On This Unworthy Scaffold by Heidi Heilig (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📕

rivets articulate at least twelve joints in the tail. There is another beneath it—a dragon with ruby eyes, each scale dyed a slightly different shade of shimmering red. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Le Roi smile. “I was hoping you might perform as soon as tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I turn to him, my mouth dry. Even with an orchestra at my disposal and a thousand fantouches to choose from, it is soon—too soon. I’d need at least a week to truly impress the court; I don’t even know which show to perform. I am about to tell him so when I remember that I never meant to stay. “Tomorrow,” I say again, returning to my study of the fantouches. “Yes. But I need some time to look through your collection.” I need time to read the book as well.

“Bien.” The king goes to the stairs, where the footman waits. “I myself need to visit the engineers’ corps to check progress on the avion. I’ll come back this afternoon to show you the theater.”

I am admiring another fantouche—the elegant coils of a sinuous serpent—and the words take a moment to hit my ear. I frown. “The . . . avion?”

“Yes,” the king says over his shoulder. “The one you arrived in, so dramatically. I’ve set my engineers to disassembling it.”

“Our avion?” I drop the fantouche to stare at the king, but he only cocks his head.

“My avion,” he corrects me. “My own engineers built them, all to Theodora’s specifications. Strangely, we were never able to get them aloft. But Theodora did,” he says, his eyes glittering in the light of the souls. “Since she’s too indisposed to tell me how, I’ve asked my engineers to figure it out.”

I stare at the king, wide-eyed. Now I know why he has put her under guard in the sanatorium—she would not explain how the avions functioned. I had seen the king’s letter to Theodora, the one that had urged her to come home. He had long trusted—even coveted—her knowledge. Her genius. Now he’s found a way to claim it for himself.

The accusation is on my lips, but it is likely only because Theodora hasn’t told him the truth that I am not a prisoner myself. Here in the vault, with no audience but the footman, I have little doubt that could change in a moment. Quickly, I smooth my expression, reaching for calm—I have always been a good actor. “How am I expected to get back to Chakrana, Your Majesty?”

“Chakrana?” Le Roi chuckles a little, as though disbelieving. “I still can’t understand why you’d want to go back. But remember, I promised you a ship in exchange for a show.” He sweeps up the stairs, the footman following. “Best make it good.”

Act 2,Scene 15

Night has fallen at the docks in Nokhor Khat. The Aquitan refugees are clustered along the water’s edge as the armée guards the side streets. Those nearest the cordon argue and plead with the soldiers, but their response is by rote: the general is coming, take it up with him.

BERTRAND AUDRINNE has retreated into his carriage with his son. He has lit the lamp that hangs on the side of the carriage; his son has always been afraid of the dark. LEO, on the other hand, uses nightfall to his advantage. He has picked up an Aquitan hat, tilting the brim down to obscure his features as he searches for his brother. He had lost sight of XAVIER in the scrum, but the soldiers seem sure he’s on the way.

On the west side of the docks, the refugees stir as the cordon opens for a cart pulled by a skittish water buffalo. Bodies are stacked in the back—those who had been trampled or shot in the riot. The crowd draws back quickly as the Chakran driver steers toward the pier; not even in death are Aquitans allowed to remain in Chakrana. Behind the wagon marches a line of stone-faced soldiers. The general leads them, and when the crowd sees XAVIER LEGARDE, they rush back, clutching at the sleeves of his uniform. They call to him, demanding help, action, salvation, but the general only raises a hand in a gesture meant to be calming as he continues toward the ship. His soldiers follow in silence, looking straight ahead.

LEO hears the general’s name long before he sees him over the heads of the crowd. Reaching AUDRINNE’s carriage, he clambers up on the back wheel, trying to find a path forward. Better to head to the Prix de Guerre than to try to fight his way through the knot of people clustered around his brother—or rather, his brother’s body.

LEO’s hand goes to the gold necklace he wears under his shirt: the circular symbol of the Aquitan god. His brother had worn it until the day he’d died. His other hand goes to his breast pocket, where the pen holding Jetta’s blood is tucked away. Then he jumps at the sound of AUDRINNE’s voice.

AUDRINNE: What are you doing, boy?

LEO: Désolée, monsieur—

AUDRINNE: Get off my carriage or I’ll shoot!

AUDRINNE fumbles at his waistcoat, but LEO drops back quickly into the crowd.

LEO: I would save my bullets if I were you.

LEO picks his way toward the pier, reaching the ship just as the wagon arrives. The soldiers start to unload the bodies, carrying them up the gangplank while the general steps onto the wagon seat beside the Chakran driver.

Immediately, the Aquitans fall quiet. The general looks out over the crowd, sympathy in his eyes. LEO, in the front of the crowd, pulls his hat lower so the general won’t recognize him, though part of him hopes his brother could.

LEGARDE: My fellow Aquitans. I regret it’s come to this. But perhaps it was foolish to think our fight in Chakrana would ever end peacefully. Regardless, it is over. Our future lies across the sea. It’s time to go home.

The crowd stirs at the speech—it isn’t much, but they are desperate to hold on