Susan Dennard - A Darkness Strange and Lovely
Laure’s elated laughter bubbling beneath. My heart grew and grew until I thought it might break free from my chest.
Perhaps it was the dregs of necromancy or perhaps it was the way the perfect breeze kissed my face, but in that moment, I did not think I had ever seen anything more beautiful in my life. Or inspiring. What kind of person did you have to be to tame the skies?
I held my breath, waiting for the rest of this unknown pilot to appear.
A gray-trousered leg came next, followed by a gray coattail, a sandy-blond head . . .
And then the pilot turned to face the crowd. To face me.
It was Daniel.
Chapter Twelve
My knees buckled.
Daniel. Daniel Sheridan! Here. Now.
I swayed into Laure. She looked over, alarmed, and tried to steady me. She shouted something. I didn’t answer—I couldn’t. All I could do was stare stupidly at the balloon, my breath frozen in my lungs.
Daniel leaned into the gondola, and when he came back out, he popped a top hat on his head. Then he spun around to wave at the crowd. A confident grin split his face.
And all of Paris cheered—except for me.
How many times had I tried to forget that blasted smile? The way his forehead relaxed and his green eyes crinkled?
A growl escaped my throat, and I squeezed my skirts in my fists. When Jie had said he was due back soon, I had not envisioned that his arrival would be quite so grand.
Laure gazed over at me, worry creasing her forehead. “Are you ill?” she shouted. I nodded and, taking her arm, swiveled about. I had to get away.
With far more violence than before, I shoved my way toward the garden gates and towed Laure with me. Perhaps if I ate croissants until I was sick, locked myself in my room, and pretended my pillow was Daniel’s face, then this enormous lump closing off my throat would go away.
Surprisingly, people stepped aside and let us pass. It was as if my misery were a storm cloud to be avoided at all costs.
And for some reason, this only made me angrier. I stomped on, Laure plying me with concerned questions the entire way.
We were almost up the stairs when I realized that the crowds really were clearing a path—but it wasn’t Laure and me they were avoiding.
I halted on the top step, pulling Laure to a stop with me, while ahead the Parisians continued to draw back.
Laure turned around. “Ah,” she breathed.
“Ah what?” I asked. But she didn’t have to answer, for footsteps pattered behind and a voice I knew entirely too well called, “Excusez-moi, Mesdemoiselles. Est-ce que je peux vous aider? ”
Laure’s lips puffed into a coy smile, her lashes batting prettily. But she said nothing, and so providing a response fell to me.
I drew in a ragged breath and forced myself around. Then I looked him square in the eyes and said, “Hello, Daniel. A fine afternoon for an overly dramatic balloon landing, don’t you think?”
His eyes doubled in size, and his mouth bobbed open like a fish. If the situation wasn’t so awful, I would have laughed at his shock.
He tried to speak, his usually tan face devoid of all color, but nothing came out.
Then, as if matters weren’t already uncomfortable enough, they somehow worsened. The entire crowd fell silent. Every single person stopped speaking and waited to see what Daniel would do.
Life ticked by in painfully slow seconds. My heart pounded in my ears, and I fought to keep my face still.
Someone coughed. Laure flinched. Then Daniel flinched and stumbled toward me.
“Miss Fitt,” he said.
“Do not call me that.” My voice came out surprisingly composed—though I desperately wished the crowds would cease their silence and ignore us. “I’m Eleanor to you, Daniel. You know that.”
His eyebrows twitched down, and with that, his own composure seemed to return. He swooped off his top hat and bowed. “Eleanor, what a . . . pleasant surprise.” He lifted and motioned to Laure. “Who is your companion?”
“This is Mademoiselle Laure Primeau,” I said. “Laure, this is Mr. Daniel Sheridan.”
“How do you do, Mademoiselle?” He gave another elegant bow, and I almost laughed as my discomfort melted away. Jie was right. I didn’t recognize this young man at all. This Daniel Sheridan was not the escaped convict I had fallen in love with three months ago. Whatever that book on manners was that Jie had mentioned in her letter, it had turned Daniel into a perfect copy of every other polite and dull gentleman in the world.
“You know each other?” Laure asked, her lips twisting up wickedly. “What a magnificent . . . coincidence, non?”
“He is one of the Spirit-Hunters,” I muttered, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go back to the hotel now, please.”
Daniel leaned toward me. “The Hotel Le Meurice?”
I nodded grudgingly, avoiding his eyes. “We were just headed back, were we not, Laure?”
But she didn’t answer. Her smirk merely deepened. “You are going to the same ’otel, Monsieur?”
He tugged at his collar. “Yes.”
“Parfait,” she murmured under her breath. Then, with an arch smile at me, she said, “Then he must escort us, non? It is his responsibility as a gentleman.”
