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Tightly Wound

Maintaining the appearance of discord was essential to their success. Outside of their meetings, she and Robert glared at each other and made appropriate but curt commentary on the fallacy of their thought process. Anna presented the page with the key designs to the Engineers while Robert commented that the Engineers missing such an obvious and critical piece of information. Chief Engineer Harper continued to condescend, but seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation.


Unfortunately, they could not be certain what prompted the man’s surprise: the revelation of the keys’ design, that Mr. White and Ms. Stroud discovered it, or that they had willing shared it.


Over the next few days, Anna continued to respectfully request information from the Engineers, shoring up the illusion that she believed in their work and competency wholeheartedly. From what she could tell, they believed her and Mr. White’s ruse, for they shared information with her that they did not specifically report to Mr. White. Their exploration of the Synge’s research revealed little beyond their initial report, but one of the other Engineers shared with her his excitement about the prospect of producing multiple metal slaves. “Can you imagine it, Ms. Stroud? What it might do for our economy, to have that power at our disposal?” Mr. Harper had glared at the Engineer, presumably condemning his excitement, prompting the man to add, “Industry would be completely changed if we had such an enhanced work force,” before excusing himself for another task.


Thus was the theme of the report to the Senators: the contents of the study contained plans for automatons and how to produce them. Although the specific intent of his automaton devices remained elusive, the concept of producing them en mass was revolutionary and may be worthy of exploration.


Meanwhile, behind closed doors, she worked in concert with Robert on their presentation to the King. She had to combat the habitual assumption that she would disagree with any point he made, but once she overcame that impulse, they made astounding progress. While mildly unsettling, Anna was glad of it when the King summoned them.


The day of the meeting, she chose a bronze colored dress with a modern hemline but conservative neckline, and donned a hat to match. Chief Engineer Harper found her in the senate halls as she headed for the docking platform.


Mr. Harper eyed her through his monocle, making her feel like a bug under a magnifying glass, and not for the first time. “Ms. Stroud, I do hope you will communicate our findings and express our reserved enthusiasm to His Majesty?” The Blackcastle Engineers had not been invited to this particular meeting, which undoubtedly rankled the


Anna smiled patiently, hoping that her disdain for this man did not shine through. “Of course, Chief Engineer Harper. Your efforts - and those of your team - have been instrumental to our progress. I will make that clear to King Geoffrey,” she dropped her voice in a conspiratorial tone, “as well as the need to proceed with caution in this endeavor, as you recommend. No matter what Mr. White may believe, caution is always prudent in such matters. You cannot unring the bell, as they say.” The irony of her contrived argument was not lost on her: that Robert would be the rash and reckless between them was almost laughable. Given that Mr. Harper was likely aware of that reputation, she added, “He may believe he is the most intelligent person in Aneora, but I am certain the King feels otherwise.” As she said it, she thought of how it applied to Mr. Harper more than Robert White. Robert might have his faults, but a lack of intellect was not among them.


Mr. Harper smiled haughtily at her and nodded, handing her a key. While it served the same function as Andrei’s versions, it was not nearly as elegant in its craftsmanship. “I am relieved that one of you warrant your reputations for intelligence and wisdom, Ms. Stroud. I wish you well.”


Anna placed the key in her purse and traveled at a brisk but graceful pace through the halls, nodding to well-wishers without pausing. Up ahead, she saw Robert wearing... purple? She nearly chuckled aloud as she saw him donning such a bright color, but refrained for the sake of decorum. Instead, she nodded to him in greeting. “Good morning, Mr. White. Are we ready to depart?”
 
"Good morning, Ms. Stroud," Robert addressed back. "Yes, I believe our ride is waiting for us outside." He stepped outside with Ms. Stroud, then boarded the deck of the airship. Suddenly he found himself wishing Andrei had been there with them, purely because he did not trust anyone else's piloting skills, but alas the government desired something more 'professional'. The words 'Senate House of Aneora' were even painted on the sides of their airship. The pilot politely offered a hand of assistance for Ms. Stroud before she boarded. After she had accompanied them, whether she had taken his hand or not, the vessel took off into the air. A few spectators watched from a distance as they slowly started to float away, then waved as they continued to drift through the air.


Other flyers upon separate ships eagerly waved as the senators passed them at a fairly pace. Robert stood near the back of the ship, hoping to avoid eye contact with excited fans. He raised hand to his chest and gave a gentle pat, making sure the notes he meant to bring were actually with him. Though you could not read it through his expression, Robert was becoming very nervous. Not only would it be a huge honor for him to personally consult the King, but to consult him on a very serious matter that could change Aneora forever, and also potentially terminate their lives.


He turned his head to look upon the soft clouds for relaxation, but instead found himself staring in the eyes of the automaton. It was as if the machine were trying to mock the tall senator, but for what reason? Mr. White glared back at the metal manikin as if it were an opponent back in the senate house. "Go ahead, mock me. You have nothing to fear. You're just pieces of metal strung together by the intelligence of a deceased man," he quietly muttered, and briefly continued to stare in the cold, metal eyes. Then he nearly chuckled, and looked away. Had he really just talked to an automaton? Their project had probably started to wear on him finally. That, or it was because he was trying so hard to contain his nerves.


"Excuse me, good sir," Mr. White suddenly called to the pilot, both of his hands clutched around the top of his cane.


"Oie, what can Ah do for ya, Senatah White?" the pilot responded back, and temporarily turned his head back to glance at his passenger before placing his gaze back to the path before him.


"How much time before we reach our destination?" Mr. White's hand instinctively reached for his pocket watch, and naturally clicked open the face without any thought.


"We'll be there before yah know it!" the pilot cheerfully called back, not understanding the seriousness of Mr. White's question.


"I beg your pardon? Did I stumble?" Robert nearly cut in, still holding the watch in the curve of his palm.


"N-no Senatah, not at all," the pilot quickly recovered, and swallowed. "I would suspect late afternoon, who knows, ya might get to dine with thee King himself!" The pilot let off a light chuckle, but Robert was still not amused. "I hope that'll be all right, Senatah," the pilot drifted, but Mr. White still gave no response. The male senator looked down to the face of his miniature clock, then closed the cover and placed it back in his jacket. They had hours to go, yet nothing to do. Using the time to rehearse was a potential possibility, but in truth, Robert did not feel like discussing the matter at that particular moment. Mindlessly staring at the ever changing horizon would just have to do.
 
After boarding the ship (allowing the pilot to take her hand out of courtesy more than the need of assistance), Anna made note of the attention they had garnered. Word had spread that the King had summoned them. Had rumors also circulated about why? Over the last week, she had concluded that they had no evidence that Synge’s work was dangerous beyond the possible implications of mass-producing machines. Would the King see it that way? Did the Engineers? More importantly, had they maintained an appropriate level of silence about the project? The temptation to boast plagued all men. The Blackcastle Engineers were supposed to be a cut above the others, but the men she had met seemed ordinary in almost every way except their intelligence and arrogance.


She waved to a passing ship as they flew north, trying to put aside her fears.


Thinking that she heard him say something, Anna turned toward Robert. Then he addressed the pilot. The conversation quickly spiraled into an uncomfortable battle between the pilot’s attempts to be friendly and Robert’s lack of social skills. Cringing inwardly, she responded to the pilot when Mr. White did not.


“It will be quite all right. Thank you,” she smiled gently at the lad, who tipped his hat and, recognizing the dismissal, resumed to his duties.


Anna watched him go before turning to Mr. White. “Please take this in the kind spirit in which it is offered, Robert,” she said somewhat hesitantly before following his gaze out to the horizon. “Practiced points aside, if the King should address us... if he should question us or offer pleasantries...” she smiled gently as she looked at him and added, “It may be best for me to answer.”

~ * ^ * ~

​



King Geoffrey Roghan walked the hall at a leisurely pace. (If it was anyone but royalty walking so slow, one might say he shuffled or plodded, but not so a king.) In his youth, he had been called handsome, and not only due to his pedigree. Now his hair had greyed, his eyes were cloudy, and his back slightly hunched so that he must rely upon a cane. But he had his wits about him! Enough so to surround himself with astute advisors.


His son, Prince Harold, had voiced his discontent with his father’s reliance upon others more than once. Geoffrey knew it was just the impetuousness of youth, however. Harold wanted the throne - as any healthy young prince should - but was not ready yet. When he doubted this, he had only to speak to his advisors, who confirmed his suspicions.


He was so grateful for his advisors. Especially Lord Douglas McCallister, who had seen him through so many negotiations and decisions over the years, always with a gentle worded suggestion or an insight that Geoffrey himself may have missed. Douglas was indispensible.


And now this business with a secret room in The Rossin-Sussex Memorial Repository for Public Erudition, or the Library, as the people called it. He was grateful to have such a wise Senate to investigate. (At first, he had been most displeased by the proposal for them to do so. It seemed to countermand his edict. Yet Douglas had pointed out the logic in the argument and reminded Geoffrey of his ability to dispense with the situation - and the Senators, if need be - should matters get out of hand. Yes, Douglas’ advice proved invaluable again.)


So now the King made slow but steady progress toward his throne room to hear a report on their progress.

~ * ^ * ~

​



Their airship landed with moderate grace, although an unsettling thunk resounded through the floorboards as it docked. A contingent of the King’s Guard stood to greet them and escort them to the palace. “Palace” being a relative term: the royal family resided in a mansion continually suspended above Aneora. A series of twelve airships stood tethered to the small complex that surrounded the dwelling, providing support for the family’s needs and housing the limited but trusted staff that resided there to serve at the King’s pleasure. The ships did not keep the complex afloat: that was accomplished through an ingenious series of engines and hydrogen bladders. Instead, the ships stood ready to steer the King’s abode to safety should th need arise.


