Detective Atwood took my hand for a moment, and a shock went through me. With his sincere blue eyes boring into mine, it was almost like I’d Slipped again—like he was the only thing around me.
“I haven’t said this enough, but I’m grateful for your help. You’ve done more than you realize.” He released my hand, but I was still caught in his earnest gaze.
No one had ever said anything like that to me before.
“What’s going on here, Kyra? Why are you outside?”
I stiffened at Papá’s voice.
“Where’s a good broom cupboard when you need one?” Detective Atwood muttered under his breath as Papá’s furious countenance approached.
I glared at him before addressing Papá. “I’m sorry. I stepped outside for some fresh air and ran into this detective.”
“Did you need something from my daughter?” Papá asked coolly, his gaze swinging between Detective Atwood and me.
Detective Atwood glanced at me, then focused back on Papá. “No, sir. I just happened to cross paths with her.”
I tried to keep my expression smooth, although my heart pounded in my chest. If Papá found out I’d been to Mamá’s vault or that I was helping the Blue Capes, who knew what he’d do. I couldn’t let him interfere with my chance of seeing more memories of Mamá or of protecting him. Our relationship might have rusted, but I still couldn’t stand the thought of losing my last parent.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your day, but I better get back to the Iron Watch.” Detective Atwood tipped his hat to Papá and me, then walked down the alley and turned onto the main street without looking back.
Before Papá could lecture me, although he was probably planning on waiting since he didn’t like to make a scene, I stepped through the back door of Cogs and Corsets.
I shook my head once at Geneve in a silent promise to tell her what happened later. “It seems like the main part of the dress won’t require too many alterations, but I’ll get those designs to you as soon as I can so we can begin the final touches.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Geneve’s dark eyes promised she meant for more than just the design.
I could sense Papá’s rising frustration in his unnecessarily tight grip on his cane and how he seemed to hold each breath for a second too long. But he pasted a smile on his face once we were outside and nodded to anyone we passed as he ushered me to a restaurant farther down the street. A gleaming brass sign hung above the entrance.
Inside, I stared anywhere but at him, admiring the patent drawings and steam-powered landscapes hanging on the walls. A server bot with legs instead of wheels led us past the bar, a copper countertop covered by a variety of glass jars filled with herbs and spices that filled the air with a sweet, spicy aroma.
A man filling drinks from an array of gleaming copper and brass pipes nodded his head at us. “Your usual table is available over there.”
I followed Papá to an empty table that provided a modicum of privacy and claimed a seat by the window.
I studied the menu on the table, written in an elegant, swirling script, while Papá glared out the glass window. I only had a few more minutes of silence at most, because once our food was delivered and we were alone, the lecture would begin.
A waiter came to take our order and returned not long later, setting the plates between us. The clink of the porcelain tried to break the thick silence at our table, but the awkwardness swallowed it up. Although my stomach rumbled at the delicious scent of steamed fish, lemon, and rice wafting from my plate, I didn’t eat yet. Instead, I watched Papá from the corner of my eye.
“You know better than to spend time with Blue Capes,” Papá said as he cut into his food. He had mastered the art of quiet scolding.
“Like he said, we just happened to run into each other when I stepped outside.” Granted, it had been when I stepped outside the bank, but it was better to stick as close to the truth as possible.
“And why would a Blue Cape need to talk to you?”
“He needed directions.” Granted, it wasn’t a location I’d been leading him to, but a killer.
Papá harrumphed. “With the way you were looking at him, anyone walking by would’ve thought you were in love with that Blue Cape instead of Desmarc.”
I flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Papá.” Not wanting to give him time to dwell on that absurd claim, I asked, “And why have you always been so against them?” His resentment made no sense. Detective Atwood was everything a Blue Cape ought to be. Reliable. Trustworthy. Determined to protect those around him.
“They’re dangerous.”
All my anger from our earlier argument rushed back, and a bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. I pulled a knife from the slit in my skirt and whirled it around my hand. “You think everything is dangerous. Isn’t that why you taught me how to use these?”
“I taught you how to use those so you could protect yourself, not so you could deliberately throw yourself into perilous situations.”
His eyes glinted sharper than my blade, so I tucked it back into its sheath.
“You can’t protect me from living, Papá,” I said.
“I will if I have to.” He slammed a hand on the table, rattling the silverware against the plates. “I refuse to lose you too.”
At the unspoken mention of Mamá, we both fell silent. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I couldn’t tell if they were from sadness or frustration. “You shouldn’t have to protect me from the Blue Capes. They’re the protectors of the city. If we can’t trust them, who can we trust?”
“I thought I taught you better than that.” Papá took a bite of his fish, swallowed, and looked me straight in the eye. “We can’t trust anyone.”