Chapter 3:
"A Royal Headache"
July 25, 1915
London Zoological Society
Wildcount Ernst Volger was a man of many talents, but it did not seem to Deryn that teaching was among them.
"So he made a decent fencing instructor." She grumbled to Alek one evening after she'd escaped from her agonizing lessons with the count. "But blisters, is he a rotten tutor!"
"Remind me again why we are having this conversation inside a miniscule broom closet?" Alek complained flatly.
"Shhhhhh," Deryn hushed him. "Not so loud, you bum-rag!" She crouched uncomfortably and grimaced - her back was pressed up against the door, and the knob was digging rather painfully into her side. "Not a squick louder than a whisper, or he'll find me!"
"He might not be the friendliest fellow, but I can't possibly imagine that his lessons are terrible enough that you're hiding from him." Alek exclaimed. "Imagine that, the courageous ex-midshipman Dylan Sharp, hiding from his lessons."
"It's not the lessons that I'm hiding from, you ninny, it's that ruthless count!" She argued, shuddering at the sheer thought of Volger and his thick gray moustache.
There were only three days remaining until Deryn was to attend the gala hosted by Red Star Chemicals in disguise, and after more than a week of lessons with the Count, she was miserable and no better at acting like royalty than she had been before. Volger often remarked that tutoring her was a headache, but it was always Deryn who ended up with a throbbing pain in her skull when it was over.
"Also," Alek added, "Why did you drag in here with you? It's pitch dark and there's not even enough room for one person, let alone the both of us." As usual, Alek was right. He and Deryn were crammed so close together that her diddies were pressed right up against his chest. There didn't need to be any light in this blasted closet for her to know that he was blushing red as a tomato.
"Volger is downright detestable." She avowed, ignoring Alek's bashfulness. Honestly, Deryn had dragged him along thinking they'd have a quick snog, they barely even had enough space to breathe. Kissing would have been near impossible.
"Besides," she continued, "He told me my English was deplorable and that I'd be better off impersonating an ursine than a princess!"
"He compared you to a Russian fighting bear?" Alek asked, incredulous. Then, after a bit of thought, he chuckled. "I guess with a bit of fur and some claws, you'd make an excellent- Ouch!" Deryn had pinched his arm viciously. "That's going to leave a mark!"
She crossed her arms- or tried to, but her left was jammed between a broom and the wall and she only ended up closer to Alek. "I might not act like one, but I am a girl."
"Believe me," Alek replied, "I am most certainly aware of that fact at the moment."
Deryn tried as hard as she could not to snort out peals of laughter.
"Deryn," Alek hinted, trying to break the awkward silence, "you're proving his point. A princess would never attack someone or resort to violence like that. A fighting bear, on the other hand…"
"I didn't attack you, I just pinched you a wee bit." Deryn muttered. "But I suppose you're right. So what does your princeliness suggest that I do instead? Curtsy?"
"Hm," Alek mused. "I suppose that if I were compared to an ursine, I'd take it as a compliment. After all, they're known for being quite powerful. Rather than allowing Volger to insult you, find a way to twist his words to work in your favor without getting angry."
"I see," Deryn said. "But Volger is too clever. He'd see through that with no trouble."
"Not only that," came a grimly familiar voice from the other side of the door, "I can also hear you from out here with no trouble."
"Blisters! How'd he find me so fast?" Deryn cursed.
"Well," observed Volger from the other side of the door, "much like an ursine, you are appallingly noisy and leave irreparable destruction in your wake."
"Destruction?" Gaped Alek. "Deryn, what did you do?"
"Nothing!" Deryn insisted, then racked her brains for a bit. "On second thought, I may have dropped by the message lizard room and shouted 'Count Volger is urgently needed in the mailroom' in my best Dr. Barlow voice," she admitted. "I think nearly a dozen of the wee beasties went scurrying away shortly after."
"There's a mailroom here?" Alex asked with uncertainty.
"Well, probably." Deryn figured dubiously. "I mean, it's likely."
"Indeed there is a mailroom here," the Count affirmed, his tone frigid. "It happened to be located on the highest floor of this building, accessible only by climbing twelve flights of stairs. It also happened to be filled with fabricated birds, an utterly offensive odor, and about a dozen disgruntled employees who had no idea who I was or why I would possibly be needed there."
Deryn winced. "He sounds a tad cross," she whispered to Alek under her breath.
"Cross?" Alek croaked. "He's completely vexed."
"A better word would be irate," was Count Volger's biting reply. "So furious, in fact, that I've decided to lock this door from the outside until young Deryn can prove to me that my efforts to tutor her in etiquette were fruitful."
"Barking spiders, you're a madman!" bellowed Deryn, just as Alek shouted,
"Wait just a moment!"
"A moment? I have the entire night to wait. Once she can prove that she possesses any semblance of manners, I shall set you both free." Volger promised.
