath caught. What would happen to my body if I was injured while Slipping? It had never happened before, but that wasn’t the reassurance it used to be, especially considering how I’d experienced those new effects lately after returning to the present.

Hiram jumped to his feet and charged up the next set of stairs.

I didn’t have time to worry about myself, not when Hiram was in danger. I ran after him with my heart in my throat. There had to be something I could do besides watch him die.

Hiram pulled his saber free and swung it at someone. Another form materialized. A man wearing dark pants and a black shirt ducked under the blade. A bowler hat and a mask covered the killer’s—no, Meridian Eliver’s—face, and he held a strange gun in his hands similar to the one taken from the debate.

The Blue Capes had confiscated the last weapon when they’d captured the other culprit, so the two must be working together after all.

“Why did you kill Meridian Lambkins?” Hiram yelled as he swung again. The confined space, combined with the incessant ticking, made his voice distorted and echoey.

“He was in the way.”

Hiram’s badge thumped again, and I looked around, searching for some way to help.

The man pointed the gun at Hiram and pressed the trigger, and another aether bolt shot out. Hiram dove to the side, only just avoiding the attack. The move made his saber tumble from his hand. It skidded across the floor and dropped off the edge of the catwalk. Hiram kicked out his leg, knocking into Meridian Eliver.

The aether gun hit the ground with a clatter, and a few metal pieces popped loose as it slid from reach and fell down some of the stairs. It almost fell through the holes and plummeted into the dark, but the muzzle and handle caught on the narrow space between the steps just a few feet above me.

Meridian Eliver swore and jumped to his feet. He turned and ran toward me—or rather, at the gun—but he limped slightly. Hiram charged him, shoulder down. The impact sent them both to the ground, and part of the catwalk groaned. They rolled around on the narrow space and Hiram pulled off one of the man’s glove in the scuffle, revealing a ring. The same hourglass ring with the scythes.

With the unrelenting pounding of the badge in my hand, I looked away to scan the area again as more of my surroundings came into view. There was nothing except a few boxes and coils of rope.

The men scrambled back to their feet and started to fight, fists colliding with stomachs and elbows with jaws. Hiram tripped on a coil of rope lying on the catwalk, and Meridian Eliver kicked a wooden box at him. The collision knocked him back as pieces of wood splintered and shattered from the impact and clattered to the ground.

Hiram shook his head, his expression dazed. Meridian Eliver turned his back again. He limped a few steps in my direction, but Hiram grabbed his shirt and the two wrestled once more. Hiram threw him to the ground, but it was impossible to cheer for the momentary victory, knowing what was coming.

The badge thumped again.

The catwalk groaned again, then it snapped. The metal broke in two and caved inwards, and Hiram lurched forward, toppling over the edge.

“Hiram!” I screamed uselessly and climbed a few steps closer.

He caught himself on the railing, holding onto the thin metal desperately.

Thump.

Meridian Eliver used the railings to climb to his feet. He looked back at Hiram, who was struggling to pull himself to safety, then turned and limped toward me. No, not toward me. Toward the gun that materialized near my feet.

Thump.

All too clearly, I could see what was about to happen. Meridian Eliver would retrieve the gun and shoot Hiram, who would tumble to the ground floors below, where I’d find him taking his last breaths.

Thump.

Meridian Eliver approached, his footsteps a loud, solemn echo.

I couldn’t live with myself if I let Hiram die again. No matter what happened to me as a result of tinkering with the past, I had to do something.

I reached for the gun, but my hands grasped air.

Thump.

The catwalk groaned again as Hiram tried to pull himself up.

Help me, please, I pleaded with a glance at Mamá’s ring. I reached again. My fingers brushed cool metal before going through it and my breath quickened.

“Thank you for your service.” Meridian Eliver reached for the gun I was so close to grabbing, his mask not fully concealing the vindictive gleam in his eyes.

I focused every ounce of willpower on the gun as I reached out with a trembling hand.

Thump.

My fingers connected with the barrel, and I pushed it away on reflex.

Thump.

“How in the—” Meridian Eliver’s eyes widened, and he dove for it as it slid by but missed.

The gun scraped across the floor, then fell over the edge.

Around me, the world turned into blurred shapes and colors, but all I could do was stare at my hands. I’d interfered with the past—not just bringing a note back from it or touching something briefly but possibly changing what was going to happen.

Hope pounded a painful rhythm in my chest, and the world around me continued to dissolve. All I could do was wait to return to the present and see if Hiram was there. If he was alive.

The shapes started to bubble and morph, like acid was eating away at the past.

Lightning streaked across the sky, then turned and headed right for me.

I ran, but it struck me in the back, knocking me forward so I fell into nothingness. My body burned hot and cold, and the world around me drained of color until all that was left was a blinding white. It felt like I was being pulled in a hundred different directions. My body was going to crack under the pressure.

I screamed and tried to raise my hands to my head to keep it from splitting open, but I couldn’t move. An intense wind pulled at my hair and clothes. It slammed into me, incessantly. Unforgivingly. Tears streamed down my face, only to be snatched away by the wind.

I’d known there would be consequences, but I hadn’t anticipated something so severe. I’d interfered and now I was paying for it. Maybe with my life. Despite the pain and the very real chance that I was dying, I couldn’t bring myself to regret my decision if it meant I’d saved Hiram. He helped people every day and was one of the best men I knew.

The wind ripped the badge from my left hand. The pain grew more intense. Pinpricks of agony enveloped my entire body, and a sob shook me. At any moment now I’d be torn apart, as if the past and the present were both pulling on me, and my body was trying to go to both places at once.

The wind came again, this time tearing off my hat and my left glove.

A blinding flash of light surrounded me, wrapping me in a cocoon. It protected me from the storm, and finally I could breathe again through the pain. I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

The pain abated as the light increased. It came from Mamá’s ring. The light surrounded me, covering everything until I could no longer see.

“Oh, dearheart, you meddled with time,” a soft voice came from the bright nothingness around me. A voice I hadn’t heard in over ten years.

“Mamá?” I choked on the word.

“This is what happens when one tries to change the past.”

“I’m sorry. I had to. I couldn’t let him die.”

The light around me dimmed slightly, and Mamá’s voice softened. “So my little girl has fallen in love.”

“Mamá, I—”

“Hush now. There’s not much time left. You’ve already used some of the chrono-energy I stored in my ring, and the remainder is waning. You need to return to the present before it’s too late.”

The light dimmed again, enough that I could lower my hand and stop squinting. But I still couldn’t see Mamá.

“Promise me you won’t do this again,” Mamá said. “You’ll only be forgiven for your first offense.”

“Forgiven by whom?”

“Promise me.”

“All right, I promise.”

“My love is more—”

The light guttered, and I fell back into my body. I slumped forward, catching myself on the ground with my hands and stared at the ground. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my breaths came shakily.

But I was alive. Miraculously alive.

Chapter 26

I blinked back tears at Mamá’s voice. Even though she was dead, somehow her ring had saved me. I had no idea what she’d meant by chrono-energy or how I’d been able to talk to her, but all that mattered was that I was alive and that Hiram—

Hiram!

I looked around in the darkness, but his body was nowhere to be found. I was alone in the dark—or at least I hoped I was alone. The fact that nothing had happened to my body while I was gone hopefully meant the killer wasn’t around.

A muffled sob escaped, and I hurriedly wiped the tears from my eyes. Hiram must be alive or he would still been here. Did that mean that he’d heard my confession about how I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him? Unless the fact that he hadn’t died meant I’d never confessed. I had no idea how much of the past had still happened and how much had changed.

Shakily, I climbed to my feet and searched the landings for Hiram before making my way to the ground floor. My body ached with each step, and a headache built behind my eyes. The clock’s loud clicking had me glancing over my shoulder every once in a while. I couldn’t help but feel that I wasn’t alone in here after the fight I’d just seen, but I made it to the bottom without running into anyone else.

At the bottom floor, I let out a breath. Hiram wasn’t anywhere in the clock, so he had to be alive.

I stopped before opening the door. That weird storm had stolen my gloves and probably left me looking disheveled. I did my best to straighten my hair and my dress, then I used my skirt to open the door.

For a moment, I stood there, squinting in the brightness while my body ached. My feet itched to run to the Iron Watch to see if Hiram was there. To make sure he was safe.

I stumbled down the steps and waited for a chance to cross the hazardous lanes of traffic. My legs were weak, so I whistled at a nearby steamcab and climbed inside. “Please take me to the Iron Watch, then to Annandale Manor.”

The man bobbed his head, giving me a not-so-subtle once-over—no doubt recognizing me from the articles in the paper. He pulled off the roundabout and onto the street that led to the Eighth Chime.

I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. My hands trembled in my lap, and my body ached all over. Tomorrow was supposed to be my wedding day, with the renewal only days after. If I called off my engagement, the papers would explode and Papá would be furious. It might jeopardize his campaign for Prime Meridian as well as my plan to help the Lower Chimes, but with one candidate dead and another accused of murder, everything was already uncertain.

I’d agreed to the engagement because it made sense at the time. Desmarc and I both had something to gain, and I convinced myself I could learn to love him. But that illusion had shattered the moment I realized my heart held someone else. To go through with it now would be unfair to us both, a mistake that would wound deeper the longer I let it drag on.

Desmarc had always supported my ambitions, even offering to help me enroll in AIR U, but he didn’t understand my passions. He would never understand why the Iron Watch mattered or why helping the Lower Chimes was worth every risk. I couldn’t abandon that part of myself—not for him, not for anyone. I needed the chance to discover who I really was, to make choices without fear of compromise, and to build a future free of regret.

So, I couldn’t marry Desmarc. I cared for Hiram more than I’d thought possible—enough to risk my life, even change time itself for him. But more than that, I owed it to myself to make the right choice, not just the one that kept everyone else happy.

Desmarc deserved someone who could fully commit to him, someone who shared his values and vision for the future. I couldn’t give him that, and I didn’t want to trap either of us in a future where neither of us could truly be happy.

The driver stopped along the side of the road. “We’re here, miss.”

“Thank you.” I put a hand on the door but hesitated in the cab. I needed to see for myself that Hiram was alive, but I was scared. It was impossible to know if he remembered what I’d told him while he was dying or how he would react to seeing me.

“Are you going in?” the driver asked.

“I’m—”

As if he heard me, Hiram stepped out the imposing front doors. He took off down the street with purposeful strides, and I let out a breath.

He was fine. He was alive.

There were many things we needed to talk about, but all of them could wait until I had a chance to talk to Papá tonight and Desmarc in the morning.

I sat back in the seat. “Please take me to Annandale Manor.”

“As you wish, miss.”

Mamá’s ring sparkled in a burst of sunlight coming through the window, and I lifted my hand to study it. The inner glow I’d noticed when I first picked it up was gone. Now it looked like a normal silver band with a diamond resting among the swirls and shapes in the shield. Maybe that had been the chrono-energy Mamá had talked about.

My chest ached at the memory of her voice—or maybe it was just the residual pain still crackling through me—and I cradled my hand with her ring against my chest. There was so much about Slipping and Mamá I still didn’t know. I’d have to talk to Papá when I got home, if he was still willing to talk after the news I was going to share.

My mind circled back to that moment when I first heard Mamá and the warmth in her voice. It had felt so real, as though she had been standing right in front of me. I had no idea how I’d heard her or what had happened with the ring. The more I tried to think about it, the more tangled everything became. But one thing was certain: I needed to figure it out before it pulled me deeper into something I didn’t understand.

My body was exhausted after being attacked, and everything begged for me to close my eyes and rest. The motion of the steamcab and the hiss of the engine lulled me to sleep, and the next thing I knew, the driver called, “We’ve arrived.”

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, then stepped down and handed the driver a few knobs. “Thank you.”

As the steamcab pulled away, I stood there, staring up at the house and bracing myself for the confrontation. No matter what Papá said, I’d stand firm with my decision. I was through living my life for others or running away from my problems. trying to be something that I wasn’t. I was even through trying to be Mamá.

“Is that you, Kyra?”

“Yes, Papá.”

“One of Geneve’s ladies dropped off your wedding dress half an hour ago. It’s in your room.” He poked his head out of the study as he straightened his tie. One eyebrow rose as he took in my disheveled state. “Hurry and change for tonight’s charity gala so we aren’t late.”

I stayed silent as he walked down the hall, then stopped to look in a mirror with scrollwork decorating the frame. He straightened his hat and the high collar of his jacket, then smoothed a hand down the pinstripe pattern of his pants.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” He gave me a searching look through the mirror, proving that his primping was a facade to cover his nerves. “I shouldn’t have sprung the news of your mother on you so suddenly, and I shouldn’t have hidden the truth from you.”

