A Clockwork Fairytale Read online

“Be very careful what you say,” Turk said over her head. “We don’t want Vittorio to become suspicious.”

  “Where shall I find you?” Dante asked Turk.

  “When you finish here, come to the monastery chapel to discuss our next step. I’ll have someone looking out for you.”

  “Thanks, Dante.” Melba touched his arm. “Will I see you again?”

  “Indubitably.” Dante grinned, then slipped back through the door into the ballroom.

  “We must fetch you a cloak to hide your identity when we leave the Palace.” Turk took her hand and headed for the staircase that led up to the higher floors.

  The poison had left her so weary she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. “I ain’t got the energy to go back up.”

  “I’ll carry you then.” Turk swept her up in his arms. She put an arm around his neck and snuggled her face against his shoulder. Most of her life she had looked out for herself and accepted that that was the way of things. She had never realized how good it would feel to have a man to look out for her.

  ***

  Turk ran up the stairs with Melba cradled in his arms, fear for her a cold knot of dread in his belly. He had sensed the Foul Jinn contamination the moment he touched her and it was far worse than he had expected. The rapid contamination meant she must be wearing something infected with a Foul Jinn. He concentrated on guarding himself against absorbing any of the poison. Gül, his Silver Serpent, squirmed inside the medallion, desperate to fight the Foul Jinn threatening to infect him.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Turk set Melba on her feet. She led him to the door to her apartment and they went inside. An austere dark-haired woman rose from a chair by the window and came forward. “Madam Borrelli, this is me friend, Turk,” Melba said holding tightly to his hand. “He’ll help me.”

  Madam Borrelli’s critical gaze swept over him and she inclined her head cautiously. “Princess Melbaline needs to see a doctor, sir. Do you know of one who will be discrete?”

  “I have somewhere to take her, Madam. The princess needs a hooded cloak to hide her identity as we depart.” Although Melba trusted the woman, he did not reveal that he was taking her to the monastery. His time as a spymaster had taught him to be cautious.

  The woman hurried into the next room and came back with a voluminous dark garment. “I shall tell the Royal Victualler that Her Royal Highness is too poorly to see him tonight. But when he calls again tomorrow, I doubt I can continue to bar him entry. It would be prudent if you returned before the morning, ma’am.”

  “I ain’t coming back tonight, am I?” Melba said, her gaze jumping to Turk.

  He hadn’t thought past getting her safely out of the Palace to cleanse her.

  “Think of your father, ma’am,” Madam Borrelli said, stepping closer to Melba. “To lose you again will distress him terribly.”

  Melba put a hand over her mouth for a second then said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “We’ll speak of this later.” Turk took Melba’s hand. “We must make haste to leave the Palace while Vittorio is occupied.”

  They hurried along the corridors to the external lift that would carry them down to the dock, climbed in, and rang the bell. The grating of the cogs started and the wooden cubicle shuddered and started descending down the outside of the castle wall. Melba leaned against his side and he put his arm around her. “I ain’t gonna be able to walk fast,” she said.

  Turk pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, my little Star. I’ll carry you.”

  Once they had exited the lift and crossed the canal in a punt, Turk carried Melba through the second circle. Nobody in the busy streets looked twice at a Royal Guard celebrating with his sweetheart on Great Earth Day. When they arrived at the door to the chapel, Steptoe was waiting for them. “This is my good friend, Steptoe,” Turk whispered in Melba’s ear.

  “Got your message, mate. Gregorio is waiting inside.” Steptoe opened the door for them.

  “Gregorio? Turk, I thought you were bringing me to see a doctor.” Melba wriggled to get down and Turk set her on her feet.

  “We’ll treat your poisoning, Melba. Trust me.” Soon he would have to explain exactly what was poisoning her, but he wanted her settled in the infirmary before he had to frighten her.

  ***

  Melba followed Steptoe through the deserted chapel. The small altars around the room were heaped with offerings of produce for Great Earth Day, and the sweet smell of overripe fruit hung thick in the air. Turk put his hand on her back and guided her through the door into the infirmary. Although she felt weary and fuzzy-headed, she tried to stay alert. She did not trust any of the golden robes except for Turk.

