Mechanica Read Online Free Page B

explorers. Queen Nerali had been abed with the croup for months; a Fey doctor had been imported to treat her.
    But if one takes too much lovesbane, it becomes a deadly poison.
    Father shook his head. “I knew no good could come from Faerie,” he said.
    Mother stood. “No good?” she demanded. “And what of my work, then? What of the money you bring in selling my insects?”
    Something she didn’t say hung in the air too: what of Mr. Candery?
    Father stood as well. They eyed each other, neither willing to concede.
    Finally, he spoke. “Well, what will happen now?” His voice was flat, cool; he was speaking of the Queen’s death, not our family’s future.
    Mother nodded, though not in agreement. “He’s banished the Fey,” she said. “King Corsin. He’s banished all of them. They have to leave in a fortnight.” Her gaze ticked for a moment toward Mr. Candery, then back to Father. “The part-Fey may remain. Mr. Candery will have two weeks’ leave to stay with his mother, to say goodbye.”
    Father had all but applauded when Mother spoke of the banishment. Now he turned toward our housekeeper and frowned. “He can say his goodbyes in a day or less,” he said. “That parent of his lives in Esting City, not two hours’ ride from here.”
    “Mr. Candery says ‘Mother,’” my own mother retorted, “so it is only right that we do the same.”
    Father gave her the kind of look that suggested what he wanted to say in reply was not fit for my ears.
    Mother looked to me now. “I want to give them some time together,” she said. “He’ll likely never see her again.”
    “None of us will see any of them again, Lord willing,” Father muttered. “Not in Esting, at least.”
    “William.” Mother’s voice was nearly a whisper now, but full of warning. She looked at me again, and so did Father.
    He shrugged, stood up, and left the room.
    Mother stared after him for a moment, all softness gone from her expression. Then she stormed out too, and a moment later, I heard the cellar door slam open and shut.
    I never liked to see my parents argue; of course not, no child does. But I thought this was something worse, something of a different kind, than I had ever seen before.
    Neither Mother nor Father returned to the library, though I waited there for them.
    It was Mr. Candery who stroked my hair, and told me it was all right, and took me to my room. He gave me a book of old poetry to read and told me not to worry.
    ✷
    Our housekeeper came back from his goodbyes two weeks later, as quiet as ever. I wanted to ask him about it, but our friendship had never been founded on pressing questions—or on any kind of conversation at all, really.
    So when he returned, I waited for him at the servants’ entrance, silently regarded him as he hung up his hat and coat, and then reached up—he was still so much taller than I, though I was nearly nine and starting to grow faster—and took his hand.
    He looked back at me, smiled a smaller smile than usual, and reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a small, thin book: Faerie tales. He pressed one long finger to his lips.
    I nodded. I understood what he did not say: I must keep the book secret, especially from Father. I would realize later that the book, like the Fey, had become illegal; then it just seemed like a secret between friends.
    I knew that he wanted to be alone. I hurried up to my room to spend the afternoon in one of the ways I loved best. Soon I was immersed in a long story about a brave girl, a cave, and a magic fish.
    ✷
    I finished the book not long after supper; I’ve always been a quick reader. I crept back downstairs to the library, hoping to dig through Mother’s engineering tomes and find something I hadn’t yet devoured.
    A wand of yellow candlelight lay along the floor where the library door had been left slightly open. Faint whispers followed the light’s path, coming from inside.
    I could not help myself: I stood behind the door, listening. I