Of course, no one knew if the design would work. Although it was supposed to be tested on a yearly basis, no one had seen the test performed, and Aneora had not been under sufficient attack to utilize the system for centuries.


Anna did her best to remain calm and casual as they arrived, but it was difficult not to gawk. The architecture of the Roghan complex was breathtaking, and the technology that kept them suspended at the highest point in Aneora fascinated her. The guards were polite but short-spoken, informing the two senators that the King awaited them in the throne room.


“We sent word ahead that we have need of someone to transport...” Anna began, but she already saw two Blackcastle Engineers discreetly removing the prototype from the ship. Her smile was only slightly strained at the sight of their monocles and burgundy jackets. “I see it has been arranged. Thank you.” She exchanged the briefest glance with Robert before looking back to the guard. “Will you please lead the way?”
 
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The pilot had been made comfortable again by Anna's concise phrase, and when she had turned to face him, Robert broke his gaze upon the horizon to look back to her. A smile pushed itself onto Mr. White's lips, then he let out an abrupt but brief chuckle. Perhaps she was right, but Robert wouldn't like to think that way. Especially in a situation like this. Robert assumed His Majesty would be more willing to listen to a monarchist like himself than someone like Anna. Just as the Blackcastle Engineers had initially addressed Mr. White more than they had ever addressed Anna during the preliminary report.


~ ~ ~




​



Indeed the Roghan residence was a sight to behold. Even Robert couldn't help staring, through bold emotions of excitement and nervousness, at the complexity of the floating threshold. Anna had turned to Robert once more, and he responded with a gentle nod. "Of course," he simply added before turning his head away, then departed the airship.


To his surprise, his stomach was not in anguish, and his head not woozy. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least. With cane in hand, Robert began to walk along the white stone path, guided by royal guards. It had been a straight walk towards the floating manor, until they came to a great curve that lead to an elegantly crafted rope bridge. Two solid, white stone poles secured the ends of the bridge on land. Their looks were identical, and had the Roghan family crest lightly carved near the middle. The twine that attached between the thick railing and sanded boards crisscrossed, creating a diamond like pattern along the entire length of the bridge. If one were brave enough to look down, they could observe a series of well tended gardens. Robert feared the worse, that the bridge would sway uncontrollably beneath their feet, but the worst did not come. Instead, the cables remained taught, and steadily supported the group as they began the incline.


~ ~ ~

​



"Your majesty," a frail voice greeted just as the King had placed himself in the throne room, and graciously bowed his head. The King could not help to give off a warm smile, and waited for the news that was to be delivered from his greatest adviser. "Your guests, they are arriving."





The King was slouched in his extravagantly decorated throne in a pensive state before he opened his mouth to say, "Tell me again, McCallister, who are my guests." Though one would not believe just by the appearance of the aging King, his voice was still strong and deep, but he always spoke in a gentle manner.


Lord McCallister straightened himself, and cleared his throat before giving his response in a cheerful manner. "They are Mr. Robert Amos White, and Ms. Anna Katarine Stroud, two head senators of Aneora, your majesty." He paused briefly, allowing the King to absorb so much information at a time.


"Go on, tell me more."


"Yes, of course, your excellency," and Lord McCallister cleared his throat once more. "Mr. Robert Amos White, born as the only child to Vallery and Carter White in Greenwhich, Aneora. He is greatly known for his strong debating tactics, and also as the head representative for the monarchists house in the senate house.." He allowed another pause, then was prompted once more by the King. "Ms. Anna Katarine Stroud was born as the daughter of Julia and James Alexander Stroud; a former senator for the country. She had been married to Samuel Messner until he had been tragically assassinated four years later, and now holds the highest position for the anarchist house of the senate."





King Geoffrey politely raised his hand to dismiss his adviser, and nodded his head. "Thank you McCallister, please take your place. I believe our guests have arrived." And so they had. Mr. White stood beside his political companion just underneath the grand entrance of the throne room. A gentle smile grew upon the King's face as he spotted the very folk McCallister had kindly described, and directed the guards to bring them forward.


"Bow to your King!" a guard stated as they came to the center of the room. Graciously, Robert lowered his head in the respects of His Majesty.


"Please," the King held up his hand, "You may rise." Slowly Robert allowed himself to raise his head, then looked to the King. An unfamiliar sense of joy washed over him, and he nearly reveled being in the presence of the King. "Several weeks ago, it had been reported that a mysterious room in the The Rossin-Sussex Memorial Repository for Public Erudition had been discovered containing the works of Elijah Synge, an inventor whose ideas brought chaos to our country. It had been stated in my address, that should the information contained within the secluded cell still maintain its dangerous status, it would be rid of immediately. Though the task contained great risk, one great mind," he looked to Anna, "took an initiative, and another great mind," he turned to look towards Robert, "bravely offered their knowledge and assistance." He paused to smile at both of them before he ended his statement. "Please, I am eager to hear what you have brought to share with me."
 
The palace and the surrounding grounds impressed Anna. Although the architecture was impressive, the gardens below them were fascinating. Anna paused to lean over the side of the bridge for a better view, wishing for more time to explore the grounds. What adjustments did they need to make at this altitude? Were there plants they could only grow here? These and many more questions distracted her momentarily before she refocused her attention on the task at hand and the path ahead.


Entering the throne room might as well have been entering a different world. Anna’s gaze fell naturally to the King first; the design of the room made the throne the focal point. Yet soon her eyes wandered over the rest of the architecture, taking in the clever use of space and light. It really was a beautiful place - and perhaps those columns hid mechanical defenses or wonders?


The booming command from the guard reminded her that they were not here to study the architecture. As Robert bowed his head, Anna curtseyed and bowed her head as well, until the King commanded them to rise. Robert might have been surprised at the joy Anna felt as well in this meeting. Despite her objection to the government’s structure, she was fully aware of the significance of meeting with the King - and the potential consequences here. Robert (and perhaps the King) may call her party “anarchist”, but she did not believe it so.


With grace, King Geoffrey addressed them with compliments and opened the way for them to present their findings. As he spoke, the Blackcastle Engineers stood beside a small table that with lumps under a cloth; presumably the prototype.


Anna bowed her head again and offered a gracious smile. “You are too kind, Your Majesty, and we are most eager to share it with you. Before I do, I must compliment Mr. White on his fastidiousness to the task at hand.” She glanced briefly at Robert, knowing this was not in their practiced discussions, but she could not pass up the opportunity to recognize his work in front of Robert’s most beloved King. “We may rarely agree on specific opinions of politic, but I believe that our ability to see matters from opposite sides has aided us in serving Aneora - and Yourself - in this matter.”


She pressed her hands downward to straighten her skirts, a motion Robert may have noted indicated nervousness on her part, then continued. “We have, with the generous aid of Your Majesty’s Blackcastle Engineers, examined the contents of the room in question. The contents undoubtedly belonged to Elijah Synge, although their incomplete nature imply that it is only a portion of his work. This is only logical, given Queen Valentina’s order to destroy his work.” She paused to take a breath. “While the Engineers continue to examine the details, there are two major discoveries Your Majesty should be aware of at this point. First, that Synge appears to have designed automatons many decades before the first one was created. He even created advanced prototypes, one of which we will demonstrate to you today.” She motioned to the table with the cloth before continuing.


King Geoffrey’s somewhat clouded eyes followed her gesture to the table. He then looked at Robert. “I see. Is there anything inherently dangerous about his prototypes?” Clearly there was a reason Queen Valentina had deemed Synge's work dangerous, and King Geoffrey was hoping to find it.
 
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"They will only be considered dangerous if you view walking, marching, spinning and dancing in the same manner, Your Majesty," Robert replied, having just rid of his shock from Ms. Stroud's out of line statement. His reaction had almost been embarrassing, and prayed that the King would only recognize her words as a compliment towards his intelligence, not his ungracious actions. "Synge's prototypes are far from dangerous, we assure."





Curiously the King shifted his gaze back upon the table with the automatons, and gestured the nearby men to unveil them with a single wave of his hand. His stare continued to last as he pondered to himself while sitting in his throne. "Which one is the one that walks, and which one is the one that marches?" he asked, with brief pauses in between his phrase as he tried to form his words.


"Just that one, actually," Robert smiled slightly, and pointed his cane in the direction of the automaton he made reference to, then placed it back down before him once the King knew the figure he spoke of. "During our research process in the library, we discovered a common trait between all of Synge's prototypes. Each machine can only function with the presence of a key. Once we were able to get our hands on the appropriate tool, we came to understand five of the six functions it is capable of."


"Just five of the six?" the King nearly interrupted. His eyebrows stretched over his eyes as they gaped open.


"Yes, you see, Your Majesty," Robert returned with just as much gusto. "We've come to believe that one of the functions is, to say the least, broken." Mr. White's blue eyes rested on the King as he watched His Royal Highness ponder further in his throne. The expression that laid on the royal's visage did not please Mr. White, in fact it had greatly concerned him. Quickly Robert shifted his gaze towards Anna, fearing he might have said too much, but his concern was curtailed when the King had spoken to him again.


"All right, enough delay, show me what this machine can do."
 
Although she did not show it outwardly, Anna had caught Robert's reaction to her praise. It was difficult to discern whether he had moved beyond shock to gratitude yet, but she hoped he would come around in time. More distressingly, the King addressed his first question to Robert, even though she had been speaking. Attempting not to take it personally (with only moderate success), she listened to Robert's explanation quietly, following them both to the table with the prototypes.


