Read A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow for Free Online Page B

scientist? He is your father?”
    “Professor of science and engineering. Hydro-thermal combustion thaumaturgy and propulsion engines, to be precise.”
    “And your mother?”
    She studied the cloud formations in front of her. It was a difficult question to answer. “My mother died when I was very young. That’s all there is to say about her.”
    “And is it because of your father that you like to fly?”
    Elle bristled. Her family was not a subject she liked to discuss. Especially not with strangers. “Something like that. But what about you? Where is home for you, Mr. Marsh?” she asked, turning the conversation away from herself.
    “Cornwall.”
    She waited for him to elaborate, but he remained quiet. It was probably better that way. She wasn’t sure how much she really wanted to know about him … or what he and Patrice were up to. All she wanted right now was a hot breakfast and a good sleep.
    She stretched again. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a nice cup of tea.”
    “I think I could be persuaded.” His face brightened at the prospect.
    She reached down into one of the cabinets for the wicker basket that held her tea things and pulled out a teapot. She dropped a handful of tea leaves into it and handed it to Marsh. “Do us a favor and fill this. You’ll find hot water in the samovar that runs off the reactor.”
    He rose and moved stiffly across the cabin to the brass samovar, clearly not as unaffected by their escape earlier as he’d let on. Elle smiled to herself. So Mr. Marsh was human after all.
    Marsh put the filled teapot down on the counter between them. “This is a handsome ship,” he said, eyeing the interior.
    “She is lovely, isn’t she?” Elle poured the tea into enameled tin mugs and spooned a liberal helping of sugar into each. The tea was strong and dark, with a swirl of leaves clouding the bottom. A freight ship was no place for fancy china.
    “Who owns her?”
    Elle straightened. “That would be me,” she said with a touch of pride. “She’s an independent charter and I hold her lease, but the British Flying Company subcontracts us for now. At least until I have enough capital to start up on my own.”
    He looked slightly impressed. “A woman with her own charter company. How fascinating.”
    “There is no reason why there shouldn’t be,” she said, annoyed at his tone.
    He rolled his eyes. “Are we about to enter into a debate on suffrage, Miss Chance?”
    “We might, if you provoke me,” Elle said.
    Marsh sighed. “As admirable as the movement is, you may take it from me that the Suffragettes know nothing of the true power of women.”
    “Oh, and I suppose you are an expert on the subject?” she said.
    “Actually, I am.”
    “Is that a fact, now?”
    “All I’m saying is that forcing the issue by way of the right to vote will never be helpful. It simply goes against that which is natural. And the loss of belief in the old ways is something we can ill afford these days.”
    He was being serious, she realized. She pressed her lips together to hide her disappointment. He was lovely to look at and mildly charming, but under the surface was nothing but shallow, smug arrogance. And she was not going to give him the satisfaction of becoming angry. “For Patrice.” She shoved a mug at him and nodded at their softly snoring companion.
    Marsh walked over to him and nudged his shoulder. Patrice sat up. He was red-cheeked and disorientated as he took hold of the mug. He muttered something in French about it not being coffee.
    Elle pulled a tin of biscuits from the basket. “Here, have a bit of shortbread. Our housekeeper makes them. She is the unrivaled queen of biscuits,” she said as she handed the tin around.
    They drank their tea and bit into the buttery shortbread. Around them, the Water Lily groaned and creaked as she limped across the sky. Elle risked another sideways glance at Marsh. Yes, he was definitely a fine-looking man. He was also most