A Web of Steam & Puppet Strings (Sevastyan #1)

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

I didn't catch a moment of sleep before Eliza was up.

Curses spilled out of my mouth, words that burned my lips. The aches in my body tightened every cord in my back and chest and shoulders. I had some fantastic bruises swelling already, so getting my rigid self to move required a few more lip-burning curses.

I managed, had no choice, and freed us both from the rope. I fixed my blindfold and fixed her everything else, and then we were out the Doors to march down the corridor. My feet dragged and my head pounded from the lack of sleep. Tonight wasn't a good night for climbing into a squabble against our ever enigmatic anti-government friends—but after my discussion with Lazar, I wondered if Isidora was aware of that.

I wondered if that was her exact intention.

We lined up. The congestion of clouds outside choked the moon's light to the point that referring to it as 'light' at all was a serious offense. Still, I could see Rurik's eyes remained on mine, even as everyone blurted their number on turn. I didn't bother with voicing mine, and as feet trudged into line, I stepped aside. One by one, they filed out the door, and after the last pair of boots had gone, I stepped up to the man in gold armor and said, "I have to perform a bit of insurgency tonight. Do you mind?"

"I do, in fact." He tugged out a pocket-watch and popped it open, its chain attached to nothing. "You have one hour before I come collect you, which I'd rather not risk." He snapped the watch shut and handed it to me.

I stared at it stupidly, and then took the contraption into my own fingers. My thumb grazed the surface of a harbor and a great ship with sails that blocked out the sky, similar to the ship that had captured me and the rest of my group not so long ago.

He continued. "Every moment, however brief, however miniscule, that you spend outside your infantry unit is a gamble with your life. All it takes is one accident, or one misstep, or one pair of eyes noticing you, and that's the unfortunate end to Sevastyan. Do you understand?"

A gamble. A risk.

With my life.

An act which I was a little less than qualified to do.

I dropped the watch into the pocket of my trousers and swallowed hard, mouth as dry as the concrete Grigory had introduced to my face this morning. I forced myself to nod, which appeased him. He clapped me on the shoulder—and I cringed as a hundred muscles sparked in anger. "Very good," he said. "You're scared shitless, as you should be. I trust you'll be all the wiser because of it. Good luck."

A part of me decided then that, for some obscure reason, I liked Rurik.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, I found the secret passage and invited myself in. When I reached the banquet hall, however—and I was careful to dust off my feet—the room was empty.

Alone, I realized how extensive the room was, a space so wide for only three people, unless the gowns counted, in which case I'd think it fair to say the equivalent of eight people. Another ninety-two might have fit rather comfortably, and held a much better chance of some friendlier conversation, comparatively speaking.

My lungs expanded with a deep breath.

One hour.

I retrieved the watch from my pocket and checked the time. Just after midnight. I had until one in the morning to find my way back to the others, and the seconds pulsing away in my palm echoed in my brain.