Chapter 2
“Few will understand magic like a Gear Master, for it flows through his soul and out his hands.”
- Gear Master Torren
Thenext morning,I woke with puffy eyes, a dry throat, and an aching heart. My hands shook as I dressed and washed my face before going to make my morning tea. No reason for the entire city to witness my despair. Word of our breakup would spread soon enough. Quite a few people were about to become far too happy at my expense.
I swiped my palms at my dripping eyes and licked my cracked lips. I was a mess. Damn it.
Stupid of me to have fallen for a duke. Dukes were political animals, not emotional ones. I hated that I’d allowed myself to be ensnared by pretty words and an even prettier face. I had forgotten his true nature.
I rubbed at the hollow ache in my chest.
Banging the kettle onto the stove, I set the water boiling. There was no way I could face this morning without a cup of tea, preferably two, and a bit of food. I might not eat much, but I always had a small bite first thing in the morning, whether it be a slice of toast or a precious piece of fruit.
A man named Spencer had an apple cart near the Tower. In exchange for toys for his daughter, he provided me with a steady supply of slightly bruised apples and the occasional pear. It was an equitable swap that allowed me the luxury of fresh produce my budget couldn’t afford.
I made short work of my tea and toast before taking my second cup down to the workshop with me. Justin had bought me several tins of expensive leaves, and I deserved some recompense for my broken heart. Like most foods, tea had to be imported from another town and came at a premium cost.
A trio of city gardens produced the locally grown food. All three of them had limited access, but for the farmers and their workers who sold their wares for exorbitant prices on market day. Other than the gated gardens, most of our goods came from Green Town. A stupid name, but apt. That city consisted of mostly farms and our main source of trade. Keys traded clothing for cotton, shoes for leather, and so on. I was one of the few who didn’t send most of my wares to other cities. There were enough customers here, and I barely had the time and materials to fulfill my local orders.
Fernhan’s order had been sent off last night during a frenzy of work to battle my broken heart. I jotted down a quick list of my remaining projects, paying close attention to my deadlines. My next order due was for an elderly lady from the Second Quarter who had saved up all her pin money for months to buy her grandson one of my mechanical toys. I must confess I put more effort into her job than any other. It didn’t hurt that she had brought me a tin of excellent homemade cookies as she explained what she wanted. While assembling the pieces, I kept a tight grip on my magic. I worried the toy might gain awareness like Oss’s bunny, Amalia. When I was done, her grandson would have an heirloom he could pass on to his own grandchildren.
After the sixth time my screwdriver slipped and scratched the lion’s flank, I threw the cursed tool across the room. It knocked a broken experiment off the wall with a satisfying clang.
Why had I allowed him this much power over me? Was I so desperate for affection that I let his silver tongue lure me into a web of lies?
“I’m a fool.”
My brief flare of anger left behind a melancholy shell.
Chirp.
“Hush.” I growled, raking my trembling fingers through my hair. A brutal tug on my tangled locks helped me focus. A pragmatist couldn’t wallow forever. I was too practical for angst. It was time to stow away my romantic foolishness and focus on paying my bills. Love wasn’t for the likes of me. Should I be pleased or concerned that my love life was more akin to Affie’s, my half-mad street friend, than my psychotic knife-wielding one.
Chirp.
My right eye twitched. I’m worried it might become a regular condition if that damn bird didn’t shut its beak.
Chirp!
A bestial growl rolled up my throat. I had made one of my birds a little too well.
Chirp!
I threw a wrench at the menace. A flutter of feathers and a loud squawk made me laugh. Wait… feathers?
“When did you get feathers?” I admit I liked to make my mechanical beasts as lifelike as possible, but I didn’t have funds for feathers. They wouldn’t last as well as metal ones and were a pain to import. I walked around my bench to get a better look at the creature I had formed from pieces of copper, screws, and wire. At least it had been formed of metal. Now bright blue feathers sprouted across its tiny body. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve believed it to be a natural-born animal.
The gear pattern on its wings dissuaded me from thinking a random bird had accidentally found its way into my basement workshop.
“Great, just what I need, more weirdness.” I picked up the bird and set it inside the metal aviary where I kept my other mechanical messenger birds. A quick peek proved that this was the only one to gain feathers when I wasn’t looking. The others were behaving themselves. I closed the cage, then returned to my workbench. I didn’t have the energy to deal with this today.
Maybe next week or, better yet, next year.
I picked up a small piece of tin I had found jammed between the spokes of a carriage wheel and smiled at its odd shape. Ideas swirled in my mind as I pondered all possible uses. Mechanics I understood. My creations had never sworn bedroom promises nor whispered sweet nothings in my ears only to take them back in the harsh morning light.
I collected bits and baubles from all around. Discarded in gutters, on sidewalks, and sometimes even the occasional trash heap. I happily gathered the flotsam others threw away. Abandoned items, like me, have little intrinsic value. We must create our own worth.
