A Captain and a Corset

by Mary Wine

  ***

  “You’re on dangerously thin ice, Captain.”

  Bion slowly grinned at Darius. “A place where, I assure you, I’m quite comfortable, Guardian Lawley.”

  Darius chuckled softly, taking a moment to notice that his wife was heading out of the sanctum in pursuit of her friend.

  “It is a facet of my personality you have already encountered.” Darius jerked his attention away from Janette’s exit and stared at Bion. “I was willing to let you and others believe me a traitor,” Bion continued. “I knew you and your team might kill me before any explanation could be rendered, so kindly spare me the lecture I see brewing in your eyes. I do not live my life on safe ground, not when there are Helikeians to expose. Our own laws allow them to infiltrate our ranks. Unmasking them will not be simple or done on safe ground.”

  “We are not talking about Helikeians, but of your personal involvement with your trainee,” Darius advised. “I have treaded on that thin ice; it’s a perilous journey between duty and distraction. Miss Stevenson might well be worth the risk, but you need to be careful how many rules you challenge along the way.”

  Bion shook his head. “You mistake the situation, Guardian. Miss Stevenson is my responsibility; the only distraction is her propensity to challenge my authority. I continue to hope she will mature past such behavior.”

  Guardian Lawley surprised him by grinning. Bion couldn’t claim to know the man well, but what experience he did have with Lawley had been facing a man with iron control. The amusement on his face was a stark contrast to the man he’d dealt with in the Hawaiian Islands.

  “Do enlighten me, Captain. Exactly when did it become standard practice to instruct Navigator Novices over the footrails of their beds with the sort of personal remarks I heard this morning?”

  “There is little privacy aboard airships. Miss Stevenson is best prepared if she learns that now,” Bion remarked calmly, but heat was rising beneath his collar. Guardian Lawley merely continued to grin, making it plain he wasn’t swayed by Bion’s response—excuse, really.

  Bion turned and left the sanctum. Frustration was sitting heavily on his back, the lack of satisfaction from the hearing making him edgy. Grainger deserved death. The man was a bastard of the worst sort, one without remorse or compassion for those he had injured. The man hadn’t hesitated when he’d put a bullet through Sophia’s leg and Bion was certain he would happily continue his service to the Helikeians if freedom was his once more.

  Damned Helikeians. They were as old as the Illuminist Order and could trace their roots back to the ancient civilizations that had given them their foundation in knowledge. Long after the Greeks had been conquered, their devotion to science, logic, and learning was still being cultivated by the two Orders. The difference was, the Illuminists had long ago cast off prejudice. Membership was open to anyone willing to pledge themselves to the Order. That didn’t come without a cost, for society shunned anyone wearing an Illuminist pin on their person. But loyalty was the price expected to enter the world of the Illuminists.

  The Helikeians had split off centuries before, when they began to favor arrogance over tolerance and power over knowledge. Now, they dreamed of conquering the world and disposing of anyone they judged inferior, “purifying the bloodlines,” as they called it. They would stop at nothing to gain the upper hand over the Illuminists.

  Sophia was just a commodity in their eyes.

  Bion felt the sting of that fact like a new tattoo. She was too naive to understand, too much a product of her upbringing beyond the walls of the Illuminist world. It fell to him to ensure she did not fall into Helikeian hands. If she did, it would be his duty to neutralize her, by ending her life if that was the only means available to him.

  From the moment he’d been accepted as a junior cadet in the airship corps at the tender age of sixteen, his life had been dedicated to duty. Each year and rank along his path to Captain had only seen him facing deeper personal commitments. There was no reason training a Novice Navigator should test him so greatly. Or frustrate him like Sophia did.

  Yet another challenge of her society upbringing—an Illuminist woman didn’t have any difficulty embracing passion. If she hadn’t been raised by puritan Victorian society, he just might try his hand at kissing her. Becoming lovers would certainly be a better use for the sparks that flew between them.

  He bet she’d slap him again.

  But all that knowledge did was make him think about trying it.

  ***

  Asian fighting was something Sophia found fascinating. It was a technique from the Far East that the Illuminist Order offered classes in. As far back as she could recall, she’d been told how ladies should be sheltered by the men of the house. Only fallen women resorted to defending themselves. It was uncivilized and unladylike.

  Yet among the Illuminists, learning to defend yourself wasn’t frowned upon. In fact, all members were encouraged to learn some form of self-defense to strengthen the security of the Order.

  Bion’s idea of encouraging her had been to bluntly order her to begin taking classes.

  At least she didn’t resent this order. Her training included a form of kicking and punching that made pugilists look like fools. The men in the local pub punching one another in the face until one fell wouldn’t last a full minute with one of the masters of the Asian fighting arts. They used their bodies in amazing ways, teaching her to deliver a blow that would drop a man despite her smaller size.

  Her master was from China, but he was unlike any of the Chinese people she had seen scurrying down the streets with their heads lowered. He held himself with pride. Outside the Solitary Chamber, her father’s elite customers would look down their noses at him, declaring him a street urchin. How wrong they were. He was a master of an art she was in awe of.

