Events are taking a darker turn from now on so fair warning.
Saturday's Dusk was nervous. He was standing by his brother Noon in Friday's Scriptorium, trying not to sigh too much. It was the annual Midsummer Cocktail Party which like the Christmas Ball was mandatory. Dusk usually enjoyed it but this year he wanted nothing more than for it to be over. He had done his best not to think about Clara Jenkins since Christmas but he knew tonight he was sure to at least catch a glimpse of her. It was imperative that he acted coolly around her lest Saturday repeat her ridiculous accusations.
There were a number of representatives from the Great Maze milling around, all dressed in their full formal dress complete with medals and adornments. At least, the men were, the women were taking this opportunity to look their best in cocktail dresses and evening gowns. Dusk was standing by his brother Noon when he got a nasty shock. Sir Thursday was standing across the room from them and at his side, a young woman in a low cut pale silver silk dress.
Dusk stared in something close to horror. It was Clara, and she looked terrible. She had definitely lost weight in the six months since he'd last seen her. Her cheeks, once red from spots, were hollow and pale. Her eyes had unhealthy dark circles under then and the hand holding her cocktail glass shook a little as she raised it to her lips. But what disturbed Dusk was the way Thursday's hand rested on the small of her back, almost possessively. As he turned away to join another conversation, Clara went with him like an obedient dog.
"What's the matter?" Noon asked, for Dusk had made a scandalised noise.
He had just noticed that her back, which was exposed due to the cut of the dress, was raw from half healed scratches. Noon followed his brother's gaze and his eyes lit up.
"Ah yes, your disappointed admirer. Gone completely off the rails from what I hear." he said, nodding knowingly. Dusk looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, apparently Thursday's been banging her senseless for months now. I got it from an officer friend of mine, the whole Citadel is buzzing about it."
"So what are those bruises for?" Dusk asked, feeling faintly sick. Noon shrugged.
"Maybe he gets ah…over exited with her?" he suggested, then he laughed at his own nerve.
Dusk could hardly believe what he was hearing. How could he not have got wind of this sooner? He was supposed to be Saturday's spy master! Gossip like this usually spread through the House like wildfire. Disregarding the little voice in his head that warned him to be cautious, he started towards Clara. Halfway there however he spotted his cousin Marshal Dawn and decided to change course mid-stride.
"Cousin." he greeted, nodding his head to her.
Dawn was wearing crimson this evening and as was customary for officers of the Great Maze, sporting a painful looking black eye. She was nursing her Gin and Tonic with a pensive air and she raised her head to look at Dusk.
"Saturday's Dusk, dragged yourself down from on high to mingle with the underlings then?" she asked dryly.
The mutual dislike between denizens of the Upper House and the Great Maze was well known. Dusk disregarded her tone and skipped the formalities.
"How is Private Jenkins shaping up? Last I heard she was playing merry hell with the training instructors' nerves in Fort Transformation."
"You really are behind the times aren't you?" Dawn sighed. "It's Second Lieutenant Jenkins now and she's been in residence at the Citadel since February."
"A commission? So soon?" Dusk asked in surprise, taking a Martini from a passing waiter and taking a sip. Dawn gave him a withering look.
"What do you want cousin? I know you, you hate idle chatter."
Dusk frowned and glanced behind him at Clara and Sir Thursday. He usually employed the softly softly approach when extracting information, and he turned on the charm when it came to women. But Marshal Dawn was an army denizen on whom this tactic wouldn't work and Dusk was too impatient to take care in his grilling.
"Is it true that Sir Thursday has been abusing Clara? She looks unhealthy!"
Dawn's face seemed to crumple for a moment but then she set it into a cold expression.
"I don't see why you should care after you were so beastly to Clara at Christmas." she said sharply and Dusk winced.
"How did you know about that?" he demanded.
"Clara told me, she also told me how you led her on for weeks prior to the incident. So forgive me if I have cause to question your integrity. What's your game? Digging up dirt for your precious mistress?"
"Look," Dusk said in a low and angry voice. "I didn't want to do that to Clara! I was acting under orders, you of all people should understand that. I grew quite fond of her in the autumn and I am concerned for her well-being! So tell me, what has been happening down there?"
