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The carriage ride to the palace seemed shorter than Ruth had remembered, though she supposed her dread might have had something to do with it.
The man from the door, who still hadn’t properly introduced himself, led them inside as they arrived, taking them to a room they hadn’t visited during the ball.
As he opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of Queen Victoria, regaled in black, sitting atop her throne and glaring down at her.
Ruth stepped forward, feeling incredibly silly in her tattered wedding dress, with her smeared face and wild hair.
“So,” the Queen said, sitting even straighter, which Ruth wouldn’t have thought possible.
Ruth felt herself wither under her stare.
“You are The Owl?”
“I... Yes, Your Majesty,” she managed, her voice coming out as barely more than a whisper.
“I spoke with James. He was in charge of your contract, was he not?”
“He was.”
“He told me that you had rejected the idea of your inventions being used in battle. He admitted to extorting you.” She stood up and began to walk down to Ruth, not taking her eyes off of her. “I want you to understand that he did not have my leave to take such actions. He was acting entirely on his own, and he will be punished for such poor behaviour.”
Ruth frowned a little, not quite believing what she was hearing.
“This is the metal man?” the Queen asked, indicating to Michel.
“Yes,” Ruth managed. “I only intended to program him for basic social interactions, but he has since shown that he is capable of operating outside of his parameters. I can’t think of a better threshold by which to judge humanity.”
“Me neither,” the Queen agreed as she examined Michel.
“Then please, Ma’am, you cannot build soldiers to his specifications. They would be no better than slaves.”
“I quite agree,” she replied as she returned her attention to Ruth. “And such behaviour is the domain of the Americans, not the British Empire.”
“I thought they had stopped that after the war.”
The Queen waved her hand dismissively. “Nonetheless, James was short-sighted. While your inventions are effective weapons, there are other ways for them to serve the Empire and I doubt putting you under duress would help the creative spirit. I would much rather have you working with us willingly.”
“I... Really? Even though I’m a woman?”
“My dear, what gender do you think me to be?”
“Yes, but you’re the Queen.”
“And you are The Owl. Britain’s Greatest Inventor. I will not allow such inconsequential things to stop the progress you could bring to the Empire.”
“Thank you,” Ruth managed.
“Now, Lady Chapelstone, I wish to bestow upon you the honour of the title of Crown Inventor. Will you accept?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I most certainly will.”