  She arrived for class and began to stretch like the other students. Her uniform consisted of a baggy pair of pants that ended at her ankles and a tunic top. There was nothing else to the uniform, so she’d taken to wearing a camisole beneath it to support her breasts. A corset was out of the question because the fighting form required twisting and bending.

  At least the preparation for class was something she knew how to do. Her father had sent her and her sister off to ballet class for many years to ensure they learned to move gracefully. Her father would certainly be surprised to see how she was using her flexibility now.

  For just a moment, she indulged herself and let her father’s face remain in the center of her thoughts. But a moment later, Grainger’s face rose from her memories to torment her with just how she had been separated from her family. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. The master instructor wasn’t just accomplished in the art he taught; the man could spot anyone daydreaming in his class.

  And he had very creative ways of helping his students recover their focus.

  But her attention wandered once again when Bion entered the room. He stopped at the edge of the hardwood floor that made up the instruction area and bowed respectfully toward the master. He was wearing the same clothing she was, but he didn’t need his uniform to look like a captain. The man simply did not blend in with the rest of the students. He looked far too confident.

  Suspicion tingled along her nape as she watched him move to the front of the room and bow to the master once more. The class was called to order, saving her from her curiosity. Students lined up according to rank, leaving her at the back of the room. Bion remained in the front row as they began their first exercise. The pace of the class was demanding, and it required all of her attention. It suited her mood and she applied herself vigorously to the hour of training. Maybe exhaustion would help her sleep in spite of her confrontation with Grainger. Her uniform became saturated with perspiration and her hair was wet with it when it came time to bow and end the class.

  “Miss Stevenson, remain for the second hour of instruction.”


  The master’s command stunned her because only advanced students were invited to the next class, where the basic moves she was practicing were applied to a live opponent. But no one argued with the master.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a quick bow. She fought the urge to look over at Bion. The master was not a man influenced by others often, but she had to admit that she had no idea what manner of relationship Bion had with him.

  She tried to shake off her feelings, because once again she was far too close to pitying herself, which wouldn’t do. Maybe she was separated from her family until her novitiate ended, but she would not disgrace them by failing to face a challenge head-on. That was the Stevenson way, the Irish blood in them. She could hear her father’s booming voice rising up from her memory as he lectured her brothers about never forgetting that the Stevensons were strong enough to weather any storm. She leveled her chin before facing the master.

  “Today, we shall put to test what you have learned.”

  She bowed, not really understanding, although her belly was balled up with apprehension.

  “You have been learning how to shift your weight and use knowledge to defeat your opponent.”

  Bion moved closer, making her struggle to keep her eyes on the master. Heat radiated from him, the kind that you could detect even after the fire had been reduced to ashes, the bricks of the fireplace warming your hands for hours.

  He warms your temper, sure enough.

  “Today, I wish to challenge you with more than practicing against an imaginary opponent,” the Master continued.

  She lost the battle to keep her gaze away from Bion and cut a quick look at him. His expression might be unreadable, but there was satisfaction in his eyes.

  “Captain Donkova will assist you by being your attacker.”

  Her temper was heating up.

  “Attempt to prevent him from breaking your balance.”

  She needed to focus, but it was proving difficult. Curse the man…

  Bion bowed to her before spreading his feet and arms. He was set to lunge at her, and in another second, he did. She remembered what to do but did it too slowly to prevent him from locking his arms around her.

  “You’d better fight me off, because I’m not going to play the gentleman and let you go,” he whispered next to her ear. His warm breath set off a tiny response that rippled down her neck. The unexpected feeling propelled her into action. She rammed her knee into his groin.

  He sucked in his breath, his hold loosening, and she turned, ducking under his arm while holding on to his other wrist and using the hold to pull his arm across her body. She ended up behind him, with his arm locked.

  “Well done,” the Master praised.

  That was her cue to release him, but she paused a moment with him in her grasp, rebelling against the rules. It was an intense little impulse that flared up in response to knowing that she had him at her mercy.

  Bion didn’t care for being bested by her. When she faced him once again, she could see the determination in his eyes. His controlled expression was slipping just a bit, his lips thinned as he bowed and took another aggressive stance. He wasn’t going to show her any mercy.

  She didn’t want any. That feeling came from the same place her impulse to keep him pinned had—deep down in the part of her nature she’d always locked away because it was in conflict with every ideal her life had been full of… up until now. Now, being a lady didn’t matter, defeating Bion did.

  And she wanted to.

  It was a furious need, one that had her taking a fighting stance and moving slowly to make sure he didn’t push her into a corner.

  Surprise appeared in his eyes a split second before he attacked once more. They grappled, struggling to gain advantage over the other. Bion cursed under his breath when she broke out of his first attempt to capture her. She wasn’t sure how she did it. It wasn’t a matter of thinking but of responding.

  She caught a glimpse of his white teeth as he grinned before he hunched over and launched himself at her. He caught her firmly around the waist and drove her backward onto the floor with his full weight.

  “Your knee won’t be much use now, my little Novice.”

