Four
Four
The cobbled streets were clouded in fog. Very few “respectable” people would find themselves out here so late at night, or
so they insisted, except I always somehow found them stumbling around inebriated from drugs and alcohol, or descending the
steps of brothels, laughing gaudily with two women on each arm as they indulged the pleasures of the East End.
This particular den was rather small and in a part of the neighborhood that made it much easier for the lower classes to frequent.
There were more famous and prestigious opium dens for the rich to waste away in. But then there were the most morally hypocritical
among the wealthy—a special breed whose uprightness formed the core of their very family name. Their fond taste for the powder
would bring them anywhere so long as there was no one around to see their image crumble.
The Forbeses were respectable people, you see. All of Britain knew that they’d bravely saved an African child from slavery
and death at the hands of an evil tribal king. They were practically heroes of the abolition movement. And the young boy they’d
drowned? Well, no one knew about him, so what did it matter?
A boy who had lived and died with no one to mourn him but me.
In the dead of night, one of Rui’s men stopped me outside the dingy den. He had a strange scar in the shape of an X etched over his left eye and carried with him the mask I’d asked for, but— What was this? Why was it black and beaked like a crow?
As I took the mask from him, the man slunk away, his cap down. Then I realized.
“The mask of a plague doctor.” I rolled my eyes. I had asked Rui for something that would cover my nose and keep out the smells
from the den lest they make me weak-minded and addicted like the rest. Our taste for humor didn’t match at all.
The mask covered my whole head. Once on, a mixture of smells overtook me: cinnamon, myrrh, and even honey. Wrapping my dark
hooded cloak around me I entered the den.
The narrow corridor opened up into one, simple, dilapidated room. People lay on wooden bunks and slouched by the fire. They
made their pipes of old penny ink bottles and glittering thimbles. Smoke nearly obscured their languid bodies from sight.
Normally, I would have stayed clear of this place, but there was a man I was looking for.
“Dear... oh, my little deary!”
I jumped. Near the painted wall, a man grabbed my right wrist.
“The devil’s finally come to take me away... ,” he said, staring into my crow mask. I didn’t know whether to feel sorry
or disgusted. The Egbado had more self-control. The sweet plantains, swaying palm trees, and fresh breeze against my skin.
I’d trade it in for this any day.
“Sorry, friend, but this one’s my little deary.”
Wrenching my arm out of the man’s grip, Rui turned his chiseled face toward me. “Come with me, little princess,” he said with
a delectable wink, and began leading me through the den. “Enjoying the mask? I had it made especially for you. The fifty-five
herbs inside the beak are keeping you from inhaling the smoke. And other compounds.”
It was how plague doctors used to work centuries ago, constantly surrounded by poisoned air. I knew Rui must have had something in his tall nose to keep him from succumbing to his exposure to opium. I hated to admit it, but I was rather thankful he had no mask covering the thick curtain of lashes covering his expressive brown eyes or the crooked tilt of his dimple-edged grin. Nineteen and too handsome for his own good, he was filled with tricks as much as charm.
One of those tricks was his very name. It wasn’t his. But then, “Sally” wasn’t mine. Aliases were quite fine to use between
coconspirators.
Another one of his tricks was a trapdoor that led to a rather well-ventilated basement. He was about to pull me through when
I stopped.
“Wait,” I said, and looked around because I thought I saw him. Out of the corner of my eye, I was sure I saw him—
In my search, my gaze landed on a crook of the room even dingier than the others. There, a man sat curled up in the corner
with a pipe and a dirty blanket covering his head as if it would take away his shame.
I was right. And though I knew I would be, it was a pathetic, infuriating sight indeed. He looked disease-ridden, like he existed to be covered in filth. The veins bulged out of his dilated pupils.
This was the man who purported to be of a higher class of human than Ade and I. The man who slapped Ade when he couldn’t form
his English words quickly enough despite haphazard attempts at teaching him.
This was the man who’d made me dance .
Biting my lip, I bristled with the anger that I’d learned by now to keep burning under lock and key lest it leak out at the
wrong moments. Captain George Forbes. I knew he couldn’t pass up the invitation. A Queen of Spades card had been slipped into
his pocket. On the back of it: the address of a yet-undiscovered den, along with the promise of free drugs and perfect anonymity.
During the year I’d spent on the HMS Bonetta , George had spent many a night with his favorite pastime, even after once being beaten senseless by his brother Frederick. “An embarrassment to the family,” I once heard him say once I knew enough English words.
Poor Sibyl, but it was a good lesson for her. There were no true princes in this country.
The crow’s beak hid my evil grin as Rui tugged me through the trapdoor. On the way down the narrow staircase, he took off
my mask and gently pushed me against the wall. Without the smoke, I could see his figure, slim but firm. He wore a red corset
over a golden-brown shirt and tight pants made of leather. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it
when he pressed his body against me either.
It was always when we were so close that my body warmed and my legs itched to be around his waist. He was a tease, criminally.
Been so since the day we met and formed our illicit partnership in the dark of night. Running his hands through his short
black hair, he took in the sight of me before reaching into my cloak. The caress of his hand against my collarbone made my
heart flutter and my back arch almost instinctively. He leaned in, his lips lightly touching my ear.
I caught his wrist just as he slipped it out of my dress. My calling card.
“You’re still obsessed with this, I see.” He waved the Queen of Spades in front of my face. “Makes playing cards with you
dreadfully boring.”
I snatched it out of his grasp. The haughty look of the black queen arrested me.
“I take it you have everything in place for Captain George Forbes’s complete and utter disgrace.” Rui brushed my cheek with
the back of a finger. “Though from the sounds of your plans, should we make one mistake, you’ll end up with another dead body
on your hands.”
