A Clockwork Fairytale Read online

  She rounded on him. “The poor lass don’t know what’s happening to her. ’Tis your fault, boy. You turned her into a young woman.”

  He stared at her retreating back, open-mouthed with disbelief. Then he chased down the stairs after her. “The Great Earth Jinn is responsible for her sex, madam, not I.”

  Gwinnie stopped at the bottom of the steps and wedged her hands on her ample hips. “Aye, he made her a girl, but ’tis you who fattened her up into a woman like a goose being prepared for Great Earth Day celebrations. There’s consequences with doing that, boy, consequences.”

  “Sweet Earth Jinn! Melba’s not a goose. Speak plainly, woman, and save the riddles for Great Earth Day.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t come down in the last shower of rain, boy. Use the brains the Great Earth Jinn gave you. ’Tis women’s problems she has. I’m betting that grand education the Golden Robes gave you didn’t prepare you for dealing with this.”

  Cold sweat broke out on Turk’s face. He raised his palms and backed away from Gwinnie. One of the benefits of being a monk was that he knew nothing of women’s problems and he preferred to keep it that way. “I’ll be in the library,” he said, turning toward his refuge. “When Melba’s feeling better, tell her to come down for her lesson.”

  “That’s right,” Gwinnie shouted at his retreating back. “Go an’ bury your head in a book, lad. You’re good at doing that.”

  A few hours later, the library door swung open and Melba stood framed in the doorway wearing the blue silk dress, her hands linked demurely in front of her. Her face was pale, the skin nearly transparent beneath her soft golden curls. She looked as beautiful and fragile as a priceless spun-crystal statue.

  Turk shot to his feet and hurried around his desk. “Come in. Sit down,” he said, going to hold the back of the chair, just as a gentleman should for a lady. Melba averted her gaze and entered with dainty steps.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. The young lady who sat carefully and smoothed out her dress was all princess. Where had the old Mel gone? Her transformation was exactly what he’d set out to achieve. So why did it make him ache inside?

  He stepped around the chair and stood beside her, griping his hands together, unsure what to say. Melba had amused him, confounded him, and charmed him. She had touched him inside like nobody else and however angry it made Gregorio, he didn’t want to lose that connection. Yet now she seemed like a different person. She looked up, her huge blue eyes pink-rimmed from crying. Uncomfortable with standing looking down at her, he dropped to one knee solicitously. “Are you feeling better now?”

  She nodded.

  “Were you in pain?”

  “Gwinnie gave me something for me bellyache and it ain’t as bad now.”

  “Good.” Turk looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers against his thigh. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel well, Melba.”

  “Gwinnie said ’tis your fault I got sick ’cause you made me get fatter and me body realized I’m a woman, but I don’t blame you or nothing.” Her bad grammar made him want to smile with relief that something of the old Mel had survived the transformation.

  “The writing you did over the last two weeks is excellent,” he said, grasping for a safe topic. “I’ve never met anyone who learns as quickly as you do.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and he felt as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds. “Master Maddox always said I had quick wits,” she offered.

  “You do. The quickest.” He let out an inward sigh of relief that things were getting back to normal. “So, how did you get on with Madam Quatro’s dance and deportment lessons?”

  Melba’s gaze dropped back to her lap and she ground her teeth. When she raised her eyes again, a hint of her old defiance gleamed in the shimmering blue. “Madam Quatro’s a wicked old bag.”

  Turk smiled even though he shouldn’t encourage her to insult her tutor. “Is she strict?”

  Melba was sitting taller now, a bit of color in her cheeks. “She has this cane she uses to tap out the rhythm and every time I misstep she whacks me with it.”

  “She what?” Turk rocked back in shock. “She hits you?”

  “Aye.” Melba’s delicate golden brows drew together and she leaned forward. “She told me it were disgraceful that a girl of seventeen didn’t know no dance steps. So I told her she were a scabby old cow. She chased me with her stick, but she’s got a limp so she couldn’t catch me. I told her you said to sling ’er hook and not come back.”

