Daphne knew she couldn’t hide a clock spirit in her room. Nor could she hide him in Danny’s, as it was regularly cleaned by Indian servants despite not having an occupant. She thought about her options, but when she started plotting how she might smuggle Colton into the Taj Mahal, she knew she’d run out of plausible ideas.
So she went to Captain Harris—of all the officers at the cantonment, she trusted him most—and made an uncomfortable request. “I was wondering if, perhaps, I might have access to another room. A private one that’s out of the way.”
Harris frowned. No doubt he’d been expecting yet another request to join the search for Danny, to which she had been repeatedly told no. “You already have a room, Miss Richards.”
“Yes, it’s just, uh …” A flush crept up her neck. “I need it to practice.”
“Practice?”
“Yes. I … sing. Apparently.”
He brightened slightly. “You do?”
“It’s the only thing that calms me. During this, um, difficult time, I’m in need of quite a bit of calming.”
“That’s certainly understandable. But why would you require another room?”
“Mine’s right in the middle of everything. I don’t want anyone to overhear. It’s terribly embarrassing, but if I had a room that was out of the way …”
“Ah. Let me see what I can do.”
After conferring with the major, he gave her the key to a room in a lonely corner of the cantonment. After all, the major said, they didn’t want her becoming hysterical during this rough patch. Daphne gritted her teeth.
“Just promise you’ll sing for us when we bring Mr. Hart back,” Harris said with a weak smile. He blamed himself for Danny’s disappearance. Crosby had been short with him, and Partha could often be found by his side, concern written in the slant of his eyebrows. Daphne wanted to tell the poor man that there was nothing he could have done, but she knew he wouldn’t listen.
She led Colton to the abandoned room, instructing him that he couldn’t leave under any circumstances. She would lock the door behind her, and keep the key so that no one could get inside. Colton listened in silence, expressionless as he took in the empty, dusty room.
“I’m sorry to leave you here alone, but I promise I’ll come often. We have to be careful now. Until we find Danny, you’re not safe here.” And even if we do find him.
“But when will that be?” Colton asked. “When will they find him?”
“I don’t know, Colton. The major sent out search parties, so maybe we’ll learn something by the end of the week.”
But by the end of the week, there was still no news. Wires had been sent to every major city, to every senior officer who wasn’t currently preparing for the Queen’s celebration in Delhi. They would send back word if they learned anything. Strangely, no wires had been sent to London.
“Surely Danny’s parents ought to be told,” Daphne said to the major.
Dryden coughed into his fist. “You must understand, my dear, that we are responsible for your life, as well as Mr. Hart’s. If word were to get out, there would be an inquiry that would slow our progress. I’m sure we’ll find him in a jiff.”
By the end of the second week, there was still no news.
Daphne begged more cigarettes off Partha. He gave her a disapproving frown even as he handed them over. She slipped him an anna and lit up in her room, needing to settle her nerves somehow.
Two weeks turned into three. Three into four. They were well into December now, and Christmas was around the corner. Daphne asked if the major would finally send a wire to London, but Dryden bumbled through a response that amounted to, “No, not yet.”
To make matters worse, another tower had fallen, this one in Edava, a small town to the south. Daphne begged the major to let her go, but he said he couldn’t risk it.
Meena and Akash were the only reason Daphne wasn’t tearing out her hair. They stayed in their Agra home most days, but often came to the cantonment to see her. The burn on Meena’s cheek was healing, but it would scar.
Akash looked worn thin. One day, Daphne sat him down and asked if he was taking care of himself.
“My needs do not come first. Besides, I know this is hard for you.”
If it was hard for her, it was impossible for Colton. Every time Daphne went to see him, he was sitting preternaturally still, vacant-eyed and quiet. That worried her more than anything else.
She brought him books from the British soldiers, but he barely touched them. He spent his time wrapped up in his own thoughts, his own nightmares.
But Daphne was used to speaking to someone who had become withdrawn.
“Colton,” she tried one day, “please talk to me? It’ll be easier if you shared your troubles with someone. I know you’re upset, but we’re doing all we can. We’ll find Danny, or he’ll come back on his own. He’s strong, remember? He saved you. He saved Enfield.”
The spirit looked at her then. Really looked at her. She was stunned at the level of pain within his amber eyes. It was like falling through an endless hole, never knowing if you would ever reach the bottom.
“He saved me,” Colton agreed, “but I can’t save him.”
“Don’t say that.”
He stood, walking toward the small window at the back of the room. “I’ve been thinking. What if I made myself known? What if the people who took Danny could have me, too?”