  “I am not yours in any sense… of… the… word.” Her last word came out as a wheeze because the man was on top of her. She struggled to draw breath while battling against panic.

  It was just there, the fear, the unmistakable taste of helplessness left over from when she’d been Grainger’s prisoner. It rose up like a demon from hell, terrifying her with its grasping claws. She bucked, surprising Bion with her strength, but she was past noticing him. Her heart was pounding so hard, it felt as if it might burst and sweat beaded on her skin as she struggled to free herself.

  The master clapped his hands a single time and Bion released her instantly. For a moment, she lay on the polished wood floor feeling exposed. It was as if the air was too cool now that Bion wasn’t on top of her.

  She rolled over, her cheeks burning scarlet as shame tore through her. The emotional surge left her trembling, her muscles threatening to fail her. Tears escaped from her eyes, but her face was slick with perspiration so they didn’t leave trails—except across her mind each one burned, increasing her humiliation. The remaining minutes of the class were a torment. The moment she was dismissed, she fled.

  ***

  “I’m surprised Master Lee allowed that.”

  Bion stiffened and his eyes narrowed when Guardian Decima Talaska smiled. She was a veteran Guardian Hunter; her specialty was hunting down traitors, but he didn’t enjoy knowing she’d snuck up on him.

  “Master Lee understands my training methods,” Bion responded. “It’s part of the Asian mind-set to train harder when faced with difficult circumstances.” His tone was designed to end the conversation, but Decima stepped into his path.

  “What is your hurry, Captain? I am quite convinced your trainee is on her way back to her quarters.”

  Decima gave her Asian fighting uniform a tug so that the crisp cotton snapped. “Since you appear to be in the mood to grapple with a smaller operant, I believe I can use the practice.”

  Bion shook his head. “My goal was to impress upon Miss Stevenson the reality of what she might someday have to face.”

  “Interesting.” Decima drawled softly. “According to her file, she has performed very well in her time here. I saw nothing to indicate such a harsh lesson might be needed. In fact, her first encounter with our Order was nothing short of brutal. The fact that she has already begun Asian fighting training shows her respect for the need to defend herself.”

  “I don’t need to defend my methods to you, Guardian,” Bion insisted. “She is not the first Navigator I have trained.”

  “Yet she is the first Novice you have attempted to guide through her transition.”

  Bion shook his head. “That makes little difference.”

  Decima abandoned her teasing demeanor. Her features hardened and he found himself facing the side of her that made her so successful as a Hunter. The woman had a spine of solid steel.

  “A Novice needs guidance. Something your little grappling lesson lacked completely. In fact, I’m almost sure she’ll have nightmares tonight.”

  “I doubt it.” But his gut twisted as he failed to believe his own words.

  “I saw her face when she left; you didn’t.” Decima’s words sliced into him. “So if you’re finished tormenting your trainee, I’ll be happy to give you a target with enough training to make you work for your victory.”

  The master was calling the next class to order. Bion looked at the door until a soft scoff from Decima drew him back into class. It was only after they were beginning that he noticed the flicker of amusement in her green eyes. He shook his head slightly as he admitted defeat. Guardian Decima had played him perfectly, and there was a lesson in being so predictable.r />
  Just as there was one in her words about guidance. But what stuck in his mind long after class and into the evening was her warning about Sophia suffering nightmares.

  That twisted his gut.

  ***

  The Solitary Chamber encompassed an entire four-block section of town and Sophia didn’t even know how far the structures extended belowground. In fact, she’d seen only a very small percentage of the inside of the Illuminist community. Once a prospective member passed the entrance exam, they studied for an entire year as a Novice. Her membership pin was silver, not gold like the full members.

  There was also a crystal in the center of it. The crystal would complete the circuit and allow her into sections of the chambers where only those who had taken their Oath of Allegiance might go. The Illuminist Order had many fine comforts, but learning about the science behind those amazing things would cost a member loyalty.

  Death was the penalty for treason. The Illuminists only shared their knowledge with those willing to pledge themselves to the idea of utilizing all their effort toward greater learning.

  She hurried down the hallways, making her way to the wing of Novices’ dormitories. She reached the wing of rooms assigned to her. First she passed two Guardians standing at the gates. One pressed on the device fitted over his ear and the gates’ current was completed so that she could pass through to the rooms assigned to her. Her rooms were little comfort; every noise made her flinch.

  Enough already!

  Scolding herself didn’t improve the situation. Her belly rumbled because she hadn’t stopped at the common kitchen for food. Bathing made her skin feel normal again. But she still felt Bion’s hands on her…

  No, you do not! You will not and that’s the end of it!

  A few pieces of bread sat on the table in the small center room. It wasn’t much of a parlor, but she didn’t have many friends to invite over so it didn’t matter. There were several stacks of books on the table now and a napkin folded around the bread. She sat and chewed on one slice. She thought tea sounded divine, but it would keep her awake, so she resisted the urge and washed the bread down with water. The water itself was a marvel. She held up the glass and looked at it, still astounded by the purity.