The Thief and the Skull

~Nine - Metallic Lucile~

The last crumbs of toast lingered on Amber’s plate, a silent testament to a delicious breakfast. Olive’s chair remained empty. Where was she? And for that matter, where was Lord Ordin? The questions buzzed in Amber’s mind, fuelling a restless energy. She was alone. Maybe she could take this time to escape and find Lucile and maybe find the crown.

The mansion had been a gilded cage pressing down on her since she had arrived, and Olive had been her ever-kind shadow. But she was alone finally and not locked away in her room. An escape plan, however harebrained, was forming in her mind. All she needed to do was get to Lucile and fix her before Ordin noticed she was gone and sent his headstrong guard to bring her back. She still had no idea what Ordin had planned for her, now that he had the Amerist crown back. If only she could regain possession of it.

With a furtive glance towards the empty hallway, Amber sprung to her feet and snuck from the room.

The front door stood unlocked and ajar, allowing sunlight to peek through. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Now was a better time than never. With a silent slide, she slipped through it and out onto the slate front porch, the cool morning air a welcome relief.

Sunlight bathed the rose bushes that had greeted her yesterday in a warm, golden glow. It would have been a distraction if she didn’t desperately need to find Lucile. Where did she need to go? Where was her beloved motorbike?

Trip, the guard, had taken Lucile to the stables for safekeeping last night. Getting to her meant navigating these treacherous stairs—in a dress, of all things. Then she needed to find the stables.

The imposing staircase seemed more like a descent from a fortress than a mansion. Each step was hindered by the dress and the lack of shoes. What she would have given to wear her jeans and boots at that moment.

Finally, Amber reached the first flower garden, a breathtaking work of floral artistry. She paused, captivated by the vibrant beauty of scarlet, blush pink, and creamy white roses, their delicate petals shimmering with dew.

Stooping, she inhaled deeply, allowing the perfume to settle her frayed nerves.

“Incredible,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard to believe someone as pig-headed and pompous as Lord Ordin could put this much love into something.” The thought struck her as absurd, yet undeniable. Could there be a hint of softness concealed beneath the lord’s gruff exterior?

Still, beautiful as they were, they would not keep her here. She straightened and glanced around. Where was the barn?

“So, I’m a pig-headed pompous lord?”

Amber froze, every muscle tensing. Lord Ordin stood beside her, materialising out of thin air. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was caught, and as far as she knew, she wasn’t supposed to leave the mansion. Not until he said so. Not until the situation with the crown was resolved.

With a gulp, she met his gaze. “Yes,” she finally managed, her voice a low, steady hum. “You are.”

He didn’t respond, but something flickered in his eyes, a hint of something she couldn’t quite decipher. Instead, he stooped, inhaling the fragrance of a deep crimson rose and a calmness softened his face. A silence stretched, thick with unspoken words.

He straightened, turning his attention back to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Olive? I thought she was looking after you.”

“She didn’t return for breakfast.” Amber shrugged, a casual gesture meant to hide her unease. “You can always have Trip watch me. He was very keen to last night.”

He shook his head, a faint grin playing on his lips. “No, he’s guarding the Amerist crown. We can’t have thieves steal it again.”

Amber scowled, the accusation stinging again. “I didn’t steal it…”

“From this world,” Ordin finished for her, his tone laced with snarky amusement. “But still a thief in yours…”

Maybe she had underestimated his knowledge of sarcasm. If she hadn’t been so irritated with him, she would have complimented him. But frustration boiled over.

Amber threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m going to find Lucile,” she declared, turning away, determined to escape the conversation.

But before she could take more than a step, he grabbed her arm. The unexpected contact was like a jolt of electricity, a violation that ignited a primal rage within her. Her carefully constructed composure shattered.

“Don’t you touch me!” She ripped her arm from his grasp with a strength that surprised her. “You might be the lord of this place, but no one ever touches me!”

Ordin’s demeanour changed. A flicker of worry, of genuine concern, crossed his face. “I’ll take you to Lucile…” He turned on his heels and headed to his right.

Amber shoved the simmering rage back down, forcing the anger demon that threatened to consume her into a manageable corner of her mind. She watched Ordin for a moment, drawn to the quiet confidence in his stride, the way he held his head high with an almost unnerving calmness. Then, without a word, she followed.

Their journey was silent, a wordless understanding passing between them. They snaked through lush gardens, the air thick with the scent of blossoms and damp earth.

They arrived at a rustic set of wooden stables covered in climbing vines and tiny white flowers. Hay, leather, and a gentle musk filled the air. This wasn’t a pristine, modern stable like Amber had seen in magazines, but it was beautiful.

Ordin opened the main stable doors and Amber counted the stalls inside. Four. And in the furthest stalls, she saw two white horses. Their coats were a blinding, almost otherworldly white, contrasted by the bold black of their eyes.

Her gaze landed on the stall to her right and her heart quickened. Lucile!

Inside, Lucile sat, a shining beacon of freedom and escape, the one thing in her life that held loved memories.

Ordin opened the stall door and waved Amber inside. She held her dress and ran towards Lucile, not caring how weird she looked with bare feet. She ran a loving hand over the cool, metallic surface, tracing the lines of the fuel tank and the leather seat. Memories of Loralie and Lionel flashed in her mind, bringing a trickle of tears to her eyes. “I’ve missed you, old girl…”

“I tried to feed her, and so did Goose.” Ordin admitted as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He gestured his chin towards a bucket filled with hay. “But I don’t know what she eats.”

