Wild Boy and the Black Terror by Rob Lloyd Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

detect anything other than what he’d eaten for breakfast.
    But now, for the first time, Marcus was volunteering information. Wild Boy shifted from the windowsill, listening carefully.
    “There are secrets within secrets,” Marcus said.
    “You mean secrets so secret that not everybody at the secret organization knows about them secrets?” Clarissa asked.
    “Precisely. Incidents that occurred before my time in charge of the Gentlemen. It is possible that this case involves one of those events, a particular event with which Lucien was involved. That is all I can say for now. But I assure you that I shall be speaking with him.”
    “I got a few things to say to him an’ all,” Clarissa said. She laughed, relishing the thought of her next encounter with Lucien Grant.
    Marcus’s grip tightened on the top of his cane. He watched the dressing screen for a moment, and then limped closer to Wild Boy. He spoke in a whisper. “Should I be worried?”
    “Eh?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    Wild Boy did – of course he did. He’d seen, too, how quickly Clarissa’s temper had flared in the Tapestry Room. She’d almost punched Lucien in the face before she was dragged away. Clarissa had always acted tough; that was how they got by in their world. But lately the anger had grown worse.
    She never spoke about what happened at the circus – her mother had turned against her and hunted her with dogs. Nor did she mention her father, who had abandoned her years before. She pretended that both subjects were miles from her thoughts. But sometimes Wild Boy got the feeling they were so close that they almost crushed her.
    “I’m coming out!” Clarissa called. “Wild Boy, if you mock me I’ll break your arms.”
    Wild Boy hopped from the windowsill, fully intending to mock her. But as Clarissa stepped from behind the screen, the words stuck in his throat.
    She looked beautiful.
    Her hair shone like fire, her eyes sparkled, and her pale skin was delicate rather than unhealthy. Marcus told them that princesses and queens had been dressed in this room, but Wild Boy couldn’t imagine any of them looking better than Clarissa.
    She shifted in the dress, acting uncomfortable. “What do you think?”
    Wild Boy shrugged. “Looks all right.”
    Marcus limped closer. For a second, all of the pain and tiredness eased from his features, and he smiled. It wasn’t just a hint of a smile. It was a big, broad grin, and it warmed up the whole room.
    He offered her his arm. “Gideon is waiting with our carriage. Shall we?”
    Clarissa glanced at Wild Boy. The two of them had hardly been apart over the past few months. It felt strange to be separated, even for an evening. But they both knew he couldn’t come; the reason was reflected in the mirrors all around this room.
    Wild Boy wanted to say something – a joke, anything to make her stay a little longer. But it was as if all the words had been sucked out of him. Seeing Clarissa like this, he realized for the first time how easy it would be for her to have another life. A life without him at her side.
    He was glad to see her pull on her old boots, shoving her lock picks into one of them.
    “I’ll steal some posh grub for you,” she said.
    And then she was gone. The golden sequins on her dress shimmered in the lamplight as Marcus led her away.
    Wild Boy stared at the empty corridor where the only two people in his life had just left. He turned and considered his reflection in one of the room’s broken mirrors, a shattered vision of scruffy hair and sudden, desperate sadness. He knew right then that if they were ever thrown out of the palace, he would leave Clarissa. She wouldn’t want him to, but he would have to, because the only place he could go would be the fairground. And he would never let her go back to that world. He would never let that happen.
    This case was his chance to make sure it never did. He was convinced that if he could solve it, they could stay in the palace as long as