ASZARIA EMERGED INTO THE GRAY AFTERNOON THE NEXTday, Jules at her side, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
She hadn’t yet told Jules about the second deal she’d made with Kane Durante. His stupid wink still lingered in her mind; it was the last she’d seen of him before he disappeared like a phantom into the night. Jules had made it clear from the start that he didn’t like Kane. Neither did Zaria, to be fair, but she wanted what Kane could give her more than she hated the way he conducted himself.
That was what she tried to convince herself, at least. It was hard to look at him, knowing he worked for Ward. She wanted to ask him more about it, but at the same time, she knew it would only make her angry. Kane was the reason people in Devil’s Acre lived in fear. Not the only one, certainly, but the things he did contributed to the general sense of hopelessness.
Zaria couldn’t imagine Jules doing those things. And she was desperate to ensure he never had to.
She looked over at him now, guilt churning within her. He would be disappointed she’d gone to Kane without telling him and made a bargain without his input. More to the point, she didn’t think she would be able to weather his wrath when he found out she’d nearly been killed. And hewouldfind out in the event that she attempted to recount the tale, because she’d always been terrible at lying to him. An argument would ensue, and Zaria could already imagine how that would go: They would bicker, Jules’s fear manifesting as rage. He would blame Kane, claiming that Zaria had been perfectly safe until he’d walked into their lives. It wouldn’t be untrue, but Jules would refuse to listen to sense, and it would spiral into a debate about whether they should be working with Kane at all.
And she had to keep working with Kane. It was the only way to get the money they needed.
Zaria gave herself a shake as she and Jules picked their way through the slum. Per Kane’s directions, she’d dressed in the nicest thing she owned. Still, it was nothing ostentatious: a simple maroon dress with an embellished neckline and layered skirts. Beside her, Jules wore his least-frayed coat and hat. Together they made a rather sad display, but if Kane said a single derogatory word about it, Zaria was committed to knocking his teeth in.
Despite the weather, their street seemed more crowded than usual. People in patched clothing held armfuls of meager belongings, and neighbors shoved one another aside, harsh voices echoing down the alleyways. All had hollow eyes and cheeks. Some were undoubtedly homeless. Zaria watched, heart sinking, as a small boy hunkered down beside a scum-covered ditch at the side of the road.
“Miss Mendoza! And Master Zhao!” A woman in a filthy overcoatwaved, scuttling over to the child. She pulled him to his feet and proceeded to wipe dirt from his face as she addressed Zaria and Jules. “Still keeping an ear out for me, I hope?”
“Aye, Lottie,” Jules said heavily. “But neither my father nor I have heard of any place to rent. Nothing that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg, mind you.”
The woman flashed missing teeth in some version of a strained smile. “God bless, Master Zhao. I pray something turns up before the cold returns.”
Jules shook his head as they continued on, a familiar hopelessness in his expression. London seemed to grow more crowded every day with the recent industrial boom, and the chances of someone like Lottie finding a place were slim.
The reek of the river was carried over on a gust of wind, and Zaria wrinkled her nose. The streets had begun to widen and give way to brothels, and she spied more than one pair of eyes leering at her and Jules from the shadows. After last night, every unwanted glance had her on edge, and she stuck closer to her friend than usual.
Could you kill a man, Zaria?Itzal had asked her once as they worked on an invention together.If you had to, could you kill a man?
By then Zaria had known her father well enough to not be startled by the question.If I had to.
He’d smiled, then. A strained, rare smile.Good.
It wasn’t the only time he’d asked, and still Zaria hadn’t the occasion to find out whether she’d spoken honestly. Could she have killed her attacker, she wondered, if Kane hadn’t shown up? She wanted to believe the answer was yes. Truth be told, she didn’t know.
By the time they approached Hyde Park, the light rain had begun to dwindle. Zaria scanned the lush grass and the slew of well-dressed men patrolling the area as they hollered instructions to one another.Holding the Exhibition here had been a controversial decision; until recently, the park had been an area for the wealthy,respectablemembers of society to ride horses and do whatever it was rich people did. Now the Crystal Palace loomed in the near distance, dazzling and futuristic, dominated by a gargantuan glass arch in the middle. It had been erected right in the center of Hyde Park—they hadn’t bothered removing any trees, building the structure around them instead. At first, it had struck Zaria as a preposterous idea, but now she thought it perfectly reasonable. She couldn’t imagine anything wouldn’t fit in the Crystal Palace.
Nonetheless, exhibits spilled out into the park. Set up on the grass was an array of elaborately carved statues, machines with moving parts, enormous deposits of coal and other minerals, and what looked like a small house set against the glass backdrop. Though the Exhibition wasn’t set to officially open for another week, the Royal Commission had clearly put a lot of effort into preparations.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Jules said for what must have been the thousandth time today.
“Hey, Jules?” Zaria said, gaze tracking a rich-looking couple as they passed. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think this is a good idea?”
He scowled at her. “It just feels like a rather conspicuous meeting place.”
She didn’t disagree. Throngs of people milled about in the park, come to gawk at the exterior of the Crystal Palace. There were rich and poor folk alike—a testament to the work the prince consort had put into making sure the event was accessible to all. It was a move that had surprised Zaria given his wife’s general disdain toward the lower classes, evidenced by her unwillingness to support sociallegislation that would benefit the less fortunate. No matter how the queen’s government tried to portray her as a ruler who cared about all her people, the poor knew the truth. They felt it.
Zaria scanned the unfamiliar faces as she and Jules moved through the crowd, but none of them were Kane. So she thought, at least, until she heard a familiar, disingenuous laugh from a short distance away.
She pivoted, eyes narrowed at the back of the boy who had uttered the sound. He stood facing a handsome, rotund older gentleman, and—to Zaria’s abject horror—a police officer. Surely Kane wouldn’t keep such company? He was a criminal, for God’s sake.
But when the boy turned, she no longer had any doubts. She knew that indulgent grin, that straight nose. She even recognized the carefully arranged hair beneath that black hat. The enormous blond copper glared at Zaria over the older man’s head, and she was quick to drop her gaze. What was Kanethinking? Interacting with law enforcement outside the very building from which he intended to steal?
“There he is,” Zaria said to Jules now, nudging his elbow. “There’s Kane.”
Jules followed her line of sight, distrust wrangling his features into something unpleasant. A heartbeat later, it was replaced by horror. “Why’s he with a copper?”
