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going to leave you. I can’t do that.” He pulled her close. “I’m falling in love with you, Emma.”
    “And because you love her, you’ll do exactly what she says.” The click of Beatrice’s gun got their attention.
    “Sorry.” Emma looked into his eyes and hoped he understood. Then she slid the goggles into place and walked out the cabin door.
    It took her no time to get to the top deck. The guests of the Queen Penelope allowed the petite newsboy to move through the crowds with little to no trouble. And, once she secured a spot on the rail, Emma saw the large cave opening. The steamboat would be outside in the polluted Kingstown air soon and she prayed Tripp could do the impossible.
    * * *
    The Sargent felt his muscles twitching where human skin collided with metal, and he could still remember the surgeries that had made him this way. Half of his body was now a jumble of mechanical parts, thanks to a mining accident during Westland’s gold rush days. The king had been greedy then, just like he was now. But, none of that mattered. Sargent Baxley Duncan had another job to do.
    He stood on the docks and waited for the little traitorous princess to arrive. Her actions had made him look worse than any of the hateful nicknames he tolerated from his superiors and for that he would show no mercy. Word had been sent from the Queen Penelope that an arrest had been made. So, all he needed to do was make sure she got to Kingstown square by noon. If his men were a little rough with her along the way, so be it.
    The king’s gambling boat whistled as it came out of the cavern and pulled into the docks. The upper class of Westland lined the railing and waited impatiently. “I don’t care who they are. No one leaves the boat until I get my prisoner,” the Sargent yelled at his men as they walked to the lowering plank.
    “Excuse me, sir.”
    The Sargent glared at the first man to arrive on the beam. “Get off the plank. I want my prisoner.”
    “I am Professor Greggor and I’m a special guest of the king—”
    “I don’t care if you were the king himself. The prisoner will de-board first.”
    “If you say so.” The man in the safari suit raised his hands in mock surrender. “He’s being brought out as we speak.”
    “What do you mean, he? ” The Sargent quickly lost patience with the eccentric old fool.
    Two constables arrived with a man in ropes. “I’m not one to care, but I do believe this is a fellow.” The self-proclaimed guest of the king smiled. “If you’re looking for a woman, the Madame of Gravestone perhaps, then I believe we can come to an arrangement.”

Chapter Nine
    Tripp and his armed companion used a precarious rope ladder to lower themselves down into a life-raft while all the other passengers of the Queen Penelope ranted and raved over some sort of delay.
    “I can’t see a thing.” Tripp squinted in the fog as they paddled to land.
    “Here, use these.” Beatrice handed him a pair of goggles and put on a pair of her own. “They’ll help you see through all the grime and soot in the air. They’re just another present from the king and his clockwork army.”
    Tripp put them on and was actually surprised by the difference. Everything was in varying shades of gray, but clear nonetheless. He saw the embankment where they would sneak ashore, the official looking docks that were closer than he liked and some sort of struggle on the plank. “That old bastard.”
    They both turned and watched Emma being dragged onto the docks. Her bright red hair showed through the polluted fog while a man in a safari suit held her hat and chatted pleasantly with her captures.
    “Who the hell is that?” Beatrice almost stood in the raft.
    “I’ll take care of him later.” Tripp pulled her down. “What matters right now is saving Emma.”
    “That’s … that’s not what she would want. We have a job to do.” Beatrice looked torn. “She gave me strict orders.”
    “And you’re following them.”