At home, I changed clothes to prepare for Desmarc’s visit. I didn’t want him to see me in what I’d been wearing earlier since it wasn’t an outfit Papá would approve of.
Cogsley helped me fasten the fitted bodice, and I trailed a hand down the brocade fabric I’d chosen before cinching the wide leather belt with gear-shaped fasteners. I took a moment to decide if I wanted puffed sleeves, before undoing the small brass buttons along my shoulder, leaving the dress sleeveless. It was one of my favorites I’d created for many reasons. The navy silk skirt, full and flowing, was layered with tiers of ruffles for volume, and its asymmetrical shape revealed glimpses of underlying layers. I’d strategically picked the under fabrics with clockwork designs, so when I moved, it gave the illusion of gears in motion.
The doorbell rang, but I took my time getting ready. One of the server bots would escort Desmarc inside. Ten minutes later, I glanced at my closet to make sure the clothes I’d worn today weren’t visible, then joined Desmarc in the sitting room. Cogsley wheeled in after me, taking up an innocuous position as chaperone. Another thing Papá obsessed over even though most women didn’t require one. Instead of standing around, Cogsley dusted the brass-framed paintings depicting scenes of steam-powered cities and enormous airships.
“Desmarc, what a surprise.” Well, it had been a surprise an hour ago when I’d overheard his intentions to visit. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He turned toward me as I entered the room, letting the velvet drape fall back over the window where he’d been gazing over the manicured lawn. “Does a man need a reason to visit his betrothed?” He walked over and took my hand, raising it to his lips and brushing a kiss across my knuckles. His black gloves were a stark contrast to my white ones, and he was handsome as usual in a gray shirt with a black vest and pants.
His casual touch made my pulse jump.
“Of course you don’t need a reason.” But it would be hard for me to keep working with Detective Atwood on the murder cases if I constantly worried about Desmarc popping in. Even though I wanted him to visit, maybe there was a way to convince him that surprises weren’t the best way to go. “I’m just glad I was here.” I sighed and dropped my gaze to the side. “It would’ve been a shame for me to miss your visit.”
“I thought you stayed home most of the day.” He sat in one of the dark mahogany chairs near the grand piano.
“I get tightly wound if I’m home too long, lately.” I thought fast, trying to come up with a cover that would work for both Papá and Desmarc. “I’ve been going for long strolls. Plus, I still go on my visits to the Lower Chimes with Geneve.”
“Oh, yes. Your father mentioned that,” he said. “If I think about it beforehand, I’ll send you a note.”
That was probably as good as it was going to get. Holding the victory close, I pressed a button to call another server bot and claimed the seat opposite Desmarc.
“Speaking of your father, is he here?”
“Unfortunately, he’s in town for a meeting.” And double unfortunate that Desmarc hadn’t come to see me.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to congratulate him on his official appointment as the candidate for the Guardian faction.”
A few days ago, the announcement might’ve filled me with dread as it brought Papá one step closer to becoming Prime Meridian, but now I couldn’t help but wonder what he could accomplish for the city—and the Lower Chimes—with that sort of power. Not that he usually listened to me, but I couldn’t let go of the hope that I could convince him of the benefit of helping them.
“I’ll pass your congratulations along,” I said. One had to be a meridian for at least ten years before they could be nominated—leaving Papá just barely qualified.
“Did you hear who the candidate for the Revolutionist faction is?”
“Yes, I simply cannot believe it’s Meridian Eliver.” I frowned, remembering the man’s well-trimmed beard but hideous mustache.
“I guess he wasn’t just a mere cog after all, then,” Desmarc said with a laugh, referring back to our conversation the night of our engagement party. “We’ll have to keep our eye on him. Otherwise, I’d hate to see what he astonishes us with next.”
“Indeed. His sudden rise in the ranks is most unexpected.” While the meridians had all been campaigning the last few months, with the newly announced list of the official candidates, the rest would drop out of the race. Only the meridian elected by each of the three main factions would participate in the debate happening in two weeks.
The soft sound of Cogsley dusting in the background filled the temporary silence between us while I figured out how to turn the conversation toward his visit to the university.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“Busy as usual.”
“What did you do?” I tried again.
“Mostly meetings. There’s always some wheel to grease or be greased, especially now that I’m working with your father on his platform for the renewal.” He fell silent, not going into the usual detail about work like he did when Papá was present.
“Being a meridian doesn’t sound like any fun,” I said carefully, trying to set the groundwork for what I really wanted to ask. “Why did you want to be one?”
He raised a brow but still answered. “I wanted the power to make a difference.”
I nodded, then forged ahead with another question I’d been curious about for months. “I don’t remember you or Papá ever mentioning how you became a meridian so young? I know your ambition is one of the things Papá finds most impressive about you, but I’m curious how you managed.” It was especially impressive considering there were only ten meridians for each political faction.
“I just worked my way up the ranks like everyone else until I found a spot I liked in the Technology and Innovation Guild.”
“But how?”
“By being relentless,” he said. “You know what they say: In the world of politics, there’s no rest for the weary.”
“Isn’t it no rest for the wicked?” I asked with a grin to cover my disappointment. Desmarc was still as vague as ever.
“Wicked is simply a matter of point of view.” He waved a hand in the air as a server bot entered the room with a tray of tea and cookies. “To the Revolutionist like Eliver, we’re most definitely wicked because we refuse to let the people use aether energy fully.”
My stomach tightened, at his reference to today’s conversation and at the implication. Maybe Professor McNeil and Professor Knight were Revolutionists. I tried to keep my expression smooth as I poured us both a cup of tea. “Isn’t aether energy dangerous? I’ve heard that, when used in large amounts, it can be rather volatile.”
“Exactly. They don’t even care for the danger it might pose to the people. It’s incredible to think they could garner any votes, yet if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the general populace is full of steamheads.”
I nodded sympathetically, inhaling my tea’s fragrant bergamot and dried orange aroma of my tea before taking a small sip. “Have things been going well with the Neo-Unionists?”
Desmarc grimaced and took a sip. “They’ve built their platform around the promise of a stronger reform of the city’s infrastructure and cracking down on crime, so all the recent—” He cut himself off and glanced at me. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I feel like I’m always boring you with politics when your father is around, and we don’t have to do this song and dance when we’re alone.”
“I’m not bored, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” A twinge of disappointment struck me. It wasn’t like I wanted to chat about politics all the time either, but I did want Desmarc to tell me about things that mattered to him, like his career or the murders. Plus, it wasn’t like I could come right out and ask him if the Revolutionists, with their aether technology, could be tied to the murders.