Clara rubbed at the headache forming in her temples. “It’s hard to protect her ladyship when I don’t know where the threat will be coming from. And while she isn’t one to take needless risks, she also isn’t one to hide behind locked doors.”
Andre slid his arm off her shoulders and picked up her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “We’ll find them eventually.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss onto the back of it. “I promise.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “I know.” She nudged him with her shoulder, for once grateful for his uncanny ability to read her emotions before she was even aware of them. “Thanks for not letting me mope all day.”
He lifted his eyebrow with a crooked grin. “Just returning the favor.” He nodded toward the sparring ring and the racks of weapons beyond it. “Would a round or two help any?”
Clara shook her head. “Not tonight. I’ve been too wound up to sleep well lately. Last thing I need is to be wide awake from practice.” She reached her arms up and bent away from Andre, relishing in the muscles stretching in her side. He leaned away when she shifted to the other side, his gaze appreciative.
“I’m guessing a sleep aid is out of the question right now?” Andre lifted his eyebrows. “I know that Prince Richard sometimes has Doctor Jaxton deliver sleep potions at night. Maybe that would help you?”
“Mm, no.” She wrinkled her nose. “I trust Doctor Jaxton and his assistants about as far as I can throw them.”
Clara felt some of her tension dissipate as Andre laughed. “When are you going to accept that he’s a perfectly normal doctor, albeit one who’s somewhat socially awkward?”
“It’s more than socially awkward,” Clara insisted. “I don’t know what, though. Ever since he took over as head physician, he’s been different. And not in a good way. He’s … creepier.”
“Well, we’ll keep an eye on him.” Andre pursed his lips as he looked at her. “In the meantime, you’ve still got to get some more rest.”
This, coming from the man who’d laughed at Lieutenant Slate mothering over Sapphire? A yawn cracked Clara’s jaw before she could throw a retort at Andre. She snapped her mouth shut sheepishly. “I’ll be fine. But maybe we can push back tomorrow’s match until the afternoon?”
“Of course.” Andre tugged on her hand and pulled her to her feet and into a hug.
She hadn’t realized just how frigid the room had become until she was enfolded in his warmth. A shiver passed through her, and she snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around him.
“I want you to take care of yourself and not burn out.” He laced his fingers behind her back and frowned. “While I’m not as anxious as you are about this, we need to be ready for anything. The moment we’re complacent is the moment anyone can take a jab at them. And there have been far too many close calls this last year.”
“Exactly.” Clara rested her head against his chest, where she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and took a deep breath. He smelled of sword oil and butterscotch. He’d made it. The prince had pulled through. Lady Sapphire had survived. Clara rubbed her cheek against Andre’s uniform before pulling back and biting her lip. “Let’s avoid close calls for a while.”
Andre grinned as if he knew where her thoughts led her. “Don’t worry,” he whispered as he bent down and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m planning to grow old by your side.”
She rose to her tiptoes to kiss him back and pushed away the concerns crowding to take her attention. They were alive. She needed to take the moment while she could.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Slate
Gravel crunched underfoot, and the slight rattle of clanking swords accompanied Slate as he walked abreast with Guardsman Jakob through their perimeter check around the palace. A light breeze blew, ruffling Slate’s hair and cooling his sun-warmed cheeks. They turned a corner, keeping step with each other as they entered the outer garden. Their shift was almost over, and then Slate would be free to check in on Sapphire again, most likely to her vexation and his peace of mind.
General Brigley’s deep laugh reverberated against the palace windows, and Slate turned toward the sound, trying to pinpoint where the general was. He couldn’t see through the manicured hedge maze, and the path of flowers winding into the middle of the garden held no interest for him to explore.
Jakob wrinkled his nose balefully. “It’s downright disconcerting when I know he’s nearby and I don’t know where.” He tugged at his collar, then glanced down at his front, checking the tuck of his undershirt. “It’s like he’s waiting to pounce and nail me for some tiny uniform infraction that I’ve somehow missed.”
