Stealing Infinity, page 26
I glance up to find him holding the crumpled handkerchief I’d forgotten all about. Hadn’t even realized I’d taken it out of my pocket. “Oh, that—that’s nothing.” I reach for it, but Arthur has no intention of giving it back, and my hand falls awkwardly to my side.
“Tell me how you came to procure it.” He rubs a thumb over the royal blue thread.
“Actually…” I start, cringing under the weight of Elodie and Jago staring at me. “It was…given to me.”
“Given to you?” Arthur tilts his head and studies me with renewed interest. Though it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.
As for Elodie, I can practically feel the scorch of her gaze burning straight through the side of my face, but I refuse to meet it. Considering how she’s the clear winner of the night, bringing back the biggest pile of loot, I can’t understand why she’d bother to care that someone decided to give me a small piece of cloth.
And of course, Jago came in second. With his good looks and charm, I’m sure women and men were practically throwing their jewels at him.
Though the longer this drags on, the more I’m beginning to understand that this contest is not about who procures the most treasure, it’s about bringing Arthur something of interest. And this time, for whatever reason, what interests Arthur is a simple white handkerchief.
“This piece—” Elodie plucks another gold ring from her pile. “It came straight from the finger of a Marqui—”
But Arthur isn’t interested. With a single wave of his hand, she falls silent.
“You’ve managed to surprise me,” he says, regarding me for a few prolonged beats. “That’s not something that happens often. All in all, a good Trip.”
I stare at him in disbelief. I was sure that I’d failed—convinced I’d be demoted to working as Elodie’s chambermaid. And yet, Arthur looks undeniably, inexplicably pleased.
“It’s customary for the Trippers to receive one of their Gets as a reward for their efforts,” he tells me. “These Trips put you at great risk, and it’s my way of showing how much I appreciate your hard work.”
He presents us each with an item he takes from our piles, then motions for Roxane to catalog the rest of the stash.
As I’m walking away, Arthur calls, “Oh, and Natasha—”
I turn.
“I’ll schedule a time for us to debrief later. For now, why don’t you head over to Medical and get yourself checked. Once you’re cleared, the rest of the night is yours to spend as you wish.”
86
Aside from a few minor scrapes and bruises, and an ankle that’s tender but thankfully not broken or sprained, I return to my room and head straight for the shower, where I lather myself up with the array of scented soaps and bath oils.
If nothing else, my journey back in time has given me a new appreciation for mundane things like running water, indoor plumbing, and mouthwash.
It’s funny to think how much I used to love watching romantic historical movies, imagining what it would be like to wear a fancy gown and glittering jewels while being courted by a handsome boy in breeches and a tailcoat. Well, now I know. And the truth is, the people from those long ago times smell really foul.
With the exception of one.
A vision of his wavy golden hair and masked face blooms in my mind. The impression so startling and real, the bar of soap slips from my fingers and lands hard on the drain. As I watch the water gather and swirl all around, a hot spray beating hard on my back, I wonder how memory can be so cruel as to make me forget Braxton when I Trip, while refusing to grant me the same courtesy of erasing the masked boy upon my return.
On my waist, I can feel the ghost of his hand.
There’s a place on my neck where his lips continue to haunt.
And I have no idea what to do with any of that.
Do I risk telling Braxton? I mean, he’ll understand, having Tripped plenty of times himself. Right?
Or do I lock the memory away in a metaphorical box?
Since Jago and Elodie were off on their own, it’s not like anyone saw. And besides, there’s really no point in confessing, when I’ll clearly never see the boy again.
I remember the way he spoke his name—Killian de Luce.
It sounds as made up as Elodie Blue.
The whole experience feels so surreal. And even though I experienced it firsthand, it’s still hard to believe I traveled thousands of miles and over two and a half centuries in less time than it takes to drive from here to the lighthouse.
Though, when I yawn, I realize that the phenomenon of Time Lag is real, so I shut off the taps, reach for a towel, and pad into my dressing room to find my slab buzzing with a message from Braxton.
Braxton: Welcome back. Meet me in my room to celebrate?
Me: ☺
Braxton: See you soon. Directions attached.
I’m tired, hungry, but also well-versed in the restorative power of a pretty dress. I slip into a backless velvet flocked minidress and a pair of jeweled heels. And though I keep my makeup to a minimum and leave my hair long and loose, I take a moment to add the diamond swan clip I took from that woman in Versailles just a few hours earlier.
By the time I arrive at Braxton’s door, I’m fully committed to keeping the encounter with Killian to myself. I just can’t see the point in confiding. And besides, I’m unwilling to do anything that’ll risk wrecking this night.
I take a deep breath, run a hand over my dress, and knock.
A moment later, Elodie opens the door.
87
“Surprise!” Elodie leans against the doorframe with a sharp gaze and a mile-wide grin. “Bet you didn’t see this little plot twist coming.”
I stand frozen before her. My heart has plummeted to my belly, and I have no idea what to think. Is this some sort of prank? Is this even Braxton’s room? And if so, why the hell is Elodie here, looking so at home?
“Stop messing with her already, so we can pop the champagne!” The voice belongs to Jago, and just as I’m about to turn on my heel and leave, he pushes Elodie aside and pulls the door wide.