My stomach twisted. Here Papá was apologizing and trying to mend broken gears between us, and I was about to throw a wrench in it all. “It’s all right.”

He sat on a bench by the door and leaned down to pull on a pair of polished leather boots, then straightened so the brass watch chain dangling from his pocket glinted in the light. “I’m glad to hear it. I love you, Kyra, and I know I haven’t been the best at being open. There’s a lot we need to talk about once things settle down. It will be different once I’m Prime Meridian.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “Actually, Papá, there’s something we need to talk about now.”

“What is it?” He brushed a speck of dust from the toe of his boot.

“I’m not marrying Desmarc tomorrow.” The words came out in a rush as if that made them easier to say.

Papá stilled, as if unable to look away from his shoes.

“It isn’t fair for either of us to go through with this.” I twisted my hands together behind my back. “I thought I loved him, but the truth is, I don’t. I—”

“Is this about that detective?”

I exhaled slowly to push away my frustration at his interruption. “In a way, I suppose, but I’m not choosing Hiram over Desmarc; I’m choosing me over Desmarc.” I tried to still my trembling hands, then I looked up at Papá. “A large reason I agreed to this marriage in the first place was because I was so desperate to get away from you and how you tried to control every aspect of my life.” He winced at that, but I plowed on. “But I’ve realized that I can’t use Desmarc to run away from my problems. I have to face them myself, and that means being honest with you.”

“How could you spring this on me so close to the renewal?”

“I know the timing is terrible, but I just realized it today. Maybe I should have seen it coming, or maybe I did and didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’m admitting it now.”

Papá let out a sharp breath, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “We’ve been planning this with Desmarc for months, you’ve been engaged for weeks, and yet you just realized it today?” His voice was tight, controlled, like he was barely holding back what he really wanted to say.

The walls felt like they were pressing in, the ticking of the grandfather clock unbearably loud in the silence. Maybe he was right and I was being selfish. The thought twisted in my gut like a blade. But no—no. I’d spent too long doing what was best for everyone else. Running away or doing what he wanted to keep things easy between us wasn’t something I could do anymore.

My pulse roared in my ears, but, for once, I didn’t back down. “I’m sorry to disappoint you and I’m sorry for hurting Desmarc. That’s the last thing I wanted.”

“And what am I supposed to tell everyone? What am I supposed to tell Desmarc? The wedding is tomorrow!” A vein bulged in his neck as he clenched his jaw and stood.

“You don’t have to tell Desmarc anything. I was the one who agreed to this, so I’ll be the one to tell him when he gets back in the morning,” I tried to keep my voice even, though nerves crowded my throat.

“You can’t cancel now.” He paced down the hall, then spun on his heel to come back.

I flinched away from him. “Aren’t you listening? I can’t marry Desmarc. Even if I still wanted to, he only agreed to keep our engagement as long as I promised not to work with the Blue Capes anymore, but my case isn’t over.”

He towered over me, something like panic and desperation in his expression. “You can’t work with the Blue Capes.”

“I know it’s dangerous, but I can help. I’ve been Slipping, and I can use what I find to help them with the case. I want to keep working on my ability. It’s a part of me, and one that I can’t just ignore and hide from my whole life.”

Papá flinched at the word Slipping as if I’d struck him.

We both stilled, and the moment drew immeasurably long between us.

Papá stood stiffly, and suddenly all I could see were the bags under his eyes and the slight hunch in his shoulders, as if a touch might break him.

He exhaled sharply, his fists unclenching.

I held my breath while hope flickered to life. Maybe this time—like with his platform—he would hear what I had to say.

“After everything I’ve done for you, for our family, this is how you repay me? You’re throwing away your future.” Papá opened his eyes slowly, as if unwilling to face what I was saying.

His words were a gust of wind, knocking into me so my hope flickered out.

“No, Papá. I’m throwing away your future for me.” I thought if I just worked up the nerve to talk to Papá, we’d be able to work things out, but I’d been wrong. We were too different, and we’d let too many things get between us.

“You have to go through with this marriage, Kyra. Everything is riding on it.” His voice echoed in the empty entry hall, the weight of his unspoken ultimatum hanging between us like smoke in the air, making it harder to breathe.

“I won’t.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t back down. No matter how desperate he was, he couldn’t force me.

He slammed a fist against the mirror, and the sound of breaking glass filled the silence between us. My own eyes stared back at me hopelessly from a dozen broken shards. Its fractured surface hung suspended, bearing the weight of my hopes, before the shards hit the floor in a tinkle of shattered glass and expectations.

We stood in silence for a long moment, the air thick with emotion. His chest heaved and my eyes pricked with tears and the broken pieces on the floor winked at me, a sharp reminder of how thoroughly our relationship shattered.

“Gwen never stood for it when I told her what to do either.” Papá turned away and walked to the door, as if he couldn’t even stand looking at me or how much I reminded him of Mamá. The words that should’ve been a compliment somehow sounded negative coming from him. “No matter how long I would wait for her to change her mind, she would stubbornly cling to her own beliefs, no matter the cost.”

I flinched, even though I’d spent my whole life trying to be like Mamá.

“You really are just like her.”

The front door closed behind him with a resounding click, leaving me staring at the swirling patterns in the dark wood, blinking back tears.

Chapter 27

The morning of my would-be wedding, my stomach was a tangle of nerves and excitement as I prepared for my visit with Desmarc. I’d sent him a message to his aether chip last night asking if we could talk, but he’d never responded. If only I could Slip to the future and be done with it.

I went to my closet to pick out an outfit, comforting myself with the hope that Desmarc and Papá could still work together without me.

I ran a hand over the small metal rings on the bust of my wedding dress and sighed. “Not today,” I muttered to the dress before picking a different outfit. I put on a beautifully crafted brown leather corset adorned with brass detailing that laced up the front and hugged my frame perfectly. I paired the top with a flowing, high-waisted skirt in a rich burgundy. The soft, comfortable fabric easily covered the knives I had strapped to each leg. Just because I wouldn’t be wearing my dress today didn’t mean I shouldn’t look my best.

After securing my loose bun with Mamá’s burnished hairpin and throwing on a hat, I crept down the stairs. Not that it mattered since Papá was in the dining room sipping a mug of tea.

He didn’t look up as I passed in the hall. “You’re still going through with it?”

“Yes.” I took another step, then paused again. “This is my mess and I’ll take care of everything. Once I’ve spoken with Desmarc, I’ll let the guests know and cancel everything.”

I didn’t give him time to respond before escaping outside.

I walked north toward the Eleventh Chime, giving myself time to practice what I’d decided to say last night. “So, Desmarc, I know this is sudden and that we’re supposed to be getting married tonight, but I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I shook my head. That was idiotic. I couldn’t say it like that, no matter how good it had sounded in bed last night.

“I know it’s a little late, but I realized that an arranged marriage maybe isn’t ideal. Better late than never, though, right?”

Thank the aether no one was around to hear my pathetic attempts, which didn’t get better no matter how many ways I tried to word it. Half an hour later, I’d made it to the Eleventh Chime and turned toward Edison’s Aircrafts, where Desmarc was surely waiting.

All too soon I made it to a majestic building with soaring sandstone pillars supporting the front. A small metal aircraft no longer than my body rested above the door with the words Edison’s Aircraft engraved in curling gold script.

I climbed the steps and pushed my way through the front door. The inside was strangely spacious compared to how it appeared on the outside.

“Welcome!” A short man with a dark mustache and a top hat strode toward me on a large crimson carpet that extended the length of the room. “You must be Kyra Annandale.”

“I am.” I stepped forward, and my leather shoe sank into the plush rug.

“Right this way, right this way. Meridian Kingsford is waiting for you.” He led me past a long wooden desk covered with miniature displays of airships. A large world map covered the right wall, while round red doors covered the left side.

“Where is he?” I asked as we walked through one of the red doors and into a glass elevator. The metal gears whirred as the man pressed a button, then we began to rise. Beneath us, the town fell away until I was left with a dizzying view of the land surrounding the town. The Steele River twisted between rolling green hills and eventually met up with the sea that sparkled in the distance like molten silver. Trees with leaves just beginning to change color dotted the land, and, in the distance, a few airships floated through the sky.

“He’s already in the airship. He said he wanted to confirm a few things with the captain before tonight’s departure.” The man glanced at his pocket watch as we continued to rise, then he shot me a small grin. “You’re a little earlier than expected—must’ve been eager to see your fiancé.”

I flushed and stared out the window, even as I tried not to focus on how high we were going. Letting him assume that felt wrong considering what I’d come here to do, but telling him before Desmarc felt even worse. So I stayed quiet. The ride was much smoother than expected, and once I looked around and saw the blue line of energy powering the elevator, I knew why. It was aether powered instead of steam powered.

We’d risen high enough that looking down made my stomach drop to my toes, so instead I studied the airship.

Tilting my head back, I admired the graceful curves and scrollwork along its elongated body made from polished brass and copper. Large, porthole-like windows offered glimpses into the interior, and giant propellers were mounted on each side of the hull. The sails jutted out, the semitransparent fabric ready to capture the wind and lift the craft into the skies.

“Here we are,” the man said as the elevator clanked to a stop level with the aircraft.

I followed him down a narrow path. The bottom appeared to be made of steel, but the walls and ceiling curved around me like a glass dome, making it impossible to forget how high we were. Thankfully, the walk took less than a minute before the tunnel connected with an airship.

Gratefully, I stepped onto its solid wooden flooring, then gazed around to admire its beauty. The first words that came to mind were spacious and luxurious—essentially the perfect place for a wedding. Light fixtures hung every few feet from the walls, their bright glow glinting off the polished brass and copper lining the walls and the dark wood of the floor.

“What do you think?” Desmarc broke off his conversation with a tall, stocky man who must’ve been the captain.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I walked over to him.

“We’ll give you two a moment,” the captain said before retreating to the perilous glass tunnel with my guide.

I tilted my head back and admired the carvings and etchings adorning the ceiling and the light fixtures crafted from antique glass and metal, trying to ignore my pounding heart or the way my palms grew sweaty in my gloves. “It really is perfect.”

“I can’t believe it’s tonight.” He glanced at me, only just then seeming to realize I was empty-handed. “Where’s your dress and suitcase?”

“I left them at home,” I said hesitantly, trying to push away the guilt eating at me.

“It’ll be hard for us to go on our honeymoon without your things,” he said with a smile.

“Desmarc, we need to talk.”

“Oh yes, I saw your message this morning. Sorry I didn’t get back to you. I figured we could talk when we met.” He climbed to his feet, limping slightly as he took a step. “Let’s chat while I show you some of the other rooms. You’re going to love them.”

A shot of alarm went through me. “Are you all right?”

“As embarrassing as it is to admit this, I twisted my ankle this morning.”

“Should we take you to a doctor?”

“No, it’s nothing that serious.” He started down the hall without me.

I followed him down a narrow hall and into a small room, which gas lamps filled with a warm glow. Bookshelves and cabinets filled with curiosities and artifacts lined three of the four walls, which curved gently to match the contours of the ship’s hull.

Nestled among the bookshelves stood a compact writing desk, its surface covered in a layer of dark leather. Brass gears and cogs adorned its edges, blending seamlessly with the metal frame. An ornate quill pen and a stack of parchment rested beside an inkwell. On the other side of the desk sat a plush armchair upholstered in rich velvet.

“Cozy, right?” He reached for my hand. “It’ll be perfect for the honeymoon.”

“Desmarc, I need to talk to you.” I bit my lip and stepped out of reach.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t marry you.” The words came out a guilty whisper. Not exactly smooth but not the worst of my attempts.

His eyes widened. “Why not?”

“I’m sorry.” I turned slightly to study one of the small mechanical devices on a bookshelf instead of staring at him. “It doesn’t feel right to go through with this now.”

“Did something happen?”

I hesitated, not sure how to sum up everything that had happened yesterday.

“Kyra, look at me.” Desmarc put a hand under my chin and gently turned me to face him. “We can work through this.” His green eyes pleaded with me. “Don’t throw away everything we’ve worked for. Everything your father has worked for.”

“That’s part of why I can’t do this. I’ve realized that I can’t get married simply for political reasons, and I think you need someone who shares your ideals.”

“I thought you shared my ideals.”

