Poppy’s chest and throat constricted, rendering her unable to speak. She nodded mutely, head still reeling in disbelief. The photographers rushed forward to capture the moment, their flashes bright, shutters snapping in rapid metallic beats. It took all of Poppy’s effort to keep her arm from trembling as she extended it to Richard, her fingers so numb that she barely felt it as he took her hand. The camera shutters chorused again as Richard slid the ring, a pink diamond set in a platinum band, onto Poppy’s finger. He stood, taking Poppy by the hand and turning her to face the blinding lights of the camera flashes.
“Let’s give them a good shot, hm?” he whispered. “We can frame the articles in our home when we’re married.”
The wordsour homefilled Poppy with a surprising warmth. Though she hadn’t pursued Richard for love, the possibility of it was as exciting and delicate as a spring bud. Who knew what this would grow into, given time.
The journalists clamored for their attention. “Miss Sutherland,” one shouted, “how does it feel to be back home?”
“Amazing.” Poppy beamed. “While Welkland was gorgeous in every respect, Viryana is my home, and I am happy to be back.”
“Did the two of you keep in touch while Miss Sutherland was overseas?”
Poppy tensed. There had been no keeping in touch nor letters; they hadn’t even known each other. She could only imagine the way the press would use their lack of history to undermine this moment.
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and both Miss Sutherland and I were occupied with our respective duties,” Richard answered smoothly. “Now that we have come to an age where it is appropriate, we will be devoting ample time to each other.”
He winked at her, and the shutters took off, trying to capture the moment. She relaxed, relieved by his tact.
“Captain Montrose,” another journalist called. Richard stiffened. Poppy peeked at his face quizzically as the reporter asked, “Statistics show that crime rates in Marnapur have doubled in recent years. Do you think this is a result of the poverty caused by the famine? If so, how do you justify lobbying the Council to spend its budget on police equipment instead of relief?”
She kept her face blank. Either the reporter was overstating the issue, or her father had downplayed the recent rise in crime. She wondered at the use of the wordfamine?—she’d imagined people were hungry, given the rise in poverty and the food shortage caused by the volume of exports, but had the situation truly grown so dire that it could be called a famine? Or was the reporter exaggerating?
“The equipment is to fight the crime,” Richard said, a sarcastic edge to his tone. “I should think it’s obvious to anyone that if you have more crime, you’ll need more police, which means you’ll need more resources for those police.”
The journalist wasn’t done. “But if the source of the crime is hunger, wouldn’t those funds be better spent giving resources to the people? Stopping the problem at the heart?”
“You want to know what the heart of the problem is?” Richard said. His voice hardened, all traces of romantic tenderness gone. “It’s not hunger. It’s a thirst for power?—unnaturalpower. The increase in crime has been directly attributed to a gang led by the Jackal. We know that there are unnaturals in their midst, that the Jackal himself likely has unnatural powers of his own. Their goal is to destabilize the order we have built, to regress from the Founder’s civility and return to the savage era of self-governance, when they were once despotic kings. Though there are not as many as there once were, and though their power is diminished, I believe the unnaturals will not stop until we have eradicated them.”
Poppy froze, veins turning to ice. Eradicated? Surely, Richard didn’t mean?—she didn’t let herself even think of it, lest her expression betray her. Her cheeks ached, but she kept her smile airtight.
“Do you fear their power?” another reporter asked.
“Their power is no match for a bullet,” Richard said, “and thanks to the Council, I have plenty of bullets.”
He laughed, as though the thought of killing an entire group of people wasamusing. The sound struck Poppy like a shovel full of grave dirt?—not least of all becauseshewas one of those people whose hypothetical deaths he found so amusing.
Richard didn’t know her secret. No one did, not even Catherine. Poppy had discovered it accidentally, at age thirteen, while waiting for the bathtub to fill. In a fit of impatience, she’d wished the water would come out of the tap faster?—and for a split second, it did, surging with such intensity, the tap snapped clean off. Immediately, a wave of dizziness had struck Poppy. She’d staggered, her limbs weak and heavy, and the flow had returned to normal. The plumber claimed the tap was old and faulty, and no one was the wiser.
It hadn’t taken a genius to connect the freak accident with the stories Nanny had told. But none of Nanny’s bedtime stories had mentioned such a drastic physical toll, and Poppy had no one to ask about it, either. This was the only thing she’d inherited from her birth parents, and they were no longer around to explain how it worked. Her adoptive mother could help her get fitted for a brassiere and explain her first blood to her, but this? Poppy was on her own.
No one could ever know Poppy was an unnatural, supposedly blessed by the same false gods that the Founder had replaced. Especially not Richard. Poppy repressed a shudder as his laugh echoed around her, grating against her skin.Breathe,she reminded herself. The cameras were still trained on her, one shot away from scandal at any point in time.
Besides, he wouldn’t find out, she reasoned. The only way to prove such an allegation was for someone to catch her using her power, and she never would. But still, Poppy wondered: If Richard found out about her powers, would he truly harm her? He was such a tender and sensitive suitor. Could he turn his gun on her? Would he really fire?
“No more questions,” Richard announced with a clap of his hands, pulling her out of her reverie. “We’ll take some last photographs, and then my fiancée and I would like some privacy.”
After the photographers had gotten their fill of photos, Poppy turned to stare at the building?—herbuilding?—once more. She let herself imagine what it would look like when the renovations were done and it was full of children. Orphans. Orphans like her. Orphans whose blood might harbor a power no one could ever?—no.Poppy yanked her thoughts back.
Richard took her hand and pulled her to face him instead of the building. “This is only the beginning of what we can achieve together, Poppy,” he said, his words low and private. “When we’re married, you can open more homes. I want you to be a part of my office, as part of a new philanthropic effort I wish to bring to the viceroy’s role, and help me take care of the vulnerable. I knew homeless orphans must be a cause close to your heart, so I started with this. I thought it would be a fitting testament to your roots.”
Poppy’s heart tightened to hear Richard’s words, an echo of the thoughts that had just been running through her mind. Perhaps it had only been a few weeks, but he already seemed to know the essence of her. She gazed at the orphanage in the drawing again, recalling the child beggars she’d seen around Marnapur since her return. Her father had given her a home when he had taken her off the streets, and now, with the tools Richard was giving her, she could give that same opportunity to others.
“Thank you,” Poppy whispered. “It’s perfect.”
Richard took the folder back and closed it. “We can talk more about it once we’re married,” he promised. “For now, though, I would have you turn your attention to our engagement party.”
“Of course.” Event planning had been a part of the curriculum at Thornhaven. Though she’d been uncomfortable with having the spotlight on her as hostess, she’d had to learn. A lady was judged by the quality of events that she hosted, from the splendor of the decorations to the taste of the food to the caliber of the entertainment. This would be Poppy’s chance to prove to the nobility that she was not only one of them butbetterthan most of them. Determination filled her, overshadowing her unease. “I’ll plan everything. It will be a perfect evening, I promise.”
“I know it will,” he said, squeezing her hand, “because you’ll be there.”
