Heart of Iron (London Steampunk #2)

Heart of Iron (London Steampunk #2) Page 45

And if not with the Echelon, then who? Lena’s breath caught, her mind taking one of those swift leaps it sometimes did. “You can’t trust them!” she blurted.

Both Will and Astrid gave her a look.

“Trust who?” Astrid asked.

“The humanists.”

Astrid stilled. “Such talk is treason. Especially when I know whose enemy they truly are.”

“I would never betray you to the Echelon.” Lena swallowed. “You can trust me, because I was one of them until very recently. I know they intended to approach your delegations, to make their own deals with them.”

“We have been approached,” Astrid admitted reluctantly.

“They have their own agendas. I was instructed to stop this treaty at all costs. That’s what they truly want. They’re planning a war, Astrid. They have these enormous metal monsters they strap themselves into. Once they have enough of them to threaten even the Echelon, they’ll attack.”

“Will they succeed?” Astrid asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lena replied. “There are factions within the group. One side wishes to wait, to see what the Echelon will do. The others have tried to start a war already. They’re killing each other from within.”

Astrid released her breath. “Then they can offer me nothing. I need help now.” Her fist clenched. “I had hoped…” She shook her head.

Inspiration struck again. Suddenly Lena knew exactly what she had to do. They’d been wrong all along. Magnus might be the one in charge of the Norwegian party, but here was where the power lie.

“You need someone that you can trust.” Lena smiled brilliantly. “And we need you to sign our treaty. What if I could guarantee a way to have your voice heard as equal to the Swedish?”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed curiously. “And how would you perform this miracle?”

“Well,” she admitted. “I shall need a little help.”

Twenty-six

“I hope this works,” Will muttered.

“Trust me.” Lena’s smile radiated confidence. “I told you I know this world.”

The prince consort and his queen swept into the Grand Hall to much fanfare. Towering nearly a foot over Blade and Honoria, Will had a good visual of the room.

The Council waited silently, along with both parties of the Scandinavians. Leo Barrons rested at ease, barely aware of the plot that would soon sweep him up. Astrid needed someone she could trust and Will knew the perfect man. The only blue blood aside from Blade that he’d let at his back.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he allowed himself a tight smile. When he’d thrown up Leo’s name as a potential ambassador for the Norwegians to work with, Lena had agreed after a slight hesitation.

“Someone like Leo,” she said tightly. “Of course. Someone you can trust. Someone who will hold you in higher regard than the Swedish delegate. Someone even Magnus might accept.”

The two women exchanged glances.

“Someone we can trust,” Astrid repeated, liking the idea.

The speeches droned on until he swiftly lost interest. He wanted the treaty signed now. Then he could return to Whitechapel, taking Lena along with him.

“Pay attention,” she commanded, quivering with heightened tension. “They’re about to get to the treaty.”

The Swedish ambassador stepped forward with a sly smile and said all of the right things. Behind him, Magnus maneuvered into place beside Leo and whispered something in his ear. Not even Will could hear him over the loud ringing of the Swedish count’s voice.

Leo blinked in consideration. After a moment, he nodded and then crossed to the prince regent’s side to whisper something.

There was too much to watch. Will applauded as the Swedish count finally finished and the prince regent stepped forward to make his own remarks.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he boomed. “An auspicious day for our two empires. As you all know, we are here to sign a treaty with our friends, the Scandinavians. We hope it shall be a long and fruitful union, and to that end, we have decided to announce the appointment of our new ambassador.”

Whispers broke out. Several of the dukes exchanged sharp glances. Only Leo seemed at ease, and everyone noticed it. The Duchess of Casavian shot him a narrow-eyed look, then glanced at the prince consort and queen.

“This appointment carries great weight and a great deal of responsibility,” the prince consort continued. “We are pleased to announce Mr. William Carver as our new liaison to the verwulfen alliance.”

The world dropped out from under him. Heads turned as everyone sought to find him, and the sound of dozens of shocked gasps filled the room.

Will froze, his hands prepared to clap. “This weren’t the plan.”

“Well, go on!” Lena whispered, a hint of desperate glee in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Will. Leo was a very good suggestion, but there was someone else who was better. You were the only one who couldn’t see that.”

“I can’t be ambassador,” he hissed.

Around them, the crowd’s clapping started to fade as everyone turned to see what was taking him so long.

“Then the treaty’s off,” Lena whispered, the smile sliding off her face. “Please. I know you don’t like the idea. But think of how much power you could have! Enough to make sure your laws are changed. Enough to offer protection to any verwulfen who needed it. And I’ll be there for you. I won’t let you do this alone. I’m so sorry, Will. This was the only way I could think to protect you.”

He took a deep breath. The room was closing in on him, suddenly far too small. All his life he’d been trapped in the cage, and then in the confines of Whitechapel. It was too much for him.

A hand slid into his and squeezed it tightly.

“You can do this,” she whispered, with utmost certainty. “Here is your freedom, Will.”

Her hand became an anchor in a world that was swirling around him, a riot of color. Lena was right. Barrons could do this, but he would never have enough loyalty, enough stake in this to truly care. The verwulfen needed someone who would be on their side. And the prince consort needed someone to placate his eastern allies.

But he had other responsibilities. Other debts of honor. Blade met his gaze, his green eyes knowing.

“Go on then,” he said softly.

