Chapter 12 Aurelie
Aurelie
Finally, Aurelie thought as she emerged from the crowd and studied the card Everard had given her, thumb stroking the gilded lettering.
She almost felt sorry for Des, thinking she didn’t know he was there. As if the man could easily hide. It was like an elephant
trying to crouch behind a rosebush. All week at dinner, she’d spotted him from her uncle’s window, leaning against a tree
and looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. The day he’d trailed her to the carpentry shop, she’d been tempted to
lead him on a wild-goose chase, just for the fun of it.
But as smug as she felt about Des’s terrible sleuthing skills, she knew he had far better things to do than trail her. This
was a waste of his time and effort, and if she’d thought he might actually listen to her, she’d have told him so herself.
It was easier than expected to lose him in the crowd. Truth be told, she had no idea people made such a fuss over the Iron
Guard. But she couldn’t have Des following her all the way to Everard’s house. If she accepted this commission, a demon was
inevitable. And Des needed to be well clear of Wisteria University when that happened.
She’d spent the week drawing a detailed schematic of the interlocking plates, reading up on engraving, and even scouring the library for books on runic magic.
Unfortunately, the card catalog revealed a rather gaping hole on the subject.
Someone, perhaps her uncle, maybe the king himself, had ordered all the books removed.
Professor Sheldrake had only a few old tomes on Elder Vansion, which he’d lent to Aurelie under the strict proviso that she keep them well hidden.
“I hope you know what you’re getting into, girl,” he’d said as he handed them over.
“Not at all,” she replied. To her relief, he had laughed.
Aurelie knew little of the world, but she was sure of one thing: she was put on this planet to create. To accept otherwise
was to believe she was as adrift as dandelion fluff, as pointless as the young aristocrats who spent their days gossiping
in cafés. Her parents had shown her that a life well-lived included fulfilling work, joyful pastimes, and loving relationships.
But what if life, what if joy, what if love didn’t exist for Aurelie outside of Wisteria University? She knew Uncle Leo wanted what was best for her, but if he truly
believed a man like Miles Viridian could make her happy, then he didn’t know her at all. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt
that she couldn’t make Miles happy. She couldn’t even make it through a single dinner with him.
This past week, her thoughts had returned again and again to her parents. If she didn’t accept this project, if she didn’t
at least try to create something great, she would be denying the gifts they had given her. She would be dishonoring their memories by
settling for a life she didn’t love.
More than death, more than social ostracization, Aurelie feared inertia.
That she would never move forward or backward, but that she would spin in circles, finding herself trapped by the walls society had built around her.
She wanted what Professor Sheldrake had said.
She wanted the earth-shaking creation that would change her world.
She didn’t want to open a door—she wanted to bring the walls down entirely.
Despite her conviction, she quailed when she reached Everard’s tall, narrow townhouse. Located on Marigold Street, the house
was wedged in like an afterthought, tucked between two homes several times wider. Painted black with a decorative gabled roof,
it had the appearance of an old grandfather clock warped from age. She checked the address again. This was definitely it.
Now all she had to do was knock.
Aurelie couldn’t help feeling that at least one other human should know where she was. If she went into this house and never
came out, Uncle Leo wouldn’t know to look here. And now that she’d lost Des, even he wouldn’t know what had become of her.
But that was the point, wasn’t it? Because Des couldn’t know she was here. Mustering her courage, Aurelie walked up the steep staircase to the front door and clapped the knocker
three times. It wasn’t until after she’d released it that she recognized the shape: a leering demon.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you’re willing to work with me,” Everard said as they sat down for tea in his drawing
room. The house had the peculiar aspect of seeming much larger on the inside than it was on the outside, which was a relief,
as Aurelie had worried she might feel claustrophobic in such a narrow building. “I admit, I was afraid you might not accept.”
“I haven’t fully decided yet,” Aurelie said, taking a sip of tea from a fine porcelain teacup, though it was mismatched from its saucer, as was the cup Everard held. It looked almost like a miniature in his long fingers. “I have a few questions I wanted to ask in person.”