And why were both prototypes here? She did not remember requesting anything beyond the automaton, but perhaps Robert had done so. It was a more complete report, although they had few answers yet on what the spider-like machine did - or if it worked at all.


Then, as was so often the case, Robert's attempts to be accurate in his report made it sound as if they had done an incomplete job. Anna kept her smile in place as she stepped around the table and retrieved the key from her purse. "To clarify, Your Majesty, the setting we believe is broken is lacking in comparison to the others. The device consistently returns to a standing position, but what it was meant to do after that is anyone's guess."


Placing the key into the back of the device, she continued talking. "We have not yet explored the second device, Your Majesty, for we were only recently acquired the key. But this is what we can show you." Over the course of the next five minutes, she demonstrated the various settings. The King showed great interest and enthusiasm in the spinning and juggling, but Anna noticed the king's advisor, McCallister, watching closely. It was only logical: the man would be expected to counsel the king on their report at some point.


They returned to the broken position three times, with the King's frown deepening with each one. "It is a shame we cannot view the last setting." He looked at Robert and Anna, "Yet even so, this is marvelous progress. Our automatons today are singular in purpose. This could be dangerous yet, but it seems to me this represents a possible breakthrough in the design and application of already extremely useful technology."


Anna smiled, but turned as she heard McCallister clearing his throat. The man spoke softly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but Ms. Stroud said there were two major discoveries."


"Ah, yes! Quite so." The King turned to Robert. "What is the second discovery, if it is not the working of this spider here?" King Geoffrey reached down to tentatively touch the metal of the other device, seemingly distracted even before Robert could answer.
 
In content, Robert watched as the automaton performed the five skills, and was even more relaxed to see the joy on the King's face as the machine spun and juggled. It was almost like watching a child in a toy shop. His attention was taken away from the automaton when the King's adviser, McCallister, briefly spoke to His Royal Highness to mention the second major discovery.


"We've come to believe that these designs were meant to be mass produced," Robert answered. "This remains unproven, however, since the machines you see before you are part of Synge's later inventions." A discerning look appeared on the King's face, but it seemed that McCallister thought otherwise. "Our understanding come from this book," Mr. White continued as he pulled the small binding from his jacket. "It contains every diagram Synge was able to create before his execution. It is one of many that had been preserved within the chamber. Would you care to review it?" he finished, and held the book in offer towards the King.


But the King had still been distracted by the elegance of the automaton's build, the tips of his fingers gracefully tracing over the metal body, so much so that the information given from Robert had barely been absorbed. It was clear he was more interested to hear about the spider like machine, which Anna and Robert had no knowledge of, than anything else.


Robert took a deep breath and sighed, then placed the book back within his jacket and rested his hand upon his cane. "I am sorry to displease you, your highness, but we bear no knowledge on the second machine. I believe it is a surprise to both of us, Ms. Stroud and I, that it is even here. Our report only views the first automaton."


"Oh, surely you must know something about this machine," McCallister jumped in, then shut his mouth as he realized he interrupted the senator's report. The King only glanced at him and nodded his head, sending him the permission to speak.


"Only that it requires a key in order to function," Robert replied calmly.


"Well, if there is a corresponding book to this machine as you had stated earlier, wouldn't that describe it's functions and other features?" the high pitched voice called back.


"Yes, a fine assumption, however Mr. Synge's penmanship did not aid us in the slightest during our research. Ms. Stroud had spotted the diagram that described the first automaton's capabilities, but we were unable to decipher the writing, and created a new sheet."





McCallister looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words could not come to him. He turned his head to face his King, and cleared his throat. "Your majesty, what are your thoughts now?"
 
King Geoffrey’s milky gaze seemed fixated on the mechanical spider. The words exchanged over the last few minutes had not phased him, not until Douglas McCallister addressed him directly. He turned away from the spider to look at his adviser. “I believe...” he looked back to Robert and Anna, a placating smile upon his face. “Mr. White and Ms. Stroud have done a fine job to date. Although we must learn more about this spider - and soon.”


McCallister’s expression darkened briefly, but the expression of frustration disappeared nearly as quickly as it had appeared. “Of course, Your Majesty. Shall we ask the Blackcastle Engineers to assign more men?”


Anna took a minute step forward. “If I may, King Geoffrey? The men you have assigned are fine examples of the Blackcastle Engineers. They tell me it will take another week or perhaps two to sort through the remaining contents of the room. If you feel the risk is minimal, certainly more men may assist in shortening that time. In the meantime, Mr. White and I will focus on the second device.” She prayed this also meant that the chance of execution was greatly reduced for all involved.


The King studied her curiously for a moment before nodding with a minute smile. “An excellent idea, Ms. Stroud. I expect you to demonstrate it to me soon.”


McCallister spoke up, his words once again gentle and calm; almost too much so. It reminded Anna of the voice mothers use when attempting to a child in the throes of a tantrum. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, Your Majesty, but all of Aneora is curious about the happenings at the Library. We will need to put their fears and curiosity to rest. Is it too soon for the celebration you and I discussed?” He smiled patiently as he awaited the King’s answer.


King Geoffrey’s face lit into a broad smile. “Of course! What an excellent suggestion.” He looked at Robert. “You see now why I keep Douglas here around.” He started moving back toward his throne with only a brief glance backwards at the prototypes. “We will schedule an official announcement, declaring that progress is being made and recognizing your service to Aneora.” He motioned to his guards, who stepped forward to accompany the two senators out of the throne room. “We will contact you once the arrangements have been made. You are dismissed with my gratitude - and an expectation I will learn of the other device’s functions shortly.”


The Blackcastle Engineer was draping and gathering the prototypes as Anna curtseyed once more to the king before turning to make the walk back toward their waiting ship. The whole meeting had gone well, although something about the interaction that she could not pinpoint left her feeling slightly wary. She glanced at Robert as they walked back toward the suspension bridge, trying to get a read on whether he felt the same way.
 
Mr. White's head swiveled about as the conversation continued. He grimaced at McCallister's suggestion, feeling that the rather exclusive mission was becoming too inclusive, and almost opened his mouth to counteract. Ms Stroud had spoken before him however, which was probably for the better. He just hoped that the Engineers the King would potentially assign had more intelligence in their puny minds than the three they had met nearly a week ago. It would be incredibly tragic if they didn't.


McCallister had spoken once more, this time mentioning a public announcement regarding the library discovery. Robert's eyebrows raised in confusion, but quickly folded back down into a neutral position when the King had turned to him. In respect, the tall senator nodded his head, then listened to the rest of what Geoffry had to say. Then the two senators were properly dismissed, and a gathering of guards came to surround Robert and Anna. Robert bowed as Anna curtseyed, then the two departed the throne room and left for the suspending bridge. He held the usual, blank expression as they made their way toward the airship as a multitude of concerning thoughts flooded his mind. It wasn't clear to Robert what exactly had been bothering him. Maybe he was simply over thinking. No matter, it would not be appropriate to share his thoughts with Ms. Stroud at this moment while the King's guards still surrounded him. Their anticipation would need to wait until they safely returned to the airship.


"Our report had gone well, though I am somehow not satisfied," he said when they were all ready floating through the skies, as if his phrase would surprise anyone. Robert would admit, it was hard to please him with anything, but what had shocked him was the fact that he had not been alleviated as he expected. The book he carried in the chest pocket of his jacket suddenly felt heavier, and his hand wanted to lift from its resting position to somehow ease the sudden weight, but something prodded Robert not to. Perhaps because he was afraid he would lose his balance from the slight turbulence during the course of the ride, only then did he notice it.


"You seemed concerned too, Anna," he said, then realized his personal mistake. Anna. He called her Anna. Mr. White was never on a first name basis with anyone in the senate, especially Ms. Stroud. Robert quickly corrected himself, "Ms. Stroud." He paused briefly so he could shake away the internal embarrassment he held, then finally finished his phrase. "What's on your mind that puts a grimace as bad as mine on your face?"
 
The walk back to the ship should have been a victory march. They had presented to the King and been dismissed not only with their heads but with his thanks. Her brief glance at Mr. White had told her nothing. He looked sullen, but that was his default expression. Nevertheless, she should be relieved, even overjoyed. The King intended to celebrate their success.


Only that success was preliminary at best. Was it truly wise to announce their findings to the public, even in a limited sense? She wanted to discuss it with Mr. White, but doubted he would question the King’s word. He was a monarchist, after all, and perhaps her concerns were merely the remnants of her trepidation about the meeting.


Shortly after they boarded the ship, Blackcastle Engineers loaded the prototypes. Anna’s gaze followed their actions for a time, her mind churning over the reason both prototypes would be present. Did Chief Engineer Harper arrange for them to be presented? Had he intended to undermine the meeting? That made no sense, for if it went poorly enough his life would be forfeit as well. Perhaps he aimed to underline the amount of work remaining and along with it the need for the Engineers’ continued role.


As she mused over these thoughts, Mr. White voiced her thoughts. When she turned to him, she saw him hesitate, which was unlike him. And then he called her by her given name. Her eyebrows rose and she felt a touch of heat grace her cheeks, but it was quickly gone. It was the stress of the situation combined with the amount of time spent together lately. She dismissed it as a temporary side effect of their circumstances. Why, she had made the same mistake upon their arrival, and he had not even caught it.


