The ticket inspector reached him, punched a hole in the corner of his ticket, and continued on. Colton wondered what to do now. The thought of sitting among all these people—who were Indian, which meant the English probably sat elsewhere—made him even more nervous, thinking of all the ways he could invite their gazes. Though Colton was often lonely in his tower, he’d grown used to solitude, and right now that’s all he longed for. He wanted to put his thoughts together before he found Danny.
A young Indian woman bumped into him from behind. She looked lost, and not a little scared. When the ticket inspector turned to the new passengers, her eyes grew large.
“Are you all right?” Colton asked. The man punched someone else’s ticket and she winced. “Do you not have a ticket?” She shook her head.
He handed her his own. She stared at him, then snatched it from his hand. Just in time, too, for the man turned to her next. She showed him the already-punched ticket.
“Sorry, miss. Must’ve already done yours.”
When he was gone, she tried to press the ticket back into Colton’s hands.
“Keep it. I don’t need it anymore.”
He turned to find a quiet place. An open door led to another carriage, this one even louder than the one he’d just left. His side ached, and his head swam. He felt weaker by the second.
He passed through two more carriages until he found a closed door. Testing it, he found it wasn’t locked, and opened to a darker carriage filled with luggage and crates. Colton waited until the men loading the compartment jumped off and closed the main platform doors. Then he snuck inside and closed the door behind him.
The carriage was blessedly quiet. All he could hear was the hiss and rumble of the train. He wandered through barrels and boxes, smelling strange aromas and reading strange words. Tallow, oil, ink, spices. If he were human, he wondered if he would sneeze. Danny would sometimes sneeze in the tower if it got too dusty. Colton once told him he looked adorable when he sneezed. Danny, flustered, hadn’t been able to speak for five minutes.
The pain flared again and he leaned against the wall, sliding to the floor. Wedged between a box marked FRAGILE and another smelling of mint, Colton closed his eyes and tried to decide what to do.
He had to dream again. When he’d looked in the mirror, he had seen himself, the same face he’d seen in Danny’s mirror and in the sketch Danny had drawn. But the colors had been all wrong, his skin paler and dotted with freckles, his hair dark, his eyes blue. He’d looked … human.
Maybe it wasn’t me, he thought. Maybe it was someone I knew when my tower was built. Someone I wanted to look like.
But the Jaipur clock spirit had said he’d experienced the visions, too.
The only way to find out was to dream. But, despite his weakness, Colton couldn’t get to that place of unconsciousness. It seemed he had stocked up on rest during his night on the airship.
The train began to move forward. Colton realized what he had to do. With a pinch of trepidation, he slipped the cog holder off his shoulders and leaned it against a box. Almost immediately the weakness tripled, his head swimming and his vision doubling.
Closing his eyes, he fell into sought-after darkness.
They lounged in Castor’s bed for most of the afternoon. The sheets were thick and somewhat itchy, but the two of them barely noticed, too distracted by each other.
The wind howled outside, but they were warm and safe in bed. Colton felt heavy and happy as Castor hummed low in his throat. Their fingers skimmed over skin, their eyes sometimes meeting with a secretive smile.
“So?” Castor asked. His voice had fallen into a comfortable baritone in the past year, and it made Colton shiver when it hit its lowest notes. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“What we were talking about before.”
“You mean before you shoved me onto the bed?”
“Yes, that.”
“I can’t remember that far back.”
Castor scooted farther in, resting a warm hand on Colton’s back. Colton pressed his own hand against Castor’s chest. “When we were talking about London,” Castor said.
“Oh.” The bliss faded a little, making him more aware of the cold air outside. Colton idly drew circles over Castor’s chest, but wouldn’t look at his face. Lowering his voice, he said, “I don’t think it would work.”
“Why not? You said you loved the city when we visited last year. So did I.”
Colton bit his lower lip, and Castor brought his hand back around to run it up his side.
“I want to live with you,” Colton said softly, “but I can’t leave my family. I can’t leave Abigail. You know that.”
“I do. Which is why”—Castor paused to kiss the tip of Colton’s nose—“she’ll be coming with us.”
Colton drew back. “What? She can’t go to London. She’s still unwell. Enfield is good for her. Fresh air, fewer people, a doctor who knows her condition—”
“But she can be with her big brother and his handsome friend who know how to care for her. Maybe London life will do her wonders, and she’ll grow strong enough to go out into the city and enjoy herself. Make friends, see plays, dress up.”
“We haven’t the money for that.”
“Not now, but that can change.”
“You just want to spoil her.”
“Maybe. But you do, too.”
“I don’t think our parents would ever allow it.”
“They’re not nearly as protective as you are. I’m sure they’d listen to you.”
“Castor …” The boy’s brown eyes were warm and deep, and he made the mistake of looking into them. There was little to no chance of denying him when he looked so sincere.
“Just consider it.” Castor drew Colton closer until their stomachs touched. Colton closed his eyes as Castor kissed him, lightly at first, then deeper. They were reaching under the sheets again when they heard the front door slam.
“Castor!”
They sprang apart like spooked cats. Colton fell to the floor as he scrambled for his clothes, counting the heavy footsteps approaching Castor’s door.
“Castor? Are you in there?”
“Yes!”
The door opened with a creak and Castor’s father peered in. Castor sat fully dressed on his bed while Colton took up the wooden chair in the corner. Both boys tried to hide the fact that they were breathing heavily.
“Beele is looking for you two. He’s by the shrine.”
They exchanged a look. Beele hardly ever asked to see them outside of classes, and their next trip to the coast wasn’t for a few weeks.
“Thank you, Mr. Thomas,” Colton said.
The boys silently walked across the village green. Castor’s face was still bright pink. Colton hoped he would forget about London for a while.
Beele stood lingering beside the Aetas shrine near the church. The statue depicted the god with palms supine, standing strong upon a dais of a clock face. His face was cut in clear detail, from the straight line of his nose to the deep facets of his eyes. Colton glanced at it, feeling both drawn and disquieted by the figure.
When everyone was assembled, Beele told them they were making a special trip to the coast as soon as possible. Murmurs and puzzled looks swept through the students.
“Sir, has something happened?” Castor asked.
“Well …” Beele’s eyes swept over the group, the older boys and girls and the younger ones who had just been initiated. “Something must be looked into, and I’d rather everyone be there.”
“What needs to be looked into, sir?” asked a tall boy.