Caris breathed through her nose to keep the nausea at bay. “Mother, what does he mean?”
Portia cleared her throat, turning her head to look at Caris. “Nothing, my dear. He means nothing.”
“It’ssomethingif you’re so worried.”
Portia shook off whatever malaise had settled on her and went to her knees before the bed. She grasped Caris’ hand again, lifting the other to push back Caris’ sweaty hair. It reminded Caris of when she was young and she’d come home furious that the latest invention she’d spent so much time on wasn’t working right. Her mother was always one to soothe her hurts, and this was no different.
“You should rest,” Portia said.
“I’d like to know what’s going on,” Caris retorted, grimacing at the way her voice echoed in the bones of her skull. She pushed through the pain anyway.
“Nathaniel is meeting with the duchess. Both of you should be present for it. There’s some realignment going on with the cogs,” Blaine said.
Caris’ stomach swooped in a way that had little to do with nausea and everything to do with panic. “What?”
Portia shot Blaine a scathing look. “Now is not the time.”
Blaine shrugged. “You and the duchess both seem to think keeping her in the dark will keep her safe. It won’t, especially not after last night.”
“I think you have said quite enough.”
Blaine glanced between them before tipping his head in the direction of the door. “We’ll be in the duchess’ private parlor.”
He left on quiet feet, closing the door softly behind him. Caris met her mother’s eyes and searched her face. “You’re a cog?”
“It’s a trend that appears to run in the family.” Portia sighed and got to her feet with a wince. “You should rest, my dear.”
Caris pushed herself to a sitting position. “I think I should go with you to the parlor.”
“Your father would want you to stay here.”
“And you? What do you want?”
Portia slowly sat on the bed beside Caris, gazing at her with tired eyes. “I want you safe. I thought letting you come here as the duchess’ ward would keep you that way.”
“I was safe, Mother.”
“You became a cog.”
“Like you, apparently.”
“Your father and I provide inventions when needed to the Clockwork Brigade. We had never received direct contact from Fulcrum, Mainspring, Locke, or Whisper until we came to Amari when you were sixteen. Our chain of contacts is short. Unlike yours, it seems.”
Caris thought of all the names and information she’d been privy to beneath Meleri’s watchful guidance over the last few years. “I wanted to help.”
Portia’s gaze softened, and she reached out to cradle Caris’ face in both hands. “Of course you did. It’s in your blood.”
With a sigh, her mother stood once more, but this time, she helped Caris to her feet. Caris leaned on her mother’s arm a little as they exited the bedroom. The light in the hallway made her wince, but the medicine she’d taken was specially prepared by a magician and was fast-acting.
Caris knew where Meleri’s private parlor was. She led her mother there, and they came upon quite the gathering of people.
Meleri was present with Lore, Brielle, and Dureau, along with Blaine and Nathaniel. With them was the E’ridian ambassador, who stood quite close to Blaine near a bookcase. Nathaniel paced by the windows, the curtains drawn tightly shut like the ones in her bedroom. The moment Caris and Portia entered the parlor, Nathaniel stopped his pacing and went immediately to them.
“You should be resting,” Nathaniel said, taking Caris’ free hand in his. He brushed a kiss over the back of her knuckles before tucking it into the crook of his arm. She held on tight, leaning into him.
“You never told me you were a cog,” Caris said.
Nathaniel grimaced. “It appears we both weren’t forthcoming about such things. My apologies, but Fulcrum’s orders are not to be disobeyed.”