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“They wanted me, obviously, or they wouldn’t have sent that letter. I could take his place.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
Colton clenched and unclenched his hand. “Why is it absurd?”
“It’s more dangerous for you than it is for him!”
Colton turned away in vexation, grabbing the wooden chair beside him and throwing it at the wall. It splintered with a loud crash, and Daphne flinched.
“How can it be more dangerous for me when I’m already—?” He cut himself off, trembling, then sat on the dusty bed and crossed his arms as if he wanted to shrink in on himself and disappear.
Daphne stood there, slightly afraid, wondering what to do. As she took a tentative step toward him, there was a small knock at the door.
“Daphne? Are you all right?”
Meena. Daphne exchanged a look with Colton, but the spirit didn’t budge.
Daphne cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m fine. Is something the matter?”
Silence. Daphne stood still, willing the girl to leave. Then the door slowly creaked open.
“I followed you because Akash wants to see you, but I heard a crash. Are you—?” Meena stopped at the sight of Colton. “Oh. Who’s this?”
But when she got a better look, her mouth parted. “You look …” Meena glanced between him and Daphne. “Who are you?”
Colton stood before Daphne could answer. “My name’s Colton. I came from Enfield.”
Meena gasped. “You are the one. Danny’s spirit.”
Colton perked up, barely registering the alarm on Daphne’s face. “He’s told you about me?”
“A little. But—how?” She glided into the room like a sleepwalker led by a dream. Colton was motionless as she lifted a hand and carefully put it on his arm. She shivered and muttered something in Hindi. “This isn’t possible. It can’t be. A clock spirit from England, in India?”
“We didn’t think time running without the towers was possible,” Daphne pointed out.
Meena exhaled shakily. “This is truly a miracle. It must mean something.”
“Yes, it means that whoever took Danny wants Colton as well,” Daphne snapped. “And we’re not going to let that happen.”
Meena kept staring at Colton, but eventually she bit her lower lip and turned to Daphne. “About Danny. Akash wanted to see you.”
“Akash? Why?”
“He wishes to tell you something. He’s waiting for you outside.”
Daphne wavered. She didn’t want to leave Colton alone with Meena, but the girl was a clock mechanic, the only other one in the cantonment. The only other one she could trust.
And if Danny had told her about Colton, that must mean he trusted her, too.
“Please tell no one about this,” Daphne urged.
“I won’t. Go see Akash.”
Anxiety sank its talons into her lungs as she left the room. Outside, she was greeted by a cool evening, the sunlight persisting even though the first star had already appeared above.
Akash was waiting down the road. He was dressed in his flight suit, goggles hanging around his neck, a pack slung over his shoulder.
“Akash? What’s going on?”
He studied her face with those dark, unreadable eyes. “The soldiers have been keeping me busy delivering messages, and I needed to take care of Meena, otherwise I would have done this sooner. I know you’ve asked to help in the search for Danny and the major won’t allow it, so I’ve decided to go in your place.”
She rocked back on her heels. “What?”
“It’s been too long, and no one’s had any word. I’m going to Meerut to see if I can find any sign of where he was taken.” Akash’s eyes shone, his usual certainty replaced with something calmer, softer. “Wish me luck?”
She threw her arms around his neck. He stumbled back in surprise, then hugged her just as tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for doing this. Please, please be safe.”
“I will.” He pulled back, then showed her his hand. On the back, he’d drawn a diamond.
“Give me some of your invincibility,” he said. “Give me some of your strength.”
She placed her hand over his, then put them against his chest. “It’s yours.”
Here, at last, hope began to well within her, like a moth emerging after a storm. A whisper against the cold, a flutter of white amid the gray. It was neither beautiful nor ugly; it was the truth of living things.
He leaned toward her, or maybe she was leaning toward him. She could smell him this close—clean and earthy, like the plains after a monsoon.
Their lips touched, just barely at first. Then he pulled her in. She didn’t know what to do with her arms, so she wrapped them around his waist. It felt good to hold him, to keep him together and prevent the pieces of him from drifting apart. As if she were weaving a protective spell over his body, warm and solid against her own.
Two more stars had joined the first by the time they separated. They breathed in the quiet evening air and avoided looking into each other’s eyes. She was afraid that if she did, it would be for the last time.
He turned, and she watched him go, still feeling the phantom pressure of his lips on hers.
“Akash,” she called. He looked over his shoulder. “Come back. Come back with him.”
He smiled slightly. “Haan, Miss Richards.”