Page 50 of The Black Key

“Yes,” I murmur. “That’s nice.”

Another silence falls, a peaceful one. I think about that last conversation Ash and I had in the hayloft, about our future together. For a moment, I allow myself to believe it could be real.

“What do you want for this city, Lucien?” I ask.

He smiles lazily. “No walls. No separation. A united city. A ruling body chosen based on the quality of minds and the depth of compassion, not bloodlines and Houses. People from every circle represented. I want the people of this city to have a legitimate say in how they live their lives.”

“Yes,” I agree. “No more walls. I want everyone to see one another as people, not companions or surrogates or servants.” I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of wood varnish, and books, and paint. “I really like it here.”

Lucien looks overcome for a moment, his eyes brimming with emotion.

“Thank you,” he says finally. “You do not know how much that means to me. And how much it pains me to ask this one favor of you.”

“Anything,” I say.

“If the time comes . . . the Auction . . . and we lose—”

“Let’s not think ab—”

He holds up a hand. “Should things start to look bad for us . . . I want you to destroy this place.”

I gasp. “What? Why?”

Lucien takes in the beakers, the clocks, the unfinished portrait of Azalea. “I will not let this fall into their hands. And you are the only one who can destroy it.”

Even as he says it, I sense the air around me pricking, charging. Air and I could tear this place apart easily. Even if it would break my heart to do so.

He looks at me with eyes so desperate, so pleading. “Please, Violet. Do not let them take this last piece of me.”

I have no choice but to agree. “All right,” I say. “But only as a last resort.” I reach out and place my hand on top of his. “Azalea would be so proud of you.”

Lucien lets out a quiet sob, then pulls himself together. “I truly hope so.” He takes my hand in both of his and kisses my knuckles gently. “I did not know how you would change me. I didn’t realize my own prejudices, my own shortsightedness. I thought I knew everything; I thought I had a plan and the execution would be simple. I was wrong.”

“Haven’t we all been wrong about this at some point?” I say. “I mean, isn’t that how we learn to be right?”

“You are a good person, Violet Lasting. I hope that never changes.”

“You are a good person, Cobalt Rosling.” Lucien starts at my use of his true name. “I hope we both make it out of this. This city needs you.” The mood has grown too somber. I try to break it. “And I’m sick of being called Imogen. How do you handle it?”

Lucien crosses his legs and leans back. “You know, I don’t even mind it anymore. I’ve assumed ownership over the name, I suppose. There hasn’t been a Lucien in over a hundred years. Do you know, the Exetor named me himself? Since there was no Electress when I was purchased by the Royal Palace.” His eyes glaze over a bit with the memory. “I was so scared I was shaking. There was an ancient woman named Gemma who trained me. And the Exetor came into the dining room while I was learning the finer points of service. He is an avid hunter, and I knew that. He asked me about all the different types of prey that are groomed for the Royal Forest, and the best methods to track each one. He asked me about royal lineages. He gave me a gun in pieces and watched as I put it together, while a footman timed me. He gave me a list of taxes collected from some royal holdings in the Farm and asked me to predict the percentage increase over the following ten years. I had just turned eleven. By the end, I was sweating. I remember the Exetor rolling up several sheets of parchment, handing them to Gemma, and saying, ‘Most impressive. His name will be Lucien.’ And that was it. I wasn’t Cobalt anymore.”

“You still are,” I insist.

“I suppose.” He scratches his elbow. “For all their preening and airs, the royalty are still just people. Twisted, yes, but people all the same. The Exetor was very lonely. I think that’s why he married the Electress. Because I have always suspected that he is still in love with the Duchess.”

“Then why was their engagement broken?” I wonder aloud.

“As far as that goes,” Lucien says, standing, “your guess is as good as mine. Come. We have lingered here long enough.”

As we leave the secret chamber, climb down the spiral stair, and emerge back into the bustling servant halls of the palace, I feel like I have just left a dream and entered the real world again. Lucien’s workshop feels like a part of some other place, a piece of him made tangible.

I truly hope I don’t have to destroy it.

Seventeen

ONE WEEK.

That’s all we have left. Seven days until the world changes, for better or for worse. Raven and Sil should be leaving for Southgate tomorrow. And the next train they take will be to the Auction House.