Wicked as She Wants

“I imagine you’re unaccustomed to the stink of rabble, my lady. And to think that they aren’t even aware of two foxes in the henhouse. Or two snow foxes among the bludlemmings, perhaps.” His mouth quirked up, and he winked.



I went on alert immediately and barely stopped myself from hissing as I stood to face him. Was I that easy to recognize? Was he an assassin? Would I have to kill him right here?



“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, my accent making my words all the colder.



“Honestly, Crim. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” The Pinky smiled at me in an oddly kind fashion and stroked one gloved hand down his arm in the same manner I would use to calm an overexcited bludmare.



“Forgive me, then, princess. My name is Criminy Stain, and I’m at your service.” He swept a practiced bow and rose with a bouquet of snow-white flowers in hand. “Your secret is safe with me.”



I glanced around. The crowd was oblivious, as if they couldn’t even see us. My eyes narrowed at him, but his smile was bright, and I couldn’t sense a bit of aggression. Still, I didn’t take the flowers.



“How did you guess?”



“I’m the proprietor of a traveling caravan, and my wife is a fortune-teller. Our train is stopped just outside of Dover, and a glance last night informed her that we would find you here. I couldn’t miss a chance to meet you, my dear. I wish you only the best.”



“What do you want? Money?”



He threw back his head and laughed. “What is money to me? No, pet. I wanted only to see you myself and give you a gift.”



I raised one eyebrow. “Flowers?”



He shook his head and clapped his hands together. The bouquet of white blooms exploded in a shower of glittering snow. With a sudden jolt of homesickness, I reached out to catch the falling flakes, but they were neither cold nor wet and simply disappeared.



Criminy’s hand swiftly clasped mine, and he wrapped my gloved fingers around something hard before I could pull away.



“You’re going to need this, Ahnastasia,” he whispered, leaning close. “More than you know. One day, it will be the only thing between you and a world of pain.”



I looked down and opened my hand. It was a paper packet folded tightly and sealed with a wax stamp bearing a compass and an S. My instinct was to throw it onto the ground, but something stopped me.



“What is it? Why do I need it?”



Criminy looked at the Pinky on his arm, fierce warmth and love radiating from his eyes.



“I can’t tell you, honey,” the woman said. She looked as if she wanted to reach out and pat my arm but knew that I would rip it off if she tried. “Open it when you’re at the final straw. That’s all I can say.”



Turning the packet over in my hands, I shivered. I hadn’t dealt with magic since Ravenna and then Mr. Sweeting, and I didn’t like the thought of more mystery, much less mysterious gifts from someone who knew who I was. How was I supposed to trust this strange pair?



“He’s coming,” the Bludman spat, and his Pinky nodded and said, “Tell Casper that Tish said hi.”



“Good luck, my princess.” Criminy bowed again and gave me a knowing, charming smile. “My lady wife is always right, and I assure you that all will turn out for the best, much as I hate to say it, for that undeserving bugger.” He jerked his head toward the airships, and within seconds, he and his Pinky had disappeared into the crowd.



“Anne!”



My head spun in the opposite direction as Casper hurried toward me, worry written all over his face.



“I couldn’t find you. Who were you talking to? Are you okay?”



“I don’t know this ‘okay,’ but I am safe.” I sat back down on the trunk, before my legs could collapse. “Tell me, what do you know of Criminy Stain?”



Casper stilled, eyes going hard as he took a deep breath through his nostrils. “Criminy Stain. Criminy Stain was here?” He searched the crowd, avid as a wolf. “Was he alone? What did he say?”



“He was here. He knew me. He had a pet Pinky with him, a fortune-teller, but she smelled strange. She said to tell you Tish said hi. And Criminy gave me this.”



I held out the packet, but Casper didn’t touch it. “If Tish saw something of the future and Criminy gave you that, it’s important.” He looked both furious and lost, and I slipped the folded paper into the top of my corset, next to the necklace from my valise.



“But who are they? Who is Tish?”



He shook his head as if trying to dislodge something painful. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday. For now, we have to hurry. It’s almost time to take off.”



“Then you’ve secured passage?”



“I have.”



“You don’t look happy about it,” I murmured. And he didn’t. He looked irritated, and worried, and ever so slightly amused.



“The passenger ships are full and only take coin, so this is a trade situation. They need a musician, seeing as how the old one’s too drunk to play. But we have to share a room, and you’ll need to stay in it the entire time. Do you understand?”



