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

Chapter Twenty-Three

My voice fell flat. "I'm terrified."

"Good. Take this." He traded the weight to my hand. It was still warm from him. "I should have thought it was you when I found fingerprints on the twenty-pound. Seemed like something you'd manage."

I straightened, as if to defend myself. But I didn't. Instead, I slouched low and pieced together words before I said, "Thanks, Lazar. Er, I mean—thanks for helping earlier, and...for, well, trusting me." I should have kicked myself. Why did words sound differently in my brain than they did in my mouth? "I can't imagine all these fantastical stories are the easiest to believe."

"No, they're not. And I'm certain about half of the others feel you're completely off your head." He folded his legs, elbows perched on his knees. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up to expose his forearms, and I realized none of us had changed out of our formal dress for the tunic. "Neither are you the most convincing, sheepish as you are."

My head lowered.

For some strange reason, a grin stretched across his face. "But I believe you, Sevastyan. It's like I said, isn't it? You've yet to give me a reason not to believe you."

My fingers curled tighter around the weight. "I don't want to give you a reason."

"I don't want you to give me a reason either."

Our eyes met, and something transpired between us, something that caused words to fail. Before a few days ago, I'd only ever seen Lazar as the leader of the three-man police squad. I used to wonder what he was like when the mask came off, who he was, what he could do to me. Most others were afraid of the man who remained silent most of the time. It was that silence that intrigued me.

And now, I found myself wondering what he had thought of me. What did he think when he watched the boy who painted the fence with pictures of another world? What did he think of the boy who woke up earlier than the others to shower when no one was around? What did he think when he caught the boy's idle glances or distant staring?

It was as if my eyes leaked the memories like a projector, because, as his own eyes, keen and sharpened to a point, fixated on me, words worked their way to his lips. "Is that why...you most often kept yourself so distant from the others, Sevastyan? You were afraid of your secret getting out?" His hand lifted to his chin, stroking the faint shadow of bristle. I wondered what the line of his jaw felt like under his fingers. "No. I don't think that's it, not after I listened to Aris recall details about you and your previous life. You've always kept yourself separate from others. Why?"

It was a frightening question. I winded up, stomach clenching as I shoved my curls from my face. I tried to shrug, tried to play it off, but I must have looked an awkward mess. "I prefer watching, I suppose. I like to see things."

He considered me. "You watch very closely. Details are something you never miss."

"I suppose." Strange, how I thought the same of him.

"Aris struggled to recall roles you had played in the clan, but he instantly remembered your drawings on the walls—of him. Nearly a year later, you could still draw his face from memory. It's extraordinary."

I stared hard at my knees, turning the weight round and round in my hands. If my face bloomed red now, I'd never forgive myself. "Perhaps a bit. You thought the serpent drawing I'd done under the control of Isidora was extraordinary as well."

His lips touched, moving into a small smile as he extracted the memory. "I did. That style, I'd said it wasn't your typical style—considerably more haunting. She might have ordered you to draw a serpent with a meal in its grasp, but she didn't tell you how. That came from a place deep inside you." His strong shoulders rolled with a casual shrug. "Perhaps that was your subconscious warning you of her."

He didn't even know. He hadn't seen the portrait of her with the serpent helmet, and the long fangs that came down around her face like knives. "Lazar, where are you going when we're free from this place?"

"I don't know." He dropped his gaze to his big hands. Even he found moments appropriate for fidgeting. "I'm not sure anyone does."

"Maybe we should join the Movement. Isidora's financier must be nobility of some sort, if not the prince directly. If we could prevent this from happening again, well..."

The corner of his mouth curled. "It would be worth it. I agree. Are they a sensible lot?"

"Not at all."

We laughed. It was easy to laugh with him, easy to forget the imminent future and the weight of about two-dozen lives on my back.

In this tiny room, alone, far away from the rest of the world, it was easy to think there was nothing outside these wooden walls except myself and Lazar and the weight in my hands while he taught me to manipulate it.

As I worked to knead the metal like clay, I still couldn't help watching him and wondering what he thought of the boy who had learned to put his lips to the earth and pray.

When night fell and lights out neared, however, I remembered fear again.

Isidora had planted the trap and altered the electrical current of activity in her cage. What would her next step be?

(Copyright © 2015 Sarah Godfrey. Please alert the author at keyboardsmashwriters@gmail.com if you are seeing this work posted in full outside of SarahandVictoria on Wattpad.)

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