  Turk was torn between laughing at the scenario Melba described and frowning at her mistreatment. “I’m sorry, Melba. If I’d known her teaching methods included thrashings I’d never have engaged her services.” Gregorio had recommended Madam Quatro. Surely he wasn’t aware she caned her students.

  Melba hitched up her skirt revealing her bare feet. Remorse hit him as he realized he’d bought her a dress and beautification products but no lady’s shoes. He’d taken away all her old clothes to ensure she wore her dress and left her walking around his palace barefoot for two weeks. No wonder Madam Quatro hadn’t been impressed when the poor girl attended her dancing lessons shoeless. A second later when she drew her skirt up to expose her lower legs all thoughts of shoes fled his mind. Angry black, purple, and yellow bruises covered her shins.

  “Oh, Melba.” He dragged in a breath full of hot spiky guilt. This was his fault. He gently cupped one of her feet in his hand and lifted it onto his knee. Blinking with shocked disbelief, he ran his palm lightly up and down her shin. The tiny gold hairs on her leg tickled his skin and shone against the purple background in defiance of the abuse. He had to swallow hard before he could speak. “I’m sorry. I should have checked on your progress sooner.”

  In truth, although he had been busy he could have spared time to visit her. He’d stayed away from fear of his master’s disapproval. And Gregorio would certainly not approve of him touching Melba’s leg. Turk lowered her foot gently to the ground and rose to his feet while she smoothed down her dress.

  “Where did you go for two weeks?” Melba asked. “I missed you. Gwinnie had to help me with me dress.”

  Turk went around his desk and dropped into his seat, a strange sense of unreality and confusion clouding his thoughts. He had always been sure of his duty and never had any doubts over what was right and what was wrong—until now. Gregorio wanted him to distance himself from Melba, but that would hurt her feelings and he didn’t want to cut himself off from her. Turk did not intend to break his vow of celibacy, so why did Gregorio think him wrong to treat Melba with kindness and friendship?

  “Master Turk, did you hear me?”

  “I’m sorry, Melba. I have things on my mind. Look, I think it’s time you called me Turk and dropped the master and the sir. We’re friends now.” Gregorio would not like this development, but Turk could hardly expect Melba to refer to him as master once she became a princess.

  She smiled. “All right, Turk.”

  He returned her smile, feeling lighter now he’d decided to follow his own instincts. “I won’t disappear again. You have my attention now.” He needed to deliver her to the king posthaste so she’d be safe from Vittorio, but first he must warn her of the threat the Royal Victualler posed, and awaken her to her magic.

  “Let’s proceed with our belated discussion about Sugar Street Market and the Royal Victualler.” He flicked back through the pages of her notebook. “You noted that none of the Shining Brotherhood attended the alms distribution even though the Royal Victualler offered it in the name of the Great Earth Jinn.” He looked up at her eager expression, relieved that the old Mel had not disappeared after all. “The Royal Victualler used to be a member of the Shining Brotherhood, but he fell out with them, so you’ll never see any Brothers at one of his events.”

  Melba nodded sagely. “I know why he must’ve left them. Master Maddox said it were unnatural for grown men to shut themselves away without a woman in sight. Said he didn’t trust ’em.”


  “Unnatural… I see.” Turk opened his mouth to continue, wanting to defend his lifestyle, but closed it again his words unsaid. Now was not the time to explain the spiritual benefits of celibacy. He silently thanked the Great Earth Jinn that he had not told Melba he was a Brother. He cleared his throat. “Moving on, you noted the poor people receiving the alms didn’t look right. That’s because they aren’t genuine poor people. Vittorio’s charitable event was a theatrical performance designed to promote him as a humanitarian in touch with the Great Earth Jinn. The nobs don’t like to dirty their hands in the outer circles, but they like to think of themselves as charitable.”

  Melba’s breath hissed in. “You mean it’s all a lie?”

