The sprawling camp of tents and temporary barracks—overseen by better-built watchtowers and guarded by soldiers and automatons alike—was surrounded by temporary fencing meant to keep prisoners in and revenants out. It didn’t always hold up.
Several breaches had occurred, necessitating the murder of POWs under the guise of ensuring spores couldn’t spread. The bodies were always shipped away, most likely to wherever the death-defying machines were being kept in the field. That they weren’t even given proper funeral rites in a crematorium, or their names listed on a memory wall, was sickening.
The location of the death-defying machines was information Melvin had yet to uncover, but the most critical information he had come into possession of was the identity of two high-profile prisoners who were relegated to the barracks in the camp, ever under guard. Baron Emmitt Dhemlan and Baroness Portia Dhemlan, late of Ashion, had been smuggled into the camp after winter receded and were under the heaviest guard.
Since Caris had claimed Rourke as her bloodline, everyone had wondered what had befallen the Dhemlans. Melvin knew they’d been under house arrest in Amari before that shocking announcement. Since then, no one could or would confirm their whereabouts, not until a cog who worked as a prostitute plied a Daijalan officer with enough whiskey to loosen a tongue.
The officer in question helped oversee the POW camp and knew the records of those brought inside its fences that did nothing to keep out the wind that screamed across the Northern Plains. The POW camp outside Istal’s walls was a place of death. Melvin couldn’t leave Caris’ parents out there to die, but any attempt to access the camp without the proper clearance meant one would join the prisoners.
Melvin was skilled at facilitating the movement of debt slaves, at hiding them and passing them off to other chains for escape out of Daijal. When it came to emergency extractions, the best cog for such tasks came out of Helia.
Lady Sabine Garnier was married to a naval captain, doted on by her husband whenever he was ashore, the man ignorant of her position in the Clockwork Brigade. She wasn’t directly connected to Melvin through a chain, but as the Marshal, he was aware of her position, and they ran in the same social circles. They’d become friendly acquaintances ever since their first introduction some years back. They were careful to keep their interactions few and far between while adhering to the social manners required of them for their individual stations.
Tonight, in the receiving line, Lady Sabine smiled winsomely at them both as she held on to her husband’s arm. She looked splendid in a gauzy sheath gown with a high waist, the deep green fabric picked through at the hem and high collar with bright gold thread. The floral design was meant to invoke the new spring season, a familiar trend everyone indulged in wearing after the snows melted and the barrenness of winter passed.
“A most envious evening, if I do say,” Sabine said with a smile that showed off her dimples as she offered her free hand to Ezra, who bowed over it. “I would be ecstatic at the chance to welcome the queen to our estate in Helia.”
“It is certainly an honor for us,” Ezra replied. “Lord and Lady Garnier, the Khaur bloodline welcomes you. So nice to see you away from the sea.”
Lord Payton Garnier was a tall man five years Sabine’s senior, with a rugged face carved from the sea winds that blew across the Gulf of Helia. His smile was genuine, and he’d always been friendly at previous social gatherings in Helia where they’d interacted. Tonight, he looked quite dashing in his naval uniform, the ranking pins and medals showcasing valor glinting against the crimson of his jacket. When he offered his gloved hand in greeting, his grip was firm but not overwhelming how some officers’ were.
“Well met, Mr. Khaur. You do your bloodline a great service for putting on such a grand occasion in such a short amount of time,” Payton said.
“A pity my uncle could not be here to see it. I would like to think we did him proud,” Melvin said.
“You most certainly have.”
“I’d ask if you were here on holiday, but the war gives no time for breaks. How fares Daijal’s navy?”
Payton smiled, the pride in his gaze that of a military man who knew his place. “I was granted leave for a few weeks and ended up being summoned to Istal for some strategy meetings. Sabine decided to join me. As to the navy, we are holding the waters that belong to us.”
Sabine smiled up at her husband, the adoration in her gaze not a lie, for Melvin knew how much she cared for Payton. “I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you while you were on land.”
Payton lifted her gloved hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “I am glad you wanted to accompany me. I’m even more thrilled we were invited tonight.”
Melvin knew it was as much to be with her husband as it was to do the work of cog, though she would never admit it. Sabine and Payton smiled their goodbyes and moved away. Melvin and Ezra didn’t pay the pair any more attention than they did with their other arriving guests. Melvin’s throat was dry by the halfway mark of the arrival hour, but his chamberlain had positioned a servant nearby, who quickly offered up a tray of water and wineglasses. He chose water for the moment, passing the glass to Ezra to drink out of when he finished.
They were in the midst of welcoming one of the city’s court justices when the sound of trumpets echoed through the open doors, signaling Queen Eimarille Rourke’s arrival. Melvin smoothed his hands down the front of the waistcoat that matched the color of Ezra’s suit, hiding his nerves behind a quick smile directed at his husband. “Let’s hope we did our bloodline proud.”
The receiving line broke up, their chamberlain quickly ushering the latecomers to the side as Melvin and Ezra left their spot beside the grand stairway to position themselves closer to the double doors. Melvin resisted the urge to crane his head about to peer through the doorway for a better view of the drive and the people present there. He didn’t fidget, having learned not to when he was a boy, but he couldn’t help but brush his hand over the front of his jacket again, palm skimming over the faint shape of his wand secured in an inside pocket.
Melvin had long made a name for himself as a magician skilled in parlor tricks. He would never be a match for someone who could cast starfire, but having his wand close at hand brought him a false sort of comfort. These days, with the war in full fight, he never went anywhere without it.
A flurry of motion on the porch made him straighten up, smile perfectly in place and attention on Daijal’s queen as she stepped through the doors amidst the chamberlain loudly announcing her arrival. “Her Royal Majesty Queen Eimarille Rourke.”
The applause that rang through the large foyer echoed against the walls. Eimarille paused just past the threshold, gracing everyone with a lovely smile, head held high beneath the weight of the crown she wore. She was beautiful, Melvin could admit, but her beauty hid a cruelty she couched as service to her country.
He let those thoughts slide away, allowing no hint of his true feelings to show on his face or in his voice as he bowed deeply to the degree appropriate for the monarch, no more and no less. “Your Royal Majesty, on behalf of my uncle, Lord Khaur, my husband and I are honored and delighted to welcome you to the Khaur bloodline’s Istal estate.”
Eimarille’s gown was a shimmering green with gold details around the full skirt. Melvin could just make out the repeating constellation of the Viper, the representation of Daijal’s guiding star god. Her gold-and-diamond crown had lone spines protruding from the flower filigree base, a representation of sunbeams. It sparkled with every movement of her head, her thick blonde hair styled into an updo that put the long line of her neck and back on display.
She smiled at him, her expression open and pleased, as if she truly did care. “I know Lord Khaur is diligently working on several war bills back in New Haven with his heir. It was kind of you to fill in for him on such short notice.”
“No notice is ever too short when it comes to making you feel welcome, my queen. We are proud that you chose our bloodline for your ball.” Melvin gestured subtly at Ezra, smiling fondly at the other man. “May I introduce my husband, Mr. Ezra Khaur?”
Ezra bowed again. “Queen Eimarille, it is an honor.”
Eimarille kept smiling, gloved hands clasped together in front of her. Terilyn stood to her right and a little behind, the Urovan wearing a sheath gown much in the style of Sabine’s from earlier. Her jewelry was more delicate and refined than Eimarille’s, but Melvin didn’t trust she wasn’t armed. She wouldn’t be a Blade if that were the case.