I laced my fingers together. “We do have a lot in common, but we also have things we don’t agree on, like helping the Lower Chimes and me helping the Blue Capes.”

Desmarc stiffened. “Did you go back to the Iron Watch?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Let me guess. You saw that detective again, and he persuaded you to help?” Desmarc’s expression darkened.

“No, I actually spoke with someone else,” I said hurriedly as my cheeks heated. “But once I arrived, I learned we’d caught the wrong person.”

“You said you were done working on the cases.”

“That’s because I thought the case was over, and it’s not.” I sighed and looked up at him. “This is really important to me, and I can tell me not doing it is important to you, which just proves my point that we aren’t a good match.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t get involved,” Desmarc said softly.

“I’m sorry.” I turned and walked over to stare out the window. Despite the way it made my stomach clench, it was still easier than facing Desmarc. I let out a long breath, the weight on my shoulders lightening. How long had my engagement been a burden? Confessing to Desmarc was more freeing than our wedding ever could have been. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“And I really didn’t want to hurt you.” He came and put a hand on my shoulder. “But with Meridian Lambkin’s death, I’m in too far to back out now. We can’t afford any mistakes.” A ring, hidden under his glove, dug into my shoulder.

“Desmarc, you’re holding me too tigh— Wait.” I spun around as much as I could despite his grip. “How did you know it was Meridian Lambkin who died? That information hasn’t been released to the public yet.”

Desmarc pulled a small metal cylinder from his pocket. He pressed a button and sprayed red gas at my face. It had a faint metallic odor, sharp and unsettling.

“What are you doing?” I blinked and rubbed my eyes.

Desmarc’s mouth fell into a hard line, and the warmth in his eyes disappeared. “What needs to be done.” His jaw tightened, the hard line removing any final traces of the Desmarc I thought I knew.

I tried to step back, but my limbs were heavy and sluggish. Each second felt like someone was adding weights to my body, dragging me down. I could barely hold myself upright. With each passing second, my limbs lost their strength, and my muscles felt like rusted gears, stiff and unresponsive.

My legs buckled, and I staggered to the side. Instinctively, I tried to catch myself on his arm, but instead it pulled his glove off.

“Desmarc, help.” I blinked at him and sank to my knees while the world blurred around me.

He caught me and lowered me the rest of the way to the ground. The silver ring on his finger chilled my arm. I looked down at it, though the motion made my head swim, and the world spun around me. My breath caught.

He wore a ring shaped like an hourglass made of scythes—the same ring as Hiram’s attacker.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

The weight of the truth crushed down on me like an anvil. Desmarc had attacked Hiram in the Epoch Clock. Not Meridian Eliver. He was the second killer.

A wave of cold washed over me, and my skin prickled as if a thousand needles rushed through my veins, numbing me. Desmarc always wore gloves to hide it, always made sure no one could see his hand. And his limp... He’d been injured fighting Hiram.

“I’m sorry, Kyra.” Desmarc’s voice reached me, but it was distorted, like it was echoing from far away. He sounded...distant, almost mechanical. “But I warned you, I’ll always choose duty over love.”

My breath caught in my chest, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to focus. The blackness at the edges of my vision pressed in tighter, closer. I could feel my senses slipping away the more I fought to hold onto consciousness.

But it was no use.

My eyelids fluttered closed, and blackness swallowed me.

Chapter 28

I woke with a start.

My eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness before I could take in the room around me. A bookshelf filled with books and tiny gadgets took up most of the space on one wall, while the other had a desk and an armoire. The large curtain covering the wall opposite the door and the curving walls told me I was still in the aircraft.

I sat up on the bed and held a hand to my spinning head. A chain clanked around my ankle with the movement.

Alarm spiked through me, and my breathing quickened. Memories of Desmarc came rushing back, and I blinked back tears as a shudder of revulsion rippled through me. Whatever he’d done to me had knocked me out, then he must’ve put me in one of the little side rooms on the aircraft. But it didn’t make sense that he hadn’t killed me like the other victims. Maybe he was hoping to blackmail Papá.

Why in the blighted aether had Desmarc tried to kill Hiram and, besides their scythe rings, how was he connected to the man who had committed the other murders?

“It’ll be all right, Kyra. You can handle this. Do not panic,” I mumbled to myself, even though my hand automatically went to check on my knives. They weren’t there. Both sheaths were empty. My breath hitched as I imagined Desmarc finding them and taking them. He must’ve seen me use them at the debate, otherwise he wouldn’t have even thought to check.

Pushing away my rising panic, I tried to still my trembling hands. I glanced at the closed door across the room, then turned my attention to the chain clasped around my leather boot. I had to get out of here before Desmarc came back to finish the job. If I could make it out of here and back to Papá, I’d be safe. It didn’t matter that we’d ended things on a bad note. Surely he’d be looking for me since I never came back this morning. I just needed to get off the airship before it left the ground.

Now that my eyes were fully adjusted, I could better see how Desmarc had looped one end of the chain around my ankle and the other around the foot of the bed. I was worse off without my knives, but not totally without options. I pulled the hairpin from my bun, grateful I still had it at least, and stuck it into the keyhole, trying to pick the lock. The tip scraped against something, but after a few fruitless minutes, I swore and lowered the hairpin. Maybe if it was a rope, I could’ve cut through it with the hairpin’s sharp edge—and that was a strong maybe—but this wasn’t going to work.

Trying to keep the chain from making too much noise, I slid awkwardly off the bed and onto the floor to study it more closely, shoving the pin in my pocket. The chain was snapped shut around the narrow part of the bed’s leg, so there was no way to push it up, and no way to push it down since the leg ended on a brass ball.

I braced my shoulder under the bed frame and lifted it, gritting my teeth as the metal dug into my skin. I couldn’t hold it for long, but a quick check of the foot of the bed proved it could be twisted. Heart pounding, I lowered the bed back to the floor with a quiet thump and glanced over my shoulder toward the door, waiting a beat to make sure no one outside would come in. I pulled my skirt up to provide extra padding for my neck and shoulders—no time for propriety now—and bent to put the foot of the bed back over one shoulder.

With a strained grunt, I lifted it a few inches from the floor and set to work unscrewing the brass knob at the foot. At first it was reluctant and screeched loudly as I twisted it, but it slowly loosened. The bed seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, but I finally got the brass ball off and slipped the chain loose. As quietly as I could, I lowered the bed back to the ground.

I was free...in a manner of speaking. I hefted the heavy chain off the ground and wrapped it around one arm to keep it from dragging as I walked. My fingers itched for a weapon of some sort, but all I had was the chain.

As I crept to the exit, my gaze snagged on the armoire. Something gleamed at me from inside the partially open door. Though I shouldn’t waste time, I walked over and pulled it open all the way. Inside, my wedding dress winked back at me.

I gasped and stumbled back, almost tripping with the unexpected weight of the chain. There was no way that Desmarc was still planning on going through with the wedding. It was preposterous. Even he couldn’t believe I’d still agree to this after everything he’d done.

Leaving the dress behind, I cracked the door to the hall open, blinking in the sudden light. Lanterns, attached to the wood walls with brass fixtures, lit the narrow space.

Easing the door open wider, I slipped into the hall, grateful for the carpet muffling my footsteps. Voices drifted to me from one end, so I went the other way. I couldn’t risk running into Desmarc, not like this. My best chance was to get off the airship.

I walked carefully and slowly to keep the chain from making any noise. My right footstep was heavy, but at least my boot protected me from the shackle cutting into my skin.

I made it to the end of the hall without seeing anyone, but also without figuring out where I was. The aircraft was quite large, and I wasn’t sure how to find my way around it. The sound of my heart pounding in my ears made it hard to listen for sounds of approach, and the chain threatened to slip from my sweaty palms.

Reaching an intersection at the end of the hall, I turned left and kept walking, doing my best to ignore the buzzing sensation in my chest. Doors still lined both sides of the hall, but I didn’t need guest rooms and storage. I needed to find the main cabin. That was my surest way off.

I made it down another wooden hall before I stopped short.

Ahead of me, a large window revealed the dark world outside, telling me I’d been asleep for hours and it was already nighttime. It was time for my wedding, and I hadn’t told anyone but Papá and Desmarc that I wasn’t going through with it.

I swore and stepped closer to the window, doing my best to ignore the way my stomach squirmed. I looked out the window to get a better idea of where I was on the ship, but all I could see were the blades of the propellers emitting rhythmic puffs of steam with every rotation.

The aether lighting had turned on as evening settled over us, infusing the ship’s exterior with an ethereal glow. It matched the stars twinkling above us, millions of lights trapped in the black fabric of space, and for a moment, despite how terrible the situation was, I couldn’t help but admire their beauty.

Until I looked down and saw the sea of lights beneath me. We were miles above the city, much higher than we’d been earlier while docked. My stomach dipped again, and an image of me falling through the glass and hurtling into the darkness below flashed through my head.

I swallowed hard to avoid throwing up and stepped back. The ship was already flying through the air and there was no escape. The best I could do for now was hide and try to avoid Desmarc until the ship landed. I needed a place where I could sit and think so I didn’t stumble blindly into another trap.

The memory of his cold green eyes made me shiver, and I dashed away an errant tear. I’d been such a fool to believe in him. Desmarc had played us perfectly. A dependable and politically savvy son-in-law for Papá and a dedicated husband who would support me. I should’ve trusted my instincts, especially after hearing what he thought of the Lower Chimes. Because look where my naivete had landed me. On an airship in the middle of the sky with a murderer. My thoughts darted to Hiram, and I bit my lip to keep from crying. Hopefully he was all right. Aether willing, I’d see him again soon.

I traversed another hallway, but unlike the previous ones, doors only lined one side of it. A large window providing access to the stomach-churning view took up the opposite wall. Keeping my attention ahead of me instead of to the side, I continued forward. I’d made it to the side of the ship, so if I pressed forward and stayed along the edge, eventually I’d make it back to the main cabin through one of its many entrances. And once I knew where I was, and, more importantly, how to get off, I could find a hiding spot and wait for the right moment.

Anxiety itched across the back of my neck, and my hands grew sweaty in their gloves. But I didn’t dare take them off. Now definitely wasn’t the time to Slip and leave my body defenseless.

I turned another corner and started down the next hall, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to be getting close. I could do this. I hadn’t come this far to end up in the hands of a killer.

Voices grew louder as I continued. If there were people, maybe there was a door. I had to at least look. Then, if I recognized anyone, maybe I could ask for help. I’d just have to pray that none of them were working with Desmarc.

Pressing my arm with the chain tightly against my body to keep it from making noise, I took another step forward and peeked around the corner.

Dozens of people dressed in finery crowded the hall, and, through an open door on the other side, I could just barely make out the main cabin.

The sight of them made my head buzz with a nervous energy. Their silk gowns and fine suits told me what I’d refused to believe: they were here for my wedding. I swallowed down my rising panic and tried to think. There wasn’t much they could do with us in the sky, but they could at least help hide me.

If they believed me. Desmarc was a well-liked and respected and public figure.

The chain around my arm cut through my thin glove, its harsh metal icy against my skin. I looked down at it. I was an idiot. Of course they’d believe me. I still had a chain attached to me.

A familiar voice drew my attention back to the crowd, and I scanned the gathering until I found Papá standing with his back to me.

Relief rushed through me. He could fix this. No matter how we’d ended things, he’d always prioritized my safety first. “Pa—”

A gloved hand wrapped around my mouth and jerked me back against a hard body, muffling my scream.

Chapter 29

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a menacing voice whispered against my ear.

I struggled against Desmarc, but he’d grabbed the chain’s end and looped it around my body so that it pinioned my arm to my side. As we fought, he dragged me back a few steps, his arm looped around my middle. He opened a door with one hand and pushed against it with his back and we eased into a room. Desmarc spun around and leaned against it with his back before releasing me.

“Look at you, my feisty little fiancée.” He tsked and shook his head, but he gave me a small grin, almost as if he were proud of me.

“What do you want?” I glared at him, rubbing my side where the chain had cut into me, then I glanced to each side to take in the new room, which was similar to the one I’d just left.

“What do you think?” He gave me a cool smile. “I want to get married.”

“I’ll never marry you,” I hissed. “Not after what you’ve done.”

“I hardly think helping my fiancée, who unfortunately passed out on the airship, should count against me.”

I took a step back, but it only seemed to encourage him to take a step forward. He limped slightly from his injury, but otherwise moved fine. “You tried to kill Hiram!” My hand twitched to go for the knives that weren’t there.

Desmarc shrugged, though his sharp gaze tracked the movement as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. “He was getting too close.”

