A Clockwork Fairytale (12 page)

Furniture scraped on the other side of the door; then it cracked open and Melba’s pale tear-streaked face appeared in the gap. “Only you, not him,” Melba gabbled out, averting her eyes. Gwinnie pushed through the door and slammed it shut behind her.

Turk had been all set to distance himself from Melba to keep Gregorio happy, yet now Melba had turned the tables on him, he felt as though
she
had slapped him across the face.

After staring at the door for a few seconds, he gave up any pretense at good manners and pressed his ear against the wood. All he could hear were muffled voices and soft sobs. “What’s the matter with her? Is she sick?” he shouted. “Gwinnie, talk to me.”

The door wrenched open and he nearly fell into the room. Gwinnie shook her head and pushed past him.

“What’s the matter with her?” He followed Gwinnie as she headed toward the stairs and experienced an unsettling flashback to when he was a frightened little boy on the trash barges clinging to her skirts. Gregorio had taken him in, given him a decent life and an education, but if Gwinnie hadn’t taken a shine to him and stopped the bigger boys from beating him, he wouldn’t even be alive.

She rounded on him. “The poor lass don’t know what’s happening to her. ’Tis your fault, boy. You turned her into a young woman.”

He stared at her retreating back, open-mouthed with disbelief. Then he chased down the stairs after her. “The Great Earth Jinn is responsible for her sex, madam, not I.”

Gwinnie stopped at the bottom of the steps and wedged her hands on her ample hips. “Aye, he made her a
girl
, but ’tis you who fattened her up into a
woman
like a goose being prepared for Great Earth Day celebrations. There’s consequences with doing that, boy, consequences.”

“Sweet Earth Jinn! Melba’s not a goose. Speak plainly, woman, and save the riddles for Great Earth Day.”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t come down in the last shower of rain, boy. Use the brains the Great Earth Jinn gave you. ’Tis women’s problems she has. I’m betting that grand education the Golden Robes gave you didn’t prepare you for dealing with this.”

Cold sweat broke out on Turk’s face. He raised his palms and backed away from Gwinnie. One of the benefits of being a monk was that he knew nothing of women’s problems and he preferred to keep it that way. “I’ll be in the library,” he said, turning toward his refuge. “When Melba’s feeling better, tell her to come down for her lesson.”

“That’s right,” Gwinnie shouted at his retreating back. “Go an’ bury your head in a book, lad. You’re good at doing that.”

A few hours later, the library door swung open and Melba stood framed in the doorway wearing the blue silk dress, her hands linked demurely in front of her. Her face was pale, the skin nearly transparent beneath her soft golden curls. She looked as beautiful and fragile as a priceless spun-crystal statue.

Turk shot to his feet and hurried around his desk. “Come in. Sit down,” he said, going to hold the back of the chair, just as a gentleman should for a lady. Melba averted her gaze and entered with dainty steps.

“Thank you,” she whispered. The young lady who sat carefully and smoothed out her dress was all princess. Where had the old Mel gone? Her transformation was exactly what he’d set out to achieve. So why did it make him ache inside?

He stepped around the chair and stood beside her, griping his hands together, unsure what to say. Melba had amused him, confounded him, and charmed him. She had touched him inside like nobody else and however angry it made Gregorio, he didn’t want to lose that connection. Yet now she seemed like a different person. She looked up, her huge blue eyes pink-rimmed from crying. Uncomfortable with standing looking down at her, he dropped to one knee solicitously. “Are you feeling better now?”

She nodded.

“Were you in pain?”

“Gwinnie gave me something for me bellyache and it ain’t as bad now.”

“Good.” Turk looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers against his thigh. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel well, Melba.”

“Gwinnie said ’tis your fault I got sick ’cause you made me get fatter and me body realized I’m a woman, but I don’t blame you or nothing.” Her bad grammar made him want to smile with relief that something of the old Mel had survived the transformation.

“The writing you did over the last two weeks is excellent,” he said, grasping for a safe topic. “I’ve never met anyone who learns as quickly as you do.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and he felt as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds. “Master Maddox always said I had quick wits,” she offered.

