Page 2 of Bloodgrove

The compartment was spacious, its seats upholstered in dark-red velvet. Here too, the wooden paneling gleamed in the sunlight filtering weakly through the soot-stained windows. As Will ran his fingers over the inlays, he was struck again by how dated every small detail was.

His gaze drifted through the window to the white train glittering in the sun beyond. Clean, straight lines, gentle curves, broad sky-blue windows framed in golden trim—as though it were the direct opposite of the train around him.

That was progress—leaving the machinations of the old world behind, outlawing magic, and building a future for everyone. Anyone could study at the Academy. Anyone could become part of this new, safe world. Every resident of the Capitol helped raise the country out of the shadow of ancient customs.

Apparently, that new wind had never reached Bloodgrove.

“We are expecting one more passenger. Our departure will be slightly delayed,” the conductor said, his voice as colorless as his eyes, skin, and hair.

Only then did Will notice that the luggage boy had not followed him aboard. Irritated, he returned to the doorway and found the child shifting from one foot to the other outside.

“That wasn’t our agreement.”

“Sir, I don’t want the curse to catch me.”

“There is no curse,” Will said, taking two more suitcases. Progress had banished curses and evil omens as well. “When I return in four months, I’ll prove to you there are no monsters or curses.”

The child nodded, wide-eyed, and handed him the final suitcase. “I’ll be here.”

Will sighed again. Resignation was the last refuge left to him, and sighing had long since replaced his laughter. He flicked another coin toward the luggage boy, who caught it out of the air and bolted without a final glance.

Back in his compartment, Will sank onto the bench, stirring the smell of dust. Everything was clean, yet there came a point when no amount of care could hide the passage of time.

The locomotive whistled. A shudder ran through the train, and black smoke swallowed the platform. Will moved toward the window and pushed it open. So far, no one but him had boarded, and he couldn’t suppress his curiosity about the person with whom he would spend the next two days.

One final time, Will let his gaze travel over the platforms: the mother and her children beside a small food stall, the stationmaster, the distinguished young officers, and all the other onlookers between them. They were all staring, and Will had to resist the urge to hide. Before the train had even left the Capitol, everyone in high society would know that William Frank was traveling to Bloodgrove.

A shadow moved through the train’s cloud of steam, striding swiftly across the platform, one hand pulling a hat low over his face. Smoke caught in the long tails of a coat, and a walking stick flashed in the weak sunlight.

The next moment, the passenger had vanished. The door to first class slammed shut, and a whistle shrieked.

Pounding, whistling, and groaning, the train began to move.

Will closed the window and dropped back onto the bench. The man’s silhouette—tall and elegant—had burned itself into his retina.

The train left the station hall, and a view of the Capitol’s high-rises opened before him. Far below, the city streets glittered, while viaducts bearing trams and long-distance trains crossed their path. A zeppelin rose from a landing platform.

Gold, blue, and white. Sandstone and granite, copper and steel. Statues of angels with six outstretched wings crowned the skyscrapers, as though they alone held the buildings upright. For the past ten years, this had been the world Will moved through, the place he had called home. He had been an oddity even here, but people did not spit on the ground to protect themselves from him, as they had in his parents’ fishing village.

Unconsciously, he toyed with a strand of his hip-length silver hair. It slipped through his fingers, soft as silk, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel ashamed of it. Progress had taken him in and given him a place as an interior designer at the Royal Academy. Everything that had found no place in the little fishing village fit perfectly in the Capitol.

And yet he was fleeing.

Will blinked. Steam streaming past the window laid a milky film over the world, as though he were already no longer entirely part of the capital’s brilliance.

As he had so often in recent days, he drew the letter that had saved him from the inner pocket of his jacket.

Dear Mr. Frank,

Praise of your work as an interior designer has reached me—“the rising star of the Royal Academy.” I would like to invite you to Bloodgrove, so that you might work your wonders here as well. It is time for change.

His stomach tightened at the quotation from the article in A Lady’s Guide magazine that had launched him like a comet into the highest circles of the Capitol.

The interior designer who creates rooms for the soul.

For a year, he had danced through every ballroom in the Capitol while requests piled high on his desk. At the fashionable cafés, the people he had always wanted as friends had made room for him. With a mixture of envy and hunger, as he understood now, they had welcomed him into their circle.

No one at the Academy had wanted to work with him, but that had changed the moment they saw his final project, and the queen’s cousin hired him on the very day the exhibition opened.