“What about—”

Blade shook his head. “Rip’s muscle enough to do me enforcin’. And this’ll give you power you ain’t ’ad before. Use it,” he said ruthlessly. “Times are changin’. Me, a knight o’ the realm and you as ambassador?” He laughed. “Gotta adapt.”

“Fine.” Will looked down at Lena. “I’m gonna be terribly old-fashioned, however, and insist on marriage. I ain’t doin’ this alone.”

A warm light infused her eyes, the copper in them glowing. “How middle-class, Will. Marriage? Truly? Not merely a consort?” With a happy laugh she pushed him toward the center of the crowd. “I accept. Now go.”

Lena’s heart swelled with pride as she watched him shake the prince consort’s hand and bluntly accept the appointment. The whispers in the hall were overpowering. Colchester looked like he was going to explode with fury, his eyes staring daggers at Will.

Suddenly he smiled.

A tremor of premonition edged down her spine. Not Will. He could make any move against her that he wanted. But not Will.

Edging onto her toes, she realized she was suddenly too far away to help if he did something. Knowing it was irrational—Colchester would never dare, not here—she pushed her way past Blade, using her newfound strength to make spaces in the crowd where there were none.

Magnus shook Will’s hand with a tight little smile. Allies perhaps, but Magnus would fight for what he thought was best for his people. The Swedish count examined him with a piercing gaze, then took his hand. Will was doing a smashing job despite his unease. He said the right things, even managed a smile.

The prince consort called for the papers. A pair of liveried servants hurried forward, carrying a small signing table with a gold inkwell. Beaming with satisfaction at seeing all of his plots come to fruition, the prince consort made a small gesture to the side.

“And now, a small token of our gratitude!” he called.

A pair of young lads sprang forward, clad in black and gold and dragging a heavy platform into view. The figure stood seven feet tall, draped in a pristine white silk sheet. The crowd clapped as the Swedish ambassador accepted the gift with good grace.

“What is this?” the count asked.

One of the young men grabbed the edge of the sheet and whipped it away with a flourish. A heavy iron-plated man stood on the rolling platform, his arms and chest chiseled, the rough-hewn plating of his face sharp-edged and raw. She’d not bothered to file the rough edges. It suited him—her heavy clockwork rendition of Will.

Lena stilled as the crowd erupted into loud clapping. What was it doing here? The last time she’d seen it, she’d given it into Mr. Mandeville’s keeping with a good riddance.

The young lads backed away and as they did, she caught a glimpse of one of their faces.

The young boy who’d helped Mendici kidnap her.

The humanists.

Her world slowed, sound draining off at the edges. The Swedish count gestured to Lady Astrid, who stepped forward with a light smile to wind it.

“How lovely,” she said, and Lena heard the words as clear as a bell.

Something was wrong. Lena stared at it frantically, recognizing her own artistry. And recognizing, too, the faulty join along the side. Where it had been tampered with.

Astrid turned the handle once. Twice. It strained against her as it never should have. Something was caught near the mainspring or one of the cams. As Astrid released it, the iron man began to quiver, his clockwork cogs sounding like the tick of a clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

“Will!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the din. Through the haze of her panic, she saw his amber eyes shoot to hers. Pointing at Astrid, she barely started to speak before he took off.

Launching himself across the room, he shoved Astrid to the ground, covering her with his heavy body. People scattered out of the way, confused by his actions, yet recognizing something in his expression that incited fear.

Too many people. Crushed together. Most of the Echelon, including the whole Council and the prince consort. The perfect place to destroy the blue bloods.

“It’s going to explode!”

Her cry was taken up, echoed around the chamber. Screams rang out and she found herself shoved aside. The clockwork automaton trembled violently, unable to complete its transformation. Steam hissed out through its vibrating plates.

Catching a glimpse of Will, she saw him shove Astrid into Eric’s arms, then turn to look for her. Lena staggered as someone smashed into her, catching his gaze. She shook her head desperately. They were at opposite ends of the room. Safer to go through the opposing doors.

She pointed, then tried frantically to gesture. “Go back!”

A body smashed into her. She was thrown off balance, caught in the whirlpool of pushing and shoving people. The last thing she saw was Will, his face set in a mask of grim determination as he shoved his way toward her through the crowd.

Why was he not going back?

She staggered through the door, swept out of the raging current like a piece of flotsam. Strong arms caught her, wrapping around her body like steel.

“Thank you,” she gasped, straining to see Will through the door.

“Oh,” said a familiar, silky voice. “I don’t think you’ll be thanking me at all, my dear.”

Lena’s blood ran cold as something sharp dug into her spine. “Colchester,” she whispered.

Twenty-seven

Will shoved open the second iron-bound door frantically, the swell of people suddenly surging through. Behind him, the slow, steady tick of the transformational threatened death, steam hissing from it now with teakettle consistency.

Where was she?

He shoved a man out of his way and fought free of the crowd. Lena had been right here, with Colchester’s arm around her waist. The look in her eyes as she realized who was standing behind her would fuel his nightmares for months.

Red haze threatened to overwhelm him. He hunted the hallway, but there was no sign of her. Colchester had chosen his moment perfectly. The crowds muddied her scent trail and the bastard could use them to hide.

He had to be somewhere close. Somewhere nearby.

But where?

Suddenly the world went white-hot, flinging him off his feet. He hit the wall and fell hard, pain slashing through his side. Screams filled the air, the sound of cracking plaster tearing through the hall. Inside the Great Hall, flames licked at the furnishings and smoke billowed through the open doors, turning the hallway into a congested nightmare.