The idea was so absurd that a laugh burst from Amber, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that eased some of the tension still clinging to her. Her sides ached as she clutched her stomach, struggling to catch her breath. The image of her sleek, chrome and red Lucile devouring hay was too much.

Ordin studied her with a genuine interest. Amber caught him watching and finally regained her composure.

“Lucile doesn’t… eat,” she explained, her voice still tinged with amusement. “She’s not… alive… not an animal. She doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

Ordin scratched his chin, unsure of how to take her statement. “I don’t understand…”

Excitedly, Amber dove into explaining the intricate workings of the engine, the way gasoline fuelled its power, the function of each gleaming component. She described how the engine roared to life, how the wind whipped through her hair as she rode, the freedom and control that only Lucile could provide.

Ordin remained a stoic observer, his expression unreadable. He listened, absorbing every word without betraying a flicker of emotion.

Finally, he broke the silence with a question that cut through Amber’s eager monologue. “If it’s not alive, why does it mean so much to you?”

The question caught Amber off guard. The spark in her eyes momentarily dimmed, replaced by a flicker of something deeper. A soft breath eluded her lips as she turned to face Ordin, her brow furrowed in thought. It was surprisingly hard to find the words she needed.

“She was… she belonged…” She paused, biting her bottom lip, searching for the right phrasing. The weight of the sentiment hung heavy in the air. Finally, she managed, “She belonged to a girl I used to know… someone that will always be a part of me, but is long gone.”

He uncrossed his arms and straightened his back, as if preparing to share a burden. “That’s how I feel about the Amerist Crown,” he said, his voice tinged with a melancholy resonance. “It a slice of family history that connects me to my father…”

Their gazes lingered, then a voice broke the quiet.

“Amber! I’m glad you’re here. We were worried. Lucile won’t eat.”

Cricket, beaming, stood in the stable doorway, offering a carrot. “Lord Ordin suggested we try something like this.” He held it up hopefully. “Will it work? I love carrots, and so do horses, and I thought maybe Lucile will too.”

Amber fought back a laugh, touched by the genuine concern. “That’s very sweet of you, Cricket,” she said, her eyes twinkling. Even Ordin, now armed with a deeper understanding of the machine, seemed to suppress a smile.

Goose stepped up beside her brother, a miniature image of her mother Heti. She saw Ordin and her face flushed. She twirled her braid around her finger. “Can you fix her?”

“I don’t think I can,” Amber said with a sigh. She shook her head gently, a soft smile playing on her lips. “But let me take her outside to see if she can start.”

“Start?” Goose asked, tilting her head curiously.

“I’ll explain it to you,” she said as she grabbed the handlebars and rolled Lucile towards the stall door.

Ordin stepped aside to allow her through. As Amber moved, the flowing fabric of her dress betrayed her. A sharp edge on Lucile’s metallic form snagged the material, sending Amber stumbling forward. The ground rushed up to meet her, a disorienting blur. Just as the impact seemed inevitable, she was abruptly halted.

Panic mixed with confusion as Amber glanced down to see a dense thicket of vines had erupted from the ground and wrapped themselves around her and Lucile.

Amber’s gaze snapped back, seeking an explanation. There, standing behind her, was Ordin. His eyes, usually a calm and muted hue, now blazed with an otherworldly green light. His hand was raised, fingers slightly curled, as if conducting an unseen orchestra.

As quickly as they had appeared, the vines receded. Ordin lowered his hand, the emerald fire in his eyes dimmed, and the verdant bonds relinquished their hold, sinking back into the earth as if they’d never been. Amber stood, unharmed and bewildered, the remnants of her near-fall buzzing in her ears.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rustling of unseen leaves. Finally, Amber found her voice, a mix of gratitude and incredulity trembling within it. “Do you just save me?”

“Wow,” Cricked chirped. “That was so cool!”

Ordin’s hands slid into his pockets as he rounded her, a strained smile on his lips. But before he could say anything, Ruben, draped in his scholarly robes, ran towards us, a leather book tucked under his arm.

“Lord Ordin,” He called, waving urgently.

Ordin turned to greet his advisor. “Yes, Ruben, what is it?”

Ruben cast a quick, appraising glance at Amber and Lucile before lowering his voice. “Your sister, Olive, needs to see you in the office. About the crown… and something your father might have mentioned…”

Amber ears pricked up. “What about the crown?” she asked, though not sure why. “I mean,” she trailed off.

Ordin eyed her suspiciously, then turned to Ruben. “I’ll be right there…” he faced Goose, making the poor girl even more flustered. “Keep an eye on Amber. Don’t let her leave the domain, and see you return her to the mansion before sunset.”

“Umm,” Goose gasped back. She offered a polite curtsey. “Yes, my lord.”

He turned away and headed back towards the mansion, with Ruben at his side.

“I can look after myself.” Amber called after him, a hint of defiance in her voice.

She could hear a small, disbelieving laugh in response.

“Smartarse!” she mumbled under her breath as she righted Lucile on her stand and stepped back. “Well, I guess I need to see what’s broken before I can fix her… If I can fix her.”

“Is she wounded?” Goose asked, her curiosity piqued.

“That’s right,” Amber laughed. “I need to explain to you both what Lucile is…”

“A motorbike,” Cricket piped up.

“Well, yes,” Amber agreed with a chuckle. “But let me explain it to you the way I did to Lord Ordin…”