by M. J. Scott
Colonel Perrine and Henri went to work then, speaking to each pair. Sophie took a step back to lean against Cameron as the other mages started trying to replicate what she had done.
"All right, love?" Cameron murmured.
"Hungry," Sophie said. She turned to Imogene, who hadn't paired off with any of the blood mages. "We're going to need to make sure there are plenty of supplies on the navire. This magic burns brightly."
Imogene nodded. "Noted."
"You don't want a turn, Major?" Cameron asked.
Imogene shook her head. "There will be too many other things for me to attend on a first flight," she said. But her eyes strayed over the pairs of mages and the ship itself with barely reined in excitement. Cameron didn't think she would keep herself from learning the skill for long. Though Jean-Paul wasn't a strong blood mage so Imogene would have to find another partner for that particular endeavor.
Around them the mages began to practice. Some of the other boats and ships in the yard wobbled in their racks, but none actually floated.
Sophie watched the nearest pair, a frown wrinkling her brow. When the ship they were working lifted on a few feet, her hands curled. But then it crashed back down again almost immediately, and disappointment flickered across her face.
"Can you see what they're doing wrong?" She flicked him a glance over her shoulder before focusing back on the mages.
Cameron returned his attention to what was going on in front of him.
"I'm not as good at seeing the flows as you," he said after a minute, "but the magic between them doesn't seem strong. The water mage seems to be working slightly more easily, he seems brighter." He shrugged. "Perhaps they need time to become more accustomed to each other and find their balance."
He looked at Henri who stood near Imogene. "Are there any pairs here who are used to working together in this way?"
Henri shook his head. "Of the mages we have who have shared an augmentier, there are no blood-water pairings. In truth, it has become a rarer tool for us over the years. Water mages bond with their sanctii and others with the petty fams, but outside of married mages, experimentation with augmentiers has fallen out of fashion."
"Well, we need to reverse that trend," Sophie said. Her gaze turned to Elarus. "Can you see what they are doing wrong?"
"Weak," Elarus said.
"Any way to make it stronger? Are the sanctii helping?" Sophie said.
"Yes. But not same as you" Elarus nodded at Cameron. "You two have bond. Easier."
Sophie twisted her braid, still watching the mages. "Would it work if each pair had a temporary bond? Can the sanctii do that?"
Elarus nodded "Probably. If told."
Ah. Right. Yes. The other sanctii needed an order form their mages. Not to mention the fact that the mages themselves would have to agree to forming an augmentier. Figuring out how those might work just added another delay or complication.
He stared at the mages. "What if we used bigger groups?" Most of the mages were making some headway, but none of them seemed to have enough power. There were twenty pairs. That would make ten foursomes. With two sanctii each. "Henri, Colonel, get them to work in fours."
Colonel Perrine nodded.
"This will be complicated," Henri warned.
"Tell them that if they can't do it this way, we'll be introducing some augmentiers into the mix. Maybe that will increase their motivation," Cameron said.
Behind him, Ikarus said something to Imogene. Before she could reply, Elarus said something in reply, her words biting and rough. Ikarus took a half step back and held up one hand. Elarus just snorted.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Elarus told the boys to work harder, I think," Madame Simsa said. "Which is interesting."
Cameron wasn't sure he wanted to know why. He resumed his study of the mages. They had re-formed themselves into fours, gathered around the ten closest ships. There was a certain amount of jostling and discussion, and then they began to focus. To his surprise, the ships rose more steadily this time. Perhaps not quite as high as he and Sophie had lifted theirs, but each craft was definitely floating above its cradle.
"How high does the navire need to go?" he asked Imogene, realizing that they hadn't actually discussed that.
Imogene shrugged. "When I was designing it, I thought, maybe two hundred feet in the air. Enough to be clear of trees and hills and such, while being able to see a good distance around. Plus that height would put it out of the range of most weapons."
He understood that. "Out of range of Illvyan cannons?"
She nodded. "A rifle might hit a target that high, but it wouldn't do enough damage to make a difference. And those in the navire would be at an advantage retaliating. If you had illusioners on board you could, perhaps, disguise the ship, so it wouldn't be noticed in the first place."
"Does that mean less height would be required over the ocean? The ocean doesn't have landscape to dodge and hopefully, we shouldn't encounter any enemy forces," Cameron asked.
Imogene hesitated. Then shook her head. "The air moves differently over water. I'm not sure I would want to go any lower. There could be strange currents in the air. Plus lower would be harder on the sanctii." She frowned at the mages. "Do you think they will be able to reach those heights?"
"They seem to be improving. Sophie and I found that once we managed the first few feet, it seemed to take no more effort to go higher. The complicating factor will be the sanctii, of course." Even the briefest glance at the groups of mages and sanctii showed the bond between each sanctii and their water mage flaring brightly. There was no way they'd be able to sustain the navire without the sanctii helping.
"I agree," Imogene said.
"Yes," Sophie chimed in. "The sanctii and the stamina of the mages. As I said, this is hungry work. How long do you think it would take for the navire to travel to Anglion?"
