Kingdom of Ash and Soot Read online

  Lady Penelope, oblivious to my inner delight, nodded. “Yes.”

  “The former empress was concerned about the revolution, and she had a right to be, in hindsight. That is why your mother came here. Dezda was very eager for another mission at the time,” Harshad said.

  “When she met her Dolf,” Lady Penelope said, “she decided to stay and marry him.”

  There was something in her tone that told me she had been displeased by my mother’s choice.

  “And then she had us,” I said.

  The terse brunt of her response left me breathless. “Yes.”

  There was a long pause, before Ben finally said, “I do not understand why this information matters. Our mother has been gone for fourteen years now. What does an old society and Dr. Artha’s death have to do with why you are here?”

  “The society for whom she worked is still around,” Lady Penelope said. She cocked her head to the side, glancing back at Harshad. “Mostly.”

  Realization dawned on me as I looked from her to Harshad. “And you are part of it,” I said. “You’re a member of the same society as Máma was, aren’t you?”

  “Excellent, Eleanora. The good Lord gave logical faculties to both male and female, and I am proud to see you use yours so well.”

  “Since you are here then,” Ben said, “that must mean the society sent you on another assignment.”

  “Also very astute,” Lady Penelope said. “You are correct. Harshad and I, along with the others under our command, have been ordered to come here on a special mission.”

  “Did they send you out here to investigate Dr. Artha’s murder?” I asked. “Does this mean Ben and I will help with your assignment?”

  There was no mistaking the satisfaction on Lady POW’s face. “I hope so. I have a plan, and it includes you both.”

  Harshad cleared his throat. “Lady Penelope sees this as an opportunity to be with her family as well as serve the kingdom of Bohemia and discover the truth.”

  His tone was resigned, but it was how he used Lady POW’s proper name that made me shudder. I wondered if it was an insult of sorts between them.

  “What good would a cripple do this society of yours?” Ben asked.

  I saw the small amount of fear in his eyes as he stared at Lady POW. Breathlessly, I waited for her response.

  She smirked. “Plenty, given your spying abilities,” she said. “Harshad and I were aware you were listening in on the conversation Cecilia and I had in the library this morning.”

  For the first time, Ben dropped his guard. “Really?” Between Ben and Lady POW, I could suddenly see a lot more similarity between the two of them.

  Ben’s earlier warning whispered through me; Lady Penelope was our grandmother, but she was clearly more dangerous than either of us had anticipated. What she was asking of us was not clear, and as I watched she and Ben began to discuss more about the Order, and I felt myself pulling away as Ben was pulled in.

  “So we would be spies?” I asked, interrupting her. “That hardly seems proper.”

  “It is hardly proper for you, as a rightful lady, to be subjected to preparing an engagement dinner for your stepbrother, or selling your father’s heirlooms at the market. Spying is not an honorable task, but that has never negated the necessity of it at critical times like these.”

  Lady Penelope’s tone was sharp and shaming, and I blushed at her remarks.

  “Protecting others is a calling, but each has to answer it. Some do not. That is what even God himself offered to man.”

  “So the Order protects people?” I said, still hesitant.

  “Yes.” Lady Penelope nodded firmly. “We serve truth. And the truth is, rulers are needed in order to keep the peace. We protect them at great cost. We investigate on their behalf. We seek to overcome and control chaos. We serve others in love and in hopes of peace. Is peace for our time not a noble enough endeavor for you?”

  “It is a good goal,” I agreed, “but—”

  “—and just think, you would be taking up the banner of your mother’s legacy in helping us. She worked hard to maintain peace here in Bohemia, before you were born. Wouldn’t you like to honor her memory by helping us now?”

  At the mention of my mother, all the wispy memories I had of her flooded into my mind. I heard her words, I saw her smile. I wanted to run to her and embrace her, to feel her heart beat against mine; I thought about what she loved, including my father, and about how she was proud of him for protecting the king during the revolution all those years ago.