“You do. The quickest.” He let out an inward sigh of relief that things were getting back to normal. “So, how did you get on with Madam Quatro’s dance and deportment lessons?”

Melba’s gaze dropped back to her lap and she ground her teeth. When she raised her eyes again, a hint of her old defiance gleamed in the shimmering blue. “Madam Quatro’s a wicked old bag.”

Turk smiled even though he shouldn’t encourage her to insult her tutor. “Is she strict?”

Melba was sitting taller now, a bit of color in her cheeks. “She has this cane she uses to tap out the rhythm and every time I misstep she whacks me with it.”

“She what?” Turk rocked back in shock. “She hits you?”

“Aye.” Melba’s delicate golden brows drew together and she leaned forward. “She told me it were disgraceful that a girl of seventeen didn’t know no dance steps. So I told her she were a scabby old cow. She chased me with her stick, but she’s got a limp so she couldn’t catch me. I told her you said to sling ’er hook and not come back.”

Turk was torn between laughing at the scenario Melba described and frowning at her mistreatment. “I’m sorry, Melba. If I’d known her teaching methods included thrashings I’d never have engaged her services.” Gregorio had recommended Madam Quatro. Surely he wasn’t aware she caned her students.

Melba hitched up her skirt revealing her bare feet. Remorse hit him as he realized he’d bought her a dress and beautification products but no lady’s shoes. He’d taken away all her old clothes to ensure she wore her dress and left her walking around his palace barefoot for two weeks. No wonder Madam Quatro hadn’t been impressed when the poor girl attended her dancing lessons shoeless. A second later when she drew her skirt up to expose her lower legs all thoughts of shoes fled his mind. Angry black, purple, and yellow bruises covered her shins.

“Oh, Melba.” He dragged in a breath full of hot spiky guilt. This was his fault. He gently cupped one of her feet in his hand and lifted it onto his knee. Blinking with shocked disbelief, he ran his palm lightly up and down her shin. The tiny gold hairs on her leg tickled his skin and shone against the purple background in defiance of the abuse. He had to swallow hard before he could speak. “I’m sorry. I should have checked on your progress sooner.”

In truth, although he had been busy he could have spared time to visit her. He’d stayed away from fear of his master’s disapproval. And Gregorio would certainly not approve of him touching Melba’s leg. Turk lowered her foot gently to the ground and rose to his feet while she smoothed down her dress.

“Where did you go for two weeks?” Melba asked. “I missed you. Gwinnie had to help me with me dress.”

Turk went around his desk and dropped into his seat, a strange sense of unreality and confusion clouding his thoughts. He had always been sure of his duty and never had any doubts over what was right and what was wrong—until now. Gregorio wanted him to distance himself from Melba, but that would hurt her feelings and he didn’t want to cut himself off from her. Turk did not intend to break his vow of celibacy, so why did Gregorio think him wrong to treat Melba with kindness and friendship?

“Master Turk, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, Melba. I have things on my mind. Look, I think it’s time you called me Turk and dropped the master and the sir. We’re friends now.” Gregorio would not like this development, but Turk could hardly expect Melba to refer to him as master once she became a princess.

She smiled. “All right, Turk.”

He returned her smile, feeling lighter now he’d decided to follow his own instincts. “I won’t disappear again.
You
have my attention now.” He needed to deliver her to the king posthaste so she’d be safe from Vittorio, but first he must warn her of the threat the Royal Victualler posed, and awaken her to her magic.

“Let’s proceed with our belated discussion about Sugar Street Market and the Royal Victualler.” He flicked back through the pages of her notebook. “You noted that none of the Shining Brotherhood attended the alms distribution even though the Royal Victualler offered it in the name of the Great Earth Jinn.” He looked up at her eager expression, relieved that the old Mel had not disappeared after all. “The Royal Victualler used to be a member of the Shining Brotherhood, but he fell out with them, so you’ll never see any Brothers at one of his events.”