"A ship takes a good day. If the winds are right, the navire could move faster, I think. Maybe eighteen hours. The mages could trade off. Have time to rest and refuel."
"That might work," Sophie agreed. "But we have to establish some limits. We need a stamina test."
She beckoned to Colonel Perrine who returned from supervising the nearest foursome. "Colonel, we need to progress. I want those ships as high as they can get them and then they are to hold them aloft for thirty minutes." She turned to Imogene. "I hope you have a watch?"
The next thirty minutes were tense. The groups of mages were silent as they worked to keep the ships, floating high above the yard like ungainly birds, in the air. Sophie gripped Imogene's watch as though she thought her life depended on it, the tips of her fingers turning white. Each minute took an eon to tick past but none of the ships came crashing down.
"All right," Sophie called when the time was up. "Put them down."
All around them, came audible groans of relief as the ships came back to ground.
"That was good," she said to the mages. "You can rest now." She turned back to the group of supervisors. "There. We know we can do shifts of at least thirty minutes. All we need now is to test this over salt water. What's the best way? We float one of these down to the mouth of the river and try it on the ocean?"
This started another rumble of voices. Not the mages, but the sanctii. Reading the body language of each of the tall gray males ranged around them, it was clear that none of them were enamored with the idea. Even Ikarus made a small noise of protest.
"What are they saying?" Sophie asked, and Cameron wasn't sure if she was asking Imogene or Elarus.
"They're nervous about the salt," Imogene said.
"The mages knew what we were coming here to do," Sophie said sounding somewhat exasperated. "Surely they explained to their sanctii?"
"Apparently they weren't clear enough," Imogene said.
"Can they actually refuse?" Cameron said.
"No, but most of the mages don't like to force a sanctii unless it's a matter of life and death."
"This is a matt
er of life and death," Sophie said.
"Not theirs," Imogene replied.
"It will be if the navire falls from the sky," Cameron countered. The rumbles from the sanctii hadn't yet subsided. If anything, the exchanges seemed to be growing more heated.
"What can we do to make it easier?" Sophie asked. Before anyone could answer, Elarus stepped forward and uttered a sentence in a blast of sound that echoed across the yard.
As one, the male sanctii shrank back. Elarus roared again, not quite so loudly, and they all nodded, looking down.
She looked at Sophie. "They will do."
It seemed that was settled.
"Interesting," Madame Simsa said with a smirk, as Colonel Perrine started issuing orders for the mages to assemble around the largest of the ships.
Cameron glanced down at her questioningly.
She grinned up at him. "I'd say your wife is not the only one with the potential to be a queen, Lord Scardale."
Cameron blinked. "Sanctii have queens?"
Madame Simsa shrugged. "We know little of their society. But they certainly obeyed her, didn't they? I'd pay attention to that, young man. It may come in useful."
Cameron nodded. He couldn't argue with that. Foolish to ignore any possible advantage. He filed it away and turned his attention back to Sophie and the ocean awaiting them.
It had been an eternity of a day. Sophie sat beside Cameron on the end of their bed and tried to ignore how tired she was. Their tests of the ships over the ocean with the sanctii had been successful, though none of them had enjoyed it much. The ships were not navire, and not entirely steady in the air, their hulls not designed, as Imogene had pointed out, to fly rather than sail. It was more nerve-wracking than she had expected to stand on a deck that was bobbing over a few hundred feet of nothing. The sanctii had all been silent and watchful, clustering near the center of the deck. And they all vanished in an instant as soon as the ship landed back at the shipyard.
But the end of the practice hadn't brought the end of the day. Instead, they had returned to the palace and spent several hours with the emperor, various officers of the Imperial army, and assorted counselors. The upshot of which was that they would be leaving for Anglion in the morning. Imogene's workers had wrought miracles and finished the navire. All that remained was to provision it. And give everyone a night of rest before they set off.
She was exhausted.
But she doubted she would sleep.
Home. They were going home. Or were they?
"Do you think it's the right choice?" she asked, breaking the silence. Cameron had been gazing out the window, but he turned serious blue eyes back to her.
"I think we've reached a point where there isn't really a choice. We're in this now. The only choice is how we play the game."
She shivered, and his fingers tightened over hers. Offering warmth and comfort. Solid as always. She knew there was no choice. They couldn't leave their families to rot as hostages, but she couldn't shake the knowledge that she was risking what she had here with him, by returning. There was no guarantee either of them would survive. "We've had a few of these moments already. I was hoping we were done with them."
One side of his mouth lifted. "Sometimes you have to go where the goddess sends you. Besides..." He paused, thumb stroking over her wedding ring. "We haven't done so badly out of those choices so far. Have we?"
No. The first point of no return had been agreeing to their marriage—or being forced to agree. She'd had no reason to hope then that Cameron might come to care for her. No reason to hope that the heat that had flared between them wouldn't sputter and die, leaving them bored and indifferent like many court marriages. But that moment had led to this one. And he was still here, standing beside her. Standing with her. Loving her as she loved him. "No," she said, out loud this time. "We haven't." She tightened her grip. "You know I'll always choose you, don't you?"