  She had only gone a few steps along the infirmary corridor when the old monk who had tried to catch her the last time she was here stepped into sight. Melba pulled up and Turk stopped behind her. “What’s the matter, Melba?” he asked.

  “Him.” She pointed at the old man who stared down his nose at her, his blue eyes cold as a midwinter sea. “He grabbed me last time I were ’ere.”

  Turk’s fingers tightened on her shoulders reassuringly. “You have no need to worry. This is the Primate of the Shining Brotherhood, Melba. Your uncle.” She could tell from the respect in Turk’s voice that he liked the Primate. But something about the man made her uncomfortable. His likeness to the king was obvious, but he didn’t have her father’s kindly expression.

  “I intended to keep you safe. It is dangerous for a princess to run around the city on her own,” the old man said as though she was stupid not to have realized that fact.

  She wanted to tell her uncle that he was a rotter for abdicating the throne and leaving her father to cope alone. But she held her tongue because she didn’t want to upset Turk and she wanted to see the doctor.

  Turk took her gently by the hand, leading her into one of the treatment rooms off the corridor. The place smelled of strange herbs and sick people, but the room was comfortable enough with four padded chairs in a semicircle at one side and a narrow bed on the other.

  The Primate and Turk’s friend Steptoe stood at the door as Turk helped her out of her cloak, then ushered her toward a chair. After she sat, Turk crouched in front of her and squeezed her hands. “The first thing you need to do is remove your clothes. You need to take off everything, including your jewelry.”

  Melba’s gaze jumped back to the two men at the doorway. “I ain’t taking off me togs with them watching.”

  “No, of course not. We’ll leave you alone to undress.” Turk rose and fetched a golden robe from the end of the bed. “Put this on. When you’re ready, we’ll be waiting outside.”

  Melba clutched his sleeve as he turned to go. “I need you to help me with me dress.” And she didn’t want him to leave her alone in this strangely disturbing place.

  Turk glanced at The Primate, who just turned away and shut the door. Melba stood and leaned on Turk, pressing her face against his chest so she could smell him and not the strange room. He held her for a moment, then eased away and stepped behind her. “How do you feel now, my little Star?” he asked as he unfastened the back of her dress.

  Melba’s head pounded, every muscle in her body ached, and she felt so tired her legs would hardly hold her up, but she didn’t want him to think she was a whiner. “Not too bad.”

  Once her dress was loose, she pushed the sleeves down her arms and kicked off her shoes. Turk turned his back while she pulled off her undergarments and slipped the chain holding the Earth Blessing that he’d given her over her head. She left all her clothes in a heap on the bed. Uncomfortably aware of the men just outside the door, she quickly wriggled into the golden robe and cinched it closed with the belt. “I’m done.”

  He turned back to her, his cheeks flushed. “Take a seat again. I’ll call the others back.”

  The Primate strode straight in when Turk opened the door, but Steptoe hesitated. “Is it all right if I come in? I mean…” he wave
d a hand in Melba’s direction. “The princess isn’t properly dressed.”

  “She is wearing a habit as I am. Do you consider me improperly dressed?” The Primate demanded, icily.

  “Of course not, Your Eminence.” Steptoe hurried in, eyes averted, gathered her bundle of clothes off the bed, and dashed out. She watched him go with a hint of panic, wondering if she would have to return to the Palace in a golden robe. Turk took the seat beside her and the Primate the one facing her.

  “We believe the Royal Victualler is poisoning you.” The Primate sat back and pressed his palms together in front of his face, staring at her over his fingertips.

  “Madam Borelli, my companion, said the same thing. She said he’s poisoning me pa as well.”

  The Primate pressed his lips together so hard they disappeared in an angry slash across his face. “I remember Madam Borelli as being a remarkably astute woman, so I have no doubt she is correct. I should have suspected as much myself but it did not occur to me anyone could be that wicked. I shall have to consider the best way to reach Santo.”