Inside, I count Oliver, Finn, Song, Roxane, Keane, Hawke, and there, standing before a window that looks out onto an expansive ocean view, I find Braxton.
Dressed in a pair of slim dark jeans, an ivory silk button-down shirt, and a velvet smoking jacket the same shade of blue as his eyes, his expression is murky, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s equal parts guilty and apologetic, though I guess he never actually said it was a celebration for two.
As I enter, everyone stands and applauds and, deciding it’s best to play along, I curtsy before them.
As promised, Jago pops the champagne and hands me a glass, as the rest of them say, “Speech—speech—speech!”
Doing my best impression of an Academy-Award-winning actress, I press the flute to my chest and gaze out among them. “This is such a wonderful honor!” I gush. “First, I’d like to thank the academy, literally Gray Wolf Academy. Also, my heart swells with gratitude to all of you lovely friends who helped make this possible—whatever the hell this actually is. À ta santé!”
I raise my glass and take a sip, watching as they drink along with me.
“Anyone going to tell me what’s really going on?” I ask, expecting Elodie to take the lead, since she’s the designated leader of everything. But it’s Braxton who steps forward.
“Natasha Antoinette Clarke.” He stands before me and places a hand on each of my shoulders as though I’m about to be knighted. “Today you’ve accomplished something truly remarkable. You’ve taken part in a miracle born of science, knowledge, nature, and the visionary genius that made the dream possible. Today you’ve achieved what most consider unachievable, and now, after weeks of extensive training and a successful first Trip, we invite you to join our small, elite group of chrononauts. Tasha, welcome to the AAD Club.”
He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a gold ring he fits onto the middle finger of my right hand. It’s a lot like the ring he often wears, the one he nervously twists whenever he’s trying to hold something back. When I glance at everyone else, I see they’re wearing the same ring as well.
It’s a signet ring. Flat and square on top, it has an engraving across the front that features a crest with the academy emblem, two more symbols I take to represent wind and time, and the profile of a wolf bordering either side. At the bottom are the initials AAD.
“What does AAD stand for?” I ask.
“Arthur’s Artful Dodgers!” Finn cries, lifting his glass along with everyone else. “Welcome to the family!”
I look to Braxton in confusion.
“From Oliver Twist,” he whispers, and I immediately recall reading that book back in ninth grade English class.
It’s about an orphan who joins a gang of juvenile pickpockets overseen by a man named Fagin, who sends them out to thieve in exchange for shelter and food.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, as the full reality of my life settles upon me. Jago, Elodie, Song, Oliver, Finn, Hawke, Keane, Roxane, Arthur—they really are my new family.
But before the thought can truly take hold, Braxton pulls me into his arms, kisses me just north of my ear, and whispers, “Welcome back. I’m sorry to surprise you with this, but I promise to make it up to you later.”
88
Not only are there endless bottles of champagne, but there’s also an elaborate cake that Oliver carries from Braxton’s kitchen to the den where we’ve gathered.
It’s a small kitchen, but the appliances look modern and new. And I can’t help but think how nice it must be to have the freedom to make your own meals. Like Elodie’s supersized room, I assume it’s one of the perks of advancement.
Once everyone’s settled with cake and champagne, I’m told it’s customary for that day’s Trippers to share a story, funny mishap, or bit of intrigue that happened on their journey.
“It’s the true debriefing,” Keane jokes, and I wonder what sort of places and times he might’ve Tripped to.
Jago volunteers to go first, and he tells a story of being propositioned by a drunk nobleman and his wife that has everyone roaring with laughter. Despite his claims that he absolutely, positively did not partake in the thruple, he did manage to rid them of quite a few of their treasures.
Elodie tells a surprisingly tamer tale that involves some light dancing and flirting, but mostly she claims to have used her time at the Yew Ball improving her already expert sleight of hand abilities.
When it’s my turn, I can’t help but waver. There’s so much I’m unwilling to share. My failed secret mission, the terrifying encounter in the garden, being chased all the way to the portal, and the time spent with Killian are at the top of that list.
To my fellow AADs, I finally say, “I was so nervous. My only goal was to lift a few things without getting caught.”
A few people groan with disappointment, but thankfully no one calls me out. I lean against Braxton, relieved to have gotten off easily, when Elodie says, “This is no place for holding back. Everyone here has seen it all, and most of us have done it all.”
To that, everyone hollers and laughs.
“So, come now. You’re talking to a highly sophisticated, extremely savvy, slightly jaded, world-weary bunch. We’re family, and your new brothers and sisters happen to be shockproof, so there’s no harm in telling us about all the time you spent gazing at the stars with a dashing, well-decorated gentleman on your arm. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, after a few spins about the dance floor, didn’t you two retreat to someplace, shall we say, more discreet?”
The room has grown unbearably warm.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Still, I’m overcome by the sickening realization that Elodie only appeared to abandon me when, between bouts of pilfering, she apparently spent most of her time spying on me.
She taps the etched crystal champagne flute against her chin and feigns a look of deep contemplation. “Is he perhaps the same gentleman who gave you that handkerchief you brought back?”