“Too close to what?” I waited, half-expecting him to say Hiram had gotten too close to me.

His expression hardened. “It doesn’t matter. We have wedding preparations to attend to.”

“Why? What benefit would you get from marrying me now that I know the truth?”

“Because I was ordered to join the Annandale family.”

He said it so simply, as though the answer itself didn’t open up a hundred new questions, like who had ordered him to marry me and why. There was clearly much more at play here than I’d realized.

“But I’m afraid there’s no time for chitchat,” he said. “We’ve got a room full of guests waiting on us, and I don’t want us to be late.”

“As soon as you let me out of these doors I’ll run and tell everyone exactly what you’ve done.” I dropped a hand into my pocket and wrapped it around my thimble.

“I don’t think you will,” he said far too calmly.

Goose bumps skittered across the back of my neck. Desmarc still had some hidden screw up his sleeve, or else he wouldn’t be so confident.

“And why wouldn’t I? You’ve broken at least three different laws, from kidnapping, to attempted murder, to actual murder—since I’m assuming it was you that killed Meridian Lambkins.”

“It was.”

I recoiled from his casual admittance. “How could you?”

“With Meridian Lambkins out of the way and dying by an aether weapon at that, it severely weakened Meridian Eliver’s platform while strengthening your father’s.”

His logical explanations brought me back to the day of the debate. And then I remembered how surprised Desmarc had looked. He’d been staring at the murderer like the rest of us, but there’d been something different in his expression. He wasn’t surprised the murderer had been there but that he’d been caught. Because, of course, he’d known the whole time what was about to happen.

“So Meridian Eliver had nothing to do with it?”

“Just another cog,” he said, mirroring my words from the engagement party that felt like a lifetime ago. His eyes narrowed and he approached slowly. “Now, I’m going to approach you and take that chain off your leg.”

“You are?” My heart skipped a beat. With the chain gone, that could be my chance to escape—not that there was really anywhere to go with the ship already in the air.

“Yes, I can’t have my fiancée walking around looking like that,” he said. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t try anything foolish.”

I held still as he approached, though every instinct screamed at me to move. To run. Maybe trying to escape was foolish with nowhere to go, but it couldn’t be more foolish than simply going along with Desmarc’s plans.

Desmarc knelt and put one hand on my ankle while his other fished a key from his pocket. I tried not to shudder under his touch, instead focusing all my energy on holding still and preparing for the moment the lock clicked open.

“Now remember,” he said as he tightened his grip and twisted the key in the lock, “don’t try anything—”

“Foolish, I know.” I brought my knee up to his face, and he groaned and fell back. At least my crimson skirt would hide the blood.

I jumped over his prone form and darted toward the door. I was free of him and of his chains. Now I just needed to get into the hall and find Papá and tell him what happened. No matter how much he wanted to be Prime Meridian, he’d never let me marry a murderer.

My gloved hand slid off the handle at first, but I grabbed it again and frantically pulled. Except it didn’t move. It was locked. With fumbling fingers, I reached for the lock just as a hand wrapped around my ankle and pulled.

My leg flew out from under me as my head smacked into the door. A sharp pain went through my forehead, and I groaned. Before I could climb back to my feet, Desmarc was on me.

“What did I tell you about behaving foolishly?” he breathed into my ear as his weight pressed down on my back, pinning me to the floor.

“Trying to get away from my kidnapper seems the opposite of foolish to me,” I grunted while trying to push his weight off. I focused my efforts on his injured leg—or supposedly injured leg—but couldn’t get much leverage from that angle.

Desmarc flipped me over so I was staring up at him, then he pinned my legs in place with his knees and held my hands above my head. “I haven’t worked this hard for you to ruin it now, Kyra. You will marry me.” A drop of warm blood fell from his mouth and splashed onto my cheek.

“You’re insane.” And he looked it too with his clothes a mess and bloody mouth. I shifted to try to work a leg free. “I’d rather die than marry you.”

“You won’t be the one who dies.”

I froze and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t marry me, your dear detective is as good as dead.”

Chapter 30

“What are you talking about? You can’t hurt him.” My shaking voice countered the bravado I was going for as I stared up at Desmarc.

“That was true when you arrived this morning, but once you figured it out, I made a special trip for him.” His long fingers dug into my shoulders with his tight grip. “If you won’t marry me for me, then you’ll marry me for him.”

“You mean he’s here as a wedding guest?” I asked hesitantly.

Desmarc smirked. “Of a sort.”

I flinched. If he was telling the truth, Hiram was in danger in and it was all my fault.

Desmarc released one of his hands and brushed his sleeve across his face, but I didn’t move. Maybe he was bluffing, but if he wasn’t, I couldn’t let me be the reason Hiram got hurt again.

“Now I’m going to have to change my shirt before the ceremony.” He grimaced and swiped at the blood running down his chin.

I swallowed. “I want to see him.”

“What? You don’t trust me?” Desmarc smirked at me.

I glared at him.

“All right.” Desmarc shrugged and climbed to his feet. “It will cost me nothing.” He grinned, and the sight made him look all the more deranged with the blood dripping down his face. “But it might cost you quite a lot.”

I fought off a shiver at his ominous words and climbed to my feet. If he’d been lying, it didn’t make sense for him to give in to my demands so easily.

Desmarc opened a side door that revealed a small bathroom. He washed his face and fixed his mussed hair, but there was nothing he could do about the blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Clean yourself up.” His gaze flicked to me in the mirror. “You look dreadful.”

I scowled but pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped his blood from my face. I ran a finger through the snarls, then quickly tied it in a loose braid to hide any remaining signs of mess.

“Let’s go.” Desmarc held his arm out to me with a congenial smile—the same smile he’d given me so many times before. How could I have missed the hint of madness in his eyes?

I placed just the tips of my fingers in the crook of his arm.

“If we meet anyone on our way, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what to do.” He placed his hand over mine in a silent warning.

“No,” I gritted out.

He led us into the hall, which was empty, though the chatter of happy voices floated from just around the corner. Instead of turning left and joining the group, we turned right and made our way down the hall. While the allure of losing myself in a group and finding Papá tried to pull me back, the thought of Hiram somewhere on board at the mercy of the desperate man next to me kept me matching my pace with his.

Another turn brought me to a hall I’d traversed just a few minutes ago—a few minutes that felt like a lifetime. Desmarc pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door to a suite that was slightly larger than the one we’d just been in but with the same general layout. A bed rested against one wall with a nightstand and armoire on either side, one wall held the usual bookshelves and cabinets, and the other had a giant window to provide a spectacular view.

A large man with an angry scar across one cheek leaned against the wall. When he saw Desmarc, he straightened and shifted the gun in his hand. It was one of the same strange weapons from before—some sort of new aether technology. How had they made so many of them so quickly?

“Nothing to report, sir.”

“Very good,” Desmarc said. “Open the armoire.”

The man raised an eyebrow but pulled a small metal key from his pocket. Seconds later, the door popped open, and he stepped back, revealing Hiram tied up and shoved into a space that was much too small for him. His eyes were closed and his head leaned awkwardly back. A trickle of blood ran from his temple.

“What did you do?” I tore free of Desmarc and rushed forward, heart in my throat.

The man blocked my way, but Desmarc cleared his throat behind me, and he moved.

“Hiram!” I put a hand on his cheek. “Hiram!” My breath rushed from me at his warm skin. He was alive. Just unconscious. Some of the tightness in my chest eased.

He groaned and shifted but didn’t open his eyes. His feet were tied together, and so were his hands, with a short length of rope tying the knots together so he couldn’t fully extend his body even if he hadn’t been crammed into a tight space.

“What’s wrong with him?” I shot Desmarc an icy look over my shoulder.

“He’s just unconscious.” He pulled a shirt out of another dresser and changed. “I gave him the same thing I gave you.”

“Hiram, wake up.” I put a hand on his cheek, and my glove rubbed against his stubble.

“It was unbelievable really, how easily I lured him out. I mentioned that you were in trouble and he came running like a fool.” Desmarc scoffed. “This is why it’s better to focus on duty over love. Love makes people stupid.”

My heart twisted. Hiram’s earlier encounter with Desmarc was from following leads and doing his job, but him being in danger now was all my fault.

I pulled out my handkerchief to wipe the trickle of blood.

Hiram’s eyes opened.

Tears sprang to mine in response. “You’re all right.”

His eyes widened as he took me in, and he struggled against his bonds. His gag muffled whatever words he was trying to say, but I was pretty sure at least one was Poppy.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I whispered and rubbed Hiram’s chafed wrists between my hands. I couldn’t do anything about the knots, at least not now with Desmarc watching, but maybe I could get some circulation back in his hands. If I could find a way to reach into my dress without Desmarc noticing I could pass Hiram my hairpin.

“Well, as touching as this reunion has been, we should get going,” Desmarc said. “We have a room full of people waiting for us to make our appearance.”

I stood and turned to face Desmarc, wiping a hand down my skirt nervously. At least, that’s what I hoped it looked like to Desmarc and the other goon. “Think about this rationally, Desmarc. This isn’t going to work,” I said. “What about after the wedding?”

“What about it?”

“You can’t just keep Hiram tied forever, and as soon as I don’t have a reason to stay, I’m leaving you.” If I could, I’d do more than that. I had to keep talking to buy myself time. With my other hand, I reached into the pocket of my dress for my hairpin. It was no knife, but it was the only thing I had that had even a chance of cutting through his ropes.

“Who says I can’t?” He raised an eyebrow. “I rather enjoy how obedient you are now that I have leverage. Think of it this way: One step out of place, and I stick a knife through your detective,” he said. “Nowhere fatal, of course. I wouldn’t want to end the game too soon.”

I tried not to flinch as he vocalized my own thoughts. “You can’t keep this up forever.”

“I don’t have to keep it up forever. Just until I get what I need.” He tilted his head to the side and studied me quizzically. “Why don’t the three of us focus on getting through today?”

My breath caught at his casual reference to murder and I remembered what he’d said about being ordered to do this. For a moment, I froze, but then I stumbled back a step and widened my eyes at his words. “You can’t kill him.” My movement put the back of my legs against the armoire even while I tried not to think too hard about the implication of Desmarc’s words. He’d just threatened me in front of Hiram, which meant he had no intention of letting either of us go no matter what I did.

“You should know by now that I’m more than capable of accomplishing my goals.”

With my free hand, I grabbed the engagement necklace and held it up while I slowly eased my hairpin behind my back. “Does this mean nothing to you? You made a promise to me when you gave me this—”

“You shouldn’t lecture me about promises,” he snarled. “Not when you came here to dissolve our engagement on the morning of our wedding.”

Behind me, I sensed Hiram stiffen with surprise, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of Desmarc’s words or because of the hairpin I’d just dropped into his lap.

“Now come.” Desmarc stepped forward and grabbed the arm holding the necklace, yanking me so hard the chain snapped and tiny pieces of metal clanged to the floor with hollow thuds. “It’s time.”

I stumbled away from Hiram, praying he’d had a chance to hide the pin before anyone saw.

“Do you still have the communications device?” Desmarc asked the other man as he pulled me from the room, who nodded and held up a small black box.

“If you hear anything from me during the ceremony, start with his leg.”

My breath caught at the casual reference to all the pain he was willing to inflict on Hiram—not just a slow death but a drawn-out torture to ensure my cooperation.

The guard nodded a little too eagerly and tightened his grip on the strange gun.

It didn’t seem safe to fire those on the airship, but Desmarc clearly wasn’t worried about the danger.

I peered over my shoulder one more time to meet Hiram’s gaze. His eyes pleaded with me not to do this, but I shook my head once. The grunt closed the door, cutting Hiram off from view and my heart stuttered in my chest.

“Wait.” Desmarc pulled me to a stop and glanced back toward the armoire. “Open it.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Had he seen me drop the hairpin?

The man opened the door once more and Desmarc jerked me closer so we stood just a few feet in front of Hiram. Suddenly, Desmarc pulled me to him, and his lips crashed against mine.

I stiffened in shock, then I struggled to shove Desmarc away, though his arm was an iron band around my middle.

Hiram shouted, the sound muffled by the gag in his mouth.

“Stop!” I finally pushed away from Desmarc, though only because he let me.

Desmarc grinned at Hiram, then turned to me. “You’re going to have to do better than that. You need to convince everyone this is real if you wish to save his life.”

My gaze drifted to Hiram, whose eyes were blazing. I don’t know if he remembered the first time in the Epoch Clock, but if this was the last time we were going to see each other—

No, I couldn’t think that. We would make it out of this.

