Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

Reading gave a low laugh. “I’d like to see you try. Keating will have your head, at the very least. He’s set on being my ally, for all his snarling.”

“He won’t be your ally for long.”

“You mean to tell him about this conversation? Be my guest. What I have to offer him is worth more than any annoyance he might feel about a bit of poaching.”

“You’re betraying him.”

“So will you before the end. That’s how these games work.”

“I don’t play.”

Reading let his breath out in a huff. “Then you’d better get the hell off the board.”

POPPY SLOWED ON her ascent of the stairs when she heard raised voices. She was on the first landing, and the sound seemed to be coming from her father’s study. Alarm sparked through her, making her tense. One of the speakers was certainly her brother—and he sounded furious.

She hesitated a long moment, foot poised on the next tread, wondering what she should do. Tobias could look after himself, but the emotions in the house tonight were running like riptides, invisible and dangerous. A little reluctantly, she stepped into the hall. She should investigate.

Poppy had barely taken three steps when the study door banged open and the Scarlet King swept out, holding his bird under one arm, as if he’d scooped it up in a hurry. He stopped directly in front of her, his blue eyes wide with anger. “Miss.”

“Sir?” She couldn’t help glancing at the bird, its feet sticking awkwardly into the air. She felt a giggle rising, and she swallowed it down, biting her lips together.

Tobias emerged from the room, his face sharp with tension. “Get the hell away from my sister, Reading.”

The Scarlet King bent down, whispering confidentially, “You have a fool for a brother.”

“Sometimes,” she said, forcing herself not to recoil at the alcoholic tang of Reading’s breath. She knew very well the only reason he was talking to her was to annoy Tobias, who was steaming down on them like an express locomotive.

The Scarlet King slowly grinned, restoring his phoenix to a more dignified position. “Impudent little baggage, aren’t you?”

Poppy didn’t answer, because Tobias was at her side, his features tight. “Go upstairs, Poppy. I’ll come find you in a minute.”

Reading gave her another look, raising one eyebrow. It was a taunt, daring her to disobey. For once, insurrection didn’t tempt her.

“Go.” Tobias gave the man a push from behind and, thankfully, Reading went. Tobias followed, no doubt making sure the Scarlet King went all the way to the curb outside.

Poppy shook out her skirts and hovered in the corridor until they were out of sight, and then she slowly mounted the stairs to Imogen’s room. What exactly had happened between Tobias and the Scarlet King? No one except Mr. Keating had dared to confront the Scarlet King earlier, and yet Tobias had just shown him out of the house. Stranger still, he’d gone without a fight. Why does that worry me more than anything else?

Because villains only left the scene quietly when they had what they’d come for. What had the Scarlet King wanted? Something to do with Tobias? Or was he still lurking in the shadows, waiting for Imogen to wake up? A nasty feeling, a little like the slime that lurked in drainpipes, crawled through Poppy’s insides. She broke into a run, taking the last few steps in a bound.

When she reached her sister’s bedchamber, Poppy made a circuit of the room, carefully checking to make sure everything was in order. The space was large, really two chambers in one with a sitting room near the door and a large bed in an alcove at the other end. Bed curtains of heavy sky-blue silk were looped to the bedposts, framing Imogen where she lay against the eyelet snow of her pillows.

On the bedside table sat Evelina’s gift to her friend—a little clockwork mouse and a bejeweled brass bird, both barely the size of Poppy’s hand. That, more than anything else, told her that the Scarlet King hadn’t found Imogen’s room. Given his penchant for fancy animal toys, he would have picked them up for a look—and Poppy would know if they had been disturbed.

Her shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tense knot at the back of her neck. She sank into the chair beside Imogen’s bed, grateful for the soft quiet of the room. She could hear the party below like a distant ocean and she closed her eyes a moment, imagining a safe and distant shore, with water lapping at her feet.

A few minutes later, Tobias joined her. “I guessed you would be with Im. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, not quite ready to come back to the here and now. All at once, she was so tired her hair ribbons ached, and a lump of what might become tears lurked at the back of her throat. “Why were you arguing with Mr. Reading?”

Tobias’s eyes darted to Imogen. “He asked me to do something I didn’t like.”

Whatever it was must have been bad, because the turmoil in his expression made Poppy uneasy. “Did you refuse?”

“Of course.” Tobias ran a hand through his fair hair. “I was offended that he thought I might agree. He must not think much of me.”

She was dying to know what the Scarlet King had asked of her brother, but knew better than to come at the question head on. “Was he angry?”

He gave his head a slight shake. “It wasn’t that straightforward.”

“You should have punched him in the nose,” she said with decision.

That brought a sad, weary smile to his face. Not as good as his old grin, but it was better than nothing.

“Don’t ever change,” he said. “But do be careful.”

She nearly laughed at that—they were mutually exclusive ideas—but nothing in her brother’s voice invited banter. Tobias had changed in the last few years. He was like a fire burning low in the grate, more ash than flame.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised—though she might already have broken that vow by inviting Mr. Holmes into their troubles. “I swear that I’ll do the best that I can, circumstances permitting.”

“I almost believe you.” Tobias put his arm around her, pulling her close.

Poppy hugged him back fiercely, grateful for his unquestioning affection. He never scolded her for saying outrageous things, and never told her how to walk or dress or what she should or shouldn’t read. Tobias wasn’t a perfect man, but he was the best kind of big brother.

“I had better go downstairs and keep an eye on things,” Tobias said, releasing her. “Stay here with Imogen and lock the door when I go.”

Poppy nodded, feeling suddenly guilty. She had wanted to escape the party, but not because something had gone wrong. Be careful what you wish for .

After Tobias left, the silence in the room was a palpable thing. Poppy drew near the bed, her dress whispering into the candlelight. Imogen’s face was utterly serene, dark gold lashes fanning her cheeks. Her hair was plaited into two long, pale braids that trailed to her waist. She truly looked asleep, the smocked bodice of her nightdress rising and falling with her gentle breaths.

The somber atmosphere brought the evening crashing in on Poppy. Wetness coursed down her cheeks, but she paid no attention even when it dripped off her chin. The party had been a mistake, and the Scarlet King had made it all so much worse—but that wasn’t why she cried. Poppy wept because Imogen had loved parties, and now she didn’t even know there was one going on a few floors below.

Poppy took her sister’s hand, the soft cool fingers utterly relaxed. For a moment, she studied the contrast between them—Imogen’s pale skin against her own. Poppy’s hands were brown, scratched by the cook’s cat and raggedy where she’d chewed her nails. For some reason, that made her want to cry even harder.