  The illusions of my mother were gone, but I could still know her in a real way, to walk through the steps of her life on my own.

  “You do not have to help, of course,” Lady Penelope said, her sudden flippancy repulsive to my pride. “You know the truth about your mother, and now it is up to you what you will do with it. Even those set free by the truth often choose to remain enslaved. And I know Cecilia would love the chance to remain your guardian, if you would let her.”

  “I want to be free.” The words came rushing out of me before I could think through their implications and consequences.

  “There are two things you need to know about yourself if you want to be free—what you stand for, and what you stand against.” Lady Penelope held up her hands, brandishing a pair of daggers that had been hidden in her skirts. “This world lives enslaved to its destruction, and so long as you are living, as long as you are fighting, you will be free.”

  I gazed at the daggers, transfixed. Each blade was clothed in a leather scabbard, but the silver and obsidian of the daggers’ hilts winked at me, as though it was calling for me.

  Lady Penelope pulled the daggers free, revealing a pair of gleaming blades; each were an unusual shade of violet, one that held other spots of blue and green, and other colors, even as it encompassed them. The gemlike mosaic added to the overall power of the weapon.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Lady Penelope ran her gaze down her blades, following the elegant curve of the daggers. Her fingers lightly stroked the weapons as she held them. “The motto of the Order is In Hoc Signo Vinces, or ‘With this sign, you shall win.’ It was the same message Constantine heard from God.”

  “What are they ... ” My own voice trailed off, hushed and full of awe as I looked on the mysterious weapons.

  “This is the weapon of a member of the Order,” Lady Penelope continued. “You bow to God alone, but the rest of your life will be a fight, in which you alone will have the choice of victor. It was my privilege to free you from ignorance. Now, it is my duty to teach you how to stand, and remain standing, even when you are tempted to fall.”

  I looked back at the daggers in her hand and swallowed hard. Lady Penelope was clearly offering me a choice between different lives of servitude, but only one offered meaning and redemption in the end.

  My life would mean nothing, my mother’s life would mean nothing, if I wasted my efforts to serve Cecilia and her household. I already knew I was insignificant in the eyes of the world, but I suddenly had a chance where my life would be about something greater. And I did want that.

  So I reached forward and made my choice. It was the one I wanted.

  Ben put his hand on my shoulder protectively as I took hold of a dagger. From the look in his blue-green eyes, I knew he was ready to stand with me. “We accept your offer.”

  Lady Penelope clasped her hands together. “Then it is time to get to work.”

  At her determined smile, I could not stop the rush of anxious excitement that washed over me.

  *8*

  ◊

  To my dismay, I soon found out my excitement was unwarranted.

  “Are we finished yet?” I asked, grumbling as I stood on the small pedestal. “I’ve been here for hours.”

  “Let Jaqueline finish,” Lady POW barked. “This is hardly difficult, Eleanora.”

  I groaned. For hours, I had been standing in the middle of a large parlor room, one that had been closed off to the other parts of
the wing, all while three of Lady POW’s maidservants worked to measure every inch of my body. Jaqueline, Amelia, and Marguerite doubled as seamstresses, and they were making me different outfits to wear.

  “I don’t see why a new outfit is necessary. I can work fine in my current skirts. Ben and I have been brawling with each other and battling our way around the manor since we were born.”

  “You have been wearing that oversized maid’s outfit for far too long, Eleanora.” Lady POW sat at a small writing desk in the corner of the room, jotting down notes and, from the looks of it, keeping up with her correspondence. “I thought you were much bigger than you actually are.”

  I bit my lip, irritated. It was bad enough I was naked except for my chemise and stockings, but Lady POW made the whole experience much worse. Every ten minutes or so, she would glance over at me, narrow her eyes, and call out some condescending judgment or shake her head with a sigh. Occasionally, she would come over to me and circle me, wearing a look of cold professionalism that unnerved me.

