Wings of Sorrow and Bone by Beth Cato Page A

like to take a few gremlins to nurse them back to health.” Ones with yellow tags.
    He looked taken aback. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Miss Stout. Science is brutal, as I noted before, but I don’t want to torture them. They are disabled. Keeping them alive, coddling them, isn’t necessarily kindness.”
    Rivka understood his viewpoint. Mr. Cody wasn’t sadistic. He wasn’t like Mr. Stout. But he was ignorant, and at heart, he didn’t really care what happened so long as he achieved his desired results.
    She thought of the women who had mumbled about her on the tram. Over the years, she’d encountered many such ­people who thought she should be kept housebound so others didn’t have to see her face—­or that she should have been smothered as a babe. Rivka knew what it meant to be regarded as disposable.
    Tatiana slid over Lump’s side and impacted on the ground with a grunt. “Will your grandmother let you keep gremlins?” she murmured.
    That was the question, wasn’t it? Grandmother often fondly recalled how she and Miss Leander had sheltered a gremlin on their disastrous airship journey, but bringing several home was something else entirely.
    â€œI have workshop space I call my own. I can squeeze some cages in there.”
    Mr. Cody snorted in a laugh. “And if they escape, they’ll strip your house bare of silver and help themselves to your kitchen, like the peskiest of houseguests. Ones that can’t manage a lavatory.”
    â€œYou’re granting permission, then?” Rivka asked.
    â€œPerhaps. It might be educational for you to see what gremlins are really like. Tell me. How much longer will your academic studies continue?”
    That was a suspiciously pointed question. “Another year or so.”
    He nodded, and she had a sense that he already knew her answer. “My condition for taking gremlins is this—­that you consider employment here, after that year or so. I assume you intend to attach yourself to a master mechanist?”
    â€œYes.” It was a hoarse whisper.
    â€œI can arrange it. I collect the most talented magi and scientists in Tamarania. You’ve already outdone some of my best household mechanists. You can go far.”
    His trophy rooms. His tools. The sheer artistry of Lump.
    Mr. Cody was one of the wealthiest men in Tamarania—­powerful, even outside politics—­and he did use that for scientific advancement. Gremlins wouldn’t exist otherwise.
    Yet gremlins suffered and died for his work, too.
    But maybe, maybe, a powerful mechanist within his ranks could stop that. Find other methods. Her, with power, with long-­term access, with machines that would bring her immeasurable joy. It would defy every awful thing Mr. Stout had ever said about her.
    And yet . . . How many years would it take for Rivka to reach a level where she would hold any sway? Ten? Twenty? How many chimeras would be sacrificed as mere constructs over that span, toys for the wealthy to bang together in pitched battle?
    She forced her dry throat to swallow. “Are you requiring me to sign a contract?”
    His eyes gleamed. “Oh-­ho! You are your grandmother’s heir. No. I won’t ask for a contract. You have promise, but you’re young, and I daresay, you carry some foolhardy notions. It’s my hope that you can mature.”
    So that was why he was letting her take gremlins home. He wanted the experience to sour her on their whole species.
    â€œWell! I have another idea,” said Tatiana. “I can bring them home with me instead. I have my own flat. I don’t need to ask permission.”
    â€œAnd when your mother shows up?” Rivka muttered.
    â€œThat’s weeks away.” Tatiana did her dismissive wrist flick and made sure to catch Rivka’s eye. Rivka had doubted Tatiana’s compassion and sincerity. This act was intended to prove