His question was, as usual, on point. She glanced down at the rail of the ship before answering. “I agree: the King received our report well. So well, in fact, I should be pleased. We should be pleased. Yet...” she shook her head, looking out over the horizon. “I am bothered, Mr. White. Forgive me for speaking against the wisdom of the King, but... Announcing anything to the public seems premature. And what in blazes was the second prototype doing there?”


Her hand gripped the rail tightly. “I feel like there are pieces in play of which we are not aware. It is not a comfortable feeling.”
 
Yes, she was right. It was almost too good. Sure, they had made it out of the castle with their lives, but at what cost? Would this only deepen their potential grave? It would become something Robert would not like to think about. A public statement did seem premature, as she had put it. It just seemed like their journey together had started. Not to say that would come to an end. Not anytime soon at least. But how would the public react? The King was the King, a single target. Robert and Anna could use their time to form their words that would suit him. It was a much more difficult to suit the needs of all of Aneora. Especially coming from two politicians who looked through the opposite ends of the looking glass.


Aye, and uncomfortable feeling indeed, and it was more uncomfortable that he shared this same emotion with Ms. Stroud. It was all strange, really. Why had he even agreed to work with the woman those weeks ago? He thought back to that particular moment, and then he remembered. It ended with his fit of rage when she had suggested to put her bill in motion. Never in his life had he ever imagined working with the woman, let alone feeling the same emotions as her. The added stress from the research and report did not alleviate them of their discomfort either.


Mr. White turned as if he were about to speak to Ms. Stroud, but no words had been exchanged. He stared down at his cane and continued to contemplate. The King expected them to give another report about the second machine, which had mistakenly been brought into the scene. Mr. White nor Ms. Stroud had requested for the spider like automaton to be brought, he knew that. His thoughts wondered back to the preliminary report with the Engineers, and how they both simply loathed them. Had bringing the second automaton really been a mistake, or was there a reason behind the spider's presence? Their further research would need to taken with caution, but then, what would the point be in caution? They would still be exposed to the same danger, regardless. But the King expected this from them. They had to follow through.


"There are missing pieces," he finally spoke. "We just need to find them."





Robert had been so lost in his own thoughts, he had lost track of the time. The senate building was within eye sight now, and the sun was starting to set. People still crowded the streets as they made their way to fine dining or entertainment. People turned to watch as their airship began to descend, and their faces lit up as they eagerly waved. Robert had still been lost in his own thoughts, he didn't even notice them. Gracefully, the airship docked back at the station behind the senate building, and the pilot spoke to politely dismissed them.


"A pleasure havin' ya, senators! Until next time, eh?" he smiled cheerfully, and stood near the center of the ship's deck while Robert and Anna had departed. While the two carried distress on their shoulders, it seemed invisible to the others who waited for them along the perimeter of the docking station. Mr. White immediately noticed a familiar, plump figure quickly approaching him, and then the familiar twitch at the mustache.


"My heavens, you're back!" the Chairman panted, and raised his arms in the air.


"Don't seem so surprised, Mr. Millberry," Mr. White spoke back as he looked to him.


"Well, did you meet Him?"


"Of course."


"And?"


"The report was successful."


"That's it? That's all you have?"





Mr. White let off a sigh. "No, we have more information for you, however now is not the appropriate time to discuss those details. Perhaps when we are in a more discrete location."





Suddenly the Chairman seemed distracted, as if he had ignored the last part of what Robert had said to him, and began to look around. "And Ms. Stroud? Is she back as well? Ah, there you are!"
 
Robert fell silent after her statement, which Anna assumed to mean that he had nothing to add to the conversation. Mr. White did not enjoy wasting words, and they were both acutely aware of the complexities and complications of their current situation. They stood in improbably companionable silence throughout the return trip to the Senate building. Then, long after her thoughts had turned to what to say to Andrei and a faint trace of guilt for not sharing information about Cecilia with Mr. White, Robert spoke again. From his words, he had clearly been mulling over the issues during the entire flight. He also intended for them to keep working together.


To her surprise, that inspired relief as well. Like it or not, their fates were intertwined so long as they worked on the mystery of Synge’s work. Neither liked the other’s involvement at first, but now, if she were honest with herself, she took comfort in continuing to work with him. They did not often agree, but at least she could trust that together they would cover all angles of the issue.


The warm welcome for their return surprised her. News must have spread about their audience with the King, and their return was seen as good news. This left Anna to wonder briefly how people would have responded if they had not returned.


As they disembarked, Anna stopped briefly to chat with a few people. All of them asked after her in a thinly veiled attempt to gain information about the audience with the King. She provided polite answers and moved along, but at a slower pace than Mr. White. Spotting him talking with Mr. Millberry, Anna caught Robert responding in mild vexation.


“No, we have more information for you, however now is not the appropriate time to discuss those details. Perhaps when we are in a more discrete location.”


Mr. Millberry was scanning the crowd as Mr. White spoke. "And Ms. Stroud? Is she back as well?” His eyes fixated on her, and his mustache twitched upwards. “Ah, there you are!"


Stepping closer, she smiled at the Chairman. “Mr. Millberry. How kind of you to meet us.” She glanced at Robert, then back to the Chairman. “Mr. White and I will prepare a brief report for the Senate for tomorrow.”


Mr. Millberry had been nodding along with her until she mentioned the next day. “Yes. Oh, no! Not tomorrow afternoon, Ms. Stroud. Have you forgotten? The Cotillion is tomorrow evening.” He leveled a disapproving look at her, as if the words had great meaning.


Anna’s smile broadened, although she had completely forgotten about the event. Every year, the aristocratic children of age were officially introduced to society through a formal dance. While certainly those were the stars of the event, all of “civilized” Aneoran society jumped at the opportunity to dress extravagantly and attempt to arrange marriages among the wealthy and influential. As a widow, Ms. Stroud had been largely exempt from the event and the scheming, although there had been some discussion in the last couple of years about her needing to remarry. It was getting harder to quell that line of thinking among the gossips and socialites. “Of course!” she said with a smile and shake of her head. “How could I forget? Isn’t your Krissy being introduced this year? She has grown into a fine young woman.”


Mr. Millberry’s dark expression lightened at the recognition of his daughter. “Thank you. She will, in fact, be introduced this year.” He looked between the two senators. “I expect you both to be there, of course.” He chuckled and shook his head, “Not together, of course. Although your presence will be expected. It is the event of the year.” With a knit brow, he looked rapidly between them. “And this time, stay away from Miss Snyder.”


Anna blushed with the memory of embarrassment at Krissy’s recital. “Yes, Sir.” Rather than elaborating on that topic or attempting to apologize again, she changed the subject. “Per your reminder, we will present to the Senate in the morning, providing everyone the afternoon to prepare for the dance.” She glanced at Mr. White, realizing belatedly that she had just committed him to attending a social event. While he could not exactly refuse the chairman, she wondered if it might warrant an apology, especially since this meant they had to agree on what to share with the Senate in short order.
 
After Mr. Millberry had spotted Anna, the two men were approached by the female senator, and the conversation between Robert and Mr. Millberry had seized. Ms. Stroud had mentioned the report for the senate, but as usual, Mr. Millberry pulled their conversation towards more 'important' matters. Mr. White remembered when he attended his first Cotillion. Not for him, of course. His parents were far from aristocrats, so he wouldn't have qualified. It was during his earlier years as a senator. If he remembered correctly, it was the first time he had seen Ms. Stroud. She had probably been in her early twenties, Robert had been a couple of years older. He recalled Sam's assassination earlier that year, then the election that followed, and then the news of her miscarriage. Mr. Millberry, who had been in better physical condition back then, pulled the two senators from their side tasks to formerly introduce them. Robert didn't believe they knew they would eventually play important roles in one another's life at the time. How could they at such a young age?


It was awful, not meeting Anna, that is. The process had been completely painless, the Cotillion however had been just the opposite. The children just seemed so young, despite only being a few years younger than he was at the time. It made him wonder if any of their parents knew how to teach their children manners. There had been no respect for dining, ball room dancing, or courting. Robert dreaded the thought of attending another Cotillion. It had been years since he made his presence to the annual celebration, albeit being invited several times. You could say he was considered a "desirable" bachelor, and the idea was to find an equally desirable spouse for the man, but Robert had no intentions to marry. He was young, rich, and intelligent, but enjoyed his solitude, despite popular belief. "Don't worry, the nervousness goes away once you start talking to them," they would say in regards to courting. It had never been a matter of nerves, it was more about lifestyle.


After so many years, you would imagine one would find it bizarre for Mr. White to even consider finding a romantic companion, but the desirable bachelor title he had been given over a decade ago still stood. Now another one of the Chairman's social events was to interrupt his peacefully lonesome life. His expression deepened when Mr. Millberry dared to suggest that they would ever arrive together at any social gathering, and hinted at the horror's of the previous event. The Chairman's first request could easily be met by both of the senators, Robert would make sure of that. Staying away from Miss Synder would be easy enough, for Anna at least. Robert was not sure how easy it would be for him to do the same, however, especially at an event like the Cotillion. Another reason he preferred to stay at home during the celebration.


"Splendid!" the Chairman cheered. His mustache twitched as he gave Ms. Stroud a wide smile. "We are all eager to here what you have to report. I will give notice to the rest of the members immediately," then Mr. Millberry excused himself, and made his way through the rest of the welcoming crowd. Though his senator's report had been put onto his mind, he was still more likely to discuss his daughter's appearance at this year's Cotillion than anything else.