He swirled a silver spoon in the cup, though he hadn’t added any sugar or cream. In fact, Aurelie hadn’t seen him take a single
sip, and she glanced down at her own tea with the same sense of unease she’d felt since she arrived. “I see,” Everard said.
“I’ve drafted some schematics on the interconnecting plates, and I think the needed pattern has to do with the runes themselves . . .”
She broke off as Everard raised his free hand.
“No need to go into the details, Miss Blake. You’re the inventor, after all.”
Aurelie flushed, at once pleased and embarrassed. Did she really have the right to be called an inventor? She was nothing
compared to the great minds of the past who had created clocks and steam engines and all the miraculous innovations of bygone
centuries. Aurelie’s crowning achievement was a small lift operated by a pulley that allowed her to send supplies up an old
chimney shaft to the upper floor of the university, which she called the Load Lightener. Of course, she could only use it
at night when no one else would discover it, but she found it quite useful and had no doubt others would as well, if she were
ever allowed to share it.
Still, it wasn’t exactly the stuff revolutions were built on.
“Simply tell me what supplies you’ll need, and they’ll be sent to the university at your convenience.” Everard sat back in
his chair, watching Aurelie with his unnerving pale eyes. “You know, it’s a shame you weren’t born one hundred years ago.
I have no doubt you’d have changed the world.”
Something in Aurelie’s chest clenched. Something dangerously close to her heart. She’d never had her own feelings mirrored back to her so directly in her entire life. Smiling, she picked up her teacup again and took a slow sip. “Well, who knows,” she said. “I might yet.”
Everard smiled back. “I believe you just might.”
Blushing, Aurelie let her eyes take in the rest of the sitting room. There were shelves on either side of the lit fireplace,
holding dozens of old books with well-placed curiosities and objets d’art interspersed among them. Above the mantel was a
large oil painting, a still life of a bouquet of colorful tulips and peonies, studded with insects so realistic Aurelie felt
they might crawl right off the edge of the ornate gold frame. In an unseen hallway, she heard the click of a dog’s nails as
it trotted across the wooden floors. It was all rather cozier than she would have given Everard credit for.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, because the silence had stretched on far too long and she could still feel Everard’s
eyes on her.
“Oh, ages,” he said, crossing one long leg over the other. “Sometimes it feels like it’s been a century.”
She nodded for lack of anything else to say. After another uncomfortable lull, she cleared her throat. “Pardon my bluntness,
but what exactly will this portal do?” She’d been afraid to ask, partly because she was afraid of Everard’s reaction, but
also because she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Do, Miss Blake?”
“Portals have to open something, to lead somewhere. Don’t they?” She hated how her voice grew weaker with every word under the weight of his cold gaze.
His lips curled as he tapped a finger against his chin. “Tell me, Miss Blake. Why do you create?”
Aurelie once again felt as though this were some kind of trap, though she couldn’t imagine what it would be. If he wanted
to arrest her for illegal activity, this seemed an awfully convoluted way of doing it. “I feel it’s what I was made for,”
she said. “It’s my life’s purpose.”
“Do you believe every person has a purpose, then?”
“Of course I do.” Uncle Leo’s purpose was to help others learn. A farmer’s was to feed people. The Iron Guard existed to protect
them. “Everyone needs to be useful, surely.”
“I agree,” Everard said. “And I believe my purpose is to help facilitate change. I know that’s not what our king wants, or
even very many of our citizens. But since I was born, it’s been a calling. I may lack the imagination of people like you,
but I have the means. This is how I can be useful, Aurelie.”
“But what do you plan to do, exactly?” The what mattered as much as the how. All Everard had given her were vague assurances, and Aurelie was a scientist: she could never be satisfied with incomplete
data.
He sighed and rose, strolling to his bookshelf. “If there was a great conspiracy in this kingdom, would you want to know?”
he asked over his shoulder.
“Of course,” Aurelie said.
“Even if that knowledge created a terrible upheaval in our society?”
She blinked and sat back. She didn’t put much stock in conspiracy theories, and while she wanted progress, she wasn’t sure “terrible upheaval” was what she had in mind. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.
He turned to face her, a book in his hands, a slight frown on his lips. “Then perhaps I underestimated you. I thought we had
similar worldviews. I thought we both valued the truth.”