His eyes were very blue. Her favorite color now in all the world. "I'm glad to hear that. Because there is no other choice for me either. Only you. Us." He brought her right hand up to his chest, ducked his head to kiss it.
She glanced toward the window. It was dark. Their escort would arrive not long past sunrise. But... "We still have a few hours. Before it all starts."
He smiled again. "That is true. Sensible people would sleep."
"I rather think that we've left sensible somewhere far behind us at this point."
"In that case, what exactly are you proposing, oh witch of mine?"
"I'm proposing that I take off your clothes and have my wicked way with you."
His smile grew into a true grin. The one that made her knees turn weak. What did it say about her—and him—that she was standing on the edge of a war, and yet, he only had to smile at her and everything grew brighter and hotter. She reached for his cravat, began to ease it from his collar. "Any problems with my plan?"
"Sophie, my darling, any plan that involves you and me and no clothes will always get my approval." He glanced down to where she was starting to work on his buttons. "My extremely enthusiastic approval." His hands came around her hips, tugging her closer.
"So I see," she said as the hard length of him pressed into her, pressing in all the right places and making her fingers tremble, so that the button slipped in her grasp and she had to bite her lip and try again to set it free.
"See? Or feel?" He moved against her. A gasp rose in her throat, stole past her lips.
"Now that's the kind of sound I like," he said as she tugged the last button free and pulled his shirttails out of his breeches.
"Maybe I want to be the one to make you make some sounds," she said. She slid her palm down the length of him, watching as his pupils flared hot and dark. Tightened her grip and slid again through the cloth until he moaned.
"A proposal I'm also fine with."
"Good. Then undo my dress." She turned on her heel, lifting her hair. Cameron's fingers moved faster than hers had. She stepped free of the cotton and lace and silk keeping her from him and pulled him down to the bed with her, wanting to let him fill her with light, even if it might be the last time.
Sophie stood on the deck of the navire and tried not to tremble, fussing instead with the collar of her heavy coat, trying to pull it tighter around her. Perhaps if people thought she was merely cold, they wouldn't see the terror gripping her. The deck rail of the navire was smooth under her hands, the scent of freshly varnished wood still strong despite the competing smells of salt, sour dock water, sailcloth, and the nervous sweat of the mages and soldiers aboard.
She gripped the rail tighter, hoping it would keep her upright. Her training as a lady-in-waiting, an occupation that involved hours of standing, had taught her some tricks. Including not locking one's knees against nerves—a lesson learned when one of the court ladies had fainted during a particularly tense night at court. A lesson Sophie had never forgotten, though, right now she wished that it wasn't true, unsure if her trembling knees would keep her upright in their current state.
But she wasn't going to fight not to let the fear rule her. She—or some part of her—had felt terrified since they'd first heard that Eloisa had taken hostages. Or maybe long before that. The fear wasn't going to leave until she knew that her family was safe. She had to work around it. Which she would do by focusing on the other emotion that simmered beneath the fear and the hopeless desire for things to be different.
It had taken her some time to recognize that other emotion and to see that she could use it to her advantage. It had flared when the sanctii had been difficult during the final tests with the ship last night and steeled her spine to take control. It had burned brighter while she'd sat curled up on one of the chairs in front of the fire in her apartment last night while Cameron had slept, trying her hardest not to think about all that she could be about to lose.
The opportunity she had at the Academe to be something more than the mild-mannered obedient earth witch that the Anglion would have her be.
Her husband.
Possibilities.
A life.
And her fury had burned.
Her time in Illvya had taught her that being an exile wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible either. She had changed here. She wanted her family to be safe, and she would do this to save them and to save Eloisa, but she still resented all the recent politics and pressures that kept dragging her to places she didn't want to be.
She'd prayed to the goddess then, even pricking her finger and sending drops of her blood sizzling onto the coals. She'd didn't have salt grass or oil, but her plea would be heard anyway. Surely if the goddess cared enough to send her visions of Eloisa and the future and ask, in her own mysterious way, for Sophie's help, she should be open to a simple request in return.
To let them survive this. To let them have a life together. The kind of life Sophie she longed for. Simple. Unencumbered. Happy.
Free.
Her prayers had been reasonable, she thought. Fair price for services offered.
And yet, there was part of her that didn't believe that they would be answered. She didn't want to examine what that part of her did believe—she'd never let go of this railing if she let herself think it was all going to end in chaos and disaster and death—but she had felt the anger that simmered inside at the possibility. The frustration and rage that no one would let her call her life her own, that they all expected her to do what they considered best with little thought for what was best for her. Or for her marriage.
She'd eventually crawled back into bed and wrapped herself around Cameron, managing an hour or two of fitful sleep.
And now, standing here and staring back out to the harbor entrance and the sea that lay beyond, the sea that stood between Illvya and Anglion, she reached for that anger again. Anger would help her survive.
She was steeling herself to let go of the rail when Cameron's arms came around her, his hands covering hers. She leaned back into the warmth of him, determined not to waste any moment they could steal.
