Of course, that won’t happen, she thought,don’t be ridiculous. The worst that will happen is he takes away the instruments, revokes funding, and cancels the experiment altogether. And the artifact is taken back to the palace.
But the fear remained, gripping her when she thought of losing the artifact. As hard as she tried not to, the dread of it spun endlessly in her mind.
By the time she descended the dark stone steps into the dungeon, it was late morning and her team was busy at their stations. Fen held the artifact with a pair of thick gloves while Archie moved a small brass instrument over its surface, something they had done several times already for various invented purposes.
The energy of the room was subdued, as if Archie, Gwyneth, and Fen had absorbed the Children’s somber demeanors at the molecular level. They grunted greetings when Ru started setting up at her station, but were otherwise absorbed in their own projects. She wondered if the impending arrival of Lord D’Luc had crushed everyone’s spirits — it had certainly crushed her own.
Ru went to her workstation, pulling out one of her notebooks, and flipping to the most recent page of notes, most of which were utter nonsense. Then she settled into her chair, resting her chin on her hands, elbows braced on the table, watching Fen and Archie with the artifact. They spoke in low tones, focused on their performance, aware of the Children’s sharp gazes.
Their measurements finished, Fen went to return the artifact to its central table, setting it gently on the folded blanket. Ru watched intently as he slid the oven mitts from his hands, flexing long, sun-tanned fingers.
He turned, sensing her eyes on him, catching her gaze. His lips curved in the beginnings of a smile and she glanced away, pretending to focus on her notebook, the pointless numbers and letters she scribbled there. She felt him watching her for a moment, palpable anticipation stretched between them.
Ru didn’t dare glance up again until she heard his boots moving away, his chair dragging across the stone, until she knew he was back at his workstation. Her heart in her throat, she waited three beats, then glanced up.
Fen had turned to fiddle with one of the instruments on his desk, his profile catching the lamplight, hair falling over his eyes. She felt something melt in her, a softening of a shell she hadn’t known was there. What was this distance that had sprung up between them? Was it Ru’s fault? Her inability to understand what even she herself wanted? Was it Fen’s inability to return Ru’s stunted feelings?
She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. Brooding and worrying would accomplish nothing. Greater things were at stake than Ru’s silly attraction. They needed a plan of action in anticipation of Lord D’Luc’s arrival, and time was running short. She needed to speak to her team in secret, without the Children hovering, without them knowing. There was no other way to formulate a strategy of misdirection.
Ru ripped a page from her notebook and scribbled a note, folding it while the Children were distracted by Gwyneth, who had gone to hold a mirror and a candle over the artifact.
“Arch,” Ru said, “come here. Does this formula look right to you?”
As Archie sidled over to her workstation, Fen shot her an unreadable look. A shiver traveled down to the base of her spine. A simplelookand he had her unbalanced. Biting her lip, she turned to Archie and slipped the note into his hand as he bent over the desk, studying one of her old notes.
“Looks good to me,” he said, closing his fist around the note.
“Thanks, Arch,” she said, her heart thundering in her chest. If he read it and followed the instructions without giving himself away, Archie would pass the note to Fen, and Fen to Gwyneth, without their white-robed overseers being any more the wiser.
Now, all Ru had to do was formulate a plan. But nothing came to her. She made random scratches on paper with pencil, willing her fingers to bring forth some knowledge that her mind would understand and follow. But her brain was like a dried-up prune, sapped dry, absolutely useless. Her team would be counting on her to inspire them, but she had nothing.
There was a sudden clatter on the stone stairs, and Lyr appeared in the room. He had never come down into the dungeon before, and his plumed helmet, his shining armor, seemed almost comically out of place in the ancient room.
“Letter for you, Miss Delara.” He held out a rolled-up parchment.
Ru sprang up so quickly, she almost knocked over a slew of delicate scientific instruments. Brass bits jangling in her wake, she hurried over to Lyr in the doorway. This had to be a letter from Simon, at last, the answers she’d been looking for.
“Thank you,” she breathed. A bit more loudly, she said over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a moment.”
The Children fixed her with narrow-eyed stares, but the others nodded and went back to their work as Ru hurried up the stairs.
It wasn’t that Ru believed her brother to be anything but subtle when it came to sending delicate information via pigeon, but she wanted to be alone when she read his reply in case the Children took an interest in it, in case he’d written anything sensitive. Clutching her skirts in one fist, the other holding the letter, she hurried breathlessly to the dormitory wing and her room.
Flinging herself onto the settee by the unlit hearth, she unrolled the letter. A separate sheet of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor. She bent to pick it up, setting it aside as she read the letter itself.
Ru,
Forgive the brevity. Some intriguing goings-on at the palace these past few days. I’ve sent you a leaflet that might pique your interest. If you don’t hear from me, I’m perfectly fine, but may be unable to write for a while.
Your devoted brother,
Simon
Apprehension settled like a stone in Ru’s gut. She didn’t like Simon’s tone, his forced brevity. What could be going on at the palace that would give Simon pause, deter him from writing? His attempt at reassurance had the opposite effect on her — if he felt compelled to spell out the fact that he was fine, Ru felt certain that he wasn’t.
Hoping the leaflet would shed light on the letter, she unfolded it. In large curled lettering, the top of the leaflet read:
The Children
