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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

And one spark from this man beside me left me burning.

I wondered what Eliza would think now. I wondered if she would elbow my ribs to covertly hiss something deprecating into my ear.

When we were within earshot of the other man, however, Lazar allowed me to go alone. I wasn't sure why. I wasn't sure what he expected me to do or say, and I wasn't sure what I expected of myself either.

I stepped up beside him, his strong arms folded. Blood had crusted beneath his nails, but otherwise, it looked like he'd rigorously scrubbed any spec of red from his bruised knuckles. He'd gotten lazy on shaving, sporting enough bristle around his neck and jaw to hide part of his hard exterior.

Most of what I saw, however, was in his eyes.

I followed his gaze to the woman on the fence and her open embrace. I didn't know what to say. What could I possibly say to him? We'd had some nasty encounters before, trying to show off more tail feathers than the other. Casual conversations had consisted of what we'd do to injure the other as severely as possible, without breaking the 'Behave Moderately' rule.

And I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that this had been true beyond the Chambers as well. He was one of the faces Aris said had forgotten him.

I shifted my weight to my good leg and rested my free hand in my trouser pocket. I expected my fingers to curl around the warmth of the pocket-watch, but the small notebook blocked my way.

Suddenly I knew what to say.

"Do you pray, Maksim?" I peered up at him. He remained mostly impassive, if not his jaw clenching tighter. So I faced the fence again. "I don't quite remember anymore...but I think I used to." My eyes followed the train of visuals, of travels through different lands and villages. My brain recognized painting them, but couldn't connect them to the events of inspiration. Something in my chest, however, very much did. "I think it helps when you've got no one else to talk to, or when you're like me and you don't talk much at all."

He grunted. "You talked enough."

The corner mouth turned up. "I suppose I did. So why didn't you?"

His thick brow arched, and he looked down at me from the corner of his eye. "I remember having a few things to say to you."

"I suspect the feelings behind which are all still the same."

"Why would they be otherwise?"

"They wouldn't."

"Well."

I shifted my weight from my tired leg to my tired arm and its metal appendage. "I only wanted to say I feel as if I know a little piece of everyone here, but I don't know anything about you. It's curious."

"How about 'fuck you'?"

"I'll pass on that, thanks, but we could all use your help now." I turned to him, standing as tall as I could. We were the same height, after all, except when I shared two and a half legs to hold me up and couldn't stand as rigidly as he managed. "We're going to get out of here."

His words dripped with unhelpful sarcasm as he said, "You think so? You think you can outsmart whatever's been keeping us here and using us like playthings?"

The smirk returned to my face. "Outsmart, no. Outwit, possibly. We've not really a choice in the end, unless you prefer this place to be the last thing you see when she realizes your arse is no longer necessary."

"Fuck you."

"Pass again. Give it some thought, though." I turned away from him. "You can stand here and be left behind, or you could do something with yourself."