I closed the space between us and slipped my arm through hers. “I will tell you everything, once we are somewhere safe.”
***
We did not speak again until the door of Pretoria’s new safehouse was closed.
The place was in the worst part of Old Harrow, right beside the docks and stinking of fish and river. The room had faded wallpaper and threadbare rugs, but it was quiet, and the room itself smelled of freshly laundered sheets.
Perry glanced from his station at the cracked window and gave me a tense greeting. Beyond, the docks spread out to the flow of the river, and one could see a narrow view of the street and front door.
“You live,” I observed.
“As do you,” he returned. “We’ve been worried.”
“Ottilie?” My sister’s worried tones drew my attention back to her. “What happened?”
I had prepared for this moment during my walk, but still, I took a moment to reply. What hadnothappened to me, in the last six days? I had been abducted and arrested, threatened and attacked, glimpsed my erstwhile fiancé, kissed a Separatist, thrown a Guild mage off a bridge, and lost my cat.
I had suffered the upending of my entire life and future.
“I want to trust you,” I said to Pretoria. My eyes burned, but otherwise, I was composed. “I want to tell you everything. But first, I need some assurances. Perry, do you mind giving my sister and I the room?”
Perry glanced at Pretoria. I could not read the look they exchanged but he touched her arm and left, as requested. The door clicked, and my sister and I were alone.
Pretoria sat on the opposite bed with a soft creak. The moment stretched long and I sensed her struggling to find something to say. I, too, found myself reluctant to begin.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was stripped of pomp and bravado, so much so she might have been another person entirely. “You do not have to trust me, or tell me anything. Other than what you would like me to do.”
I weighed this. It was quite the gesture on her part, and I sensed it was genuine. But it was not enough.
“I require you to swear you will not take me out of Harrow against my will,” I replied. The words came from somewhere deep inside of me, whole and full. “Swear to me you will not manipulate me or corral me into going anywhere with you. Swear to me that you will leave me to do as I please, as soon as I tell you to. Swear to me that you will accept that my choices are my own.”
“Ottilie—” She cut herself off, clearly swallowing offense at my words. Then, slowly, she nodded and said with sincerity, validated and verified by the pain and frustration in her eyes, “All right. I swear.”
Those two words had such weight to them. They hung in the room until I could bear them no longer.
“Now,” I said, erasing them with my voice. “There is a great deal more to the artifact than I initially understood. Grand General Baffin believes it is the key to learning how to turn humans into Entwined, and he now has it in his possession.”
Whatever Pretoria had anticipated me saying, this was not it. Her eyes grew wide. But she did not interrupt.
“However, there is a chance it is not properlyin his possession, as it were, at this moment. He has been funding the research of a professor at the university, a philologist, and I believe he will take the artifact to him for translation.”
“Or bring the professor to the artifact,” Pretoria pointed out. Her expression grew keen, a challenge-hungry edge that I recognized well.
“That may be,” I conceded. “And if it is, we will have to adjust. But we must start somewhere. If I was Dr. Maddeson and I had just been handed the artifact—and I had a choice in the matter—I would be in my office, with my books and research.”
“Then we go to the university,” Pretoria surmised. “But if Baffin wants the artifact, will Lord Stillwell still pay for it? Perry?”
There was a moment of quiet, then the door slowly opened and Perry stepped back into the room. There was not a scrap of shame on his face at being caught eavesdropping, just a winsome Copper’s smile.
“Lord Stillwell was still very much in want of the artifact when I spoke with him yesterday,” the man said. “He did mention that someone had come to him, making inquiries about it and offering to purchase it from him, but he seemed to consider the matter innocent enough. He also told me that his valet had gone missing. It seems he sent him to meet with Mr. Stoke, the night of the bombing.”
“Mr. Wake likely killed him, so he could impersonate him,” I surmised. I felt a flicker of regret for the faceless stranger, but the chill I felt when I thought of Wake was stronger. “Even if Stillwell is not willing to pay, could you find another buyer?”
“One who would not yield to Baffin?” Pretoria mused. “Certainly.”
Reassured, I nearly smiled. “Good. Then let us proceed.”
From there, we began to lay out plans. I did not, however, speak of Lewis or the following phases of my plan—to rescue him and flee to Ilandrume. I did not tell my sister that, once the dust from all this had settled, I would take every penny of the reward and leave her behind. I would leave her as I had intended to leave Mr. Stoke. I would turn my back on her, her love and her meddling, and walk away.