By this moment, a completely disgusted expression crept onto Mr. White's face. Providing the rest of the senate with a minor report about the King's meeting the following morning was, to him, the least of his concerns. "I would rather torture myself," he mumbled to himself as he looked past the obese man among the crowd of people.
 
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Anna noted the grimace on Robert's face and cringed inwardly. He had not wanted to agree to attending the Cotillion. What could he say, though? Standard requests by the Chairman might be politely declined, but where his daughter was concerned, ther was no polite way to refuse. Mr. Millberry caught Mr. White's expression and his mutter as well. He looked at Robert, his face flushing with color. "What was that, Mr. White?"


Anna didn't even realize her instinct to step in on his behalf until she was in the middle of speaking. "We have had a long day, Mr. Millberry. You can only imagine the strain of meeting the king. I imagine it was doubly so for Mr. White, given his reputation and viewpoints." She looked at Robert, praying he would not attempt to correct her attempt to assist him. "I do not think it will take us long to prepare, ... Mr. White." The briefest hesitation occurred before she spoke his name, just enough time to stop herself from calling him by his given name. Making a mental note that she would have to be vigilant about that in her fatigue, she smiled at Mr. Millberry. "Do not fret. We will be ready tomorrow. Now... tell me about Krissy's preparations. Have you seen her dress, or are you leaving that to your wife?"


True to her nature and skills, Anna deftly steered Mr. Millberry onto a topic he wished to explore and kept him so engaged until they could politely excuse themselves to work on the presentation to the senate in the morning.
 
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Yes, it had been a long day for Mr. White, and he had wished to retire, but as usual Mr. Millberry had another plateful of duties patiently waiting for them after they had barely finished the one in front of them. Internally he had thanked Ms. Stroud for stepping in so quickly. Had she waited any longer, Mr. Millberry would have had his fist latched around Mr. White's throat. It wouldn't have been the first time he had seen Mr. Millberry in a state of rage, and it wouldn't have been the first time he had been physically attacked by the fat man. Why he still worked for him would always remain a mystery. Anna would never have to worry about either issue, his rage or his harsh advances. She was, well, a woman. Mr. White had been slightly relieved when they could finally excuse themselves, but it only meant they were now up to another task, which they had a mere seven hours to complete; according to his pocket watch.


Chapter VI

Just a short time after Synge's death, an organization of believers was formed to preserve his ideas and work. They too were engineers, but did not fear Elijah's wonderful masterpieces. Instead, they cherished them, and became heartbroken when their leader had been executed. The group remains very secretive, however, due to the standing, dangerous reputation the old inventor's work maintains. But, to honor Elijah Synge, they kept his name as the group's acronym. Secretive Youth Network of Growing Engineers. Often members will refer to the group as "The Network", or some other common application to keep the group under cover. Each member wears the symbol of a key that belonged to Elijah's automatons, whether it be a necklace, tattoo, pin, or any other small decorative form.


When news that the chamber in the library had been discovered, the group immediately came back together, fearing only the worse would come when Elijah's work had been fully exposed to the country again. Then, Ms. Stroud stepped into the scene, and Robert had been pulled along. This greatly concerned the group members. They vowed to continue to hid within the shadows until they heard further news of the senators research. Just two weeks after the day of the chamber discovery, news about Anna's and Robert's return from the King's castle had baited them out of their hiding, and now they have congregated in a hidden cellar beneath the cafe on 21st Cog Street.


"We'll just have to start without her," a male figure spoke as he shook his head. "One of us will update her when she arrives. This discussion cannot wait any longer, especially with the time we have been given." The nervous man reached in his pocket to look at his watch, then quickly stuffed the device back into his jacket. Then his hands shuffled about the table before him to reveal two folders containing separate documents about the lead senators in Aneora. More folders were scattered around them, mostly containing information about the automaton that had recently been discovered, and much of Synge's other work. It had been clear that this group of people was also watching the case between Anna and Robert unfold.


"Are you sure we need to follow through with this?" a feminine voice from the far side of the table chimed in. "We're not even sure what the King's true verdict is going to be. Mr. White and Ms. Stroud haven't even finished their research yet," she continued to rationalize.


"Yes, I am sure," the man at the head of the table spoke while he glanced over the documents before him. "They arrived from the King's palace just this evening, I saw them float by in their airship." He let out a deep sigh, as if something on one of the documents disappointed him. "I stayed for a little longer to see if I could catch any good information. Blasted that Mr. White. He's good. I got nothing from him." The man paused to scan over a piece of paper he held in his hand, then continued. "They'll be giving a report to the senate in the morning, before the Cotillion."


"How do you expect us to get any information from them then?" another voice entered.


"I'm not sure yet," the man replied as he lowered the paper away from his face. "Now would be a good time for suggestions."


"What if we waited until after the meeting?" the woman replied. "We could try to pick up any gossip they might talk about on their way home. Maybe even at the Cotillion." The other members around her nodded their heads in slight agreement. The idea wouldn't guarantee them the information they desired, but it would be worth a shot.


"This situation clearly isn't going to get any better, does anyone else realize this?" a man to the left broke out. "Here we are, sitting underneath a gosh darn coffee shop, trying to think of ways to steer these politicians in the gosh darn right direction. We're wasting our time. There doesn't seem to be another path to walk on. There may be detours, but we all know, this is going to end very badly. Not just for them, but for us too."


"Well, what are you suggesting then?" the lead male inquired as he raised an eyebrow.


"I suggest we stop them."


"And, how exactly do we plan on going through with that?" The other man sat back in his chair and thought for a moment until an idea struck him. He moved his hand towards his waste, then unlatched a small hand pistol from his belt and placed it onto the table before the group. It had a brown, wooden handle with one of Synge's key designs engraved on the side. The metal parts of the gun, such as the trigger and barrel, were simply made out of iron. A few members gasped at such a grave idea. "This is ludicrous," the man nervously laughed. "No, absolutely not."


"We have to stop them." the gun owner retorted.


"Not like this!" he shouted back, and gestured to the weapon with both of his hands. "Do you know how devastating a situation like that would be to Ms. Stroud if she witnessed another assassination?"


"It is funny you say that, because while Mr. White does not own the same social graces as Ms. Stroud, he would not be the one to receive the bullet." The counsel leader blinked in shocked, and asked why. The gun owner pulled the documents they kept within the folder related to Mr. White, and pulled an article from the paper regarding his agreement to Anna's bill. To Anna's bill. While Anna was still alive, her bill was still in affect. If she died, their research could simply not continue. The bill agreement would be broken, and Mr. White would be sent to finish other senate duties. If Robert died, Anna would be able to go along with her research without him. If they were to use a bullet against the senate, it would be for Anna.


"Ludicrous, I say!" the leader shouted, and whipped the newspaper from the other man's hand. "Ludicrous!"
 
Cecilia Volos hurried along the wooden corridor in the cellar, her pendant bouncing heavily against her collar bone as she did so. "Do you think they already started?" she asked the broad-chested man beside her.


Charles Woods, Cecilia's fiance and one of Aneora's best steam engineers, walked beside her, his long legs allowing him to easily keep pace with the perky yet pissed woman at his side. "Of course they did, my love. We are engineers, remember. We're nothing if not precise." The half-hearted glare she tossed his way quickly transformed into a chuckle at the sight of the grin on his face.


Then she tossed open the door. Inside, Elmer Alexander Seal, the vice president of the Network and her right-hand man, was clearly distraught. "Ludicrous!" He kept saying, even as eyes moved to Cecilia. At first, she thought they were discussing a minute point of fact, as usual. Then she spied Max's pistol on the table.


Maxwell Caffrey Sheean loved his pistol above all else in the world, so having it out was not wholly unusual. Yet by the others' expressions, it was clear he had not simply been showing off the piece for its beauty. "Would someone care to update me on the discussion so far?" she asked as kindly as she could while taking her seat near the head of the table.


Her title as president of The Network was largely ceremonial, but it still held sway in matters of grave import. No matter had truly qualified for that distinction until lately; it seemed like the last few weeks had been nothing but large decisions. The group - her group - of normally rational, dignified people was scared. People made stupid choices when they were scared. By the time they had updated her on the proposed plan of action, she was ready to write a dissertation on that effect.


"While I understand everyone's concern, we will not assassinate Ms. Stroud," she said firmly, turning to look at Max. "The bill has been passed. You have no proof that killing her would stop the action. It may even make her a martyr, and confirm that there is something more to investigate." She saw a few heads nodding around the table, most notably Elmer.


Max glared at her as he holstered the pistol. "It may free White to go back to his usual business. He's only in the investigation to counter Ms. Stroud. Those two are base and acid."


Cecilia nodded. "Perhaps, but whatever they are, we are scientists and engineers. We will allow facts, not our emotions, to rule." This quieted some of the chatter at the table. She even saw Nellie take a deep breath in relief. "Now... I told you Ms. Stroud approached me. She recognized my key, probably from the drawings. I think we need to discuss again whether we approach her. Perhaps she can be an ally. My brother says she is a good woman, and she seemed openly curious."


Nellie shook her head. "The risk is too great. That bell cannot be un-rung. As I was saying earlier, we need more data."


Max scoffed. "You would collect data until they send the spiders to hunt us down."


The conversation deteriorated from there, but an hour later they agreed to gather any information they could over the next few days and regroup.


Before Robert and Anna retired for the evening to their respective homes, word was spreading quickly across Aneora: King Geoffrey would appear at the market square in two days to address the people. The notices did not specify the topic, but given that the King so rarely appeared in public, it had to be a matter of import. Nearly all speculation tied it to the Library, although the exact details were hotly debated - including among the Network.