Slate smothered a laugh as he walked. “It’s not like he’s purposefully hunting for you to make your life miserable. You just invite it by not paying attention.”
“Same difference,” Jakob muttered, glancing over his shoulder.
General Brigley rounded a thick privet hedge in front of them and nodded to Slate. Slate raised his hand in salute and faltered when Samantha came around the corner, clearly following the general. She tossed her thick hair over her shoulder, revealing a hint of tan collarbone that somehow had Slate blushing—though he’d seen far more skin at the royal balls, thanks to the “stylish” gowns that the ladies insisted on wearing. Samantha drew up short, letting Brigley step in front of her.
Brigley’s gaze swept Jakob from head to toe, and he gave a perfunctory nod. Jakob exhaled noisily, releasing his salute. Brigley smirked at Slate. “Your lady friend here is quite persuasive.” He stepped to the side of the pathway, letting Samantha be fully visible. “She found me at my office and asked if I’d be willing to release you early so she could check in on you before she has to leave port.” Brigley’s thick eyebrow twitched, reminding Slate of the fuzzy worms he used to catch with Connor and Cole back when they were kids. “Lucky for you, she brought the best honey mead from Perennia, so I’m amiable to taking over for you today.”
Surprise flooded Slate at the beginning of Brigley’s explanation, then full-on shock rooted his boots to the gravel walkway. He flicked his gaze from Brigley to Samantha. She smiled sweetly, her eyes sparkling with a slightly mischievous glint. “Uh, thank you, sir.”
Brigley snorted. “You’re welcome.” He stepped closer, almost leaning over Slate as he lowered his voice. “Any woman that’s willing to come to my office and give a passionate speech on why she should check in on the well-being of one of my men while bringing me the best mead on this coast is dragons better than any of your other choices. Don’t lose this one.”
“Yes, sir,” Slate managed, not looking Brigley or Samantha in the eye. Two long steps placed him at Samantha’s side, where he offered his arm, and a thrill shot through him when she took it. He escorted her away from his coworker and commander as fast as would be considered genteel, not wanting to give either of the men any other reason to make comments while she was around.
Samantha’s fingers curled around his bicep, and he automatically flexed. She looked up at him, amusement in her smile. “I may have stretched the truth a little,” she admitted, her voice too low to carry back to Brigley or Jakob. “I may have let it sound like I need to leave before sundown, when really I don’t leave til tomorrow morning.”
“Lying to my commanding officer?” Slate teased. “What a horrible thing!” He slipped his free hand over her fingers, leading her into the hedge maze. “So what brought you to seek me out?”
Samantha’s smile dimmed. “We arrived this morning, and Ellie told us all about Sapphire.” She tilted back slightly, analyzing him. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
His chest warmed at her words. She was concerned about him? Enough so that she sought for him while he was at work, even bribing the general to let him off early? Whatever he’d done to deserve her attention, he wanted to be the man she was looking for. He shrugged lightly and nodded toward a nearby carved stone bench under a large tree with pink blossoms in it. “Now that she’s back to asking f
or books from the library, I’m doing better.” He gently leaned into her. “What about you?”
“How am I?” Samantha settled on the bench and waited for him to join her. She braced her hands behind her and lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes. “I’m enjoying the spring weather. Aerugo in winter isn’t so bad, and Vodan is surprisingly mild, but I hate having to deliver to Antius during their snow season, so I’m thrilled it’s warming up.”
Slate tensed at the mention of Aerugo, remembering Cole’s question about Richard and the possibility of Aerugo and the Reformers working together. She noticed, curiosity and concern radiating from her. He debated for a moment before sighing. “Any new reports or rumors from the different ports and people you see?”
Samantha pursed her lips and straightened. “None that you’d want to hear.”
“I want to hear.”
