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

do you mean you got stuck?”
    “In the birth canal. Why is it you’re getting more information out of me than I am you?”
    “Practice. And your mother?”
    He looks away. “Died, giving birth to me. Yours?”
    “Passed.” I run a sad finger around the lip of my cup. “Most recently.”
    “I’m sorry.” Urlick’s head drops.
    “So am I.” The room fills with the sound of my spoon grating the bottom of my cup.
    “What is that about your neck?”
    “A necklace. Are they painful?”
    “Pardon?” He looks up.
    “The marks on your face. Are you in pain?”
    “No.” He glances at the gash on my temple. “Are you?”
    “No.”
    I take a sip of tea, slurping, not meaning to, but slurping just the same.
    “You’re not dangerous, are you?” He raises his cup to his purpled lips. “An escaped criminal? Mentally imbalanced? Certifiably insane?”
    “No.” I take offense. “Are you?”
    “No.” His gaze drifts away from me across the room. “I just look a fright.”
    “Interesting.”
    He whirls around, scorching me with a look.
    “I’d call it interesting, not frightful,” I clarify.
    “Then you’d be the only one.” He stands. “More tea?”
     
     

 
     
     
    E ight
     
    Eyelet
     
    “No, thank you.” I decline Urlick’s offer, my teeth still stinging sweet from the last over-sugared cup.
    “In that case, I’ll see you later.” He stands. “I’m sorry, but I’ve work to do.”
    “Wait,” I say, popping to my feet. “I’ll come with you—”
    “You most certainly will not! ” He tugs on the points of his waistcoat again. “I mean—” his pale cheek turns a lovely shade of crimson, almost matching the purpled one. “It’s man’s work. Too taxing for a lady. You’ll get dirty. And you’ve only just gotten yourself... clean .”
    His lips pull into a tight and serious line. This can mean only one thing. The machine. He must be planning to move it inside. Elsewise, why would he care if I shadowed him?
    He can’t possibly be willing to leave me alone with the run of the house and no one to watch me, can he? Not after so many rules. Something’s up. He can’t be that dim. Or that trusting? Can he? Oh my goodness, he is…
    “So,” I raise a brow. “What am I to do until your return?” I tilt my head, playing stupid. I know exactly what it is I’ll be doing.
    He stares at me and hesitates. “I don’t know. Whatever a girl of your fragile nature does with her day, I suppose. Paint. Sculpt. Read.”
    My eyes shrink beneath their lids. How dare he assume me fragile! On what grounds? I’ve certainly not appeared fragile since the moment I arrived. Dread rises in my throat again. Please say he didn’t overhear me in the back of his coach.
    “The study is over there.” He points to an archway off the side of the kitchen, opposite where he stands. My head swings around taking note of it. That makes doorway number four. For such a small space, this kitchen seems to be filled with opportunity for escape. The main entry boxcar door located behind me, another wooden structure painted red standing opposite that leads to the bedrooms upstairs, the archway to the right he’s just pointed out, which opens to the study, and a mysterious heavy, carved, walnut one that looms behind him, I can only presume at this point, leads some sort of back kitchen.
    “I take it you can keep yourself busy in there until lunch is served?” Urlick continues, glaring at me, all hoity-toity like, and I’ve the urge to pinch the smug from his face. How does he keep doing that, switching from nice to nauseous, in so few breaths? Such talent this man possesses.
    “Certainly.” I grit my teeth.
    “Until noon, then,” he nods.
    I return the gesture, slipping him a smirk-tinged grin.
    He slinks across the room and throws open the mystery door, exposing a back kitchen— I was right —and off the back of it another door, slightly opened, leading to a long and narrow, darkened hallway. All my