29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

For some unknown reason, I wasn't prepared for a steam train. The old thing looked just like the trains I'd seen in the dozens of museums that I'd been dragged round as a result of my brother's love of all things transport. Ben had grown out of the obsession, but I still remembered tolerating the trips with many an eye roll. Dad had bribed me with cookies and treats to minimise the moaning as I'd been pulled unwillingly around the vast halls filled to the brim with trains, planes or old automobiles.

Dad: a shard of hurt ran through me at the thought of him. I was trying very hard not to feel bad about his decision to remove the Other from his memory and his life, but it felt very much like he had chosen to remove me . The Other was at the heart of my being now – it was in all I did and all I was – and he'd chosen to wipe me out. It stung. It bloody well stung .

It is his flaw, Esme said dismissively. He is not strong enough for the Other. That is his problem, not yours.

I made noises of agreement but I wished that I could see it like that. We all want our parents' approval, whether we admit it or not, and with that one action it felt like Dad had removed any chance of me gaining his. I have Mum, I thought firmly. And I wasn't a teenager, looking desperately to my family to approve my life choices. It would be nice, sure, but I didn't need it. Not any more. I'd get over it.

In my head, Esme nuzzled me to offer silent support, even though she didn't really understand the source of my distress. I cuddled her back, clinging to her as my physical body swayed to the movements of the train.

Greg reached out a hand. ‘Okay?' he asked softly.

I dredged up a smile. ‘Thinking of my father,' I admitted.

He pulled me into a hug and kissed my temple. ‘Sorry, Peaches,' he murmured, and I knew he was. He was sorry for me and he was also sorry that my dad had chosen to throw away Greg's solution. Greg and Bastion had wrangled an adoption for my parents – and for what? In an instant, Dad had thrown it all away for nothing.

Snuggled in Greg's arms, I looked out of the window as the miles passed.

Victorian Birmingham was smaller than the present-day city but no less chaotic. There was the thrum of people all around, and the station platforms were heaving. Well-to-do people were catching trains to go off to celebrate the New Year; this wasn't yet a place for the hoi-polloi, but solely for those who could afford first-class travel.

‘Shine your shoes, guvnor?' a young boy asked Greg. He was dressed in shabby clothes and he couldn't have been more than ten years old; his frame was skeletal and his legs were bowed, a symptom of rickets. Child labour was alive and well in the nineteenth century, but knowing it and seeing it were two very different things. The worst thing was that it hadn't been eliminated in the twenty-first century either. My stomach churned as I watched the small child look hopefully at Greg. I needed to do more; we all did.

Greg shook his head but tossed a coin to the kid. The shoe-black's eyes widened at the sight of it and he flashed Greg a huge grin as he pocketed it. Then he turned and fled into the crowd before Greg could realise he'd given him the wrong coin .

‘Is that the right currency?' I asked in a low voice.

‘Of course.' Greg looked amused. ‘Do you think I'd bring modern currency with me?'

No, I didn't; Greg was nothing if not prepared. I was just annoyed with myself for not thinking of it myself. ‘He sure ran off fast.'

Greg shrugged. ‘They probably usually earn a penny and I tossed him a pound. In these times, it's the equivalent of a hundred quid or so.'

I nudged him. ‘Softie.'

‘These kids live a hard life.'

We had barely made our way off the bustling platform when an ogre approached us. Greg tensed next to me. Behind the ogre were another two, plus a troll and a dryad sporting plenty of visible weapons.

I plastered on a friendly smile, careful not to hold eye contact for long, and gave the first ogre a shallow bow. ‘My honour to meet you,' I said. The formulaic greeting seemed less out of place in the times I now found myself in.

He bobbed me a markedly shallower bow, held a hand to his heart and uttered the phrase in return.

With so many minions lurking behind him, I was pretty sure that we weren't getting away with a quick nod to each other. Besides, part of me was curious about Krieg's grandaddy, or whatever he was to my High King. I decided it was best to seize the bull by the horns.

You and bulls, Esme muttered.

‘I would love to pay my respects to Mr Krieg, if he's available.'

Next to me, Torrance made some strangled sounds; apparently I was off piste again. Poor Torrance, he didn't know that was my MO: situation normal, all fucked up.

Greg knew me, though, and his face was studiously blank. We'd played strip poker once and needless to say I'd ended up in my birthday suit whilst he'd remained fully dressed. Still, I'd enjoyed rectifying that after the game was over.

The ogre looked faintly surprised, like he didn't normally get people who were actually willing to meet Krieg. I met his gaze long enough to show him a flash of Esme and my backbone before looking away so as not to formally challenge him. I was a Queen, dammit, and I wasn't going to cower in front of anyone.

In my head, Esme bared her teeth.

The ogre gave me another glance, this one a little more respectful. ‘Follow me,' he said brusquely. ‘No bags?'

‘I hadn't been planning on an overnight stay,' I admitted as we followed him through the busy station. He grunted.

When we got outside, a carriage was waiting. The ogre in charge sent the rest of his gang back to watch the platforms whilst he escorted us to Krieg. To be honest, the huge ogre looked somewhat comical as he folded himself into the carriage; he was much too tall and he had to sit hunched over with his head bent forward.

It was late and evening was drawing in, but the streets were still busy as people left work and readied for the New Year celebrations. The carriage took us to a relatively new building that remained iconic even in my era.

We were not taken to the front but to the seedier rear entrance. ‘This way,' the ogre grunted as he climbed out. The three of us followed obediently as he led us through the servants' door and into a small room. ‘Wait here,' the ogre said.

We waited. Ten minutes passed and Greg started pacing. Torrance, meanwhile, was casually juggling fire, passing it from hand to hand and chucking it into the air before expertly catching it. Show off.

I miss being able to do that, Terrance said quietly.

Maybe I can learn to juggle, I suggested. Would it help if you could do it vicariously?

He chuckled. I appreciate the offer, my Queen, but you have better things to do with your time than master the art of juggling flames .

I was about to disagree when a servant woman bustled in with a huge blue dress over her arm. ‘Out, gentlemen,' she snapped. ‘You can wait in the hall whilst I dress the lady appropriately.' After a moment's hesitation, they left.

The woman had no marks on her forehead and appeared to be wholly human. ‘Let's get you undressed,' she said.

‘Oh, erm, I'll do it,' I said hastily. At least that way she wouldn't see my zip. I got out of my dress quickly and stood in front of her in my underwear.

‘Unusual undergarments,' she commented with a scandalised glance.

‘They're from Paris,' I blurted. They had racy underwear in France, right?

Her expression cleared. ‘Of course.'

She helped me into a corset. ‘Not much bust,' she muttered as she tightened the laces, ‘so we'll have to make your waist your feature.' She grunted with effort as she pulled at my middle section.

‘Don't I need to breathe?' I asked weakly. She ignored me; if anything, she pulled harder to punish me for my sass.

After she had finished removing my ability to breathe, she helped me into a veritable tonne of petticoats and pulled the blue dress onto me. The material was heavy, a rich, bright blue inlaid with elaborate golden embroidery. The neck plunged to a deep V, and the arms ended at my elbow in a ruffle. There was no mirror in the tiny room so I couldn't see myself, but I was fairly confident I looked awesome.

The woman grabbed a hairbrush and I discretely removed Terrance while she wasn't looking. Then she started pulling at my hair. Oh lord, I really was getting a full makeover.