“With my union to Kyra, you’ll surely be the Guardians’ top contender as a candidate for Prime Meridian.” Desmarc smiled at me but was clearly speaking to Papá. “The other factions pose little threat at the moment with the Revolutionists’ radical demands and the Neo-Unionists promising all sorts of things they won’t be able to deliver.”
“We’ll have to keep an eye on them all the same to see who they choose as their candidates.” Papá crossed one leg over the other. “Meridian Eliver has been pushing hard for more aether technology even though much of the city is still against it.”
I frowned as I thought of the man from the Revolutionist faction who’d been at my engagement party.
“We should also keep an eye on Meridian Lambkins,” Desmarc said. “He’s moved up the ranks to be a top contender for the Neo-Unionist faction.”
The other meridian’s name was easy to remember because his ears stuck out a little on the sides and his poofy white beard looked like a lamb. He also had a meeker disposition, which made it hard to imagine him doing well in politics—and yet, it seemed he was so far a success.
The talk of the three main political factions had me fighting back a yawn. All Papá and Desmarc ever did was talk about who would be nominated as candidates from each faction to run in the upcoming election for Prime Meridian.
I zoned out of their conversation and cast a sideways glance at Desmarc. Speaking of those who’d moved up the ranks, I still wasn’t sure how Desmarc had become a meridian by the age of thirty. Anytime I asked about it, he attributed it to his connections and hard work, but he was easily a decade younger than the others.
“It would be helpful if we scheduled more press for you before the debate.” Desmarc took off his top hat and rotated it in his hands.
I hid a sigh. I wasn’t against politics—I couldn’t be, considering I was marrying Desmarc—but I hated how it had stolen Papá from me. He’d been an engineer before, something that was fairly unusual considering most upper-class families like ours didn’t do traditional work, but after Mamá’s death, he’d suddenly become obsessed with climbing the rungs of the political ladder.
Next to the door, Cogsley’s engine hummed quietly. I stood and walked over. “You can go now,” I whispered, trying not to disturb Papá and Desmarc’s conversation.
“I still have a duty to perform,” she said in her inflectionless voice at an equally low volume.
“What is it?”
“A man came to the house and requested I deliver a note to Kyra Annandale at a convenient time.”
Maybe it was Detective Atwood. I couldn’t imagine who else would be calling on me, considering most of my acquaintances were female. “Well?”
“I’m waiting for a convenient time,” Cogsley said.
“Now is a convenient time.” I extended my hand. Honestly, these bots. Well, just Cogsley, really.
Another glance at Papá proved he and Desmarc were still deep in conversation. If this was concerning the murder the other night, I didn’t want anyone else to find out, but leaving the room now would draw more attention to myself. I accepted the note right there and skimmed its contents.
Dear Poppy,
I hope you don’t find this message too presumptuous, but I wanted to thank you for your help the other day. I know how deeply you value your anonymity, so I thought you, of all people, would appreciate an alias.
My cheeks flushed at his teasing. He was definitely laughing at me.
We checked the fountain you mentioned and found more of the woman’s valuables. Unfortunately, besides learning that the killer was at your engagement party, our leads have run dry. If you or your friend find yourself with any additional insight, we would be at your service. Someone with your abilities would be most welcome.
Detective Hiram Atwood
My breath caught at the thought of him knowing about my Slipping, but that was preposterous. With me being the only one with powers like this, it was not something Detective Atwood could guess. Especially since I couldn’t even explain why I had these powers.
I folded the note with shaking hands. It was almost like the detective thought I stumbled upon murder cases every day. Either way, his asking for information must’ve meant that he’d finished confirming the time of death and my alibi for the murder.
“What do you think, Kyra?” Papá asked.
Stiffening, I surreptitiously shoved the note in my pocket next to Mamá’s thimble, which I always kept with me. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m a bit distracted.”
“Are you feeling poorly again?” Desmarc asked.
“I simply need some fresh air is all.” And a chance to process that note. “I have a bit of a headache. Maybe from all the wedding planning,” I lied with a twinge of guilt. But I needed to get away from Papá’s scrutiny, and Desmarc was one of the best distractions I could ask for.
“A walk in the garden sounds like a wonderful idea,” Desmarc said. “I’ll join you once your father and I finish ironing out this next campaign idea.”
I left them to their political discussions, which would continue with or without me, and escaped into the cheerful sunlight. Leaving the manicured yard behind, I stepped through the wrought-iron gates and onto a garden path paved in weathered gears and cogs.
I fingered the note in my pocket. Ignoring the detective’s cryptic wording about my abilities, I focused on the rest of the message. They’d hit a dead end with the case and needed help, not that he’d asked for it explicitly. Men rarely did.
But maybe this was my chance. Doing so might risk whatever was left of my relationship with Papá, but at least it wouldn’t affect my engagement to Desmarc. He had no problems with the Blue Capes. And even if Papá found out, there wasn’t much he could do to punish me at this point. He couldn’t take away a marriage he’d arranged himself, at least not when it would also jeopardize his chances at becoming Prime Meridian. Plus, it could be my chance to find a connection between the killer, my family, and the reason for why he was at the engagement party.
If I could make it work, the opportunity was exactly what I needed to get some answers. But even if I could use my ability to help the Blue Capes, would I be able to do it without revealing my secret? Slipping at home was different from Slipping outside where people might realize something was wrong with me.
I continued down the main path, which led to a large fountain surrounded by clockwork statues. My favorite was a towering sculpture that resembled a graceful dancer posed in a leap over an automaton of a swan in flight, complete with flapping wings powered by gentle bursts of steam. Or maybe it was just my favorite because it had been Mamá’s favorite.
Stepping onto a platform off to the side, I pulled a lever and the ground fell away as I rose two dozen feet into the air to the entrance of Mamá’s tree garden. This was about as high as I liked to go. Well, liked was putting it strongly. I forced myself to come up here despite my fear of heights because it was one of Mamá’s favorite places. Three floors in total with thirty-six steps and forty-two varieties of plants. Leather armchairs, wooden tables, and bookshelves filled some of the space from when Mamá would read out here, but it was mostly plants.
Carefully, I stepped onto the top floor of Mamá’s tree garden, one of the few pieces of her Papá had kept alive after her death. An assortment of colorful flowers, both natural and mechanized, bejeweled the top floor. Vibrant daisies and hydrangeas grew alongside mechanical blooms adorned with tiny brass filigree. Metal roses emitted soft whirs as they swayed in the wind from an open window, and the sunlight glinted off the copper vines wrapped around trellises. While most of the flowers in the other garden were already dying in the colder weather, the ones here stayed in bloom all year. It was the perfect place to go to feel closer to Mamá and to think.
I brushed a hand over the target hanging on the far wall. Numerous nicks and indents marked the surface from years of practice. I’d moved it here once I’d claimed Mamá’s garden as my own. But I wasn’t in the mood for knife throwing now.
Instead, I turned and adjusted the angle of the brass eyepiece of Mamá’s telescope. The air filled with a soft whirring as a few gears turned, then part of the eyepiece fell to the floor with a quiet clank. I bent to retrieve it, and a gleam under a table caught my eye. An old pair of goggles rested in the dust.
I swallowed hard as hope rose in me. Slowly, I pulled off one glove and reached for it. When I’d first started Slipping again, the house had plenty of objects packed with strong emotions for me to use, but as I’d drained more and more of them, it was harder to find chances to see memories of Mamá again. Maybe these goggles were a sign and would show me something to help me decide.
My finger brushed the frame, and a blue spark jumped and sucked me into the past.