"But I've got nothing to do with this!" Alek protested. Deryn resisted the urge to pinch him again.
"I have no doubt that you were an accomplice to Miss Sharp's plotting," Volger asserted. "If you weren't, then why are you inside that closet with her?"
...
There were few times that Alek was left speechless, but this was certainly one of them. To call Count Volger 'displeased' would be the understatement of the century.
Not only that, but Alek was completely flustered. He'd never been so close to Deryn before, and the way her chest was pressed against his was absolutely indecent. Not necessarily unpleasant, but indecent. Improper. Immoral. Immodest. Amazing.
"Blisters, all right!" Deryn roared. "I'll prove to that I can be the most respectable, poised, posh lady ever to be crammed inside a barking broom closet!"
"I'm not sure that's the best start," Alek muttered, but, remembering the pain in his arm where he'd been pinched, he sealed his lips.
"Well," came Count Volger's unimpressed voice, "Let's make some small talk, shall we?"
To Alek's surprise, Deryn masked her strong Scottish accent behind a British one. "Oh, of course, Count. But let's discuss something a bit more intellectual than the weather. Perhaps the state of the Eastern front?"
"Ah," Volger declaimed pompously, "but such unseemly topics are unsuited for a young lady of such an innocent, proper upbringing."
"I must respectfully disagree," said Deryn, "but I find that a lady in a position like mine as a public figure has the responsibility of discussing such unseemly topics for the benefit of the people she represents."
Alek was thankful for the darkness. Deryn surely would have pinched him again if she saw that his jaw had gone slack. He'd known her for more than a year, and yet he had never imagined that she could sound anything like this- like an aristocrat.
He felt a pang of regret when he realized that Deryn reminded him of his mother. She, once a lady in waiting, had occasionally struggled with the delicate pleasantries of court. He remembered how she had tried to replicate the eloquence of other nobles, hoping to keep from embarrassing her husband.
Alek's heart felt cold. He had learned to accept his parent's deaths in Sarajevo, but thinking of them was still agonizing. He would never admit it to the Count, and he didn't want Deryn to see him in pain, but there were times like these when he missed his mother and father terribly. He wondered if he would forget their faces one day, and the thought terrified him. He'd grown up since then, but he still felt like a child, scared and alone, when he remembered the moment that Volger had informed him of his parents' murders.
"Alek? Is everything all right?" His dark thoughts were interrupted by Deryn's voice, her thick Scottish accent back. "I think I charmed the boots off that snobbish count."
"I am still outside," remarked Volger. "And my boots are still on my feet. However, I am forced to admit that you were slightly more believable than an ursine dressed as a princess would be."
Alek grinned, thankful for the darkness.
"Feel free to come out whenever you like," said the Count.
"What do you mean?" asked Alek. "Don't you have to unlock the door?"
"Of course not," Volger declared. "Why would anyone bother to put a lock on a broom closet?"
"You mean we could have left this bloody closet whenever we liked?" Deryn bellowed. "You sneaky, shifty, lying bum-rag of a count!"
Without a moment's warning, the door swung open and both Deryn and Alek tumbled backwards out into the hall in a tangle of limbs.
"Oof!" Alek exclaimed as the wind was knocked out of him.
"Well, a good evening to you both," commented Dr. Barlow, who stood over them in her signature bowler cap with something like a smirk on her face. Tazza was at her side and Bovril was perched on her shoulder.
"Better off impersonating an ursine," he said to no one in particular.
"Wha…" gasped Deryn from the floor. "You were outside, too?"
"Why of course," replied the doctor. "In fact, this was my idea. I needed to know if Count Volger's lessons were producing results, so I decided to devise a little test."
"You cannot be serious," groaned Alek, rolling away from Tazza. The thylacine was prancing around him earnestly, trying eagerly to lick his face.
"Oh, but I am," replied Dr. Barlow. "And Deryn passed this test with flying colors. I'm quite impressed at her progress. I believe she'll make an excellent princess at the gala."
"I don't know if I should be angry or pleased," Deryn grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her hip. "I suppose I'll settle for somewhere in between." After letting out a long sigh, she clambered to her feet and offered Alek a hand. "It was pure dead cramped in there," she remarked after helping him stand.
"Ah, yes. Terribly cramped," Alek quickly agreed, brushing himself off. Count Volger thankfully remained silent, but rolled his eyes.
"I suppose I'm not the most, um, tolerable student," Deryn admitted stubbornly. "But next time just give me the test in a bloody classroom!" She shot Volger a withering glare, then grabbed Alek's hand in her own. "Come along, Alek. Let's see if we can scrape up some dinner from the kitchens before it's too late."
As he followed her down the hall, Alek couldn't help but smile when Bovril drawled, "Count Volger is urgently needed in the mailroom."