  “Exactly. It’s a trick to increase Vittorio’s popularity among the nobs.”

  “Humph.” Melba scrunched her face up in an unladylike frown and Turk couldn’t help smiling.

  “Why’re you smiling all the time now?” she demanded crossly. “You usually try not to smile when I try to make you laugh.”

  He wished he had responded when she’d been funny and witty rather than try to suppress his amusement. He’d had the strange idea that as a monk he should be above her common humor. “I was smiling on the inside, Melba. I’m not used to anyone making me laugh. It took a while to adjust.”

  He returned to her notes. They had reached the important part now—the part that led on to the lesson he wanted to teach her. “You observed that Vittorio, the Royal Victualler, is unnaturally beautiful.” Even though he agreed, he was irrationally annoyed to see the opinion in Melba’s handwriting.

  “You said it was a thrall,” she chipped in.

  “Well remembered. Vittorio makes himself attractive so people fall under the spell of his beauty.”

  “Don’t all the nobs try to make themselves attractive with the beautification products?” she asked.

  “You have a point, but the problem is he uses magic to enhance himself and then misuses his influence.” Turk frowned thoughtfully. He would have to tread carefully. It was hypocritical to criticize Vittorio for using a glamour to change his appearance when Turk did the same thing himself occasionally.

  Turk placed an apple and a peach on the desk between them. “Let me explain what Vittorio does. Inside everything that comes from the Earth is a spark of energy from the Great Earth Jinn.” He tapped the apple. “Fruit, vegetables, flowers, metals, gems, all these things contain what we call an Earth Star—the tiny spirit of the thing. When you eat an apple, it is the Star inside that nourishes your body.”

  Melba’s eyes widened. She slid forward on her seat and prodded the apple warily as if she expected it to grow legs and run away.

  “Vittorio extracts the Stars from fruit and vegetables and uses the energy to make himself look better.”

  “So some of the fruit and vegetables in the baskets he handed out were Starless.”

  “Exactly!” Turk grinned, delighted she had identified Vittorio’s deceit so quickly. “When something is Starless, it is effectively dead and has no nutritional value. Some of the produce he handed out will have rotted or withered within a day.”

  “So do animals have Stars?”

  Turk nodded. “Animals eat the produce of the Earth, so are nourished by the Great Earth Jinn.”

  Melba bit her lip. “Do we have Stars?”

  “The Great Earth Jinn gifts people with the brightest Stars of all.” He was enjoying teaching Melba the basic principles of the Great Earth Jinn, the lessons every initiate in the seminary learned.

  Melba picked up the apple and examined it from all angles. “How does the Royal Victualler get the Stars out of the fruit and veg?”

  “It’s simple. He summons the Star in the form of a Jinn.”

  Her eyes widened and she scratched her ear in a careless unladylike way that tightened his chest with affection. “Can you show me how to do that?” she asked hopefully.

  “That, my Starbright friend, is your next lesson,” he said.

  Chapter Nine

  To draw a Jinn from a rose you must have a delicate but sure touch.

  —Master Turk

  Melba followed Turk up the winding tower stairway to his roof garden. She was so excited at the prospect of raising Jinns that she almost forgot her bellyache. He paused when they reached the roof and angled his head questioningly. “I bet you would like to raise a Jinn from a pink rose.”

  She nodded vigorously. “You bet right.”

  With a boyish grin, he raised a fist in triumph then surprised her by pivoting around on one leg to kick the tower door closed. Her heart did a little flip to see him enjoying himself. She wished he would relax more often so they could have fun together. “You look like you’re skylarking,” she said.

  “We’re on a roof where nobody can see me, so skylarking is allowed.” He led her along a winding path between luxuriant green bushes. While he’d been away, his hair had grown. The secret curl on the back of his neck had gotten bigger and been joined by other black waves that begged to be twisted around her fingers. She longed to touch him so much the need was almost a physical pain.

