Ring. Sister. Piano (Book 4 of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Forty Five: Romeo and Juliet

He still felt light-footed, despite the metaphorical weight of the piano, as he climbed the ivy that clustered over the Academy's red-brick walls that night. 

Partly, it was the absurdity of the situation: the idea that he was climbing up to her window like Romeo, when she had just – very firmly – asserted her determination not to be a Juliet. Partly, it was the terror of what could happen if it went wrong. And there were so many ways it could go wrong. Ellini voiced them as soon as she saw him – as soon as she'd stifled her scream, unbolted her window, and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. 

"God, if you'd got the wrong window-" she hissed.

"I know."

"If you'd been seen-"

"I know."

"Even if Matthi heard us talking," she said, motioning to the door that separated her bedroom from Matthi's. "She wouldn't hesitate to burst in here with a rifle and ask questions later!"

For some reason, this very sensible – and not at all suggestive – warning made him wonder whether they'd be able to make love in here without attracting Matthi's attention. Stupid, irresistible images snaked into his head, of her straddling him, and covering his mouth to keep him from crying out.

"I know," he said, a little too loud, in an effort to drown out his thoughts. "I know all that. And I still came. So imagine how important it must be."

This quietened her. She sat down on the bed, with her hands in her lap, and gave him a look of chilly expectation.

She had undressed only in the sense of removing clothes. There had been no loosening, no relaxing. She was still bound up tight in her corset and petticoat, with her hair tied back in a plait which reminded him painfully of the day she had left him in Lucknow. 

Her sewing-case was standing open on the bed. Jack could see a coiled rope and an evil-looking grapple inside it. Her Charlotte Grey kit. He remembered teasing her about it, back in the bad old days, because she had seemed like such a nice girl, and it had been such a big, threatening grapple.

Of course, that was how she would deal with her feelings of guilt. Get busy. Pack her cases for the fire-mines. Start doing something that terrified her for someone who despised her. He was glad he'd risked the journey. She needed someone to argue her out of this state.

"First of all, I have to go away for a while," he said, trying to avoid her eyes. "It's a favour for a friend. I can't say no."

He couldn't be more specific than that. He couldn't say that Elsie had telegraphed this evening with the news that she had finally located Sita, and tomorrow she was coming to the Faculty to open up a doorway to hell for him. Not only would it have made him sound completely mad; he didn't want to get Ellini's hopes up. 

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. The dark of her eyes deepened. She looked as if she was teetering on the brink of being ashamed. When it came, it would tighten her lips and winch her shoulders back up. But for now, there was just the softness of surprise, and it was beautiful.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought... you wanted something. Or wanted to argue with me."

"Oh, I always want to argue with you, mouse, but I have a pretty good instinct for the times when it won't do any good. Although," he added, not-quite under his breath, "don't come running to me when some shaggy, antler-headed demon climbs up out of a well, brandishing that ring in his hand, and saying he's come to claim his bride."

There was no reply. He risked a glance at her, and saw that her head was bowed over her hands. He wouldn't have sworn to it, but he got the impression she was smiling.