Dawn's eyes darted between each of his as if trying to catch one of them lying. Then she sighed and her face slipped into a misery once again.
"It's been dreadful." she said sadly. "Clara made the rather catastrophic mistake of silencing the Fourth Part of the Will a few months ago. Now, Thursday hardly lets her out of his sight! She's terrified of him, whenever she displeases him he lashes out! He nearly broke her arm a couple of weeks ago. She isn't allowed to talk to anyone anymore. It's really starting to affect her health! Physically, and mentally."
"Is that how you got that then?" Dusk asked, nodding at the black-eye. Dawn's shoulders slumped.
"He caught us talking last Saturday." she explained. "It's the only time she's away from him, her blood cleaning, so I've been taking the opportunity to see her then. But now he knows, I doubt I'll ever get a private conversation with her again."
"What about regulation? Surely this kind of relation is illegal."
Dawn gave a bark of derisive laughter.
"Do you really think anyone is foolish enough to bring charges against Sir Thursday?! Even the other Days don't care. I tried writing directly to Lady Friday, thinking she might reason with him, but it was no use."
Dusk stared at her then back at Clara. No wonder she was holding herself so gingerly. Dusk didn't think he'd ever seen a more defeated looking person. It made his heart bleed, Clara had been so fiery! So stupidly stubborn! What had Thursday done to her to make her bend the knee to him?
"Don't go over there." Dawn warned. "The fact that you're Saturday's servant won't protect you from his wroth."
Dusk ignored her and marched up to Sir Thursday and his aide. The Trustee was talking to Grim Tuesday with his back to Clara so Dusk managed to reach her without drawing attention to himself.
"Good evening Miss Jenkins." he said in a muted voice. Clara raised her head slowly and Dusk nearly flinched at the deadened look in her eyes. This wasn't right, she ought to be glaring at him!
"Good evening sir." she said flatly. "But I'm afraid it's Second Lieutenant Jenkins now."
"Yes of course, forgive me, I heard you'd received a commission. Uh…" Dusk cast around for something, anything, to say. "How does army life treat you?" he asked, lamely. Clara began to recite in a monotonous voice.
"I am a soldier of the Glorious Army of the Architect. I am proud to serve my brave commander Sir Thursday."
Dusk stared at her with his mouth slightly open.
"Isn't that the mantra they teach you at Fort Transformation?" he asked slowly. Clara nodded emotionlessly. Dusk decided he'd had enough of pretending and he dropped his voice even more.
"Clara stop this, it's me! We can talk frankly to each other, remember? What happened at Christmas was unfortunate but I was hoping we could put it behind us. Now stop talking like a soldier, you told me you hate the army."
"I am a soldier of the Glorious Army of the Architect. I am proud to serve,"
Dusk took hold of both of Clara's arms and shook her a little.
"Clara listen to me! You've clearly been through a lot but you have to remember who you are! What would your father say?"
For a moment Dusk thought he saw a flicker of emotion in Clara's pretty blue eyes. Shock, anger, hurt, all bad emotions but they gave Dusk hope. Then it was dashed when a hand slammed into his chest and sent his careering backwards.
"Unhand my aide sir!" Thursday hissed, yanking Clara behind him. Slightly winded, Dusk rubbed his chest and recovered quickly.
"Forgive me Sir Thursday, the Second Lieutenant and I were merely chatting." he said calmly, ignoring the stares they were now attracting.
"If you ever talk to her again I'll break your Upper House neck." Thursday said in a deadly voice, glowering at Dusk.
Now the rational Dusk would have backed off at this point, but Thursday's words stirred an anger in him that he couldn't contain.
"Forgive my impertinence, sir, but last time I checked there was no law stating a gentleman cannot make polite conversation with a lady when neither of them have other duties to perform. Or are things done differently in the Great Maze?"
Clara gave a small cry of alarm and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle it. Her gaze darted fearfully between her commander and Dusk and she shook her head slightly at the latter, warning him to run for his life. Thursday's hand curled into a fist and he started towards Dusk.
"No!" Clara squeaked, running between them and raising her hands to Thursday. "Don't hurt him!"