This overshadowed the joint report by Mr. White and Ms. Stroud to the Senate. They did not provide details, no matter how much their colleagues pressed the issue. Instead, they each deferred to the time of the King's address, although their style and manner of doing so was as different and varied as always. Shortly after their report and with the Cotillion pending, the senate voted universally to adjourn.
 
The meeting the next morning had just been adjourned, and Mr. White was not please, to say the least. Undoubtedly the stress from the recent events pertaining to the library discovery was wearing him down. The Chairman had approached the two senators to praise their efforts, and wished them to look at the Cotillion as a way for them to unwind and enjoy themselves. Mr. Millberry gave a strong look towards Mr. White, hoping he had absorbed his advice, but it was hard to tell from the customary look Robert held when he really just didn't care. There had been a long moment of silence, Mr. White finally spoke, "Thank you," then made his departure. He had not been thinking about anything in particular during the moment of silence like one would assume. Instead he had taken the moment to not think.


Once the tapping of Robert's cane had completely faded away, Mr. Millberry turned to Ms. Stroud before she could leave. "I commend you, Ms. Stroud," he said as he looked to her through his monocle. "I can only imagine the state of exhaustion you must be in after the long research. Please use the evening wisely. Take your mind off the project. If anyone deserves a break, it's you." It still fathomed Mr. Millberry how a woman like Ms. Stroud could tolerate a man like Mr. White. The Chairman politely bowed to Ms. Stroud, wiggled his mustache, then made his own way out of the brightly lit room to prepare for the special evening.


~ ~ ~




​



Despite Mr. Millberry's words, Mr. White found it difficult to relieve his mind from the project. It was simply impossible. How could they take their minds off of the subject? Such an idea did not exist for Mr. White. He contemplated about the second automaton that had been transported to the King's palace the previous afternoon as he drank a warm cup of tea, mostly about it's function. It would be nice if a key all ready existed for the machine, so they would not need to endanger Ms. Stroud's mechanic further. Robert's thoughts continued to trail on about the discovery until the clock presented him an hour before the Cotillion.


The even would take place five blocks away from the senate building. Mr. White arrived by a horse drawn carriage, and just on time. Several other arrivals followed, some of them senate members, others were young, aristocratic children. The chauffeur to Mr. White's carriage made the horses come to a stop, then stepped down from his seat and walked to the side of the carriage to open the door for the senator. The door had opened, but Mr. White waited a brief moment before exiting. Slowly, Mr. White was revealed from the shadows of the carriage. He carried his cane, as usual, and sported a dark charcoal tuxedo. The this chain to his watch could be seen protruding from his pocket. His silk tie matched his jacket in color, but his felt vest was a deep emerald. A single peacock feather adorned his top hat, also a dark grey, and a black, satin ribbon.


"Welcome to Raymund Hall, Senator White," one of the hosts had greeted when Mr. White approached the entrance of the building. The host took the pen in his hand and checked the senator's name from the list, guided Robert inside, then continued to greet the other arrivals. The hall had been astoundingly decorated, and the rooms were lined with tabled filled with h'ordeurves. Several people swarmed over to Mr. White to greet him, and offered him a drink of champagne. He gracefully took a small glass to rid of the collecting crowd as quickly as he could, then contently wandered to the edge of the room and became a wall flower. His eyes scanned the room to see what other guests had decided to arrive. From his point of view, Ms. Stroud nor Mr. Millberry had made their presence.
 
After the whirlwind of the past few days preparing for their audience with the King and then dealing with the aftermath, it seemed odd to focus on the Cotillion and all the finery that went with it. Mr. Millberry seemed sympathetic about her time working with Robert, but she had to admit it had not been nearly as bad as she had presumed it would be. Yes, they argued - and often - but quarreling was a way of life for senators, and she and Robert rarely agreed on anything. Well, except about the Blackcastle Engineers and the suspicious way things were unfolding.


Still, she had a reputation of her own to uphold, and she would not disappoint. Anna had already designed her dress and had it custom-made for the Cotillion. (The event of the year required planning all year.) The emerald and white dress was a work of art in her opinion: the bodice defied convention by being more jacket than corset in style, its high collar lending a sense of command befitting her station. It was still elegant and feminine, of course. In fact, the tight jacket coupled with the intricately bustled skirt ended up being much more form-fitting than she had originally intended, but overall she was pleased. She would make a statement by her presence, and the outfit would declare her unique role within the Senate and aristocratic society, all without saying a word.


It had not been much different the first Cotillion she had attended, although the circumstances were entirely different. She had never been presented by her father at the yearly event. She had been too in love with Sam to care about such things as a girl, then as a young wife of an activist for the Ashington workers, it had been best for her father’s career in the Senate for her to avoid the event. Then Sam had been killed (It had been no accident; she remained certain of that even if they never identified the culprits responsible) and she had lost the baby. Refusing to let it break her, she had poured everything she was into running for Senate. In an odd twist of fate, she did come out at the Cotillion, but not as a young woman eligible for marriage: she had emerged as a player in the Senate.


At the time, she had been terrified and stubbornly determined not to let anyone see her fear. Mr. Millberry had kindly introduced her to many of the Senate members - some of which she knew only by her father’s descriptions. She managed, somehow, not to make an ass out of herself and actually build some alliances that day: a skill she would continue to hone throughout her career. She had been spared the attention of suitors due to her status as a widow. That had lingered for a long time, allowing her to truly enjoy the yearly event and utilize it as a chance to build connections and alliances. Over the last few years, however, her reprieve from those angling for social ascension through marriage had begun to wane. She hoped her selected gown would help to make a statement about her intentions; especially to those who had a tendency to assume she could not refuse a dance.


Andrei drove her and a small group of carefully selected friends to the Cotillion on the airship. She offered a small, private party before the main event. Falling into the hostess role so natural to her, she dodged questions about the King’s address and focused everyone on the event to come.


Even so, she was tired. She smiled at the host who greeted her and began circulating through the room, complimenting others on their style and commenting on the amazing décor and food. Mr. Millberry found her not long after he entered, complimenting her dress with a twitch of his mustache. “Have you seen Mr. White?” he asked. His tone, intended to be casual, had bordered on annoyance.


Anna glanced around the room and shook her head. “Not yet, although I have no doubt he is here. He is steadfast in meeting his commitments, and overly punctual.” She smiled at the Chairman, who seemed to have relaxed with her assurances.
 
And then there they were, speak of the devil. The two people Robert had sought earlier suddenly appeared right before him. He decided to remain quiet. If he overheard the conversation correctly, Mr. Millberry was looking for him. Robert had only wanted to know if Mr. Millberry had arrived at the Cotillion, then would appreciate avoiding the fat man for the rest of the evening. Suddenly Mr. Millberry began to turn his head about the room, causing Mr. White to move away from the usual wall position, but the Chairman's face lit up as he spotted Robert.


A sudden feeling of dread spread through Mr. White, and he secretly begged to be left alone. Of course at evening events like this, such a request was impossible to be met. There was always someone who wanted to speak with him, heavens knew why. Robert still tried to make his slow escape. Perhaps the Chairman would finally see through his body language that he was in no mood for a conversation. He never had of course, so it didn't make any sense to Robert what would make the Chairman think differently. Mr. Millberry's gaze was still set upon Robert, and this seemed to stop Robert in his tracks. It was practically how every confrontation at social gatherings went. Confound it.


"There you are!" he chuckled, and quickly started to walk over to Robert. Mr. Millberry had only dressed in a simple black and white tuxedo, making him resemble something like an incredibly large penguin. "What elegant attire, Mr. White," the Chairman smiled. "You should see Ms. Stroud, too, she is here this evening. Why.... you even dressed in similar colors!" Mr. Millberry's face had lightened even further at this new discovery, thinking there had been something special behind their matching dress. Mr. White shifted his gaze over the Chairman's shoulder to spot Ms. Stroud once more, and sure enough he had been right. Most set of companions would need to contact one another to arrive at such an event with matching attire. Mr. White and Ms. Stroud on the other hand, difficult to say where their relationship stood after the large research project, simply needed a coincidence. "A marvelous fluke, don't you think, Robert?" Mr. Millberry smiled.


"Yes, quite marvelous indeed, Mr. Millberry," Robert managed to say. His words somehow caused the Chairman to chuckle, giving Robert the opportunity to simply leave him, but the Chairman spoke before he even had a chance to move.


"Don't think you're going to stick yourself to that wall over there this evening, Mr. White," he sternly said. A scowl formed on Mr. White's face before he gave a stark remark.


"No, I actually had planned on sticking myself to the wall over there," he pointed his cane in the referred direction. Robert had no patience left for the obese man, for anyone in fact, and his energy was running low. There was a certain kind of rage building inside of Mr. White that he could no longer shake, and Mr. Millberry was only making it worse. "I hope that will suffice for you, Mr. Millberry. Now, if you'll excuse-"


The moment he had turned around, another terrifyingly familiar set of light blue eyes looked his way. As quickly as he had spun around to walk away, he turned back to Mr. Millberry. In his small moment of rage he had nearly forgotten the existence of Miss Melva Synder. Trying in a calm and collected manner, he walked back over to Mr. Millberry and joined his side. Robert's expression was still unreadable, but you could easily tell he was not pleased. "All right," Robert spoke lowly. "You win."
 
