Page 86 of Her Creation

“The bag is empty and unconvincing. If I am to go along with this, at least allow me to lend what little skill I still have to the cause,” he said.

“Fine,” she snapped. She grabbed the jar of maggots from the shelf and walked to where he stood with the bag open, just about to place a book inside. She tossed the jar into the bag, pulled the book from his hand, and dropped it in as well. The instant their fingers brushed, a spark of electricity snapped against her skin, and Victoria pulled away quickly. They stared at one another for a long moment before she leaned forward and closed the bag as it rested on the stone table, still partly held in his grip. “There,” she said, steadying herself. “The maggots are pupae now, many in eclosion. Maybe I can at least free them from their cage. I will release them on the way to the baron’s estate. We’ll pass the old church where my mother is buried. Perhaps they will keep her company until my father can rest beside her.”

“Metamorphosis,” Innominatus said quietly.

“What?”

“They are like you, are they not? In a metamorphosis.” His dark brow lifted.

Victoria’s eyes squeezed shut. “You are not comparing me to maggots and flies.”

He tilted his dark head and stepped closer, his gaze quietly sentimental. “Even the maggot, hidden and shunned, carries within it the promise of wings. In the quiet act of becoming, it learns that change is not decay. It is the moment loneliness ends and life can take flight.”

She moved until she stood directly in front of him, his dark frame illuminated by a golden glow that radiated from behind him like a halo. “So poetic. Tell me, Innominatus—”

“Inno,” he interrupted with a grin. “I prefer when you call me Inno.”

Victoria swallowed her irritation, remembering she had called him that long before he had become who he was now. “Tell me, Inno, how it is that you remember an empty bag might give your disguise away, yet you do not recall how to bathe?” Her brow arched accusingly.

“I did not forget how to bathe, and I never said I did. You assumed and I let you. I couldn’t stand to go back to the lab so soon, and I wanted more time with you.” It began slowly at the corner of his mouth as the faintest lift, then spread wider until it split his lips and revealed his teeth, climbing into his eyes and creasing the corners just behind the spectacles.

Victoria forgot everything. The world seemed to vanish for half a second as she felt his smile more strongly than she had felt her own in a very long time.

“We need to go. The driver is waiting with the carriage,” she muttered. He had been lonely, and she would not fault anyone for that. “And you will be bathing yourself from now on.” They climbed the stairs and opened the door into the sitting room.

“I understand. One more question, before we are within earshot of others. Will you be dancing with Herr von Lichtenmarstein at this ball?”

She gathered her reticule and headed for the front door, pausing only long enough to answer. “I certainly hope not, but as you will soon see and no doubt are already aware, it matters very little what a woman actually wants, especially when it comes to Wilhelm. If it happens, you must remain in character and not let it fluster you. You cannot cause a scene tonight or it will end in us both being killed.”

“I promise you I won’t hurt him…where anyone can hear his screams.”

“Inno!” she snapped, stopping abruptly.

“I do like when you say my name like that,” he said under his breath with a smirk as he took the lead.

The cool spring air washed over them as they stepped outside, clearing away the lingering scent of decay that clung to the castle walls.

At the ball, they were welcomed into the baron’s great mansion and almost immediately the attention shifted toward Innominatus and Victoria. Packs of men pressed in around Innominatus to greet him, their interest sharp and eager, pushing her slowly back until she found herself separated from him entirely. She circled the edge of the gathering, watching him for a moment like a mother hen, ensuring he was holding his own and would not fold beneath the pressure.

What she did not notice was how his gaze followed her even as he answered questions. His posture remained open to the men surrounding him, his expression calm and composed, yet his awareness never strayed from her presence. Each time she moved, his attention tracked the shift as though she were a fixed point anchoring the room. When she paused near the edge of the crowd, his shoulders eased slightly. When she drifted farther away, his jaw tightened.

Her worry eased when she saw him standing calm and controlled among the men, even offering her a small, confident wink that caused something cold and long frozen in her chest to soften.

This was the first social gathering she had attended since her father’s passing, and the loneliness of not having him here hung over her. She had expected to be pushed aside and overlooked, and during the carriage ride she had done her best to prepare Innominatus with fragments of conversation to use, knowing the nobles, both men and women, would descend upon him like scavengers, eager to sink their claws of wealth into him and keep him close for their own advantage.

Now, Victoria’s chest fluttered with nerves. The party was brightly lit, far more than she remembered, and the contrast only highlighted how dark the castle she had been living in truly was. She reassured herself that as long as he kept his cravat tight around his neck, most of his more grotesque, unusual scars remained concealed. The few that were visible lent him a quietly dangerous, intimidating presence that she secretly hoped would discourage anyone from lingering too long.

She drifted through the room, searching for Helena, keenly aware that hovering near the supposed physician’s assistant would only invite questions about their relationship and more talk of them. Every few minutes she cast a furtive glance toward Innominatus, noting how he towered over the other men. He was absurdly handsome, and the knowledge that they shared a secret only sharpened her attraction to him.

Victoria was not a fool. She knew Innominatus could have threatened her just as Wilhelm had. He could have bartered, coerced, or exposed her by revealing what he truly was if she refused him escape, or something else. But he had not. He had stood patiently as she pinned and adjusted his clothing, endured every poke and prod without complaint, and helped her in every way she would allow. How could her father have ever expected her to be so strong and not fall weak before him? She was beginning to wonder if the betrayal against her father might be worth it, and that terrified her.

Victoria passed the sideboard tables laden with opulent pastries, candied fruits, thinly sliced cold meats, and marzipan almonds, all waiting to be offered by circulating servants. She set down her glass and collected a small porcelain cup and ladled dark red punch into it, more for the comfort of having something to hold than any desire to drink. It gave her hands purpose as she searched for a quiet corner where she could linger unnoticed.

She recognized nearly everyone in attendance, but without her father present, no one felt obliged to waste their attention on her, which suited her perfectly. She would have retreated to the library or another quiet room, but after what had happened in the trophy room the last time she had been here, she preferred the misery of the crowd. She found a small, guilty pleasure in stopping to curtsey and answer questions about her father’s whereabouts. It let her hold on to the dream that he was still alive. And besides that, she had the subtle power of carrying knowledge of their most carefully hidden ailments.

Frances Krugen, some stuffy man that her father had known, collided with her, pulling her from her thoughts. Upon recognizing her, he halted his apology and offered a sharp scowl instead.

Innominatus noticed the contact immediately. His attention sharpened, his expression cooling as his gaze fixed on the interaction.