Braxton’s arm tightens around me, but I’m quick to turn away. I can’t bear to look at him. And I certainly can’t bear for him to see me.
Surprisingly, it’s Song who comes to my rescue. “Oh, leave her alone,” she says. “Natasha is one of us now. Besides, we all know you were too busy crawling inside every pair of breeches at that ball to have the slightest clue of what Natasha was up to.”
The room falls silent. Like a tennis match, everyone looks from Elodie to Song.
There’s a moment of decision on Elodie’s face, and it’s anyone’s guess if she’ll choose to return.
She shoots a bright smile at Song, but her gaze is pure frost. “Perhaps you’re right,” she says. “Also, I’m starving. Anyone up for dinner in the Winter Room?”
In a matter of moments, the room clears, leaving me, Braxton, and the lingering discomfort of Elodie’s accusation weighing heavily between us.
89
“About that—” I lean toward Braxton, desperate to take control of the narrative before his worst thoughts have a chance to spin their own sordid tale. “What Elodie said—”
But Braxton cuts in. “It’s okay.” He dismisses the topic with a quick wave of his hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Whatever did or didn’t happen, the only thing that matters is that you returned.”
I stare at him, more than a little surprised by his reaction. I mean, I guess I should be happy that he’s willing to drop it so easily, but there’s a stubborn part of me that insists on explaining.
“That’s the thing,” I say. “Nothing did happen.” The lie gives me pause. Not only am I not the slightest bit believable, but I’ve just made it worse. Now that I’ve gotten myself into this mess, I need to come clean, no matter how much it hurts. “Or at least it’s nothing like Elodie made it sound. It’s just—that boy, the one she was talking about, well, he kissed me…” I suck in a breath and will myself to go on. “And…and I’m pretty sure I kissed him back. But that’s it. Because the second I saw the talisman, my memory of you, and Gray Wolf, and everything else, it all came rushing right back, and—”
“Tasha.” Braxton places a finger to my lips, stopping me before I succeed in making it worse. “I’ve Tripped. I know about the Memory Fade. I’ve experienced it plenty of times. That’s why I gave you the talisman, to help you remember and find your way back. But just so you know, Fade isn’t entirely the curse you may think. Losing sight of your identity also helps you fit in. The trick is to not become totally lost. It’s a balancing act that takes time to perfect.”
I sink against the velvet cushion, grateful to have his support but saddened to think my indiscretion is what prompted it.
“Tell me,” he says. “How was it?”
I gaze up at the domed ceiling, taking a moment to find the right words. “Honestly, it was pretty cool.” I sneak a guilty look his way. “I mean, aside from the fact that I failed to procure all my Gets.”
I remember the look on Arthur’s face as he studied the handkerchief, and how, for whatever reason, it made him forget, or at least not care, about my other, more glaring, failure. Then I sneak another look at Braxton, wondering if Arthur gave him a similar assignment. If maybe it’s standard Gray Wolf procedure for Arthur to convince each new recruit that they’re the one destined to help him fulfill his biggest ambition, only to send them back in time with nothing more to go on than a couple of randomly chosen tarot cards.
But Braxton’s expression remains unchanged. He just nods for me to continue.
I run a finger over the crest on the gold ring that now circles my finger. “I think the reality of actually being there, back in 1745 Versailles…” I look at Braxton, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Well, I’m not sure it fully sunk in until it was over. I mean, most the time I was so nervous, so focused on doing the job without getting caught, there wasn’t a lot of time to really soak it up. Or at least not for long.”
“And now that you’re back?” Braxton bends his head to the side as his eyes fix on mine.
My fingers curl around the bedsheet, knowing I owe him the truth but hoping it won’t make him judge me. “When I think about where I actually was and all that I saw…” My gaze drifts around the room before returning to him. “Well, it was even better than I thought it would be.” I catch the twitch in Braxton’s jaw, note the way his eyes narrow ever so slightly. “And the whole experience felt like a dream. It was kind of surreal and pretty amazing.”
Braxton lifts his glass and tilts it toward me. “Looks like you’re officially Blue now,” he says.
“I don’t know about official.” I reach for my glass and trace a nervous finger around the stem. “Last time I checked, my sweatshirts were still Yellow.”
“By tomorrow morning, a new stack will be delivered to your room.” Braxton trails a hand along my cheek and tucks some loose strands of hair behind my ear. He knows how hard I’ve worked for this moment, and yet, I can’t help but notice his mood is far from celebratory. “And you were okay?” he asks. “Doing what Arthur required?” He lowers his hand to my arm. The pad of his thumb brushes softly over the finger-shaped marks the groundskeeper made.
There’s a question in Braxton’s gaze that I prefer not to answer. My struggle with that man is not a place I want to revisit.
I tuck my legs underneath me, drain the last of my champagne, and set my flute on the table beside me. “And by that I take it you mean party crashing and nicking jewels from unsuspecting nobles?” My gaze locks on his, suddenly understanding the true reason behind his lack of enthusiasm.
This is about our earlier conversation, when he urged me not to go through with the Trip. How he warned me that I’ll come back changed, and not for the better.