  While it was tempting to whirl around to face her, if for no other reason than to remind her that she had flaws, too, I was stuck holding my arms out straight while Amelia wrapped them in rolls of a range of different fabrics, from velvet and silk to leather and suede. If I moved even the slightest, her pins would dig into my arm. I discovered this for the second time when I glanced behind me, surprised by another one of Lady POW’s comments.

  “You have good hips for birthing, Eleanora,” Lady Penelope observed. “We will have to be careful, though; it seems one is a little higher than the other. It’s not ideal for fighting.”

  I was just about to ask her what my hips had to do with fighting when she continued.

  “Men like hips like yours; they make it easier to grab onto during intercourse.”

  My face when dark red instantly.

  “It will likely be easy to coerce information from your opponents and informants if you use your bodily charms, should the occasion call for it.”

  “What?” My voice nearly squeaked.

  Lady POW grimaced. “Oh, dear. It has been a long time since I have dealt with the sexually inexperienced. Marguerite? Add that to the list, please.”

  It was suddenly much easier to worry about fighting.

  “Lady Penelope,” I said, “I would rather learn how to beat the answers out of my opponents, please. I don’t ... I don’t want to ... ” My voice trailed off as I felt the heat in my face rise.

  “Spoken like a true innocent.” Lady Penelope sighed. “In that case, consider yourself fortunate that we don’t have time for a full review of the curriculum.”

  I did. I considered myself very, very fortunate.

  “I will go over the basics, and that should be enough to suffice for our current mission,” Lady Penelope said.

  “Now?” My eyes went wide with horror at the thought.

  “Come now, Eleanora, don’t tell me you have never even thought of sex before?”

  “I know what it is,” I shot back through gritted teeth. “If that is what you mean.”

  “Any simpleton can look at a painting or sculpture and know that it is art. But only a true and trained master knows how to create such a splendid pleasure.”

  I squirmed. “This is hardly appropriate.”

  “One does what one must, Eleanora, propriety be damned.” Lady Penelope returned to her desk.

  “What do you think I will be doing that requires such ... explicit ... knowledge? I thought I was just to be a cover.”

  “And you will be,” Lady Penelope agreed. “We will begin introducing you to everyone in Prague tomorrow, ordering clothes for you so you can attend socials and breakfasts and balls. Hopefully, it will not be too much longer before we can launch you into Society properly.” She reached over and took a sip from her teacup. “God, I miss England. London is so wonderful this time of year.”

  “None of what you listed seems like it would require a discourse on manipulative sexuality,” I said, ignoring my own stomach’s grumbling as I suddenly wanted some tea for myself.

  “There is more to your introduction to Society that we need to concern ourselves with,” Lady Penelope said.

  “You’re not secretly auctioning me off to the marriage mart, are you? I can already tell you that I would reject such a fate.”

  “Hearing that relieves my nerves like nothing else.” Lady POW rolled her eyes. “The Order takes its business seriously. There is no time for real romance in these instances. Relationships just cause problems.”

  For some reason, Ferdy’s face flashed in my mind, and I felt sad at the thought of never seeing him again.

  “Take it from me, Eleanor. It is best to use people as much as you can and then forget them.”

  At my mother’s name, I winced, but that was not the only reason her statement shook me. From the harshness of her voice, I could tell it was a personal lesson she had learned.

  “Eleanora,” I corrected.

  Lady Penelope did not seem to hear me. “Jaqueline, make sure we have enough material to hide Eleanora’s hips, s’il vous plait.”

  As Jaqueline filled in my corset with extra padding, giving me more of a boyish figure, I decided I would do my best to make sure that, even if I did learn how to use my bosom to get what I wanted, I never needed to employ it.

  “What kind of outfit is this?” I glanced down at the full ensemble. It was made of all black, with different shades and different materials. As Amelia allowed me to lower my arms, I felt the smoothness of the leather as it hugged my body. My legs were nearly bare, with only short pants reaching to my knees. It felt like a long pair of delicates, even though I had on a pair underneath it. I felt better that there was a leather skirt hanging over my legs, secured at the waist with a belt.

