He nodded. “I would. Very much. It would involve a great deal of travel. I would see the world, and be out from under the Guild’s thumb.”
Lewis, despite his connections to the Rogue Pretoria, rarely spoke of the Guild with any negativity. From him, this phrasing was tantamount to revolt.
I was happy to hear it. My adverse feelings towards the Guild were strong, but there were times I feared Lewis was too comfortable at Kesterlee.
“Is this a position I could accompany you to?” I asked. “If I am not with child. If we… reach that juncture.”
Something different entered his expression. I might have called it pity, or concern, but Lewis was not an easy man to read.
We both jostled in our seats as the carriage went over a bump in the road. There was a crack, and a shouted curse from our driver.
Lewis, rather than look startled, let out a long breath.
The carriage stopped, and dread crept up my spine.
“Lewis?” I asked lowly.
He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to give up. “I was not opposed to our future, if that was within Guild walls,” he said, instead. “We would have made a good go of things, I am sure. I hope we will meet again someday, Ottilie. Do not fear for me.”
I gaped at him. “What?”
The carriage door opened. A rifle mouth appeared and levelled at Lewis, accompanied by an unfamiliar voice. “Out!”
Lewis gave me one last look, then complied. I stared at the empty doorway and the slice of misty forest night for an instant, then started to go after him.
Another figure climbed up into the carriage and sat across from me. In trousers, loose jacket, and a low cap, Pretoria’s lean frame might have passed for a man from a distance, but up close there was no true disguise.
My sister tore off a false moustache with theatrical gusto and tossed it out the window. The carriage door closed as shouts and gunshots took over outside, and the carriage rattled back into movement.
“They will make a good show,” she promised me, beaming. “Lewis will be under no suspicion. Hello, dear sister.”
“You are taking me from the Guild,” I surmised.
“I am. I promised to, eventually. Why, had you given up on me?”
Perhaps I had. I felt oddly dull at the realization. “You did, but I did not… I did not ask you to do this. Not now. I am not sure I am ready.”
I am not ready to part with Lewis.
“You did not have to ask me,” Pretoria replied with belligerent affection. “And we are never truly ready for the great leaps in life, we must simply close our eyes and take them. Tillie, I did not expect you to fling yourself on me in thanks, but you seem almost displeased.”
“Is Lewis not coming?”
Evidently, that was not the question she expected. She furrowed her brows at me, then her brown eyes rounded in realization. “Oh dear. No, love, he is not. He did not… You two did not discuss this? He decided to stay.”
I pinned my lips closed. A great wave of emotion, churning and complex, crashed over me, and I found myself unable to speak. The carriage rattled on and on, and Pretoria watched me with an elder sibling’s insight, concern, and benevolent condescension.
“I did not expect it to happen like this,” I said by way of explanation. I let out a heated breath. “I’m unsure what I want, just now.”
“Then it is good I have decided for you,” she stated with a shake of her head. “They have their claws in you, darling, but I shall pry them out.”
I did not know what to say to this, still numbed with too much feeling, so I moved on. I sat a little straighter, pushed the final image of Lewis from my mind, and folded my hands in my lap, mirroring my sister across the carriage.
“Very well,” I said. “Where are we going?”
A NOTEUPON: GOLDENENTWINED
Golden Entwined, more commonly known as Glims, possess golden threads and uncanny abilities in the realms of art, whether that be painting, sculpting, or even the composition of music. The beauty of their works cannot be denied, however neither can their dangers. For to be painted, sculpted, or otherwise have one’s likeness captured by a Glim is to be robbed of a piece of one’s self—an emotion, a memory, a fraction of soul. To listen to their music is to expose oneself to their influence and seduction, as one must be cautious of any written word penned by a Bronze.