She eyed him. “I don’t want to be bringing news that could harm your relationship with your family,” she stated, her voice serious and honest. “I’ve heard things that concern me, yes, but I don’t want to cause problems for you.” Samantha reached out, her fingers barely grazing his uniform over his hammering heart. “You care deeply and passionately, and that’s something beautiful that I respect.”
He caught her hand and pressed it to his lips, watching her cheeks color ever so slightly. “And I want to know of anything that can ultimately bring harm to my family. So, please, what have you heard on your adventures?”
Her lips quirked. “Nothing extraordinary.” She kicked out her feet, scuffing the toes of her worn boots into the gravel as she lowered her voice. “I hate to call it the usual, but ever since Selvage, most folks we talk to state how unfair of a reaction it was for Prince Richard to raze an entire town. They say his command was evil, that they don’t want him to become ruler. Some in Antius think Perennia should break off ties with Doldra. Those in Perennia are concerned with what kind of ruler he’ll be after he’s the crown prince again.” She crossed her arms as if cold, despite the warmth in the hedge. “Some even hinted toward fear of Aerugo retaliating.”
Slate’s stomach sank. Aerugo again. There was enough going on in the last few months that the eastern country did have a legitimate reason to retaliate in some way. But had they contacted the Reformers like Cole believed? How? And to what eventual end? To hurt the army, like they did? To bring Doldra down? To reclaim Selvage?
Samantha nudged Slate, pulling him from his musings. Her brown eyes held warmth and concern that soothed some of his immediate anxiety. “Hey, I didn’t tell you that so you’d get all broody. Don’t make me regret sharing with you.”
“Sorry.” Slate’s smile was sheepish and he knew it. “One of my friends shared some stuff with me earlier, and I haven’t had a chance to really grind through it all. I’ll process later.” He boldly slipped an arm around her and tried to not let his surprise show when he could feel how muscular her shoulders were.
She must’ve guessed his thoughts as she cracked a smile. “Being an airship captain is no easy job, you know.”
He quickly stuffed his curiosity on just how muscular she was into the furthest corner of his brain to think about at a time when she wasn’t there with him. He needed a benign topic to bring his mind out of places that it shouldn’t be.
The garden clock chimed, the low hollow notes a pleasant almost-music for the atmosphere. Slate perked up. “What are you doing for dinner?”
Samantha shrugged. “Finding something to eat between here and the Phoenix, I reckon.”
“Marvelous.” Slate rocked to his feet and turned to offer her his hand. “My lady, may I ask for the pleasure of your company this evening as we find something to eat between here and your home ship?”
Her eyes sparkled as she let him help her to her feet. “That sounds lovely, sir. Yes, please.” She rose to her toes and pressed her lips into his cheek.
Lightning crackled through his nerves, and he raised his fingers to his tingling skin, startled beyond coherent thought.
Samantha’s grin dimpled, and she slipped past him toward the garden exit before pausing to shoot him a shy smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Finn
Finn flipped the sign in the window to read, “Back in thirty minutes” and stepped out into the summer heat, locking the door behind him. He smiled and tipped his hat at a mother and her child passing by, then joined the pedestrian traffic of the City Circle.
The walk to the post store was short, but a much-desired respite for him to stretch his legs and get fresh air. Some customers lingered far too long after finishing their transactions—much like stale smoke hours after finishing a pipe. Others—like that young Monomi Guardian who’d started hanging around his store—were like a breath of cool air on a hot day. Utterly refreshing. But though Zane had taken to coming by almost daily, the pleasure of his company dimmed in comparison to some of the less savory lot who had also started frequenting Finn’s business.
And one particular loiterer bothered him. The poorly dressed gentleman was odd, as far as customers go. Short, chubby, with a sour scent that wafted from his clothes, he roamed Finn’s shop, looking at everything, picking up whatever he saw, talking incessantly the whole time about whatever came to mind. The stranger was clever in his interrogation—for that’s what it was, albeit a roundabout method—as he peppered Finn with highly personal questions during his ramblings.