“Now come,” Desmarc said as he pulled me into the hall. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the ceremony.”

Chapter 31

Back in my room, I pulled my wedding dress from the armoire. Despite its beauty, I couldn’t help but grimace as I ran a hand over the tiny metal links across the bust. It represented the foolish, naive girl I’d been when I’d been willing to run away from my problems. There was no running anymore, though, not with Hiram’s life on the line.

With shaking hands, I took off my bloodied clothes and pulled the dress on. What could I do to get us out of this? I couldn’t walk to my wedding like a broken server bot to the disassembly line. Even if I married Desmarc, it would only delay the inevitable.

A knock sounded on the door, and I stiffened.

“Can I come in?”

Some of the tension in my shoulders disappeared as I recognized Geneve’s voice. I opened the door, and she walked inside in a glimmer of emerald fabric.

Her smile morphed to a look of concern, and her eyebrows furrowed over her dark eyes. “Is everything all right?” She lightly brushed a finger where a bruise must’ve been forming.

“I need your help,” I said hurriedly.

“Help with what?” she asked as a woman I didn’t recognize walked in behind her.

I bit my lip. There was no way to know if she was working with Desmarc but my gut told me she was. My heart stuttered as I remembered Hiram at that man’s mercy.

“Kyra?” Geneve didn’t seem to pay the woman a second thought as she started tidying the room.

“Oh, um, with my corset.” I lifted my hair off my back and turned away from Geneve, blinking back tears of disappointment.

She got to work doing up the corset with her deft, skillful fingers. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh, I fell,” I mumbled.

“That’s not a good sign.” Geneve tightened the leather corset, making sure not to break any of the delicate metal rings attached to it. “And neither is this weather. Where did the clear skies go?”

I glanced toward the window to find the once serene sky was now a maelstrom of swirling vapors and turbulent currents. Outside the window, deep-gray clouds twisted with an ominous energy. “I don’t know,” I murmured.

“So much for weather predictions,” Geneve said. “These things rarely go as we expect, but I suppose it can’t be helped now.” After a moment of silence, Geneve asked, “Are you excited?”

“More like nervous.” With another glance at the other woman, I thought of Hiram and resisted the urge to tell her anything else. Instead, I looked at my skirt to hide my expression and ran a hand down the elaborate clockwork mechanisms intertwined with the gauzy fabric.

“That’s all right. It’s normal to be nervous on your wedding day.” Geneve slipped the veil into my hair. The lacework was woven into a beautiful floral pattern with metal adornments.

“Here. I made these for you as a wedding gift.” She handed me a pair of gloves whose intricate lace detailing matched the aesthetics of the dress perfectly. “I didn’t think you should wear the ones you’re always using on a special day like today.”

“Oh Geneve, they’re beautiful.” I hesitated slightly before pulling off my old gloves and accepting them. Thankfully, no blue spark appeared, so I pulled them on.

“I’m so proud of you.” She pulled me into a hug. “You’ve really grown up.”

“Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around her, trying to blink back tears. I’d just pretend she was proud of me for being brave. If she knew what I was going through, that was definitely what she’d be complimenting me on. Because the idea of marrying Desmarc terrified me, and only the thought of Hiram kept my feet in place.

Outside, the wind howled, as if sharing my concerns. Its voice rose and fell in a symphony of power as it buffeted the airship, making the craft sway and groan as if the storm was trying to verbalize the protest that I couldn’t. The brass and metal from the rigging hit the hull in a series of metallic clanks, and my pulse sped up. I tried to calm myself with a few deep breaths and force away thoughts about how high we were and how easy it would be for the ship to crash and kill us all.

“Looks like we’re going to be in for a rough one.” Geneve pulled away, and the material of my dress snagged her sleeve, ripping the fabric.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can fix this in no time.” She pursed her lips and studied my dress. “But part of your dress is damaged. That won’t do at all.” She fiddled with the material, trying to work the metal so it didn’t protrude. She pulled a small sewing kit from her leather, corset-style belt.

“Actually, I’ll handle that.” I looked at the sharp piece of metal. It was no knife, but maybe I could fashion a makeshift weapon from my dress. “Could I borrow your sewing kit?”

“What would people say if I let the bride handle something like this on her wedding day?” She tsked and shook her head.

“Please, Geneve. It’ll be good for me.” I grabbed her hands and gave her a pleading look. “It’ll help keep me busy, so I don’t feel so nervous before the ceremony.”

She sighed and passed me her travel kit. “All right. I’ll go find the woman in charge of your makeup. She should’ve been here already.”

“Thank you.” I gripped the sewing kit tightly in my hands and looked at the other woman. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy.”

She looked at me for a long moment, then curtsied and wordlessly followed Geneve into the hall. As soon as the door shut behind them, I set to work with the seam ripper. There wasn’t time to sew in a secret pocket. The best I could do was try to loosen one of the pieces of metal around my waist. Maybe there would be no chance to use it, but at least I wouldn’t go into this wedding with only tiny sewing scissors for protection.

I sliced off the loose loop that had come partially unwound from the corset and hid it inside one of my gloves. Now it resembled a nail with a curled end, though it was only two inches in length. Once that was done, I studied the waist of my dress where the leather and metal met the feathers and lace.

Voices came from outside the door, and I worked faster.

I cut off one of the glass pieces that rested just below my waist, leaving a bald spot in the design. Its edges had been smoothed, which was the opposite of what I needed. I gripped the top and bottom half of the glass and smashed it against the edge of the desk. Thankfully, it cracked cleanly in two.

I pulled off a glove and lightly ran a finger over the jagged edge. A thin cut appeared on my finger, and a tiny drop of blood welled up.

It would have to do.

I tied a spare scrap of fabric around the finger until the bleeding stopped and grabbed some thread from the kit and very lightly began to sew it back into place. The top half I fastened securely, trying to make it match the rest of the dress perfectly and not draw attention. Using careful, neat stitches, I worked my way around the glass, trying not to poke myself through the skirt.

Another knock sounded at the door, followed by a “Miss, can I come in?”

“Just a moment.” As quickly as I could, I finished up the bottom of the mirror. That piece I only attached with a few stitches, making sure it was secure enough not to stand out but loose enough that I’d be able to yank it free if I needed it. “All right,” I called as I tied off the knot and cut the rest of the thread.

The door clicked open, and a head piled high with red curls poked in. “We don’t have very long.” She bustled into the room, hefting a large box of cosmetics. The other woman followed behind her again.

“All right.” I tried to slow my breathing and appear normal, though my heart was pounding. Between the tiny nail in my glove and the piece of broken glass, it wasn’t much protection, but it was better than nothing.

“Well, don’t you look lovely.” She put her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. “I haven’t ever seen a dress quite like that.”

“I designed it myself,” I said as I sat in front of the mirror. Outside, the storm continued to increase in fury, and I tightened my hands into fists on my knees, fighting for even breaths.

“It’s beautiful, and so are you.” She opened her box and grabbed a handful of brushes and creams. “But let’s see if we can’t get you to look even more stunning and really get a reaction from Meridian Kingsford, shall we?”

I hid my grimace behind an even expression as she worked, hoping she’d just account it to nerves. I stayed silent while she prattled on until a knock at the door made me stiffen.

“Kyra, are you ready?” Desmarc said as he strolled in. “It’s time.”

His expertly tailored jacket provided a sleek silhouette that matched the slim pants which accentuated his physique. And his new white shirt with a ruffle going down the front bore no signs of his earlier bleeding.

“Oh my,” the makeup woman said under her breath.

How could he be so attractive on the outside yet so repulsive on the inside?

I turned from Desmarc and tried to help the woman clean up—anything to delay the inevitable—but she shooed me out the door. “I’ll handle this.”

“You look beautiful.” Desmarc pulled me into a hug and buried his face in my neck. “Remember what’s at stake,” he added in a lower pitch that the woman couldn’t hear.

Behind my back, both women sighed as if they thought he were whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Then again, our entire relationship had been built upon sweet nothings.

I nodded stiffly and pasted on a fake smile even though my palms were sweating.

“Let’s go.” He held out his arm to me, appearing ever the gentleman.

I put my hand in the crook of his arm, and he covered my hand with his as we walked into the hall. Though I wanted to pay attention to my surroundings, it was all I could do to not hyperventilate.

In the hall, the storm wasn’t quite as loud as in the rooms with windows, and I could almost forget about it. Sort of like I could almost forget about what I was about to do.

“Kyra!” Papá approached from down the hall, the worry on his face melting into one of confusion. “Are you all right? I got your note this morning.”

My note?

The pressure of Desmarc’s hand over mine increased slightly.

Of course. Desmarc must have known I would’ve told Papá I was canceling the wedding, so he’d forged a note from me to allay his suspicions. “I’m all right. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

Papá studied my face intently, then he looked at Desmarc. “So, it sounds like you two talked it out, then?”

“We did.” Despite Desmarc’s even tone, his grip on my hand tightened.

Papá was silent a moment, then he looked at me. “Can I talk to you privately for a moment, Kyra?”

Desmarc’s grip grew painful in warning.

“It’s all right, Papá. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Desmarc. I’ve already told him all my concerns.”

Papá’s eyes widened. “And the two of you are still going through with this marriage?”

“We decided it’s what’s best for everyone.” Desmarc leaned down and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I fought off a shudder by forcing myself to think of Hiram.

“Truly?” Papá gave me one more searching look.

“Truly. Everything is fine.” My mind raced as I tried to come up with a way to tell Papá that things were not at all fine without alerting Desmarc. “This is what Mamá would’ve wanted.”

“Seeing you happily married is what we both want,” Papá said.

“I know,” I said. “I just needed a moment to accept it. Sort of like Mamá when you told her what to do. She always took a while to realize you were right.” He had to remember that this was the exact opposite of what he’d told me. And if he did, maybe he’d realize that everything else I was saying was nonsense too. “Marriage is a big decision. I just had cold feet yesterday.”

“I see,” Papá said slowly.

And I prayed that he really did see. If anyone could do something to help me, it would be Papá.

“We better go,” Desmarc said as the strains of a dance drifted from down the hall. “It sounds like they’re getting ready to start without us.”

“Can’t have that.” Papá laughed. “It wouldn’t be much of an event without you two.”

My stomach dropped. Maybe Papá had missed my hint after all. I bit my lip and blinked back tears before Desmarc could notice.

“I was on my way to the bathroom when I found you, so why don’t you two go ahead of me.” He slapped Desmarc on the shoulder. “I’d hate to be the one to delay the proceedings.”

“Of course, Meridian Annandale,” he said. “We’ll see you inside.”

“Keep that up and your detective can live a bit longer.” Desmarc murmured against my ear as we continued down the hall.

His words stoked a deeper fear. Hiram was already dead no matter what unless I could find some way to stop Desmarc completely.

We stopped in front of a pair of large wooden double doors that led to the main cabin. Music, conversation, and a sense of eager anticipation floated from under the doors, telling me everyone was already in there waiting.

This was really happening. I was about to marry a murderer, and I couldn’t figure out a single way to stop it.

Chapter 32

My heart jumped to my throat as I stared at the wooden doors in front of us.

“You’ve already fooled the toughest person,” Desmarc murmured to me. “Now you just have a room full of guests.” He pulled my veil down to cover my face, covering my expression. At least that meant I wouldn’t have to pretend the whole time.

“All right,” I said after a few beats since it seemed like he expected some sort of response.

Desmarc pushed open the door and led us inside as the music swelled to a crescendo.

Every head in the room turned to face us. The cloying scent of perfume and wood polish drifted in the air along with the sounds of hushed conversation.

I struggled to keep up the charade as my breathing grew faster and faster.

Resting a trembling hand on Desmarc’s arm, I walked down the aisle beside him. I was surrounded by a sea of faces, but I still felt completely alone. No one here knew what I was going through, except for Desmarc—the man who’d caused it all.

My feet dragged, but Desmarc’s steady pace pulled me on, his tight grip reminding me of everything I had to lose. Maybe I couldn’t be with Hiram, but I could at least keep him alive—if he’d managed to use the hairpin to get free. But even then, what chance did he have against a thug with an aether gun?

I stared down at the white lace of my train as it dragged against the floor’s polished dark wood to avoid seeing the excitement in everyone’s eyes.

Desmarc drew us farther into the room. A long table topped with snacks and desserts rested against the side wall. Although it was already too late, I scanned the brass candlesticks, leather-bound books, and antique keys decorating the table for a better weapon.

