Red, White and Blue (Book Two of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Thirteen: In Praise of Oxford

Heads turned in the Grand Cafe. If Sam had had any say in the matter, they would have rolled. He wanted a nice, quiet conversation with Miss Syal – perhaps punctuated with a little bit of shouting, to emphasize his point of view – and he was not interested in being observed by the better class of Oxford's citizens while this went on.

Still, the white dress – or its wearer – was attracting a lot of admiration. And, because the room was full of mirrors and gilded, shiny surfaces, she appeared to be everywhere. The white satin dazzled back at you from every angle. And despite the fact that Ellini herself was looking awkward, gloomy and shy, nobody seemed interested in relieving her suffering by looking away.

The concierge took Sam's hat and showed them to a table. He had a better heart than any of his customers, because he chose a table in the corner by the window, and pulled out a chair for Ellini in a place where a large fern would screen her from view.

She sank into it gratefully, but her shoulders were still tensed when the concierge left them, as though she was steeling herself for a very difficult time.

Well, hah, thought Sam – she was going to get a very difficult time. Coming to his city and bringing monsters, refusing to tell him what they were after and what she was doing here, setting him riddles as though he was an amateur detective instead of an officer of the crown. She had caused two deaths – she had put every one of his citizens in danger – and now she had the gall to tense her shoulders at him, as though he was the villain!

And the worst of it was, she hadn't trusted him to help her – she had assumed that he would look at a group of cruelly-abused women, shrug his shoulders, and say, "Oh, they're a danger to public order – we can't have them here."

No, the worst of it was, she had been right. If she had told him the truth from the beginning, he wouldn't have run the risk. He would have suggested she try Cambridge – or, better yet, Birmingham, where they didn't have so much historic architecture to protect.

But now, damnit, now that he knew what they'd been through, and what Miss Syal was willing to do for them, he couldn't turn away. Oxford had claimed Ellini Syal, and it was going to claim her slave-girls. That meant he had to protect them. Once they were Oxford's, they were also his.

He ordered two black coffees, without asking Miss Syal what she wanted. As far as he was concerned, the lack of milk and sugar could be a punishment for her unhelpful attitude.

"I hear you're getting married," he said tersely, when the waiter had gone. "Congratulations. Is that wise for a woman who intends to kill herself tomorrow night?"

He hadn't troubled to keep his voice down. Ellini winced slightly and leaned forward. "I'm not planning to die anymore. At least, not if I can help it. I don't know – I never knew – how my death was going to happen, you see, so I don't know what I can do to prevent it. But Manda says there's another way – it's something to do with this dress. And Jack loves me." 

She broke off, chewing her lower lip. "I mean, as far as it's possible for him to love anyone at the moment. So I thought, when all this is over – if we both survive, and you don't throw me in a cell – perhaps we can--" she waved a hand vaguely, "spend some time together. That's all I want. I don't care if he needs other women to keep him satisfied – I'm done with all that forever – I just want a friend. I just want someone who can make me forget every once in a while."

Sam leaned back in his chair and muttered, "Your hope that I won't throw you in a cell is an extremely slender one."

She gave him a smile and shrugged her exquisite, bony shoulders. "That's all right. I've been locked up in worse places, as I expect you know by now."