The chatter of guests filled the room as people mingled, laughed and gossiped. Normally, this event represented the pinnacle of society affairs. The progeny of the affluent were introduced to society while the aristocratic set marveled over new technology and their general superiority. While Anna loved the celebration and chance to mingle, the event always highlighted disparity between Silchester and Ashington to her. Sam would have hated it, pointing out how the rich could afford to waste money on outfits they would wear once while not thinking twice about the workers they employed at low wages and the slaves they expected to prepare and clean up for them.


This thought always accompanied her attendance at the Cotillion. In past years, she had easily justified her participation with her intent: she gained connections to speak for the people in Ashington; to represent them, even if that meant becoming part of the system that oppressed them. She took comfort in the thought that she continued to fight for them, and they continued to trust her. But as she overheard Mr. Millberry compare her outfit with Mr. White’s while speaking with Mrs. Littleton about the colors that seemed to be in fashion this season, she felt a pang of embarrassment. She had always chosen to dress to be noticed; it was an integral part of her tactics to better represent the people.


And tonight, it would appear to many that she and Mr. White had coordinated their attire. Even Mrs. Littleton noticed, as indicated by the small knowing smile that blossomed on her heart-shaped face as she glanced at Mr. White while speaking to Anna. Her fatigue increased as Anna noticed it; with everything else going on, she did not have time to quash rumors. She turned to look at Mr. Millberry and Mr. White and laughed easily with a surprised smile. “It seems I am having an effect on Mr. White,” she quipped. “If he starts decorating his hats with butterflies, we will know that I have truly won him away from his monarchist positions.”


Mrs. Littleton laughed and took the hint in stride, then gestured to the dozen small metal butterflies decorating Anna’s hair. “They are exquisite, my dear. Did you have your girls make them? If so, I simply must know who.” Mrs. Littletone was one of the many people her who owned house servants. Anna had only met her once before, but she had heard the rumors about Mrs. Littleton “shopping” amongst her friends for the most talented servants - so she could buy them off her friends. This was the first confirmation she had received of the rumors.


Anna shook her head, doing her best not to frown at the implication. “No. I paid a friend for his amazing craftsmanship. It seems only to me that each person be adequately compensated for his - or her - contributions to others.” She smiled as she said it, but the message was clearly received - as evident by Mrs. Littleton’s frown and quick departure from Anna’s side.


Maintaining a mask of a pleasant smile, Anna sighed inwardly. That was not the most elegant way to handle the conversation; she had probably made an enemy of Mrs. Littleton. But she had to admit she felt some satisfaction watching the other woman depart. Unfortunately, that left Anna alone, and she could see several people circulating nearby that might want to engage in conversation - or a dance. Spying Mr. White speaking with Mr. Millberry, she opted for the known quantity of their company. Mr. White looked as miserable as he always did at social affairs, so if nothing else, she would look happy in comparison.


Her skirts barely moved as she approached the two senators, bowing her head slightly. “Chairman, I see you found him.” She looked at Robert and could not resist a small jest, despite his sour expression. “I am pleased to see you away from the walls, Mr. White.” Feeling eyes on her, she glanced over to see Melva Synder looking between them. The stare was presumptuous and not pleased. Undoubtedly she was jumping to conclusions about their attire.


Mr. Millberry nodded, “He just reluctantly agreed to join the rest of us in our merriment,” he said acerbically. He was not pleased at Robert’s attitude, and it showed. “Perhaps you can explain to him the benefits of conversing with other people, Ms. Stroud.”


Anna shook her head and took a glass of wine from a passing servant. “I am certain Mr. White is fully aware of the benefits, but chooses to handicap himself to give the rest of us a fighting chance of combating his wit.” She smiled at Robert to include him in the joke, although it was unlikely that he would find mirth in it. “You look very handsome, Mr. White. I especially like the color of your vest.” Based upon his expression, he was displeased with more than just the requirement to attend the event. In an attempt to guide the conversation (since she was certain Robert could not), she looked at the Chairman. “Do you know when will they be introduced?” she asked, referring to the scheduled introduction of the young men and women joining society today. The dancing would start in earnest after the names were announced and the young people began to dance, hinting at potential matches. “Krissy must be nervous.”


Mr. Millberry’s scowl lessened at the change of topic. “Oh! She may be inwardly, Ms. Stroud, but outwardly, she has the composition and poise of a lady.” His moustache twitched as he smiled and adjusted his monocle, clearly proud of his daughter. “I thank you for the reminder. It should be any moment now. Luckily, we have a clear view of the stair from here.” As he turned to face the stair, a slender woman in a royal blue gown and matching hat approached. “Ah, my dear,” Mr. Millberry said, taking his wife’s hand and smiling broadly. “I am glad you found me. You know Mr. White and Ms. Stroud.”


Mrs. Millberry’s thin frame looked barely able to support the layers of fabric that made up her dress, but her brown eyes burned with intelligence and a minute but weighty measure of condemnation as she smiled pleasantly at the two senators. “Of course. A pleasure to see you again.” She nodded to them both and stepped to her husband’s side, accentuating the incongruent shapes possessed by the couple.


Before they could respond, a thumping filled the hall as a herald banged a stylized cane against the dance floor at the foot of the stairs. Once the noise of the crowd dwindled, he announced the first of many young people to descend the stairs and make their entrance into society. Some were announced alone; many had escorts. Each stood tall and appeared ready to take over the world. And maybe they would. Polite applause followed each introduction, punctuated by the occasional murmur about an outfit or how lovely or handsome an individual person might be.


Anna clapped along with the others, watching the procession with the surreal feeling that it mimicked their audience with the king. Aneora had only one royal family, but the aristocracy represented a form of royalty, passing down their wealth and influence to their children while the rest of the world scrambled to make ends meet. Anna felt a pang of guilt resurface, and reminded herself that this was the game she had to play to help the people.


“Miss Krissy Millberry!” the herald announced. The young lady descended the stairs in ivory and pink with ribbons intricately laced into her hair.


Anna smiled at the Millberries as she clapped. “Quite lovely. You must be proud,” she said, as was expected.


Eventually, the last person was announced and the band started playing a soft waltz. Mrs. Millberrry shared a smile with her husband and turned to Robert. “I hear a rumor, Mr. White, that you have yet to dance at a Cotillion.” She tsked softly and smiled. “That simply will not do. As a member of the Senate, you are expected to set an example for the young people.” She left out that he was also considered one of the more eligible bachelors among the older crowd.
 
The glass of champagne Mr. White had held in his hand was quickly consumed the moment Ms. Stroud had arrived next to Mr. Millberry and himself. A servant passed by with more drinks, and Mr. White swiftly swapped the empty glass for a new one. He was all ready beginning to feel quite uncomfortable away from the walls, exposed to other socialites who would dare to speak to him, and only hoped the small amounts of champagne would give him a bit of comfort. A terrible habit he learned from his father, Carter. Robert was not an alcoholic, though some liked to believe he was. Carter, without a question, was. Mr. White remembered his father coming home from the coal mines, drunker than the night before. Robert's father always seemed happy and laid back with a bit of alcohol inside him, until his mother spoke to him that is. Thankfully, Mr. White's mother still lived back in Greenwich, granting him mellow happiness.


The conversation's topic shifted from his poor attitude to Krissy's introduction. Moments later, Mrs. Millberry arrived and joined her spouse. Mr. White sent a polite bow to the entering woman as they were reintroduced, and allowed their conversation to continue. It was true they had met before, only once however. Probably during one of Mr. White's senate gatherings at his house. Robert never really spoke with her, and not because of his social tendencies, merely because of professionalism. He never liked to know much about people's personal lives, just as much as he liked people not knowing about his own. Especially Mr. Millberry.


And then the ceremony began. One by two by one, the aristocratic children were formerly introduced, and descended from the elegant stair case. This would probably be the only part of the Cotillion he would be interested in. He listened and watched as the ceremony continued, analyzing each individual as they came down the set of stairs. Who knew, perhaps they would join the ranks of the senate one day. He stood there, motionless, and continued to scavenge among the younger crowd. Every so often his expression would shift, as if there was something about a particular child that interested him, but his face would quickly move back to be rugged and flat. Krissy had finally been announced, and the crowd around him whistled and cheered as the young lady descended down the steps. Mr. Millberry looked to Robert, as if Mr. White should be doing something, but the senator simply stood in his place; cane in hand and watch in pocket.


A small band started providing soft waltz music when the ceremony had ended, and the crowd began to disperse. Guests of all ages started to look for dancing partners, the gentlemen bowing and the ladies graciously accepting. Mrs. Millberry had smiled at Robert, and practically told him to find a lovely woman to dance with. The rumor was true, but Mr. White never intended to dance at a Cotillion, ever. He liked it to remain that way. And besides, there were many other senators to set the same example he would simply by dancing. If Robert were to be really blunt, he simply was not in the mood.


"Oh, don't scowl at me like that!" the woman protested, but she gave a jesting expression. "You'll wrinkle faster. Trust me dear, you don't want that for yourself, do you?" She gently placed her hands on his tall shoulders and stood beside him. Robert suddenly became tense, and wished the woman would release him, or that he had another fresh drink in his hand. "Look around, see what there is to see. This is the event of the year, of a life time! For someone like you, it'll be easy to find a respectful lady to dance with. Why, don't you know, Mr. White? This is how I came to meet Mr. Millberry! A moment I'll never forget." Mrs. Millberry let out a small sigh as she reminisced, then quickly turned her attention back to Mr. White. "All right, go on, tell me who you are going to dance with this evening. Be a good lad, don't be shy."





The level of annoyance that had been brought onto Mr. White had reached the point where he could no longer try, and simply had to give up. Slowly, his eyes scanned over the room filled with guests, most of them who all ready had a dancing partner. Perhaps the chance for finding a dance partner had passed, and the moment would simply have to wait.


