It had only taken a few well-placed bombings at the mills, and the regime cracked. That had been the start.
The fight was being drawn out—between those too cowardly to join sides and the regime that seemed always one step ahead of the resistance.
We can’t fight forever,was what Aliscent had told her. Vesperin needed to be self-sacrificing, to give up this one thing to help everyone.
Vesperin being given to an inside man of the regime would secure their spot for intelligence, which could allow for well-timed attacks so they could finally get ahead andwin.
All she’d have to do was give herself over to a monster.
The doorknob rattled and clicked as it opened. Vesperin stepped back, blindly reaching for the steam-powered lamp on the wooden table by the door.
Aliscent stepped inside, wearing a brown dress with a white cravat cinched at her neck, as well as a leather-style corset. Her godmother’s blonde hair was swept off her shoulders, and she wore iron goggles pushed up to her temples, which sent the straight strands into a disarray.
"You need to stop fighting. You’ll wear yourself out, Vesperin," said Aliscent. "He won’t like a weary companion."
"Companion," Vesperin scoffed. "We both know I’m nothing of the sort. He will use me and hurt me. He works for the regime. He doesn’t care about me or our cause."
"Do you know why he asked for you?"
"Does it matter? He agreed to take me in exchange for helping the resistance. No nobleman would do such a thing." Vesperin’s corset cut into her ribs with each breath. "Please. Don’t do this to me. What about my parents? My mother—what would they think of you using me like this?"
There was no reasoning with Aliscent. This would happen. They both knew it. Each word Vesperin said was in vain.
"We will be eternally grateful for your sacrifice, Vesperin. I like to think your mother and father would understand what I’m trying to do here. One for the many."
Like Vesperin’s life wasn’t as important as the rest—she should be the sacrificial lamb offered up to whoever was willing to pay?
"When you die and go to the Stars, if you ever see my mother again in another life, I hope she spits in your face," Vesperin said softly.
A look of grief flashed over Aliscent’s face as she turned to the door. "I hope you’ll understand. Aetherborns are rare, women rarer still these days. We have to use whatever we can."
A forged-ironcarriage came for her the next evening.
The heavy clouds of smog from the factories clung to the entirety of Iron Veil like a sickness. She wiped the sleeve of her gown on the glass.
Vesperin watched through the window as a man stepped from the carriage. He wore a black suit, a tie around his neck, slightly loose, as though he didn’t know how to tie it properly himself.
So he was one of those types, then? A pampered boy playing the role of a man.
His eyes cut up to the window, as if he sensed her staring at him. His eyes were brown, with freckles scattered over his cheeks; even through the fog, she saw his handsome features.
Aliscent led her down the steps of their base—a warehouse they’d refurbished to maintain some modicum of a home. It left a strange impression, with rugs scattered everywhere, leaking ceilings, and pipes overhead. It had been the place she’d called home the longest.
Outside, mist clung to her skin like the fog that drifted over the gravel drive. Birds chittered in the woods beyond. Their base was far from the city, with no one around.
The man stood before the carriage, two horses kicking up gravel and huffing at his back.
As the fog drifted over the drive and the sun cut through the clouds for one moment, she saw his face in startling clarity.
He was so handsome. A soft smile played on boyish lips. He straightened his tie, a cane in his gloved hands.
"This is Vesperin Vox." Aliscent placed her hands on Vesperin’s shoulders and shoved her forward. She tripped in her iron-tipped heels.
The man inclined his head, soft brown hair falling over his forehead as he did so. "Charmed." He extended a hand toward Vesperin.
Aliscent forced her closer.
When Vesperin was in reaching distance, the man took her bare hand between his gloved ones. The leather of his gloves was warm from his skin, and he smelled nice. His thumb rubbed over her wrist, and his eyes dropped as she winced. Not all of the cuts on her hands from her escape attempts had healed.