The guests were a mix of the three classes, no doubt Papá’s attempt at strengthening his platform. With everyone crowded together, the only way you could tell them apart was from the quality of their clothes and what they threw at us as we walked by. Those from the Lower Chimes tossed small gears and cogs at our feet while saying, “May your marriage run as smoothly as an oiled machine.” Guests from the Middle Chimes threw white petals over us, calling, “May your love bloom like these flowers,” while those from the Upper Chimes threw knobs and knuts at our feet and said, “May your life be full of riches and success.”

Considering I’d been altering my dress so I’d have a weapon to use on Desmarc and he’d kidnapped me for this, I was pretty confident our love had wilted before it bloomed and our marriage was already worse than a busted machine.

Their voices grew slow and distorted as panic raced through my veins.

I bit my tongue and kept my face straight ahead, focusing on the wedding arch where the Prime Meridian stood, instead of the wide window behind him that provided a stomach-dropping view of the night sky. I stared at his familiar face and tried to unobtrusively suck in breaths to calm my pounding heart. As an old friend of Papá’s, he had agreed to officiate the ceremony—yet another of Papá’s political maneuvers.

Through the window, arcs of lightning sliced through the sky, illuminating the landscape below with a brief, blinding brilliance.

Once we made it to the end of the aisle, I glanced toward the empty chair in the front row—the one that should’ve been Papá’s seat—as Desmarc and I stopped in front of Prime Meridian Emerson. The steam from the arch let out a shrill whistle that quieted the guests, and the music tapered off. Desmarc dropped my hand, leaving me free for the first time. Free yet still bound in place.

It felt like I was choking, like I’d never be able to get enough air again.

Deep, resonating rolls of thunder vibrated the airship and caused a few gasps from the audience.

“Tonight we have gathered to celebrate the union of Kyra Annandale and Desmarc Kingsford.” Prime Meridian Emerson pulled a long chain with a cracked pocket watch from his pocket and held it toward us. “We shall begin the ceremony.”

Desmarc raised his gloved hand, and, after a moment of hesitation, I did the same. Prime Meridian Emerson placed the broken pocket watch between our palms, giving me a small smile when he touched my shaking hand. He lightly bound our hands together with the long chain, so my white glove rested next to Desmarc’s black one.

“Use this broken pocket watch to remember that time is inconsequential in a marriage. Your union is not measured by the number of seconds you’ve been together but by the number of moments you choose to make your own.”

“Hear, hear,” the room muttered their part.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the empty chair in the front row. Papá still hadn’t returned.

Prime Meridian Emerson pulled out a small box that played a faint, ethereal melody. At his touch, the front popped open, revealing a mess of wires and gears inside. He pointed to the cogs, which worked in tandem to keep the machine running, then he stuck his finger into the machine and it stopped, the music grinding to a halt.

“Remember that life is far from perfect, and it is easy to let obstacles get in the way of your happiness. Even if two cogs fit together and can work in harmony, they won’t be able to function until you remove whatever is obstructing your relationship.” He pulled two cogs from the music box and placed one on Desmarc’s finger and one on mine.

“Hear, hear,” the crowd said again while I gritted my teeth, doing my best to ignore the sweat dripping down my neck.

Prime Meridian Emerson pulled out an elaborate brass key with sharp metal teeth and a rough bottom. “May this remind you that the key to happiness comes when you remember to unlock your hearts and openly communicate with one another. Marriages thrive on trust and communication, while closed hearts and closed minds will corrode your relationship.”

“Hear, hear,” the bystanders muttered a third time.

My stomach tightened as we grew closer to the conclusion, and rain lashed against the window with a staccato rhythm, like a thousand tiny drumbeats warning me not to keep going. The outside world was a nebulous tableau of swirling mists and torrential downpours, and I stared at it, trying to control the panic coursing through me. The distant landscape below, once a serene patchwork of fields and forests, now appeared as a hazy and indistinct mosaic, shrouded by the cascading sheets of rain.

Two server bots wheeled away from the walls, one approaching Desmarc and the other approaching me. It stopped at my side, careful not to run over my dress, then opened a section of its middle and produced a ring. Metal and diamond had been crafted together to form an elaborate loop that glinted and sparkled in the light.

I glanced again toward Papá’s empty chair and worried my bottom lip. Had he realized what I was trying to say but then somehow become mixed up in things and captured? I never should’ve said anything. I’d already endangered Hiram. I shouldn’t have risked Papá as well.

“With these rings, you promise to bind yourselves to one another until the end of time,” the Prime Meridian continued.

I swallowed down my nerves and reached out a shaking hand. All that was left was for us to exchange vows and kiss, and I would be married.

“We will now hear the vows from the bride and groom.” Prime Meridian Emerson bowed his head and took one step back, and I could feel the weight of all the eyes resting on us.

Desmarc took my hand, a relaxed smile on his face. One that I’d seen so many times before without realizing the monster it hid beneath. “I, Desmarc Kingsford, vow to take you, Kyra Annandale, as my wife. May we be able to see each other clearly, love one another for our weaknesses and not just our strengths, and stay together until the last cog stops turning.”

I held back a grimace at his words that were more of a threat than a promise. He took my left hand, the one not bound by the chain, and stared down at it for a moment. Maybe he was thinking of Papá’s warnings about my gloves that he’d been careful to adhere to this whole time. His gaze flicked to me, then he tugged my glove off.

My breath caught. If I Slipped now in front of everyone, Desmarc would think I was stalling and Hiram might get killed.

He slid the ring onto my bare finger, the metal and diamond cool against my sweaty hand. No spark jumped from it, and I exhaled in relief. There was no emotion in the ring to pull me to the past. Hiram was safe...for now.

Behind me, a few women sighed and Desmarc’s gloved hand tightened on mine again.

“I, Kyra Annandale, vow to take you, Desmarc Kingsford, as my husband.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat and thought of what else to say. I’d planned my vows weeks ago, but now the words felt as fake as everything else in this room.

Another look proved Papá still hadn’t made it back, and my stomach dropped. I couldn’t keep stalling. “May our marriage never run out of steam and may we explore the mysteries of the universe together, one day and one invention at a time.” I pulled off his glove and slid the ring on his finger. The ring he’d been wearing earlier was gone.

Desmarc took my hand in one of his, and with the other gently pulled up my veil before tucking it over my head where the metal filigree held it in place. I fought to keep my expression even—a smile was too much to ask for.

“If anyone in the room is opposed to the marriage, speak now,” Prime Meridian Emerson said.

My heart thundered in my chest and I prayed for someone to stand and say something even while I begged them not to. I couldn’t marry Desmarc but I also couldn’t risk Hiram. I was caught between a bot and a hard place and Desmarc’s kiss would seal my fate.

“The bride and groom may share a kiss, sealing their vows to signify the start of their new life together.”

Desmarc leaned in and his warm breath fanned across my face. I reflexively took a step back but the subtle pressure of the fine chain around our connected hands kept me from going too far.

The wooden doors at the other end of the room crashed open and banged against the wall. Every head in the room turned to look in that direction.

And there stood Hiram, looking marvelously handsome and alive, if a bit worse for wear. His gaze cut to me, and my heart skipped a beat.

“As lead detective at the Iron Watch,” Hiram said, “I hereby place Desmarc Kingsford under arrest.”

Chapter 33

“Hiram!” The rush of confused conversations and panicked voices around me almost drowned out my exclamation. All the knots in my stomach had come undone. He was fine and now there was nothing Desmarc could use against me.

“What is the meaning of this?” Prime Meridian Emerson crossed his arms. “You better have a good reason for interrupting, or I’ll be speaking with your commanding officer.”

“I do.” Hiram stepped forward and leveled a gun at Desmarc—his captor’s gun. “Desmarc Kingsford is charged with attempted murder, treason, and kidnapping.”

“That’s preposterous,” Prime Meridian Emerson blustered. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

A shocked mumble went through the crowd, whispers flying through the rows like steam through a pipe. Their attention flashed between Hiram and Desmarc.

Desmarc stepped forward, a bulging vein in his neck betraying his tension. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to ruin my wedding simply because of your feelings for my bride.”

“I’m not your bride.” I took the ring off my finger and threw it to the ground, then I yanked my other arm until the metal chain binding us snapped. “And I will bear testimony against you.”

Desmarc’s furious glare flitted to me and his voice raised. “Instead of ruining your father’s chances to become Prime Meridian and breaking off the engagement, you two have concocted some scheme to make me the villain.”

The rest of the guests fell into a stunned silence.

Hiram advanced further into the room, still aiming the gun at Desmarc. “Soon I’ll have evidence tying you and your accomplice to the recent murders in the city.”

A hush fell over the room, the sudden quiet intensifying the sound of the storm. The rain fell in torrents, driven sideways by the powerful wind, and thunder rumbled again. The large droplets created a hypnotic rhythm as they pelted the window, trapping us in a moment of indecision and tension.

Desmarc narrowed his eyes. “What in the aether would I have to gain from murder?”

My thoughts darted again to his admittance about being “ordered to marry in.” What did he and his group have to gain from all this?

Hiram kept his gun pointed steadily at Desmarc. “We can discuss it back at the Iron Watch.”

Prime Meridian Emerson stepped forward, then rocked back on his heels. He turned to Hiram. “Are you confident in your claims? Meridian Kingsford is a well-respected member of the community, not to mention Meridian Annandale’s soon-to-be son-in-law.”

“Not anymore,” Papá said as he strolled through the door.

“Papá, you’re here!” Relief crashed into me again, and the rain picked up outside. It streaked down the windows, distorting the view outside into a murky mosaic.

He flashed me a brief smile, but it quickly melted away as he took in Desmarc.

“What’s the meaning of this, Gideon?” Prime Meridian Emerson rubbed his forehead and turned to Papá.

“Unless Meridian Kingsford can clear his name, the wedding is off,” Papá said.

Desmarc stepped back and looked around. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Now that Papá had joined the discussion, his confidence waned.

“I stumbled across Detective Atwood fighting off an attacker,” Papá continued. “Once we subdued the man, the detective informed me he’d been threatened to ensure my daughter’s cooperation with today’s events.”

The crowd gasped, reminding me we were far from alone in this moment. There would be no hiding what Desmarc had done. There were too many witnesses, which meant I was free from him. He’d lost all his power, anonymity, and leverage.

Hiram, now only a few feet away from Desmarc, jerked his gun toward the door. “If you would be so kind as to step away from Kyra, I’ll escort you out of here.”

Desmarc’s gave a short nod, and a man from the crowd tackled Hiram. In the scuffle, Hiram’s gun went off. The blue bolt shot toward us. Desmarc, Prime Meridian Emerson, and I dove out of the way as it hit the window. Cracks spiderwebbed through the glass, making the sky appear fractured.

The discharge sent the rest of the crowd into a tailspin, and people screamed and scrambled from their seats to charge toward the doors.

It was difficult to spot anyone in the sea of seething bodies. The crowd parted temporarily as they stampeded toward the doors, revealing Hiram wrestling with the man who’d attacked him while Papá elbowed his way toward me.

“Papá!” I left Desmarc behind and darted forward, trying to lose myself in the fleeing crowd even though my gown made it almost impossible. The air pulsed with a sense of urgency that matched my pounding heart. Someone bumped into me, almost knocking me down. I fought for balance in my heels amid the labyrinth of flailing limbs and frantic energy.

“Kyra!” Papá yelled.

I angled my way toward him as the crowd thinned. More people were making it to the hall. As a few more people ran through the door, I found Papá by the wall, scanning the crowd. “I’m here!” I waved at him and followed the flow of bodies.

A flash of blond hair drew my attention to my right. Hiram punched his attacker in the face. The man’s head snapped back, and he staggered back a step. The man didn’t stand a chance against Hiram, who moved with an almost lethal grace. Hiram’s busted lip had a bead of blood on it, but otherwise he looked unharmed.

A woman ran by, blocking my view for a moment. I pushed on toward Papá but couldn’t resist glancing at Hiram again.

Hiram scooped up the gun from the floor and smashed the barrel over his assailant’s head. The man’s body went limp, and Hiram scanned the room. Our eyes met, and the fear and tension rushed out of me.

A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me to a stop. “Nobody move.” Desmarc pulled a gun, a smaller version of Hiram’s, and held it against my head. The cold metal sent a shiver down my back.

I swallowed back the acrid taste of terror in my mouth and straightened my spine. I couldn’t give in to fear now.

“Unhand my daughter,” Papá shouted, making his way over.

