Feral Hearts

70

The next morning, Victoria was looking down at herself, her mouth caught between a smile and a frown. The neck-to-toe black outfit was all made from the same dark fabric—as thick as leather, but without the sheen. It was like a suit of armor, only skintight and made from some strange cloth, not metal. She could feel the weight of her weapons where they were concealed—so neatly that even someone patting her down might think they were merely ribbing—and she swung her arms experimentally.

“Careful,” the short man in front of her said, his eyes wide. “You might take off my head.”

Behind them, Edward chuckled from where he leaned against the paneled wall of the training room. She hadn’t asked questions when he’d summoned her, then told her to put on the black suit and matching boots that were lined with fleece.

“When you want to unsheathe the blades,” the inventor said, taking a large step back, “it’s a downward sweep, and an extra flick of the wrist.” He demonstrated the motion with his own scrawny arm, and Victoria echoed it.

She grinned as a narrow blade shot out of a concealed flap in her forearm. Permanently attached to the suit, it was like having a short sword welded to her arm. She made the same motion with the other wrist, and the twin blades appeared. Some internal mechanism had to be responsible for it—some brilliant contraption of springs and gears. She gave a few deadly swings in the air in front of her, reveling in the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the swords. They were finely made, too. She raised her brows in admiration.

“How do they go back?”

“Ah, a little more difficult,” the inventor said. “Wrist angled up, and press this little button here. It should trigger the mechanism that—there you go.” She watched the blade slide back into the suit, then released and returned the blade several times.

Her plan to attack the masked man was in four days; just long enough for her to try out the new suit. Four days was plenty to figure out his house’s defenses.

Finally, she looked at Edward. “How much is it?”

He pushed off the wall. “It’s a gift. As are the boots.” She knocked her toe against the tiled floor, feeling the jagged edges and grooves of the soles. Perfect for climbing. The sheepskin interior would keep her feet at body temperature, the inventor had said, even if she got them utterly soaked. She’d never even heard of a suit like this. It would completely change the way she conducted her way of fighting. Not that she needed the suit to give her an edge. But she was Victoria, moon goddess be damned, so didn’t she deserve the very best equipment? With this suit, no one would question her place.

The inventor asked her to take her final measurements, though the ones Edward had supplied were almost perfect. She lifted her arms out as he did the measuring, asking him bland questions about his trip from his home and what he planned to sell there. He was a master tinkerer, he said—and specialized in crafting things that were believed to be impossible. Like a suit that was both armor and an armory, and lightweight enough to wear comfortably.

Victoria looked over her shoulder at Edward, who had watched her interrogation with a bemused smile.

“Are you getting one made?”

“Of course. And the whole guild, too. Only the best for the king's best.” She noticed that he didn’t say “assassin”—but whatever the tinkerer thought about who they were, his face yielded no sign.

She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You won't give Lily a suit like this?”

Edward shrugged, picking at his manicured nails. “I won't, because she won't fight again or commit herself to a mission? But aren't you happy to know that Lukas was kind enough to provide the guild with comfortable suits?”