by Cheree Alsop
“I doubt the fish would mind,” she said, keeping her tone light.
Orion chuckled and eyed the length of the plank between the ship and where Zyla stood on the dock.
“Just keep your eyes on me,” she encouraged. “You’ll be over it in no time.”
He put his other foot on the plank. “Here goes nothing,” he said.
His expression was one of intense concentration. She tried not to laugh at the cautious way he slid one foot in the front of the other. His gaze didn’t waver from hers the entire time. Her mouth quirked at the sight of beads of sweat that broke out across his forehead as he inched past the halfway point. At one moment, his foot moved closer to the edge and the plank wavered. His eyes widened and his hands flew out to steady himself.
Zyla held out a hand and was about to step on the plank to reach him when Orion shook his head.
“I’ve got this,” he said, his voice tight. “Just wait.”
A few seconds later, he was on the dock.
“No…problem,” he said, catching his breath.
Zyla watched him closely. She had the distinct feeling his wasn’t just a fit of nerves at their situation. She was truly seeing someone completely out of his element. Perhaps his dream had been right. Maybe he had died. But that didn’t explain why he was standing there in front of her with a forced smile on his face at the ridiculousness of what he had just accomplished.
“You can laugh at me now,” he said.
Zyla smiled, but couldn’t bring herself to laugh. After all they had been through, crossing a plank to the dock might be a little thing, but she had seen his expression. He had never crossed such a height in his life.
“No laughing,” she said simply. “Let me show you what a true Gathering looks like.”
One side of his lips lifted in a half smile that was endearing. He held out an arm. “May I?”
She laughed and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Why, thank you, sir.”
He led the way up the next, much wider, plank onto the vast flat deck of the Vienna and then slowed. Numerous shops had already been set up. The congestion of the crowd pressed against them as they worked their way through the tight alleys that had been clearly marked and were enforced by the Vienna constables. The smell of spices, fresh cheeses, bread, and the metallic tang of newly worked metal flooded her nose while the sounds of children laughing as they chased each other through the aisles were mixed with the braying of donkeys, the clang of the metalsmiths as they toiled on custom orders, and the shouts of hawkers peddling their wares. Sound echoed from every aisle of the vast market space.
“You’d better lead,” Orion said with a bewildered expression. “I have no idea where I’m going.”
Zyla slipped her hand from his arm, but caught his fingers and entwined them with hers. It was a simple action, so why did she feel heat running up her arm from the touch of his fingers?
She shot him what she hoped was a confident smile and said, “Follow me.”
It was easy to get lost in the twists and turns of the enormous ship. The sliding gateways had been pulled back from the center of the ship to reveal the rows upon rows of market decks beneath the main one. With Orion following close behind, Zyla led the way down the gangplank to the next level. At one point, a group of about ten men in mismatched, filthy clothing and with at least a month’s worth of scruff on their cheeks shoved past.
Without a word, Orion pulled Zyla close and shielded her with his body as they jostled by. She looked up at the protective expression on his face, aware too entirely of the hand he had placed on her waist when he moved her.
Catcalls and a few choice words were spoken when they noticed her.
“Caught yourself a vixen,” one man said.
“She looks feisty enough to share,” another pointed out.
Orion turned to glare at them. “Move along.”
The closest man who appeared to be the ringleader lifted his hands. “Oh, we don’t want to mess with this one.” His eyes narrowed. “You sure she doesn’t need a rescue from you?”
Zyla rolled her eyes and ducked from under Orion’s arm. “I’m fine.”
“You sure, miss?” the man said with a grin. “Because we’d show you a good time.”
“I’m sure,” she replied.
The man winked at Orion. “You must be a good one if she’s turning down a chance with all of us.”
The other men in the group laughed raucously.
Zyla saw Orion’s muscles tense. She placed a hand on his shoulder.
“He is,” she said smoothly. “And we’ve got places to go, so if you’ll excuse us.”
She moved them past the group, aware of how the tendons in his arm twitched with the want to hit someone.
“Better keep that one away from these parts,” one of the men called after them. “A pretty lady like that is a rare morsel. We can share, you know.”
Orion spun back around. Zyla caught his arm and continued walking before he could do something that would get them both in trouble.
“There’s a lot more of them than us,” she reminded him under her breath.
“Yeah, well, if they keep talking like that, there’ll be less of them,” Orion muttered, keeping his gaze on the men they left behind.
Zyla watched him, her emotions torn.
Orion finally glanced down at her. “What?” he asked. There was a hint of anger in his voice still that lingered from the thwarted fight.
