Patrick placed his other hand against her cheek, whispered his fingertips across her soft skin. “Pretty girl like you? With a miner? Such a waste.”
She grinned sadly, then kissed him.
And he melted against her, wondering if there was a place inside her where he could stay and never resurface.
THE TRENCH TRIBUNENEW TERRANIUM FOUND IN BRINK
The Head of House, Lord Terrence Shop, urged Belaverians in every parish to celebrate this morning as a rich new terranium mine has come to light.
It was discovered by none other than the former rebellion leader and hidden Alchemist, Patrick Colson, who informed the House late last evening that a seam was uncovered deep in the brink, in the mining town of Scurry. This, as Miners Union strikes fall in the North and East.
Lord Shop promised that this was just the first victory to come from his new alliance with Colson. He assured this print press that the earth Charmer, Nina Clarke, will carry out her sentence under the watchful eye of the Lords’ Army, exhuming that which Idia left for us to find.
“Surely,” Lord Shop said, “God has heard our prayers. Long live Belavere.”
BULLETINTO THE ATTENTION OF: SCURRY
The parish of Scurry is hereby held under occupation by the National House and the Lords’ Army of Belavere.
The House thereby orders all residents of Scurry to vacate to open country.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOURPATRICK
At the worker’s whistle, Nina and Patrick left the town house, Tess red-eyed and gripping a mug of tea as though the plate of the town was tipping and she would go sliding off with it. After they buried the Seam they had just yesterday etched from the belly of the earth, Patrick would take his mother home to Kenton Hill.
They entered a quiet lane, most of Scurry not yet waking to the cold, gray light. Newsprint was left in bundled stacks on the stoops of flats, slowly soaking in the frost. The only ones awake were the night soil man returning from his shift, a skin and bones goat tied to an iron gate, the paperboy and his satchel, pinning a new bulletin to the board in the distance. Patrick couldn’t make the headline out from here.
Nina pulled her collar more tightly around her neck and nodded to him.
He took her freezing hand in his, buried them both in his coat pocket.
Back down into the black they’d go. Undo all they’d done.
“Pat?” said a voice.
It was John. He stood at the edge of an alley, cigarette glowing red between his lips. He pulled his hat from his head as though he were stepping into a church. Instead, he only stepped into the street.
Patrick looked away from him and kept walking. “You ought to be halfway to the tracks,” he said. Something wretched swelled in him again. Somethinghe’d hoped to keep buried until he was home and he had a room he recognized surrounding him, so he could bring war to the walls and windows and bellow all of it out.
“Train don’t leave for another hour,” he said. “I wanted to give my apology now, before I left, Pat. Please.”
Patrick came to a slow, reluctant stop, his breath fogging as his head tipped back.
“Let’s keep going, Patrick,” Nina murmured quietly from his side. “Come on.”
“You gonna make me beg, son?” John said. “A moment, and then I’m gone.”
And Patrick realized how desperate he was to hear some remorse from the man he’d followed into every dark corner of the world. A single redeemable thing. He could spare a minute.
Patrick looked down at Nina. “I won’t be long,” he said.
She looked like she might argue, but the night had been fraught enough. “Come back soon.”
“Always do.”
He left Nina at the corner, chickens pecking at her feet, an empty milk crate overturned and stacked high with broken flowerpots. She leaned against the wall there and watched him go. Hems of light fought through the gutters to find her.
Patrick looked back at her once more before he followed his father down the alley. They didn’t trail far—just around the corner and out of sight, where John lit another cigarette and passed it to Patrick.