The city of Doldra was large, and Finn harbored no illusion that this man knew everyone. But something about the fellow gave him a general sense of unease. It wasn’t every day that someone would come in, not buy anything, and ask Finn about himself. Had he grown up locally? When had he moved into the area? Was he married? Did he have any kids? Had he ever studied or used magic?
Finn waved to the barber as he passed, using the glass in the storefront to keep a surreptitious eye on the people around him. Maybe he should take a vacation for awhile and let the dust settle after everything that’d happened.
He didn’t regret saving Sapphire’s life. But he did regret that she’d been poisoned. That he’d been forced to reveal the secret passage. That he’d had to battle Void magic.
And who, aside from him, knew anything about Void magic?
Oh, Slate had told him about the palace investigation, and the theory about the missing staff member being the suspected would-be murderer.
A jilted servant Finn could easily believe capable of basic poisoning. But the odds of a staffer knowing much magic—let alone Void magic—were slim. Sane folk stayed away from the Void; dabbling with the Void was taboo for a reason.
The Void was unknown. The Void was darkness. The Void was death.
Which left the questions that had been keeping Finn awake each night, staring at the rafters of his ceiling: Who did it? Who knew the Void well enough that they could manipulate it to look like a simple poisoning, instead of the instant death it should have been?
All the people Finn could think of were surely dead by now.
He approached a door with a large wooden envelope hanging over it, and he shook himself of his dark thoughts as he entered the cooler room. He blinked to let his eyes adjust to the softer light. Boxes of all sizes lined the walls around him, all marked with different numbers. He ignored them and walked to the back of the store where a plump older woman sat, knitting.
She looked up at him and smiled warmly, setting her purple yarn project aside. “Finn! How are you? I’m glad you came by. You actually got something in just yesterday!” She jumped off her chair with a burst of excitement.
“Good day, Gloria, and how are you doing?”
Gloria’s limitless energy brought a smile to his face, as it always did. She certainly didn’t act like the average ninety-year-old woman. Nor did she dress like one. She hummed to herself as she sorted through a stack of envelopes in a box. Today she wore a dress in a violent shade of green, splashes of yellow, pink and purple thrown in as accent colors. A vibrant y
ellow hat perched in her vivid purple curls.
“Aha!” Triumphant, she returned to Finn, waving an envelope over her head. “Told you, you got something! And it’s from Deckett, so I’m willing to wager it’s Connor and Maria.” She slapped the envelope on the counter between them with a grin. “Maybe they’ll have news of a baby this time.”
Finn laughed as he picked it up. “Wouldn’t that be something? For their sake, I hope so.”
She looked at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. “For your own sake, too. You need some little ones running around you to keep you young and strong.” She thumped her chest with a laugh. “Look at me, twenty-six grandkids, eight great-grandkids, and I’m not a day over crazy!”
He chuckled. “Not at all.” Finn held the enveloped carefully, as if it were treasure of the highest quality. He dug into the pouch of his left hip and pulled out a small tin, handing it over to Gloria. She plucked it from his hand, and he gave her a quick grin. “Salve for those paper cuts you were complaining about last week.”
“Ooh, you’re such a dear.” Gloria opened the tin and dipped her fingers in right away, sighing with relief as she rubbed the ointment into her hands. “This is perfect. Thank you, Finn.” She shooed him with a smile. “I know you’re dying to read that letter. Go, enjoy it. And I’ll see you next week!” She called as he tipped his hat to her.
The heat and sunlight smacked into Finn as he left Gloria’s. There was no reason to stay outside any second longer than necessary, so Finn headed back to his shop, sweat already beading on his forehead. He swiped at the moisture with his handkerchief and strode across the Circle as quickly as he could, pulling out his key before he neared the door, not wasting a second. He flipped the “open” sign as he walked in and immediately started rolling his cuffs and billowing his shirt.
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