Thursday paused and glanced down at her before glaring at Dusk over the top of her head. There were a tense couple of seconds before he turned on his heel and marched away. Clara hurried after him, casting Dusk a terrified look as she went. Dusk let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and relaxed his shoulders.
"I told you not to interfere." Marshal Dawn said as she joined him. "She'll be for it tonight thanks to you."
"I thought my mistress was supposed to be the jealous one." Dusk muttered under his breath.
Dawn snorted humourlessly but didn't comment as Saturday's Noon stepped casually over to them with his arms behind his back.
"My my, that filly's been broken." he chuckled. Dusk rolled his eyes towards the ceiling whilst Marshal Dawn glared at her cousin.
"Yes, thank you for that comment. I'm sure you find the distress of a young woman to be quite amusing." she hissed furiously before stalking away towards her brothers.
.
.
.
The Cocktail Party had been quite a trial for Clara. She was in constant pain these days and to have to act like nothing was wrong for hours on end was almost too much for her. But now it was over and she was free to wince and whine as she pleased. She moved carefully around the guest room, her shaking hand pressed against her side. Her ribs had been stabbing her with pain for a couple of days now and she was sure at least one of them was cracked. But it was still three more days until her appointment with Doctor Scamandros so she'd have to bare it until then.
"I didn't like the way Saturday's Dusk was looking at you tonight." Thursday growled as he angrily undid his cufflinks.
Clara stiffened then slowly removed her dog tag and earrings, placing them on the dressing table.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Thursday snapped when she made no reply. Clara licked her dry lips nervously as she considered her answer.
"I'm sure Saturday's Dusk was just being polite." she said faintly. Thursday scowled and then huffed as his fingers slipped over the clasps of his tunic.
"Help me undress!" he ordered and Clara crossed towards him at once.
This was one of her least favourite duties as it was always a prelude to other, more painful activities. She kept her eyes downturned as she helped Thursday shrug off his tunic.
"If I catch him so much as looking at you again, I swear to Architect I'll rip his eyes out." Thursday muttered darkly and Clara flinched.
She'd learnt to say as little as possible to her commander, as he was liable to fly off the handle about the tiniest things. She folded the tunic and placed it on the sofa without uttering a word but her silence did not save her. Thursday gripped her upper arm in a vice like grip and he dragged her back towards him.
"Remind me again Jenkins, what are you?" he hissed and Clara battled not to make a sound of pain.
"I am a soldier of the Glorious Army of the Architect. I am loyal to my brave commander Sir Thursday." she recited dutifully.
He liked having her repeat this often, especially when they were in bed together. Perhaps it solidified his assumption that he owned her. His lip curled and he nodded.
"Precisely. I forbid you to look at that man again by the way. Now undress yourself and get into bed."
Clara's lip trembled as she contemplated the pain in her chest. She could tell Thursday was in a foul mood that evening and she wasn't sure her ribs would hold out if they did…that.
"Sir," she began in a constricted voice. "I – I'm tired tonight. Could we just, go to sleep?"
Thursday's eyes narrowed and without warning he drew back his arm and back handed Clara. His knuckles connected sharply with her cheek bone and she screamed when she fell to the floor and her bruises jarred. She bit down on the cry and screwed up her eyes to stem any tears that might come.
"How dare you question a direct order!" Thursday snarled at her. "What's the matter with you tonight? That's the second time you've been disrespectful!"
Clara struggled to her feet, still clenching her teeth against the stabbing in her chest. Thursday grabbed a fistful of her hair and growled in her ear,
"This is about that prat Dusk, isn't it? I knew it! He was fucking you last autumn wasn't he?!"
"No!" Clara gasped as she felt some of her hairs divorce her scalp. "No sir! He never, I never – he hates me! He said so at the Ball."
"Little liar!" Thursday spat, now snatching at her dress which ripped from her left shoulder all the way to her waist. "You're a little whore Jenkins, Friday must have rubbed off on you."
.
.
.
Saturday's Dusk could hardly contain himself. He was in Friday's private sitting room where his Mistress and Friday herself were relaxing with a nightcap each. Both were chatting casually and resolutely ignoring the increasingly terrified screams issuing from the half open door. Dusk squirmed and winced with every shriek of pain. After a particularly piercing wail he cracked.
