Godspeed

Chapter 10

I fought to hold my head up as Schuyler carried me onward, up several flights of stairs.

He teetered at times and struggled to keep his balance as he navigated the turns of the spirals, climbing steps that seemed to grow steeper and narrower with every curve.

I can only describe my experience at that time as a battle, because as soon as I was disconnected from the complicated machinery in Godspeed’s laboratory, my entire body withered and rebelled against my every attempt to control it. I felt weak and useless. Every part of me protested being severed from the artificial energy that had replaced natural propulsion. It was impossible for me to remember, by now, how it ever was that my heart once ticked along without notice and using no power save its own.

My body ached, my chest burned, my eyes refused to stay open. My head lolled and snapped around as I tried to keep it up.

“It’s all right,” Schuyler assured me, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of it. “You don’t have to fight. Rest.”

By the time the last few steps were in sight, I finally allowed my head to fall onto his shoulder, but not before seeing him clench his teeth and utter an irritated growl at Quinn, who was taking the steps two at a time ahead of us despite the weight of “the box” he carried.

“Slow down, man, for God’s sake. I’m trying not to jostle her around too much but the wires only reach so far.”

“Maybe you should start running some of the errands you send the boy on yourself, Schuyler,” Quinn replied. “You’re old beyond your years.”

“Aren’t we all.”

I opened my eyes again as we moved at last across the surface of level ground. Schuyler’s fine boots drew groaning squeaks from tired floorboards. Quinn’s steps were, like the man, much more restrained, and so created no such racket despite the cumbersome equipment he carried.

We reached the end of a short hall and Quinn set down his burden, trading the handle instead for the overloaded key ring in his pocket. He worked the lock, opened the door, and revealed at last the space that would be mine.

No royal retreat in any grand castle tower could have possibly pleased me more.

The room was small but felt larger than its measurements due to the height of the ceiling, which vaulted high above and boasted dormers. These features confirmed that this place had been converted from mere attic into this much more welcoming, habitable bedroom.

A fire burned in the diminutive hearth. The mantle above was absolutely breathtaking, wood treated white with small flowers intricately carved into it.

An antique oil lamp with roses painted upon the shade assisted one narrow window in lighting the space.

A single bed with a wrought iron headboard, white as snow, was angled into the corner across from the door. Tucked in another corner sat a lovely little vanity table, cream-colored wood with glass drawer pulls that glimmered like diamonds.

A mirror folded into thirds rested upon it, along with a silver tray that held a fine hairbrush, a comb, and a smaller hand mirror.

Beside the vanity stood a dressmaker’s dummy in feminine form — displaying the entire outfit that Schuyler had made for me. It had been pressed and so carefully constructed of such fine materials that I felt it much too elegant to be worn by someone like me.

The last furnishing of note was a rocking chair, simple and pretty, dressed in fresh linen cushions and so inviting that I wished I had the strength to sit in it.

I marveled in silence at my surroundings as Schuyler gingerly placed me atop a pile of quilts stacked high upon the mattress. It was a room so much prettier than any I had ever been able to call my own — a room I could not believe was actually being called my own, at least for now.