“Oh, I don’t want Forbes to die.” I tilted my head to the side as I reminded him. “What I want is a scandal. What I want is
his family in shambles.”
“So you told me the first time we met.” Rui smirked and turned his eyes upward as if he were remembering that night in the East End. “Scandal and ruin for those in the Queen’s orbit. And if murder should come into the equation—”
“Then it is only because it was part of their path to ruin,” I finished. “Trust me. Uncle George deserves death for what he’s
done. But not yet. Just stick to what we agreed to. James Vale will be difficult to control. His fists are his weapon of choice.
Are you ready for that?”
“With the body count I’ve accrued in my time in Limestone, I think you can trust my ability to take on one drunken brute.
But that’s beside the point.”
Rui leaned in smooth, the little hairs on his cheek brushing against my skin as he whispered in my ear, “This is a very dangerous
game you’re playing.”
A game that required me to seek help from the most unlikely of partners. My skin buzzed at his touch, but I hid it well. “It’s
not a game I expect to finish alive. That makes things a lot easier.”
“I wonder.” Rui took my chin in his hand and lifted it until our eyes locked. “Even a prideful princess has her flaws, as
we all do. And when one’s cracks start to show, well, you never know when unexpected fun will happen.”
“You little bastard—you are here!” The roar of a furious man shook the floorboards. “You chose this over my sister?”
The fish was hooked. Harriet had done her job. I slid on my mask. “It’s showtime.”
Just as I turned to leave, Rui grabbed my arm. “And what kind of show are you hoping to see?” The tinge of uncontrolled excitement
in his voice seemed somewhat out of character for a young drug lord who had himself completely under control at all times.
I was almost annoyed that he couldn’t see me sneering. “The kind that ends in vindication.”
“Even if it also ends in blood?”
My little hands clenched into fists. Both orphans in a strange land, from the day Rui and I met, we’d birthed a unique kind
of rapport. He’d worked hard climbing through the ranks of the underworld, while I had done my best climbing to the upper
echelons of the British elite. Both feats required grit. One couldn’t gain without getting her hands dirty.
“What’s it to you?” I snapped back as the commotion upstairs grew louder.
Rui gave me a sidelong look, his expression almost mischievous as he soaked in my anger. “It’s just fascinating, I suppose.
Seeing a princess fall.”
“I’ve already fallen. They made me fall.”
They made me fall when they killed my friend and took me to be a gift for another ruler when I would have rather died with pride as a ruler myself.
“How much farther is there to go, I wonder?” Rui said no more as he let go of me and, with his hands up in surrender, backed
away.
Trembling a little, I ran up the stairs and through the trapdoor.
There was James Vale, with his closely shaven blond hair, baring his teeth at Uncle George in his corner, his blanket pooled
upon the floor, his back flat against the wall. Vale must have come straight from the tavern. He was tipsy and red-faced,
just as I’d predicted.
But when I looked at Vale more closely, my hands numbed.
A gun. A little pistol cocked and pointed at Uncle George’s forehead. Vale was drunk but his aim seemed sure.
Since when did Vale carry a gun? He was to beat Uncle George senseless for the crime he’d committed against his sister. A
gun wasn’t part of the plan. How had I missed this?
Some men were yelling or transfixed in shock. Others didn’t seem to care as long as they had their pipe. George, though military trained, was by now too feeble-minded to fight back. The moment he tried to move, his feet slid out from under him and he dropped sideways to the floor. With wide eyes, he stared down the barrel to his death.
His death wasn’t part of the plan. I wanted his ruin. I wanted Uncle George to live to see his own life crumble before his
eyes.
Without thinking, I looked around for Rui. He stood by the trapdoor, silent. Watching. I took a quick step toward him, but
he lifted his hand to stay me. What was he waiting for? Did he want to see Vale blow Uncle George’s head off?
Did I ?
What hurt more? Death by a gunshot or death by drowning?
I would never forget Ade’s feeble cries as he begged for mercy. Mercy was the one thing they didn’t deserve. For what they
do to him, me, all of us.
I didn’t move. My heart was beating fast, though with curious skips. Each haggard breath electrified my skin.
This is it, Ade. I gripped the card in my hands. Vengeance.
Out of the corner of my eye, near the trapdoor, Rui watched me.
How much farther? How much farther...?
My teeth chattered. I remembered Mr. Bellamy’s dead eyes and suddenly felt sick. Gripping my head, I tried to catch my breath
when a jumble of familiar voices erupted from the den’s entrance.
“Captain Forbes?”
The blood in my veins ran cold. Both Vale and I turned, myself in utter disbelief.
“Prince Albert?” I couldn’t keep myself from saying it. The prince was coughing, waving the smoke away. I immediately covered
my mouth, but it was too late. Bertie was looking at me. Did he recognize my voice? I could see the question in his wide eyes.
Behind him was Harriet, absolutely frantic as she clasped her hands together. “He followed me,” she mouthed. Idiot! She wasn’t supposed to even come here!
“I was wondering what a royal courtier was up to, traveling to the East End at night—and to an opium den no less.” Bertie
stepped closer and closer to me, entranced. It was like he’d forgotten about Vale and Forbes entirely. “But what’s this?”
Coughing again, he cocked his head to the side. Closer. “You in the mask.” And closer still. “Who... who are—?”
I thought quickly, tackling Vale and knocking his gun away. It went off into the air. As the den erupted, as Captain Forbes
breathed a whining, relieved moan, Prince Albert ran toward the drunkard, just as I managed to slip past him.
“Wait!” Bertie cried, his hands grazing my cloak as he reached for me, but I eluded him. Out the den’s entrance and into the
night, I ran without looking back.