Free Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) by Jacqueline E. Garlick Page B

dark, then?” I push. “If it’s intended for aesthetics.”
    His brow furrows. “Why, to keep the birds from crashing into it, of course.”
    Of course.
    I’m not sure if he’s intentionally trying to make me feel daft, or if he’s just always this wonderfully insolent. If this keeps up I’ll be in dire need of a mood barometer soon. Perhaps I’ll have to build one.
    “The loo’s over there—”
    “Pardon?”
    “The loo.” He glances across the room. “The water closet .”
    Again with the insolent thing.
    “I thought you might want to freshen up a little.” His eyes traipse the length of my frame.
    I look down at the stains on my lace, my muddied skirts. “Oh... yes …” I gasp, popping from the chair. It’s the first time I’ve even thought about my appearance. My reflection in the tabletop tells me it’s far from good. Mud-spattered cheeks, a squirrel’s nest of hair, dried blood smeared from my nose to my chin. How utterly charming. What must he think? Oh goodness, what must he think? I swallow, creeping across the floor toward the loo, rather embarrassed.
    “You’ll find fresh clothes on a chair in the corner—”
    Fresh clothes?
    “I messaged ahead to have some set out for you.”
    Just as I’m about to ask how, I throw open the door and the thought evaporates. I’ve never seen such a lavishly decorated water closet in all my life. The delicate porcelain sink, the granite-veined floors, a crystal aether chandelier? I touch it and it tinkles. How can this be? Such fine accessories out here in the middle of no man’s land. I run my fingers over the shiny brass taps.
    “Did you find the clothes all right?”
    “Yes,” I shout, turning my eyes to the neatly folded pile of clothes on a chair in the corner. A formal day suit—I pick it up—featuring modest peplum-style hip draperies, with velvet bustle in back. Not bad. The center skirt is far too long for my liking, nearly floor-length compared to my usual mid-thigh, but I suppose it’ll have to do. I hold up the jacket. The shoulders are far too wide, grotesquely too wide. Oh well, those who commandeer their way into others’ worlds can’t be choosers, now can they?
    I pick through the undergarments, wondering to whom they might belong. Urlick’s mother, perhaps? Though he’s not mentioned a mother. I give the skirt a shake and start to undress.
    “There are a few house rules I need to go over with you,” Urlick hollers through the door.
    House rules? The authority in his voice sharpens my quills.
    “Breakfast is at six-thirty sharp. Lights out at nine o’clock.”
    Nine o’clock! I step from my old skirt and yank on the new one, wrestling it up over my hips. I reach for the chemise, afraid to bend over too deeply. That’s unusually snug.
    “No one is allowed to roam about the house at night; it’s strictly forbidden,” Urlick continues.
    Forbidden? Really. “What do you mean, no one?” I holler back. “I thought it was just your father, me, and you?”
    He ignores the question altogether, barking still more rules. “You are never to leave the Compound—”
    I tightening the strings on the corset, fasten the buttons of the bodice, dry my face and restack my hair. “Compound?” I say, emerging from the room still fussing with my skirt.
    “Yes, Compound. ” He turns, indicating the rooms of the house with his hands. “You are never to leave here without a chaperone. It’s simply too dangerous. Do so, and you risk being attacked by roaming criminals or the Infirmed. No one leaves the buildings at all during half-moon to full-moon phases, when the Vapours are at their worst. It’s too deadly, for obvious reasons.” I swallow. “And if and when you ever see my father, which will be rare”—he eyes me hard—“you are never to bother him, never speak to him for any reason. Is that clear?”
    “Why?”
    “Why?” He turns, tugging at the points of his waistcoat. “Because it is the rule , that’s