"Dear me, it seems that everyone seems to have found a partner all ready," he spoke flatly, and started to move away, but the grip on his shoulders tightened.


"Nonsense!" the woman protested, and pulled Robert back to her side. "Why, there's a lovely blond woman over there who seems eager for a dance, why don't you ask her?"





Robert's heart nearly skipped a beat when his gaze met with Melva's and he turned away as quickly as possible. Mrs. Millberry let out a small laugh, thinking he must have been shy towards the young lady, then went to join her husband. With Mrs. Millberry off his back, Robert looked around for any means of escape. Suddenly he spotted Ms. Stroud standing by herself, supposedly watching the other guests begin to dance, or whatever it was she was doing. Without a moment's hesitation, he approached her from behind, and waited for her to turn around. His cane had been left at one of the open tables along the edge of the room, away from any dragging dresses. She would have to notice his presence eventually, and once she would turn around, his anxiety filled eyes would be staring right at her.


"Save me, blast it, save me."
 
Despite her habitual annoyance with Mr. White, Anna frowned as Mrs. Millberry pressed him to find a dance partner. Was the woman oblivious to Robert's discomfort? Or did she simply not care?Suppressing her annoyance at the other woman's behavior, Anna said nothing. It wasn't her place to correct Mrs. Millberry; it would be uncouth to even attempt it.


In any case, she was not meant to overhear it. If she did, she would be expected to agree, or join in deriding the poor man, or - heavens forbid - be his dance partner. Would that not be laughable? They might have partnered for the research project, but dance partners? He, who never danced with anyone lest he be seen as enjoying himself, and she, the brightly colored warning to all women about the potentially dangerous prospect of marrying for love?


This thought made her smile as she caught snippets of Mr. White's conversation with Mrs. Millberry while she spoke quietly with one of the girls who had been introduced this evening. Miss Annaliese Gardener had grown into a fine young woman. Anna knew her mother, and the girl seemed to have a level head on her shoulders. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one's persepctive), the girl's normal modesty and logical approach to life was quickly flying out the window in the face of pretty dresses and a magical waltz. When a young man asked her to dance, Annaliese looked to the older woman as if for permission. Anna resisted the urge to laugh, but did allow herself a broad smile. "Go on, dear. I want to see how that lovely skirt moves."


As she watched the young couple join the dance floor, she wondered if she had ever truly been that young and wide-eyed. Probably. Sam had swept her off her feet, not with dancing or elegant parties, but with dreams of changing the world. This was the thought on her mind when she felt someone approach behind her. It could have been someone simply watching the dance floor, but she could feel a sense of urgency directed at her even before she turned around.


And when she did...


Mr. White looked positively harried. Suddenly she was transported back to the first time they met, with Mr. Millberry making introductions. She had been nervous but determined. He hasseemed so confident. Over the years, she had learned his mannerisms from facing him across the Senate floor. The last few days had taught her even more. He looked at her expectantly, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. She looked up at him and, when he said nothing immediately, whispered with concern, "Are you all right?"


That, of course, reminded her of the evening of Krissy Millberry's recital. Had he been drinking again? Surely Melva had not attemped to drug him again. Her eyes moved past him to see Melva Snyder looking directly at Robert, expectantly, then beginning to walk their way. Mrs. Millberry stood observing the interaction with a satisfied grin.


Poor Robert.


Anna met his gaze and made the only decision she could to help him. Since his back was to both of the other women, they could not see that he had not spoken. She smiled pleasantly and offered her hand, saying loud enough for Melva to hear. "I would be honored, Mr. White."


She fully trusted that he would quickly deduce her plan to help him. Hopefully he would not refute or refuse her publicly; that scene would absolutely be the talk of the Senate for some time, and she would be the butt of the joke. As she waited for him to escort her to the dance floor, she absently wondered when she had started to trust him not to humiliate her, and if that the trust was poorly placed.
 
Is he all right? Did it look like he was all right? Suddenly Robert felt impatient. There was very little time for her to realize that no, he was not okay, he was in great distress. He could feel the eyes of the two woman burning through his own skull, he could feel them there, and prayed they would disappear. The moment finally come when Anna realized his true state without him saying a word. Mrs. Millberry secretly watched as he interacted with Ms. Stroud, and Melva kept a sharp eye on him as usual. Why did it matter so much to Mrs. Millberry that he found a dance partner? It certainly didn't affect her in any manner at all. She should have learned to mind her own business. But of course, their earlier conversation lead him to stare directly into Ms. Synder's gaze, long enough for her to receive the wrong idea. For years that blond woman tried to seduce Mr. White for her own political passions, and her mission continued with every social gathering there was. This was a painful situation, and he would never wish it upon anyone.


Anna had pretended to graciously accept an offer that he never made, and he was slowly beginning to relax. The levels of anxiety that appeared in his gaze softened, and he allowed himself to breath. "Please, Ms. Stroud," he spoke audibly. "It is an honor for me to-" He briefly interrupted himself, and took the moment to painfully swallow his own pride. " Be dancing with a lady as gracious as you are." He bowed slightly, hoping to hide the slight embarrassment that graced his face, then raised his hand from his side to offer to Anna. Once she would take his hand, he would lead her onto the dance floor among the other couples, and begin to waltz. Robert had suddenly realized the dance was similar to the one the automaton was able to perform. Synge's work had an evil way of sneaking into Robert's mind when they had been away from the chamber. Perhaps this was the reason why the Queen had banned his work from society.


To see their hands intertwined would be quite the sight for other senators, and certainly create some outlandish conclusions, especially given the amount of time they had been spending with one another for the project. Heads started turning as the couple approached the dance floor, and curious glances flew about the room. Robert did not like this feeling, but he hated Melva even more. Mother was right. You never always get what you want in the world. Sometimes you just have to suffer through things.


"It must be the project," a woman began to gossip in a high voice as she stood among her associates. "The poor things, wearing them down so much."


"I think there's a political conspiracy behind this," another lady with a hoarse voice chimed in. The other woman around her turned their heads and raised their eyebrows. "Yeah, didn't you see Mrs, Millberry over there with him? I say the Chairman wants the two factions to be unified. After all, Mr. White is the head monarchist, and Ms. Stroud is the lead anarchist."


"I say they've been working on more than just 'the project'," another deep voiced woman spoke. "They are alone together, after all. Maybe you are right, Cindy. Maybe there is some political conspiracy behind all of this, the whole project thing is just to get them to spend a little time together, if you ladies know what I mean."


"Velma!" the woman around her exclaimed, shunning her for mentioning such a sensitive topic.


"Well, do you ladies have anything better to propose?" They looked among each other, and no one seemed to speak up. Velma simply smiled to herself.


Meanwhile a separate group of men stood on the other side of the room, drinking away the evening as they chatted among their group.


"Dear me, is that Mr. White and Ms. Stroud on the dance floor?" a gentleman questioned as he slowly sipped his champagne.


"Aye, it appears to be." another answered as he lowered a drink from his lips.


"I wonder what has gotten into them. You wouldn't expect the two of them to be in the same room with one another outside of the senate, let alone dancing."


"Very true, very true."


"Makes you wonder the other things they might have done together."


"Aye, indeed."
 
Seeing the apprehension dissipate on his features, Anna smiled even before Robert made his small verbal concession. Was it really that difficult for him to call her gracious when she had just saved him from whatever it was that Melva had planned? Again? Inwardly, she wanted to scold him, but they were in public and she had volunteered to assist. So she kept her pleasant expression firmly in place as he escorted her to the dance floor.


Even before they reached it, heads began to turn. It occurred to Anna that she had never seen Mr. White dance. Surely he knew how, but he was almost certainly out of practice as well. While suitors were rare, she often danced at parties with men who wanted to discuss politics. In short, she knew the steps, but did not have confidence that Robert knew them beyond theory. Had she managed to set them both up for an embarrassing moment?


So as they joined the other couples on the dance floor, Anna attempted to assist. Not much, mind you, but a minor amount of leading him through the process. The brief disapproving look from his eyes was not surprising. She could almost hear him: Must you try to defy convention on even this, damnedable woman? What did shock her was his skill when he took her hand more firmly and increased the pressure of his other hand on the small of her back and led her in the waltz with grace.


She found herself smiling even as she dipped her head slightly in recognition of her faux pas. Who would have guessed that Robert Amos White, lead monarchist and possibly Aneora’s most famous curmudgeon, could dance so well?


As they glided across the dance floor in the steps of a time-honored dance, she became aware of the attention they had garnered and the flurry of accompanying whispers. As expected, many discussed the political implications. Yet the amount of tittering women and smirking men implied that there were other theories being exchanged, almost none of them flattering to her reputation. In an attempt to ignore them, Anna focused on Robert. “I fear this may make us a more prevalent topic even than the King’s announcement,” she said, glad that the dance would make it difficult for most people aside from Robert to see her mild embarrassment at that fact. In an attempt to prevent him from following the natural inclination to look about the room, she said, “I cannot help but think of the prototype.” This only succeeded in making the dance feel more clinical and odd. Had she just insulted him? “Although you dance with greater elegance,” she added awkwardly. Over the years, she had acquired the ability to dance with nearly anyone. Why was it so much more difficult with him?


A group of women had apparently overheard part of their conversation - most likely her reference to his elegant dancing, for they tittered as Robert led her along the edge of the room past their position. She stiffened slightly in his arms when she heard them, but kept her head high.
 
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