Alveré Case and his descendants swore to sacrifice everything to correct their mistakes.â2197
âfrom the journal of L.U.C.
H
elen dropped me off a block away from Gray Towers.
I made my way down the sidewalk, watching for hostile movement.
When I was just a few feet away from the slick glass front of the building and the doors that I hoped would let me in, Neds shouldered out from a shadowed overhang and fell into step beside me.
“I'm angry and sick, Ned Harris,” I said. “You don't want to talk to me.”
“Tilly,” Right Ned said. “Let me explain.”
“All right.” I stopped in the middle of the crowded street. More than one person cursed as they were forced to squeeze past us. “Explain to me why you lied to me for two years, ate my food, worked my land, and falsified our friendship so you could spy on me for House Silver.”
“It isn't,” Right Ned said, his eyes tight with anger or pain. “That isn't how it happened. I mean, it happened, but that's not why. I answered your ad for House Silver. But I stayedâI
wanted
to stay for you.”
“She won't listen,” Left Ned said. “You're a part of House Gray now, aren't you, Matilda? Working your deals, playing the game. Just like a low-class citizen. Just like us. So before you go judging us off something some dick of a House said we did, get your facts, and get them straight.”
“Were you spying on me?”
“We were,” Right Ned said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. “But we were trying to keep you safe. I understand if you won't trust us. But we've never wanted you hurt or used or involved in this mess. We tried to do right by you, Tilly.”
“What about Quinten? You call that doing right by me?”
Right Ned frowned. “No. We know we failed you. But we'll do what we can to fix that. To help him.”
If I told Neds what I'd done, the deal I'd made with House Silver, all bets and all favors would be off.
“I hate this,” I said. “I hate this place and I hate these people. You were right, Ned. I should have run when I had the chance. The things they do. The things you've done . . .”
And then, before I knew what was happening, he stepped right up to me, brushed his bare hand down my bare arm and pulled me into a hug.
“For all theâ” Left Ned muttered, but I wasn't listening to him.
“I'm sorry, Matilda. Please believe that,” Right Ned said. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
And then he stepped back and walked away, swallowed by the jostle of humanity.
“Matilda! Matilda!” Elwa pushed her way through the crowd, her sharp, short steps puncturing the roiling mass and thrusting her through the crowd like a needle.
“We've been looking for you,” she said, catching hold of my sleeve as if to keep me from drifting away. “Abraham said he dropped you off an hour ago. Where have you been?”
She hadn't waited for my answer, but was already tugging me up to the front door of the building, her steps still brisk enough to make me jog a bit to keep up.
She waved a hand impatiently at whatever camera or scanner or other identification device lingered in the clear glass, and the doors opened for us.
I'd never come into the building this way, but Elwa didn't give me time to take in any details. Maybe marble, certainly clean, unfailingly gray. And then the elevator opened and I was pushed inside and whisked to the upper floors.
“Have you seen him?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Abraham.” She shook her hand like swatting a fly. “No matter. He will arrive in time. Abraham is a warrior, a soldier, a liberator. He knows how much punctuality matters.”
I was ushered out of the elevator and then off to my room, where Elwa grilled me on if I needed food or if anything was wrong, and if I had packed yet, and when I was going to take time to prepare for the gathering.
I finally got her to leave by promising her I just needed a little time to collect myself.
After she left, I pulled a chair up next to the door and sat there with my handgun in my lap.
I was numb, my thoughts scattered and raw. I didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to keep Grandma safe. And I most certainly didn't know whom to trust.
House Orange had Quinten captive. My brilliant brother would have gotten free if there had been any chance to do so.
Abraham was there now meeting with Slater Orange.
But whose side was Abraham on?
Neds were spies, Boston Sue a hired thug.
All I wanted was to get away. But if I broke my deal, Reeves would kill the people I loved.
There was a soft knock at the door.
I got up, stiff from what must have been hours sitting utterly still. I held the gun ready and opened the door.
“I brought you a late supper,” Elwa said, letting herself in, despite the gun in my hand. “And a few things you need to study for the gathering. We'll be leaving tonight. Soon.” She set a tray with silver domes over the plates
down on the table. “Here is information about the gathering and how you will represent House Gray.”
“Wait,” I said, rubbing at my forehead and trying to track her words, which seemed to tumble together too quickly. “What do I need to do?”
“Read this.” She pointed at the thin screen. “You are galvanized. Important, valued. You will stand in the great arena as the pride of House Gray. Your name and face will be projected across all the breathing world. And since you are the unexpected discovery, there has already been speculation. People are curious. People are placing odds. . . .”
“There are wagers being made? On what?”
“If you'll be pretty, strong, ancient, young. If you'll be advanced or a throwback like the First. And, most of all, who made you and why have you been a secret for so long. What is your purpose? Why have you emerged now, of all times? Isn't that exciting?” She clapped her hands once and laced her fingers together.
“No. It's not,” I said. “Will all the heads of Houses be there?”
“Yes, of course. Here is your schedule, some history of previous gatherings, a list of things you will be expected to do, a list of mistakes that will cause our House grief and therefore you will be expected
not
to do, etiquette guidelines, current House loyalties, current House standings, current House projects under negotiation. Tell me you know how to operate chopsticks and walk in high heels.”
“At the same time?”
“If necessary.”
“I've never used chopsticks, and I've never worn heels.”
She made tiny shakes of her head, then pressed the screen into my hand. “I'll have your gowns brought by. Eat. There are chopsticks on the tray. Use them. Read as much of this as you can. We will go through walking lessons in an hour. I will test you on your knowledge. You
will do brilliantly, I am sure. But you must begin now. We have no time. No time at all.”
She clapped again, then turned and stomped her way out of the room, pausing at the door to give me a conciliatory look. “You will have to put the gun away, however. There are no weapons allowed in the gathering.”