Melba nodded sagely. “I know why he must’ve left them. Master Maddox said it were unnatural for grown men to shut themselves away without a woman in sight. Said he didn’t trust ’em.”

“Unnatural… I see.” Turk opened his mouth to continue, wanting to defend his lifestyle, but closed it again his words unsaid. Now was not the time to explain the spiritual benefits of celibacy. He silently thanked the Great Earth Jinn that he had not told Melba he was a Brother. He cleared his throat. “Moving on, you noted the poor people receiving the alms didn’t look right. That’s because they aren’t genuine poor people. Vittorio’s charitable event was a theatrical performance designed to promote him as a humanitarian in touch with the Great Earth Jinn. The nobs don’t like to dirty their hands in the outer circles, but they like to think of themselves as charitable.”

Melba’s breath hissed in. “You mean it’s all a lie?”

“Exactly. It’s a trick to increase Vittorio’s popularity among the nobs.”

“Humph.” Melba scrunched her face up in an unladylike frown and Turk couldn’t help smiling.

“Why’re you smiling all the time now?” she demanded crossly. “You usually try not to smile when I try to make you laugh.”

He wished he had responded when she’d been funny and witty rather than try to suppress his amusement. He’d had the strange idea that as a monk he should be above her common humor. “I was smiling on the inside, Melba. I’m not used to anyone making me laugh. It took a while to adjust.”

He returned to her notes. They had reached the important part now—the part that led on to the lesson he wanted to teach her. “You observed that Vittorio, the Royal Victualler, is unnaturally beautiful.” Even though he agreed, he was irrationally annoyed to see the opinion in Melba’s handwriting.

“You said it was a thrall,” she chipped in.

“Well remembered. Vittorio makes himself attractive so people fall under the spell of his beauty.”

“Don’t all the nobs try to make themselves attractive with the beautification products?” she asked.

“You have a point, but the problem is he uses magic to enhance himself and then misuses his influence.” Turk frowned thoughtfully. He would have to tread carefully. It was hypocritical to criticize Vittorio for using a glamour to change his appearance when Turk did the same thing himself occasionally.

Turk placed an apple and a peach on the desk between them. “Let me explain what Vittorio does. Inside everything that comes from the Earth is a spark of energy from the Great Earth Jinn.” He tapped the apple. “Fruit, vegetables, flowers, metals, gems, all these things contain what we call an Earth Star—the tiny spirit of the thing. When you eat an apple, it is the Star inside that nourishes your body.”

Melba’s eyes widened. She slid forward on her seat and prodded the apple warily as if she expected it to grow legs and run away.

“Vittorio extracts the Stars from fruit and vegetables and uses the energy to make himself look better.”

“So some of the fruit and vegetables in the baskets he handed out were Starless.”

“Exactly!” Turk grinned, delighted she had identified Vittorio’s deceit so quickly. “When something is Starless, it is effectively dead and has no nutritional value. Some of the produce he handed out will have rotted or withered within a day.”

“So do animals have Stars?”

Turk nodded. “Animals eat the produce of the Earth, so are nourished by the Great Earth Jinn.”

Melba bit her lip. “Do we have Stars?”

“The Great Earth Jinn gifts people with the brightest Stars of all.” He was enjoying teaching Melba the basic principles of the Great Earth Jinn, the lessons every initiate in the seminary learned.

Melba picked up the apple and examined it from all angles. “How does the Royal Victualler get the Stars out of the fruit and veg?”

“It’s simple. He summons the Star in the form of a Jinn.”

Her eyes widened and she scratched her ear in a careless unladylike way that tightened his chest with affection. “Can you show me how to do that?” she asked hopefully.

“That, my Starbright friend, is your next lesson,” he said.

Chapter Nine

To draw a Jinn from a rose you must have a delicate but sure touch
.

—Master Turk

Melba followed Turk up the winding tower stairway to his roof garden. She was so excited at the prospect of raising Jinns that she almost forgot her bellyache. He paused when they reached the roof and angled his head questioningly. “I bet you would like to raise a Jinn from a pink rose.”