  Melba was relieved to hear that the Shining Brotherhood would do something to help her treat her father, but first she needed to get well herself. “So have you got a doctor who can make me better?”

  Turk reached out and touched her arm. She started to smile at him but the tense look on his face frightened her. “We’ll make you better. But your sickness cannot be cured by a doctor.”

  “It can’t? What’s the matter with me, then?”

  “Don’t be frightened, Melba.”

  Her breath jabbed with fear at his words. People only said that when something was really bad.

  “Vittorio has somehow poisoned you with emanations from a Foul Jinn.”

  “A Foul Jinn!” Pure terror streaked along every nerve in her body. “I ain’t got a Foul Jinn in me like Maddox, have I?”

  Turk jumped up and crouched in front of her again, gripping her hands. “No, love. No. Not like Maddox. You have a little poison from a Foul Jinn; not the Jinn itself.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead against Turk’s. Her manic heartbeat slowly calmed and the screaming aches in her limbs faded back to their previous dull pain.

  “Where is Maddox?” she asked.

  “He’s recovered. He’s at home in his bakery.”

  Melba pulled back and Turk gave her a small smile. “Really?” she asked.

  “Really. So you see, if we can cleanse Maddox of a Foul Jinn, we can certainly rid you of a little contamination. We’ll make sure that in future you can identify anything contaminated by Foul emanations so Vittorio cannot poison you again.”

  Melba didn’t want to go near Vittorio again, but she had to return to the Palace or her father would worry about her.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The sea is calmest before the storm.

  —Bluejackets’ saying

  By the time Vittorio returned to the Palace ballroom, he was sweating with anger and frustration. From the balcony overlooking the marketplace he had shouted directions to his men to catch the tyke who desecrated the sacred Earth Chimes—then watched in disbelief as the ragamuffin scooted over the bridge to the second circle and disappeared in the crowd. Under the gaze of the whole Court, he had been made to look like an idiot.

  He was furious that many of the nobles who had gone outside to watch the unfortunate entertainment then chose to leave. But some people remained talking and laughing in groups, drinking the king’s cider and eating the snacks passed around by footmen. As he made his way back to the dais to find Melba, Vittorio stopped many times to accept congratulations on his betrothal from those eager to curry favor now he was poised to assume power.

  When he reached the dais and found no sign of Melba, he glanced around with a frown. Dante stood a short distance away with his shoulder against a pillar, flirting with Madam Cecile. His hopeless brother was supposed to be looking after Melba, yet he could not even do that properly. Vittorio threaded his way through the knots of people toward them. Although he had spurned his former mistress Madam Cecile in favor of Melba, it still annoyed him to see his brother charming her. “Madam,” he said inclining his head. “I hope you are well.”

  She was gazing flirtatiously over her black-lacquered fan at Dante. At Vittorio’s approach, she snapped the fan closed and glared at him. “Happy Great Earth Day, your honor,” she said in a tone that suggested she wished him abject misery for the rest of his life. Then she returned her attention to Dante and smiled seductively. “I hope to further our acquaintance very soon, sir.” Then she glided off into the crowd.

  “She’ll eat you for breakfast, Dante,” Vittorio snapped irritably.

  “Is that supposed to put me off?”

  “I really do not care. What have you done with Princess Melbaline?”

  Dante’s cocky grin fell away. “You were gone so long she had to retire. She’s not feeling well.”

  Vittorio cursed softly. He was surprised how quickly the contamination from the Foul Jinn had affected her. If she continued to deteriorate at this rate, he would have to steal back the toxic gold Earth Blessing and poison her through her food instead. He didn’t want to scuttle his own ship by making her too ill to get married. “I noticed she was a little off-color. I’ll go and check on her.”

  He started toward the door, but Dante grabbed his arm. “Wait until the morning.”

  Vittorio shook away his brother’s grip. “This is none of your business.”

  He made his way out of the ballroom. When he heard someone come through the door behind him, he turned to find Dante still dogging his heels. “Melba’s my friend. That makes her welfare my business.”