Then she shut the door.
I stood there feeling like I'd just been buffeted by a tiny, demanding whirlwind.
Her visit had done me some good, actually. It had shaken me out of my wallow enough to clear my head.
Time to make a plan. I ate while I thought things through, doing my best with the food sticks. Turned out I wasn't half bad with them, and by the end of the mealâvegetables and meat over rice and noodlesâI had gotten more food in my mouth than on my lap. Good enough.
I wanted to get a message out to House Brown to look out for Grandma, but doing so might bring her harm. There had to be a way to save Grandma, get Quinten away from House Orange, and deal with the gathering.
I just didn't know how.
Yet.
I pulled out the screen and information Elwa wanted me to learn. I read through schedule and history of past gatherings, looking for when I might have a chance to be unobserved. Because any plan I came up with would need to be handled House Brown's way: off grid and out of sight.
A curt knock on the door pulled me up out of the information.
Elwa didn't wait for an invitation; she waltzed right in, a man dressed all in gray following her with an armful of clothing.
“Take it to the bedroom, please,” she said to him. “How was your meal?”
“I practiced with the chopsticks.”
“Good, good. Now let's get you in your gown and heels so you can practice your walk.”
“Does it matter how I walk?”
“Yes. Every galvanized has been tutored in proper presentation. It is ceremony, Matilda. Pomp and performance. Theater. It won't take long, but it must be given proper attention. You'll be fine. Go. Change into whichever dress you wish. I'll wait here.”
She made shooing motions with her hands, and I walked to the bedroom while the man who had accompanied her walked out.
“All my life going to hell, and I have to walk the right way and look pretty,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
I shucked out of my slacks and T-shirt, then looked at the three dresses laid out on the bed. Strapless or nearly so, cut to show neck, arms, and a good portion of leg. Any one of these would make me feel like I was parading around naked.
“Are you dressed?” Elwa asked. It had been exactly one minute since I'd shut the bedroom door.
“No.” I shrugged into the thick, soft gray bathrobe hanging on the hook by the bed and had just gotten it closed around me when she burst through the door.
“What is the trouble?” She looked at me, then at the dresses, then back at me.
“I'm wondering which order to put them on,” I said.
“Any order. I'd like to see you in all of them.”
“But which one goes on the bottom?”
She did that short head shake again. “I don't understand.”
“All together, they're enough material to make a dress. Which layer goes on first?”
“Oh no. No, darling. One dress. One layer.” She reached over and pulled the second dress off the bed, unzipped the side of it, and held it open for me.
It wafted there as if made of spiderwebs.
“You have got to be joking.”
“What is the problem?”
“My arms will be bare. My legs, my neck.”
“Yes, of course. You are galvanized. Every stitch is your strength, your pride. In this gathering, you must be seen, your stitches revealed. Next gathering will be different. But for this, you stand with head high. Unafraid of what you are. Strong for your House. Here. Try this.”
She lifted the dress toward my head and I shrugged out of the bathrobe and into the soft gray material.
I'd expected it to be a disaster, but the dress floated down around my body, not too tight and with a lot more modesty than I'd expected. Both my arms were bare, ribbon straps covering just the crest of my shoulders, and while the back plunged enough that I could feel a breeze, the skirt fell to my feet, allowing the cleverly placed slits to give a glimpse of my leg up to my thigh when I walked.
“Yes,” she said, zipping up the side and steering me by the shoulders over to the full-length mirror. “I think this will do. So pretty.”
It had been years since I'd stood in front of a full mirror. It had been never since I'd worn a dress. So the woman who stared in mild shock back at me from that mirror was a little unfamiliar.
The dress fit perfectly, and the soft gray of it, along with a barrage of cleverly placed jewels, brought out the silver lines of my stitching that crossed beneath my collarbone, curved above my breast, and looped around my arms and wrists and hands.
Elwa pulled back my hair so the stitches down my cheek and neck were revealed. “Beautiful and strong,” she said.
I never much cared how much stitch I was showing out on the farm. After all, it had just been Grandma, Quinten, Neds, and me. But I had always been meticulous to hide my life stitches from anyone else.
Standing there in that dress didn't make me feel vulnerable or exposed. I felt strong. Like I was getting all gussied up to go hunting for a different sort of feral beast.
“I can do this,” I said. “I can wear this one.”
“Good, good. Now we try on the shoes.”
That turned out to be more of a problem. I was not made to be balancing on stilts, and nothing Elwa did could convince me otherwise.
“I'll just wear my boots,” I said for the hundredth time.
Elwa frowned. “No.”
“Then I will go barefoot. Listen, I'm letting you put me in frills, I'm letting you pull my hair up and stick pins and nonsense in it, but the high heels are never gonna happen.”
“Boots,” she muttered. “Show me.”
I pulled my boots out from under the edge of the bed, and she took them out of my hand like she was holding a dead rat. “I will see what can be done.”
“Waitâyou can't take them.”
“We have only a few hours before we leave. And if it must be boots,” she shrugged, “then it will be boots. But better than these.”
She clipped out of the room, and I changed back into my jeans and T-shirt. All this nonsense had shaken loose a small plan. A way to get Quinten out of the city as quickly as possible. A place for him to stay.
I didn't dare write anything down or scan for information. If Reeves Silver had cameras hidden away in House Orange's most private rooms, I could only assume he had done the same to House Gray.
Any plan I was going to try would have to be constructed solely in my head.
So I got busy constructing.
A couple hours later, there was a knock at the door.
“Matilda,” Oscar Gray said. “May I have a word with you?”
I hadn't expected him to visit. I answered the door.
“So good to see you,” he said. “I hope your training wasn't too strenuous?”