“Nothing,” Zyla replied.
Orion stopped walking, causing her to do the same.
He looked down at her, his gaze intense behind the goggles. “What is it, Zyla?” he asked in a gentler tone.
She looked up at him, then away. “It’s just that nobody has ever defended me like that before.”
Orion was silent for several seconds. His breath came out stilted and before he spoke, he took a moment to move a strand of hair from where it had fallen free of her clip and tucked it gently behind her ear.
“You are worth fighting for.”
He said it quietly, yet with a determination in his voice that made her stomach twist. The way he looked down at her, his gaze penetrating and his hand opening and closing inches from her side as though he didn’t dare to touch her again, made her feel warm all over. She blinked, refusing to let any tears fall from the well of emotions that overcame her at his words.
Since her father died, she had felt so lost and alone in the world. Nobody had been in her corner. Now, suddenly, Orion was filling a void she hadn’t realized was so deep and empty, and it scared her.
Chapter Twelve
Orion
I couldn’t help watching Zyla as she made her way through the throng of people to the center of the Gathering. She was a complete enigma to me. There was something so captivating about the way she held herself aloft and moved through the crowd with the grace of a dancer.
I, on the other hand, was jostled about by old women and children, young men and teenagers who tried to pick my pockets and were disappointed I didn’t have anything to steal. The number of people who made up the fray was overwhelming. I questioned whether I had ever seen so many individuals in one place before, but couldn’t remember. The knife Barnaby had lent me was a reassuring weight at my side. At least the pick pockets knew better than to try to steal it.
Zyla’s stride was determined. She glanced back at me once or twice, probably to ensure that I hadn’t gotten myself lost somewhere. The thought made me smother a smile.
She seemed to know exactly where we were going. As we neared the center of the ship, the enormity of it began to sink in. I wondered how such a thing could even stay in the air.
A glance into the sky answered my question. Huge canvas balloons were tethered high above us bigger than many of the ships pulling up to the docking berths. The billowy, multi-colored spheres pulled at their bindings and swayed in the breeze. Solar sails similar to those on the Circinus filled the sky to the bow, but it looked as though mo
st of the work was done by the balloons.
“What are you looking at?”
I glanced down at Zyla’s curious tone. The sight of her upturned face and dancing blue eyes made my heart thud irregularly in my chest. I couldn’t help the smile that touched my lips at her questioning expression.
“I was just curious how this thing stays up,” I told her.
She nodded. “Amazing, isn’t it?” She looked around as if the wonder of the air wasn’t lost to her.
As I followed Zyla through the alleys, I could tell by her expression that she loved the hustle of the crowd, the merchants calling to those who walked by, and the children who begged their parents for samples that the bakers held out with enticing smiles. The hands of most of the people at the Gathering were conspicuously bare of any brand. Those I did see were Solariat.
I glanced down at Zyla’s hand, worried about how a Lunarian brand would be viewed, and nearly missed my next step. The Lunarian moon was barely visible through the Solariat sunburst on her hand. If I didn’t know what to look for, I would have thought the sunburst was her only brand.
“When did you have that done?” I asked. I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but the thought of her going through that pain in the last day or so made me bristle. I vowed to have words with whoever could do such a thing.
Zyla glanced at her hand, then moved it in front of her so I couldn’t see it. “Last night,” she said. “But Doc had a salve, so it didn’t hurt that bad.”
She was lying. I could see it in her eyes past her nonchalant expression. The fact that she tried to show a brave front made me want to smile and grimace at the same time.
I grabbed her unbranded hand and pulled her closer. Stooping so she could hear me above the hustle of the crowd, I said, “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
She lowered her gaze. “I know,” I heard her say. “I just…I was just embarrassed.”
I stared down at her. “Embarrassed? Why?”
She shrugged and looked up at me again. A hint of red colored her cheeks. “It’s silly, really. I guess I just thought you would think less of me.”
That stopped me in my tracks entirely. “I couldn’t think more of you,” I said honestly. “You’ve been through so much, and then you go and do this to protect your ship? You’re amazing.”
She looked up at me with an expression that made me wonder if she was about to laugh or cry. She blinked and said, “I really didn’t think that’s what you’d say.”
I couldn’t help the smile that ran across my face when I replied, “Trust me. I might surprise you.”
An answering smile touched her lips and she said, “You already have.”
I looked down at the brand on her hand again. Thoughts of Zyla’s dream and the chaos King Tolier and the Empress were creating made me wonder if soon every hand would bear a mark. It made my heart ache to think of the children as branded.