  “This is your stealth habit,” Lady Penelope said. “The leather is sturdy and able to provide some protection. The lining is infused with silk, to provide comfort as well as smooth movement, and the linen wraps are there to provide padding.”

  “Padding for my hips?” I asked her, still annoyed by her earlier comments.

  She did not respond to my jab. “Yes. Although the wraps are typically there more for your wrists and knuckles.”

  Marguerite came up to me. “Here, mademoiselle. “This is a hood for you.”

  “A hood?” Before I could ask for specifics, she pushed the material over my head, briefly catching on my hair.

  “It has a mask sewn into it.” Amelia said, reaching toward my face. She momentarily wrestled with the material as I tried not to groan. When I could see properly again, I saw Jaqueline had brought a small hand mirror over for me.

  I gazed into it and briefly wondered if everyone else could see how uncomfortable I felt. My eyes were a stormy blue, and my face was clearly pale. My hair had been shuffled free from my pins, so some of my disheveled curls were sticking out from under my hood.

  “You and your brother both have such beautiful black hair,” Marguerite said. “It matches the outfit perfectly.”

  “Put the mask on,” Amelia said, before she did it for me.

  A strip of thick, dark cloth suddenly pressed against my nose and mouth, and I coughed at the sudden interruption of fresh air into my lungs. No one else voiced any objection; the seamstresses all smiled and gasped, delighted to see my semi-finished self.

  I had to admit, I liked it. The long tunic over the leggings made it much easier to move, and my arms were loose enough that I could move without tearing at my seams.

  “C’est parfait,” Marguerite cheered.

  “Wonderful!” Amelia beamed.

  I had to wonder was what I was supposed to be doing in an outfit like that.

  Lady POW made her way over to me once more. “It’ll do. Now, ladies, we don’t have much time. Please see to it that this is finished first.”

  “Oui, Madame.” Their choral response was amusing, and it cheered me up some as they began to slide the outfit off me.

  “Mada
me, what about the rest of her attire?” Amelia asked. “Should we get started on that as well?”

  “We will need a walking dress for her; make it in the Parisian style.” Lady Penelope looked thoughtful. “I will take Eleanora out to the city tomorrow and order other clothes. As much as I know you ladies are the finest talents with a needle and thread this side of the globe, I need to make Eleanora a sensation.”

  She turned to me. “Which means we will need to go over etiquette next.”

  I drew myself up proudly—or as proudly as I could, as Jaqueline, Amelia, and Marguerite were peeling away the pinned fabric. When my mouth was free of the mask, I said, “I remember a good bit of what Máma taught me.”

  I did not add the additional insight Tulia had provided me, considering most of it was counterproductive to acting like a true lady.

  “You were only a child.” Lady Penelope dismissed my concern. “I doubt Eleanor taught you how to flirt outrageously with a man and get away with it under the guise of innocence, or how to waltz, or any number of other important skills you will need to learn in order to stand out.”

  I could have used that chance to ask her about the mission, and why I would need to learn all of that, but something else bothered me more about what she said.

  “Why does Harshad call Máma Dezda?” I asked. “My father always introduced her as Lady Eleanor.”

  “Your mother’s first name was Eleanor, but Harshad and I often called her Dezda, for her middle name. It is not that unusual a practice; Queen Victoria’s first name is actually Alexandrina.” Lady Penelope waved her hand. “It is hardly a matter of concern.”

  “So it is a British tradition to call people by their middle names?”

  “Do not be foolish, Eleanora. People often have names that are specific to their loved ones. Your own brother calls you Nora, after all.”

  I thought of Ferdy calling me “Ella,” and smiled. I smiled even more as I faced the temptation to ask Lady POW if Harshad’s name for her, Pepé, was an endearment.