“I don’t think I will,” Desmarc said softly as he backed us toward the window.

“What’s your plan?” I fought to keep my voice steady. “There’s no winning for you.”

A dangerous smirk pulled across his face, and he pressed the barrel of the gun more firmly against my head. “We are getting off this ship.” Dragging me with him, he took a step back, bringing us closer to the cracked window and away from everyone else.

My stomach clenched. Papá and Hiram wouldn’t do anything, not when he might hurt me, but Desmarc couldn’t escape after everything he’d done. My heartbeat slowed as I scanned the room. The four of us and the unconscious body of Desmarc’s accomplice sprawled across the floor not far from Papá were the only ones left in the trashed wedding hall.

My gaze met Hiram’s, and he shook his head once, as if begging me not to do anything reckless. I gave him a small smile, trying to reassure him.

“Be reasonable about this, Desmarc,” Papá said. “With all the charges Detective Atwood has laid against you, do you really think it’s wise to add more?”

“I’ll be long gone before anyone from the Iron Watch catches me.”

I tilted my head to the side and looked over my shoulder. We were still hundreds of feet above the ground, so it would be a good half an hour before we landed. We needed to apprehend Desmarc, and whoever else he was working with, before then.

“You’re outnumbered, Kingsford. We’ve already captured your other accomplices.” Hiram advanced a few steps toward us. “Give up now before you make this worse for yourself.”

“Am I?” Desmarc matched his steps, bringing us as far back as we could go. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

The man from the floor lurched toward Papá, his arm driving forward almost in a blur. Papá’s eyes widened, and he staggered to the side. He pressed a trembling hand to his side around the hilt of a knife. Crimson bloomed across his white shirt.

“Papá!” I screamed, jerking against Desmarc’s hold.

“Don’t move,” he hissed in my ear as another flash of lightning lit the sky behind us.

I froze, horror crawling up my spine as Papá sank to his knees. The man wrenched his arm back, the blade sliding free with a sickening squelch. He stood casually near Papá in a silent warning.

I’d already lost one parent. Was I about to lose another?

Hiram looked between us, his brow furrowed with indecision.

“Look how quickly the engines turn,” Desmarc said. “Now I am not the one outnumbered.”

“You know this won’t work,” I said to distract him as I slowly moved one hand toward the jagged metal fragment sewn onto my dress. “No matter where you go, the Blue Capes will find you.” My fingers brushed against the smooth metal.

“Stop talking.” Desmarc pressed the gun more painfully against my temple, and my breath hitched.

I only had one chance.

Hiram shook his head minutely, begging me not to do anything risky. He glanced at Papá before returning his worried gaze to me, a silent reminder of how dangerous our situation was.

I cut my gaze toward Papá as he lay on the floor, hoping Hiram would take care of the other man.

I exhaled slowly to calm my racing pulse. If Desmarc shot me, he’d lose his leverage. And if there was one thing I’d learned about Desmarc, it was that he cared for nothing but himself. He couldn’t afford to hurt me and still expect to make it out of here. I had nothing to fear...as long as I didn’t look behind me.

“I’m sick of people telling me what to do.” I said as I wrapped my fingers around the metal and pulled, snapping the few threads binding it in place. The metal cut into my bare hand, but pain was distant compared to the fury boiling in me. I shoved the broken edge into Desmarc’s stomach. “That’s for Papá.”

Desmarc hissed, the sound like steam leaving a valve, and his grip around my neck loosened.

I pulled free and moved toward Hiram, who had turned and shot the man threatening Papá.

Desmarc stepped on the edge of my dress, jerking me to a halt as the fabric ripped. He yanked me back and backhanded me across the face. The blow knocked me off-balance, and I stumbled back.

I teetered in my high heels before catching myself on the window. For a split second, everything was fine. Then the broken glass gave way with a high-pitched splintering.

My heart leapt to my throat as I reached for something, anything to steady myself. But there was only air.

“Kyra!” Hiram’s fingers brushed my glove, catching me in a final, fleeting grip. Time stretched like a fragile thread. Then it snapped. My glove slipped from my hand, and everything sped up as I tumbled into the storm in a rain of shattered glass.

Chapter 34

“Kyra!” Hiram’s desperate cries followed me into the tempest.

I plummeted through the freezing blackness. A scream built in my throat, then escaped before the wind snatched it away with greedy fingers.

Seconds later, I collided with something hard, maybe one of the airship’s wings. A sharp pain went through my middle, but my hands skidded over the smooth metal searching for purchase.

I started to slide off.

My hand caught on a cord running across the metal. I clung to it, though the weight of my body and my dress pulled at me with a slow, inexhaustible drag. Despite the ache, a laugh or sob of relief escaped. I’d stopped falling. For now.

Icy rain pummeled every inch of me, soaking my hair and making my dress cling to me like a second skin. Every breath hurt my chest, and moving brought tears to my eyes. The wind whipped at me, trying to pull me off my precarious perch with violent, grasping fingers. I flattened myself against the surface as much as I could and hid my face from the pelting rain. The cold from the metal seeped through my soaked clothes, stealing the warmth and strength from my body.

Thunder rumbled again followed by a flash of lightning. I squeezed my eyes shut, and my breath came in short, painful gasps, fear making every detail come alive. The sharp touch of the frozen metal, the soggy embrace of my soaked gown, and the vibration of the engine humming through the metal beneath me.

This was my worst nightmare come to life.

The roar of the wind mixed with the ping of the rain, and my hand started to slip as my fingers lost their strength. I wrapped my entire arm through the cord so I didn’t have to hold on. I hadn’t survived this long to die from being pushed out a window. I refused to let this be the end. The one upside was that the cold somewhat numbed the pain in my hand.

The world blurred into a dizzying swirl of clouds and sheets of rain while the cold continued to leech the strength from my body. It seeped through my clothes, penetrating my skin and settling into my bones until my teeth chattered.

“Kyra!” A faint voice called over the sound of the wind and rain.

Hiram.

Though it took altogether too much effort, I turned my head to the side so I could look up at him. Raindrops stung my face, mingling with my tears. The silhouette of a head poked through the window I’d fallen from. Even through the pouring rain, the light behind him haloed his head with a warm glow that made him look like a rain-blurred angel.

“Kyra, if you’re there, please say something!”

The panic in his voice helped me to focus on the task ahead—saving myself. He’d thought he’d lost me forever, and he still might if I couldn’t find the strength to let him know I was here.

“Hi-Hi-Hiram!” His name escaped on a choked sob as relief bubbled up my throat. Crying tore at my ribs, and I was shivering so violently I could barely speak. The wind snatched my sound and carried it away. I waited for a lull, but it never came. Desperate, I tried again. “Hiram, I’m here.” Each word scraped its way up my throat, but even still, he didn’t hear me.

I was going to die out here.

Unable to keep my eyes open, they fluttered shut. Pain racked my body, teeth chattering as if they might shatter. The night was as frigid as it was dark, the stars cold points above. My muscles ached from the fall, my chest burned with effort, and all I wanted was to sleep—to let the cold take me and stop the pain.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when Hiram was still looking for me. I rested my cheek on the frigid metal again, fighting to keep my eyes open.

“—yra! Kyra!” Hiram cupped my cheek and looked at me with worried eyes.

I blinked, then it registered that he was down here with me. “Hiram?”

“I need you to hold on to me so we can lift you back to the ship.” His hand still hadn’t left my cheek. His fingers scorched with a heat I could happily drown in. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t kn-kn-know.” My chattering teeth made it hard to speak, and I wasn’t even sure if I was in control of my hands anymore. They felt like two frozen lumps of ice.

“I’ve got you.” Hiram moved closer, blocking the wind. He wore a harness of some kind with leather straps going across his chest and around his legs. “I just need you to put your arms around me.” But even as he said it, he didn’t seem to expect me to move. Instead, he tied a rope around my waist, then connected it to his harness. Once I was secure, he gently untangled my arms from the cord and pulled me against his chest.

I relished the heat as he nestled me snug against his body. I nuzzled my head against his chest and let my eyes drift closed.

Hiram wrapped one arm firmly around me and tugged on the rope with his other.

“It’s all right,” he said in a soothing tone as we ascended. “You’re safe now.”

With my ear pressed against his chest, his voice was a deep, warm reverberation. Hiram’s grip around my waist tightened.

I couldn’t stay awake any longer. Inside the safety of Hiram’s arms, I succumbed to unconsciousness.

Chapter 35

I yawned so wide my jaw cracked, and I rubbed at my eyes with one hand. Someone held the other. I cracked an eye open to find Papá asleep next to me, his torso draped across my bed. His wrinkled white shirt and black pants were different from what he’d been wearing at my wedding.

My wedding.

I stiffened and looked around, but I was in my room at home. The round window overlooking the city, my favorite plush armchair in the corner, and my vanity table that matched Papá’s. Everything was the same...except for me. So much had changed in the last little while, and the thin needle attached to my arm proved it.

“Papá?” I whispered.

He sat up and rubbed his back, which popped loudly. “Kyra, you’re awake.”

“How long have”—my voice cracked, so I stopped and cleared my throat—“how long have I been asleep?”

He beckoned a bot holding a pitcher of steaming water forward and poured us both a cup. “Almost two days,” he said before turning to the bot and adding, “Send that message in the siphon and bring Kyra some fresh food.”

“Two days?” I choked on the first sip, spraying water across my crimson bedspread. “What happened?”

“Since you cracked a rib when you fell, the doctor gave you some medicine to speed up the healing for that. Plus, I think your body was exhausted after everything you’d been through.” Papá reached over and took my hand in his much larger one. He gave it a gentle squeeze, making me feel like his little girl again. “You needed the rest.”

“I’m not the only one.” I took in his tired eyes and slumped shoulders.

“I’m all right.”

“You were stabbed, Papá.” I studied him, searching for signs of his injury even though his clothes covered all hints of it. “You should be taking care of yourself.”

“It’ll take more than that to stop me.”

I took another sip of water, letting it soothe my parched mouth. Then I stiffened as what he said finally registered. “Wait, I’ve been asleep for two days? What happened to Desmarc? And what about the renewal?”

“Detective Atwood arrested Desmarc, and he’s been at the Iron Watch ever since, but you’ll hear more about that later.” Papá rubbed his chin, which had the beginnings of a beard. “As for the renewal, Prime Meridian Emerson was forced to postpone it.” Papá gave me a rueful smile. “Between Meridian Lambkin’s death, the scandal with Desmarc, and Meridian Eliver being arrested as a suspect in the case—”

“I think he was just a scape bot.” I shifted in bed and winced at the pain in my chest.

“You might be right, but the Iron Watch is still suspicious due to his faction’s connection to aether technology.” Papá watched me closely, nothing escaping his notice. “Either way, things don’t look good for the renewal.”

For a moment, we sat in silence, and the clock in the hall chimed eleven times.

“I’m sorry about...the timing,” I finally said. Although I wasn’t sorry about what I’d done.

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It’s my fault for putting the wedding so close to the renewal date and for arranging the marriage with Desmarc,” he said. “I was greedy and trying to maximize publicity, and under no circumstances did I imagine it blowing up in my face like this.”

“You might have chosen Desmarc, but I was the one who said yes,” I said. “This is on both of us.”

Papá sipped from his cup, then looked up and caught my gaze. “Speaking of your engagement, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me the night before the wedding, especially about how you wanting to escape me was the main reason you agreed.” He dropped his gaze to his cup. “I’m sorry for how overbearing I’ve been the last few years.”

I blinked at him, hardly able to comprehend what I was hearing.

“After losing Gwen, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too. I figured it’d be better to have you hate me than to risk not having you at all, but the tighter I held on, the more distance you put between us,” he said. “And when I watched you fall out of the airship, I realized how much my fear had cost me. From now on, I’ll try to let you make your own decisions, but I’ll be there for you when you need me.”

“Truly, Papá?”

“Truly.” He gave me a small smile. “And to prove it, I collected the enrollment forms for AIR U for next semester. I’ve spoken to a few professors, but it is your decision to make.”

“Oh, Papá. Thank you!” I threw one arm around him, almost spilling both of our cups. The move sent another sharp pain through me, so I quickly leaned back against my pillow with a wince. “Wait, wasn’t I already enrolled, though? Desmarc told me he’d spoken to the professors.”

Papá readjusted the blanket around me, and the gesture didn’t quite hide the way his hands trembled. “Desmarc lied—about many things.”