“Indubitably. I don’t want to be outside among Pinkies and ruffians.” I salivated a little, thinking about all that blood, but caught myself before I licked my lips. “And it’s only for the crossing. A day at most.”



“Actually, our ride will take several days, all the way to Muscovy, with brief stops at Paris, Barlin, Warsaw, and Minks. Stops for which you and Keen will remain locked in our room at all times.”



“I am not accustomed to following orders.” I stood and crossed my arms. Unfortunately, the top of my head barely came up to his broad chest, and with his top hat, he towered over me.



“If you expect me to get you to Muscovy in one pretty little piece, you’re going to learn,” he snapped. He shrugged his shoulders with a menacing creak of leather, and without thinking, I took a step back.



“Fine. Let’s say I agree to this airship. Why are you so worried about it?”



He threw a look of stern annoyance at Keen, who was rising from her nap on the trunk with a look of groggy confusion.



“What happened?” she asked, her voice slurry with sleep.



“I’m filling Anne in on the fine accommodations you’ve secured.”



Keen chuckled, stuck her hands in her pants pockets, and beamed that one, extraordinary smile. She looked far too proud of herself for any good to come of the situation.



Casper sighed and pointed into the clouds. I followed his finger to an enormous metal-clad behemoth of an airship—one of the biggest. The body was brass, shining dully with the lemon-yellow rays of the morning sun. Beneath it hung a large sort of box, which was painted with the gargantuan image of a mostly naked woman draped over a swoopy couch. Large, curlicued letters spelled “A.S. Maybuck.”



“Is that woman . . . ?” I couldn’t finish the sentence.



“Yes, she is. As are many of the passengers. The Maybuck is Sang’s largest—and only—floating brothel. And we’re expected on the deck in half an hour for launch.”



11



They didn’t have to carry me kicking and screaming—not until we were right under the Maybuck. I balked then, and Casper had to drag me firmly by the arm while Keen stayed close enough behind me that I couldn’t run back down the long, narrow ramp that led to the docking platform. When it was our turn to embark, I stepped onto the lift and collapsed to the muddy planks with my eyes squeezed shut.



“Sit on me,” I whispered.



Casper snorted. “Won’t you have me beheaded for that?”



“Not this time.” It came out as a whimper.



Keen had no such trepidations and planted her skinny rump right in the middle of my back. I exhaled gratefully, hugging the boards and moaning. Casper got down on his haunches and peered into my face.



“Care to explain your sudden collapse, niece?” He was trying not to laugh—but not trying too hard, I noticed.



“I don’t want to fly away and fall down,” I explained. “If the wind caught in my skirts, a fierce gale could send me over the edge to my death.”



“There’s a railing.”



“I’m very small. I weigh practically nothing.”



“Me, neither!” Keen shouted, bouncing up and down and leaving what I was sure were permanent corset-shaped indentations in my back.



“I won’t be so helpless one day,” I growled.



“Me, neither!” She stopped bouncing and all but ground me into the boards.



With a sudden lurch and a metallic squeal, our platform began to rise. I closed my eyes again.



“Hold my hand.”



My voice came out tiny and plaintive, and Casper leaned closer. “Was that an order?”



“Hold my hand, please?”



He chuckled and sat on the boards near my head, curling both of his hands around one of mine. Even through the gloves, he was warm, and it was his calming touch more than Keen’s insignificant weight that kept me in place.



In all my planning of revenge and ultimate victory, it somehow hadn’t been clear to me that getting from Sangland to Muscovy was going to involve either sea or air. It would have been easier if I had still been unconscious and securely buckled inside a valise. At least I wouldn’t have been this terrified and had my weaknesses broadcast to the world. I turned my head to the side and dashed away a red-tinged tear before anyone could see it. At least Reve had provided gloves of a deep, rusty brown, handy for concealing both today’s tears and the stains from last night’s snack.



Ascending to the airship proper took eons. Ages. Epochs. Dragons roamed Sangland again by the time the platform finally shuddered to a halt and I heard the sound of metal clipping into place as it was fastened to the airship deck.



Keen leaped up, and Casper helped me stand. The platform swayed slightly, and I clung to him, legs wobbling.



“My niece gets vertigo,” he said to someone I couldn’t see, since my eyes were still squeezed shut.