  He ducked beneath overhanging shrubs into a hidden leafy nook. Inside was an ornate metal bench decorated with curlicues. She’d discovered this secret corner of the garden when she was hiding from Gwinnie and Madam Quatro while Turk was away. A pink rambling rose covered the wooden trellis behind the seat. When they sat down side by side, the fragrant blooms hung around them.

  “Do we have to cut the flowers off the bush first?” Melba asked.

  “You can raise Jinns from cut flowers, but they only survive for a few days. If you raise the Earth Star from a live flower, it lasts longer but it still returns to the Earth eventually.” He cupped his hand beneath a huge pink bloom and his gaze stretched into the distance. “If you concentrate, you can hear them singing.”

  “The roses chatter to me all the time. So do the other flowers in the garden. I don’t need to touch ’em.” The cheerful roses had kept her spirits up during the miserable two weeks Turk was away.

  “I guessed you had an affinity with flowers. People with magical power tend to have a favorite type of Jinn.”

  Melba’s heart leaped around like a mouse in a flour barrel. “I have magical power?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have accepted your pledge otherwise.”

  “Is that why you touched me hand before you gave me the starlight stone?”

  He nodded and Melba remembered the confused, hazy feeling when he’d first touched her. “What did you do to me when you touched me?”

  He inhaled slowly and stared at the ground as if weighing up what to say. “I have the ability to read some people’s minds when I touch them.”

  “Sweet Earth Jinn!” Melba drew back from him, worried that if she sat too close he might sense she wanted to play with his hair. “What did you see in my mind when you touched me?”

  He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Nothing! You have natural defenses.”

  “Thank the Great Earth Jinn. Don’t you go looking in me head again without permission.”

  He laughed again, but this time it had a melancholy ring that cast a chill across her skin. “Don’t worry. Your time here with me is nearly over.”

  A tense little knot of panic tightened around her heart at the thought of leaving Turk’s palace. Once he set her to work, she might not see him very often. “Where will you send me to spy?”

  Turning to her, he gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll talk about that later, I promise. First let’s raise a Flower Jinn.”

  As soon as she thought of the roses, their twittering voices filled her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment and brushed the silky petals of a bloom against her cheek, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance.

  She looked up to find him watching her. His gaze slid away and he cleared his throat and rummaged through his jacket pockets. He pulled out a pink silk scarf, flapped it, and draped the filmy fabric across his t
highs. “You can draw Jinns from any flower, but some are easier to work with than others. Some offer up their spirits with barely a nudge, while others require so much effort it’s not worth it. Roses are eager to please, gentle, and kind; ideal to learn with.”

  He made a loose fist around the top of the scarf and pulled it through his fingers. “To draw a Jinn from a rose you must have a delicate but sure touch. I was taught that it’s the equivalent of sliding a silk scarf through your hand, only inside your head. Have a go.” He held out the scarf.

  Melba copied what he’d done, sliding the scarf between her curled fingers. She lowered her eyelids and released her breath slowly as the silk slid across her skin. “Oh, this feels lovely and tickly.”

  “Right,” Turk said gruffly. “That’s enough of that.” He grabbed the scarf from her and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Before we start, you need to decide what form you’d like your Jinn to take. May I suggest a butterfly?”

  “Do you mean a flutterby?”

  He frowned at her.

  “You know, the little flying creatures with colored wings that blow over from the mainland at the end of the summer,” she explained.

  “They’re called butterflies, Melba.”

  “Master Maddox said they was flutterbys because they never stay, they flutter by.”

  Turk laughed and this time his eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners. “It sounds as though your Master Maddox dispensed pearls of wisdom,” he said. Then his smile transformed into a frown.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked confused by his changeable mood.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you that Master Maddox was taken ill. He’s being treated by the Shining Brotherhood.”

  Tears tightened Melba’s throat and she wished she didn’t care what happened to old Maddox, but she did. “What’s the matter with him? What’s happened to his other lads?”