I opened my mouth, a hissing retort on my tongue, but Daniel was already leaping up the remaining steps to us. “Allow me,” he said, swooping another graceful bow.
And it was as if all of France released its breath. That single movement sent a wave of sighs through the entire audience (for crowd they were no longer). Instantly, conversations resumed; the world returned to its natural course.
Laure’s lips stayed in a smug pucker as she took Daniel’s left arm and I took his right. Then we began an awkward promenade toward the hotel. He was as tall and lanky as ever, and I had to roll back my head to meet his eyes.
“That was quite an entrance,” I said, lifting my voice over the now-roaring crowds. “You would do well in the circus.”
“C’est vrai,” Laure chimed. “What was the purpose?”
He chuckled tightly. “The Marquis asked me to do it. When I returned to Paris, he told me to make it grand. So I did.” He spoke slowly, putting a great deal of emphasis on each word. “What brings you to Paris, Miss Fitt?”
“And why . . . are you . . . speaking so slowly? Also, do not call me Miss Fitt.”
“I ain’t—I mean, I’m not talking slow . . . slow ly. ” His teeth gritted, and I could see Laure bite her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m merely surprised to find you here,” he continued. “And with a . . . lady at your side.”
I wrinkled up my face. “Merely” was not a word in Daniel’s vocabulary.
“Eleanor was my roommate,” Laure explained as we walked down the sidewalk beside the busy street. “We were on the same ship to France.”
Daniel only gave her a cursory grunt, his focus still on me. Laure looked daggers at him—it would seem she wasn’t fond of being ignored.
But inwardly I grinned. Even in my mud-colored gown and unlaced waist, Daniel wanted to speak to me.
“You have not answered my question,” Daniel said, his eyebrows drawing together.
“What question?” I asked.
“Why are you here, Miss . . . er, Empr . . . uh, Eleanor.”
My breath skipped. He had almost said Empress, and strange behavior or not, that was too intimate for me.
I swallowed. “If you must know, Daniel, I was chased out of Philadelphia by Marcus, and now”—I flourished my left hand in the air—“here I am. And what about you? I thought you were due in later.”
He grunted again and lengthened his stride. Since we were attached, Laure and I had no choice but to pump our legs faster. I didn’t mind. The hotel was close now, and the columns of Le Meurice beckoned to me.
“What will ’appen to your balloon?” Laure asked
Daniel peered at her, giving an absentminded smile. “Actually, I prefer to call it an airship. Once I unload my things, I’ll move it outside the city, to a big warehouse that holds bal—er, airships.”
“And what will you unload?” she pressed, still trying to draw his attention.
But he didn’t answer right away. We strode through the street’s traffic, somehow walking even faster than before. It wasn’t until we were almost to the other side that he lifted his voice.
“I’m an inventor, Mademoiselle, and I have new inventions for my employer.” His face shifted back to me. “Things for Joseph.”
“Fascinating,” I inserted before Daniel could go into any detail. I was desperate for some space.
Plus, we had reached the sidewalk on the other side, and I could just make out the hotel’s white marble foyer. Freedom was so close! “We left our breakfast half eaten, Laure.”
Laure snorted. “Très horrible,” she said flatly. “To think of a breakfast unfinished—the world might stop spinning.” She pulled free of Daniel and sauntered toward the door.
“Must you be so sarcastic?” I demanded, trying to free my own arm from Daniel’s and scurry after her.
“Oh, I am only beginning,” she called, already disappearing into the hotel.
I pulled harder, throwing a glare at Daniel. “Let go.”
“No. Wait . . . Please.”
I frowned as he tugged me, and against my better judgment, I let him guide me between two columns. He bent toward me, his gaze roving over my face—some of his old slouch back. “Did he hurt you?”
“Who?”
“Marcus.”
I reared back slightly. “Oh no. I managed to get away before he could do anything.”
“Is he here?” Daniel leaned in more closely. “Are you in danger now?”
“No—not yet. At least, I don’t think so. I cannot be entirely sure.” I was rambling—Daniel’s proximity was making my head spin. “I do think he will follow, though—”
I didn’t get to finish, for at that moment, Daniel’s eyes landed on my right hand. “What is that?”
“My hand.” I curled my fingers into a fist.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled at the glove, but the instant he saw flesh, he let go, repulsed.
“How? How’s this possible?”
“It’s a long story.” I tugged my glove back in place. “One I would rather not share.”
“Tell me!” His voice lashed out like a pistol shot. “I have a right to know!”
“A right?” I hissed. “What, pray tell, gives you any right to know about me?” I backed up two steps. “Have you forgotten how you left things between us in Philadelphia? You cannot simply show up in a fancy balloon, Daniel, and expect me to fall at your feet. I am not some girl to be trifled—”
“I ain’t expecting that!” he snapped. “I just wanna know where that came from.”