The door creaked open and Cogsley wheeled forward and placed the tray on my bed with enough food for two. The delicious aroma of porridge and fresh bread drifted from it, and my stomach rumbled. “Will you have to go to the disassembly line?” Cogsley asked.

I smiled at her. Was Cogsley actually worried about me? “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“I wasn’t worried. That isn’t in my programming,” she said. “I simply spent a lot of time in your room the last two days, and it was not very efficient for my tasks.”

“Well, rest assured that I will not have to be disassembled.”

“Your father and the detective will be most pleased.”

I flushed and turned my attention to the porridge, dipping a piece of bread into it before popping it into my mouth.

Cogsley wheeled over to stand against the wall, and Papá and I fell silent for a few minutes, munching on the food. I’d learned a valuable lesson with Desmarc, and I was in no hurry to rush into anything else. Whether Hiram cared for me or not, he was someone I could count on never to betray me. My cheeks warmed as I thought of how close he’d held me as he’d carried me to safety.

“How did you find Hiram on the ship?” I took another bite of porridge, letting the mild, creamy taste settle the ache in my stomach.

“As soon as we met in the hall, I realized something was wrong, so I searched the ship even though I didn’t know what I was looking for. Finding Detective Atwood was pure luck—for both of us. I recognized him from our meeting outside Geneve’s. He was wrestling with a man in one of the rooms, but his feet were tied and things weren’t going well.”

The guard must’ve discovered him before he’d finished cutting his bindings.

“I wasn’t completely sure what was going on, but my entrance surprised the other man enough that it gave the detective the upper hand. He knocked him unconscious, and while he tied him up, he filled me in on what had happened,” he said. “Then Detective Atwood ran ahead while I went to tell the captain to land the ship.”

Which explained why Papá had shown up later.

“It means a lot to me that you saved Hiram even though you don’t trust the Blue Capes,” I said softly. I wouldn’t have been able to stab Desmarc if I hadn’t known Hiram was safe.

Papá stared at the leaves and at the crumbs of bread on his plate. “It wasn’t fair of me to judge all of them based on what happened so many years ago, but I couldn’t let it go.” He sucked in a deep breath, then pushed through, each word making the lines on his face deepen. “You already know that your mother didn’t die from a sickness, but the truth is, I’m not sure how she died. She went to work at the Iron Watch one day and never came home.”

“What happened to her?” I whispered. Papá had implied that the Blue Capes had something to do with Mamá’s death, but I hadn’t been able to get an explanation from him before his meeting.

“I don’t know.” His gray eyes betrayed the pain and uncertainty he’d lived with the last fifteen years—pain he’d done his best to shield me from. “Every time I demanded answers, they brushed me off. They’re covering something up, and I’m going to find out what it is.” He curled his hands into fists on his knees. “Gwen didn’t die, Kyra. She disappeared.”

The world around me seemed to slow, the fan’s click-click-click moving at half time while my heart thundered in my chest as the world around me adjusted to this new reality. No wonder Papá was terrified of losing me. “How can we find out the truth?”

“I hoped that by becoming Prime Meridian, I could finally get the higher-ups at the Iron Watch to pay attention—as a meridian my power is limited.”

“That’s why you got into politics? To find out the truth about Mamá?”

“That was why I started,” he said. “Of course, I had other things I wanted to accomplish around the city, like limiting the Blue Capes’ influence in the city, but Gwen was the core of it.”

I blinked, trying to reframe everything I’d known about Papá over the years. How could we have been living together this whole time and still have had so many misunderstandings and secrets standing between us?

“I had no idea that was why you didn’t want me Slipping or working with the Blue Capes,” I whispered.

“Because I never told you.” He gave me a tired smile and ran a hand over his face. “I should have as you got older. It was wrong of me to keep that part of yourself and your mother from you.”

“Can we promise no more secrets?”

“Yes.” He put our dishes on the floor, then wrapped his arms around me in a gentle hug. It didn’t fix everything, but it was a start. Maybe we could rebuild a family that was more than just the shadows Mamá left behind.

“In that case...” I pulled back and told him about finding the bracelet in the fountain, how I started working with Hiram, and what had happened at the Epoch Clock. How I’d seen Hiram’s dead body and Slipped back in time to the moment of his murder and accidentally changed the past. How time itself had tried to tear me apart but somehow Mamá’s ring had saved me.

It was a relief to finally talk to someone about it, especially knowing that Mamá had also gone through this. All along I’d been trying to be like Mamá, and it wasn’t until I’d finally accepted that I needed to be me that I realized how similar we already were.

“I can’t believe all of that happened, and I had no idea,” Papá said once I’d finished.

“Everything sort of happened at once,” I said. “I think there’s a lot of good I can do with it, like helping with the murder cases, and while there’s still a lot I don’t know”—my thoughts darted to Mamá talking about chrono-energy—“I’m doing my best to figure it out.”

“Thank you for telling me, Kyra.”

“Thank you for listening.”

“I’ll help however I can,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll become the Prime Meridian and be able to discover the truth about what happened to Gwen, but maybe you will.”

“And I’ll do my best to find the truth about Mamá.”

“And at least now, thanks to you, we have some fresh clues to follow.”

A knock sounded on the door and Papá straightened. “Come in.”

The door creaked open again, and Hiram walked inside.

“Oh, hello.” I straightened and ran a hand through my messy hair. Hiram was in my room. I tried to smooth out another tangle in my hair, then realized I was in a nightdress and pulled the comforter up higher.

“I promised to let him know once you woke up, so we sent him a message on the siphon.” Papá’s mouth lifted at the corners but the movement fought with his natural desire to frown, as if he were struggling against his ingrained prejudice against the Blue Capes. He gathered up our empty dishes, then carried them to Cogsley, his movements slow from his wound.

“I’ll give you two a moment alone.” Papá clapped a hand on Hiram’s shoulder as he walked by. “But I’m just downstairs.”

Hiram straightened. “Yes, sir.”

The door closed behind him and Cogsley, leaving us in a silence just waiting to shatter. Hiram took a few more steps into the room and claimed Papá’s vacated chair. For a long moment, his gaze roved over me, drinking me in. I smoothed my hair again self-consciously.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right. No disassembly line for me.” I gave him a weak smile, although my heart pounded in my chest. All I could think about was if he remembered anything from our time in the Epoch Clock, but without the threat to our lives, my courage had dried up like a bot without oil.

“Does your rib still hurt?”

I shifted slightly to test it out, but aside from a faint ache, the pain had mostly faded. “It isn’t terrible.” I let one of my hands fall to my lap while the other still held up the blanket.

Hiram’s gaze fell to my hand. He slowly leaned forward and picked it up and lightly traced a finger over the scratch across my palm. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through me.

“This is my fault,” he said softly, still tracing the scar.

I curled my hand into a fist, capturing his finger and making him look at me. “The only reason I’m here right now is because of you.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“How did you find me?” I asked, not wanting to think back on that horrible night but needing to know.

“Your dress gave away your location.” He grinned but there was no humor in it.

“Finally, some good that came from it,” I muttered.

He twisted his hand and interlaced his fingers with mine, then met my gaze. “I’m sorry for getting you involved in all of this.”

“Please don’t apologize. You looked at me and saw someone who could actually make a difference,” I said. “Besides, you had nothing to do with my engagement to Desmarc.” I fought off a delicious shiver at the way his thumb gently traced over my knuckles. His gentleness stole the breath from my lungs, and the air grew charged. I had to find out if he knew I changed the past. “What happened at the Epoch Clock?”

“How did you know about that?”

My stomach dropped. He had no idea I was even there. “I went to the Iron Watch and found part of your scribbled note and assumed that’s where you’d gone.”

Hiram’s grip on my hand tightened. “I’m glad you didn’t follow me. I almost died there.”

He had died.

“What made you go there in the first place?”

“I finally got ahold of the Bartholomews and after going through their vault, they informed me that their key to the Epoch Clock was missing.”

“Why did they have a key?”

“Because their ancestor helped design the clock. When some of the other Blue Capes went to arrest Meridian Eliver, I went to check it out and discovered someone had been assembling those aether weapons there.” He shook his head. “They were hiding right under our nose.”

“Why there?”

Hiram shrugged. “My best guess is that it’s because it’s a central location, but we should know more soon.”

“And how did you end up on the airship?”

“Oh, that?” Under his faint stubble, his cheeks grew rosy. “I received a message from Desmarc—I believe it was him I encountered in the Epoch Clock—and when I met with him, he used a type of gas that knocked me out until I woke up tied in that cabinet.”

Hiram didn’t say that the message he received was about me, but Desmarc had told me as much.

“Why was Desmarc in the Epoch Clock?” Did that mean he hadn’t gone home to see his uncle like he’d said? Considering all of Desmarc’s other lies, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Desmarc didn’t even have an uncle.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I assumed he was working on more guns. We found part of the professor’s research and a few assembled weapons there, but there could’ve been more to it than that. I suspect there was more going on, since we also found evidence of more supplies being smuggled on the airship. I assume they were using your wedding as a cover to transport them, but we should get answers from Kingsford soon enough.”

“So, what’s the status of the case now?” I tried to meet Hiram’s gaze and not let my attention fall on the tender way he still cradled my hand.

“Mostly wrapped up now that we’ve arrested Kingsford,” he said. “Although there are still a few loose screws to tighten.”

“I don’t think Desmarc was working alone. When he was talking to me, he said ‘we.’”

“And you don’t think he was referring to the man we arrested at the debate or the other men we captured on the airship?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it feels like there’s more to it than that,” I said. “They seemed like they were taking Desmarc’s orders, but I got the feel that Desmarc was also taking orders from someone.”

“All the men had the same ring. They might be some sort of crime group.”

My stomach tightened. “Desmarc told me he needed to get into the family, but I’m not sure if it was just to have connections to the Prime Meridian or something else.”

“If it was just the Prime Meridian, why not ingratiate himself with one of the other candidates?”

“Maybe he thought Papá had the best chance of winning.”

“Or maybe he was the only one with a daughter of marriageable age,” Hiram murmured and his grip on my hand tightened.

Not wanting to think about my embarrassing engagement, I asked, “So how did you figure everything out?”

“I’d been looking at the cases as if they were pieces of a larger puzzle since we knew the murderer was the same, but what I needed to do was focus on them separately.” He released my hand and steepled his fingers together. “For example, Professor Knight was killed for precisely the reason we thought.”

“His aether technology?”

“Exactly. That’s how they made the weapons they used at the debate and also at your wedding. Professor McNeil thought the research was useless without the other half, but as far as I can tell, they either already had parts of it, or they adapted what they stole to their own use.” Hiram nodded as if to himself. “But I don’t think he had any connection to the first victim. We were right that she simply made it possible for them to get into the Bartholomew’s vault for the key to the Epoch Clock.”

“Which is how you knew to go there,” I mumbled, trying to put the pieces together. Even with the answers we had, I still had so many questions about the Epoch Clock and their aether weapons. “So was the woman who died on the day of the debate just a distraction?”

“I believe so,” he said. “The intended target that day was Meridian Lambkins, whom Desmarc killed once we had his partner in custody.”

“To make Meridian Eliver seem more suspicious and strengthen Papá’s platform,” I repeated what Desmarc had told me. “He really wanted Papá to become the Prime Meridian.”

“Which brings us back to why,” Hiram said thoughtfully.

And that was something only Desmarc and his accomplice could tell us.

“There’s no way for either of them to get out, right?” I fought to keep my voice even.

“The evidence we have against them is airtight,” Hiram said. “They’ll have a trial in a month, and based on the number of murders they’re tied to, I’m guessing they’ll be sentenced to capital punishment.”

Some of the tension leaked from my body. Not that I necessarily wanted Desmarc to die, but the knowledge that he wouldn’t be around to hurt anyone else was a relief.

I opened my mouth, wondering if I should tell Hiram how I felt, but then I closed it again. After everything that happened with Desmarc, it was too soon to confess how I felt about Hiram. He was as guarded about his past as Desmarc had been, and I didn’t want to rush into anything without getting to know him more. I’d been wrong about the biggest decision of my life and it had almost killed me.

“Does that mean this is the end of our time as partners?” Hiram asked, sneaking a quick glance at me before dropping his gaze to his hands.

Compared to his usual flirty demeanor, his bashful side was sort of adorable.

I smiled at him, thinking of all the things I still needed to learn about: Slipping, chrono-energy, Mamá’s disappearance, and the group with the scythe rings. The best way to get answers would be to spend more time helping Hiram at the Iron Watch.

And it would be my best chance to learn about Hiram.

“Actually,” I said, “this is only the beginning.”