"Mistress, may I –"
"Move one step from there and you're fired." Saturday said coldly, lifting her glass to her lips.
Dusk looked appealingly at Friday but he was revolted to see her smile slyly at him. He could do nothing but stand by the door and try to block out Clara's distress. She went quiet after about twenty minutes and about an hour after that, Dusk was finally dismissed. He made his way miserably to his own room, reflecting there was no use to go to Clara's rescue after Thursday was done with her. But as he reached the staircase he found Clara sitting on the bottom step, curled up in a quivering ball and leaning heavily against the banister.
"Clara." Dusk sighed sadly and she looked up at him. She was holding her torn dress up with one hand and biting the knuckles of the other. Dusk dropped on his haunches and reached to check her over but she flinched back.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
"F-fell down the stairs." she stuttered, clearly lying. "My rib, I think it's broken, I can't breathe properly!"
"Right, that does it." Dusk said grimly and without a second thought he lifted Clara in his arms and carried her to the back of the Scriptorium.
Friday had a series of rooms kitted out for medical procedures from when she had become obsessed the profession. Dusk deposited Clara carefully on an examination table.
"I'll need to take a look at your ribcage." he warned her and Clara shot him a resentful look.
"Sure, why not? It's not like anything's private anymore anyway." she said bitterly.
Dusk winced at that but he forced himself to be professional in his quick examination. Clara was right, she had one broken rib and a couple cracked. Dusk placed a cool hand against the worst injuries and muttered a few words of the Architect's language. He was surprised that Clara managed not to shout in pain, merely pressing her fingers to her mouth as her teeth jarred.
"Sorry, I know it hurts." he said apologetically.
As he took his hand away he couldn't help but allow the tips of his fingers to linger on her skin a tad longer than necessary. The contact was not lost on Clara who frowned and looked him in the eye.
"I've felt worse." she said softly. Dusk didn't doubt it, Thursday clearly did not handle his toys with care. The terrible resignation he saw in her eyes spurred Dusk to speak when he knew he ought to hold his tongue.
"Clara I'm so sorry for what happened at Christmas." he blurted out. Clara's face shuttered and she looked away, pulling her dress up as she did so.
"It doesn't matter." she said icily. "I know it was my fault really."
"It was my fault! I should never have – I mean I didn't want to! But I was acting under strict orders from Saturday."
Clara's head snapped around and her eyes went wide.
"You, you didn't mean what you said?!" she asked incredulously. "But I thought you hated me!"
"Of course not you silly thing!" Dusk sighed in exasperation. "Oh come here for Architect's sake."
He drew her into a hug (carefully, in case she had any injuries he may have missed) and after a moment Clara wrapped her arms around him too.
"Saturday wasn't happy about all the time we spent together." Dusk explained quietly. He felt Clara snort or laugh, he wasn't sure which, and her embrace tightened.
"Sorry I thought you were a prat." she laughed nervously. "I suppose I could have been a tiny bit more mature about it, but ah well."
Dusk smiled. They stayed like that for some minutes, neither seeming to want to leave the comfort of the other's arms. It was Clara who eventually pushed against Dusk's chest so she could hop down from the table.
"I have to get back. He was asleep but he might wake up once the Will realises I'm not there. I don't need to piss him off even more than I already have. Oh, a word of warning, if you don't want to be blind I suggest you don't look at me when Thursday's around."
Dusk almost wouldn't let her go, he wanted to reach out and protect her from Thursday's cruelty, but millennia of obeying Saturday stayed his hand. He watched her pad quietly out of the surgery with a sinking feeling in his heart. This was the worst he'd ever felt in his life, which was saying something. Once Dusk had gone to bed, switching off the gas lamps as he went, all was quiet in the Scriptorium. But then a patch of air in the corner of the surgery shimmered and the sorcerous veil fell away. Saturday's face was set like marble but her shaking fists betrayed her. Had Dusk been a little less preoccupied, he would have noticed the sorcery in a second. But alas, he had not.
"So be it." she muttered, before striding from the Scriptorium and taking the Improbable Stair back to the Upper House.