  “Listen,” Vittorio said, squaring up to Dante, “I’ll not tolerate you poking your oar in. This isn’t a joke or one of the games you like to play. Stay out of it.”

  Dante took a pace toward him, his expression set firm, and Vittorio’s heart sank. He didn’t want to hurt his brother, but he knew from experience that Dante wouldn’t compromise when he thought he was right. “I know you’re poisoning her with a Foul Jinn, Vitto. I sensed it when she visited me on the trash barges. I cannot let you continue to hurt her.”

  Vittorio glanced around to make sure nobody was listening then leaned toward Dante. “Do you think I want to hurt her? The stupid girl gave me no choice. Once we’re married, I’ll have her cleansed.”

  A stranger might not have noticed the flicker of guilt that passed through Dante’s eyes but Vittorio knew his brother too well. Grabbing a handful of Dante’s silk waistcoat, he yanked him forward. “What have you done?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Vittorio slammed Dante back against the wall. “Tell me.”

  Dante just stared at him with the same stubborn, righteous expression Vittorio knew so well.

  “She’s not here is she? Where has she gone? Is that spymaster monk involved?” Vittorio barked a mirthless laugh. “Yes, of course he is.”

  “She’s asleep in her bed,” Dante said.

  With a grunt of disgust, Vittorio snatched his hands away from his brother as if he was contaminated. “I should have known you would betray my trust.”

  Vittorio ran up the stairs to the top floor and strode along the corridor to the princess’s apartment, where he knocked and entered without waiting for a reply. He was almost sure he wouldn’t find her in bed, but a tiny mote of hope restrained his temper.

  Madam Borrelli shot to her feet from her chair, a piece of embroidery clutched in her hand. “Her Royal Highness is indisposed, your honor.”

  “I need to see her.”

  “Come back tomorrow morning, your honor. She might feel up to receiving you then.” The woman’s words extinguished his last remaining hope that Melba was here. Vittorio dragged in a breath jagged with bitter disappointment. Melba’s betrayal was only to be expected, but his brother’s deceit sliced through him like a blade.

  He moved toward her bedroom door and Madam Borrelli hurried
across the room to block his entrance. “This is not proper, sir.”

  Vittorio glared down at the woman. “Get out of my way.”

  She squared her narrow shoulders and her mouth tightened into a hard line as she returned his glare. “You will not force your way into the princess’s bedroom, your honor.”

  “She is soon to be my wife. I have a right to see her if she’s unwell.”

  The color drained out of the woman’s face and she blinked at him. But still she did not move aside. “Be that as it may, your honor, you will not disturb the young lady’s sleep.”

  “Vitto, do not do this,” Dante said from the doorway. Vittorio gritted his teeth. He was certain he would find Melba’s bed empty, but he had to see for himself. He sidestepped Madam Borrelli, pushing her down into a chair, and strode to the bedroom door. Even as he turned the door handle, part of him still prayed that Dante had not conspired with spymaster Turk against him.

  His breath rushed out on a gasp of pain at the sight of the empty bed and he averted his gaze. Vittorio turned slowly, hardly able to look at his brother as a spasm of grief tightened his chest. He had rescued Dante from a life as a cabin boy on a royal barge, educated him, introduced him to society, given him a decent life. And this was how he was repaid.

  Dante went to Madam Borrelli’s assistance and crouched beside her chair, patting her hand. Vittorio strode to the doorway and shouted for the four guards he had stationed outside the king’s apartment just down the corridor. “Arrest these two,” he commanded, pointing at Dante and the Borrelli woman.

  “Vitto, no,” Dante said as two guards grabbed his arms and another pulled the old woman to her feet.

  Ignoring Dante, Vittorio led the way along the corridor and down the servants’ stairs to the bowels of the Palace. Madam Borrelli made no sound, but Dante kept up an incessant stream of arguments as to why Vittorio was making a mistake.

  “Where are you taking us?” Dante demanded when they started down the old discolored stone steps into the cellars.

  Vittorio finally glanced over his shoulder at his angry, disheveled brother, who didn’t look so smart and cocky now.