“Your face is like an open book even with those goggles,” Zyla said, breaking into my thoughts once more.
When she spoke, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. The chaos of the walkways, the shouts of the crowd, and the brush of shoulders against my own fell away to leave us in our own bubble.
Zyla’s eyes creased at the corners. “You’re going to have to learn a better disguise for your emotions than that if we’re to have a chance here.” Her tone softened and she said, “What makes you look so sad?”
I shook my head at how easily she read me. “I just don’t like the thought of anyone owning another person.” I looked meaningfully at her hand. “It’s not right, and I can’t help wanting everyone here to stay free.”
“That’s why we’re here,” she said. There was an emotion in her voice I didn’t recognize. She looked away, but I could tell by her gaze that she didn’t see the crowd; her attention was inward, and a hint of the same sadness I felt touched her eyes. She gave a little cough and said, “We can’t go back and change the past, but maybe you can provide the future with some hope.”
“You’re asking a lot from someone who has no idea what he’s doing here,” I said. “You’re asking these people to put their lives on the line and trust me, but I don’t know what it takes to be the figurehead in a revolution, and they appear pretty content with the way things are.”
“They’re not content,” Zyla replied. She made her way down a little aisle between two three-sided tents. “They’re worried that they’ll soon be losing their freedom and way of life. They’re as frustrated as the branded and ready to do something about it. You’ll see.”
She shouldered her way through the back of another tent. I followed her to an open hatch guarded by four men with bared scimitars and expressions that said they would readily use them.
Zyla whispered something to the first guard, and then motioned for me to follow her. We walked silently down a flight of stairs, then paused.
The room revealed was massive. The roof was higher than any belowdecks of the Circinus, and the sides ran far enough that they were lost in the crowd of people gathered together. Someone stood on a platform at one end and spoke to the group. Men, women, and children stood in clusters talking and listening to the speaker. Everywhere I looked, purple armbands, headbands, sword sashes, and even cloaks dominated.
“The color of the rebellion,” Zyla said.
I looked down to see the sash she held out. At my questioning look, she tied hers around her wrist and motioned for me to do the same. Stunned at the enormity of what she was showing me, I followed her actions and then her steps into the crowd.
Above, the people at the Gathering had gone about their business with the chaos expected of a crowd at a market. Belowdecks, the energy was different. Discussions were heated, eyes sparked, voices were raised, and the children who had above been running around creating havoc stood at their parents’ sides and watched the adults argue. The unrest Zyla hinted at was more than evident. Fear was the common factor in every expression. Even the speaker at the podium looked worried. His purple sash had been tied around his long black hair in a headband that did little to hide the twisted scars that ran down the side of his face.
“We cannot make waves yet. We must wait until we’re ready,” he said.
A man held up a stein and said, “We should wait for another sign!”
“Like the prophecy?” the man at the podium replied. “How did that work for us?”
“The sign was wrong, Torque” a woman shouted. “But we can’t give in!”
“We’ll lose again if we act irrationally,” the man told her.
A huge bear of a man pushed his way through the crowd and stopped in front of the podium. “We’ll lose again if we can’t stand together. We could have brought the monarchy down if everyone acted at the disappearance of Orion, but we stood divided.”
He glared at those massed at the front of the audience. Many heads bowed or were averted. I could read the shame on those turned toward us.
“We need to be unified,” he continued. “Or we might as well not even try.” He held up his hand to show the Solariat brand on the back. “I, for one, refuse to let my children become a branded like their father.”
“Me, too,” someone else shouted.
Several others took up the cry.
The man at the podium raised his hand. As soon as the crowd was quiet enough for him to speak, Torque said, “The lives we lost that day can never be replaced.” His voice lowered and he said, “The lives of my mother and brother can’t be replaced. Thousands of others were tortured, branded, and are being treated like slaves aboard Solariat and Lunarian ships because of that day. Do you really want another prophecy to tell you to throw your lives away?”
Zyla’s hands clenched into fists beside me. She took a step toward the podium, but then a familiar figure crossed to it instead. The shouting of the crowd lowered to whispers. Shocked gazes followed the man’s progress.
The man at the podium’s eyes widened in surprise. A grin cros
sed his face and he held out his hand. “Captain Dawes, it’s been a while.”
“Hello, Torque,” the Captain replied. “It has, my friend. Long enough for your tune to change, it appears.”
Torque lowered his gaze. “You haven’t been here.”
“True,” Zyla’s uncle said. “I lost too much and had to find myself again.”
Empathy showed on Torque’s face when he replied, “I’m sorry about Lisandra and your brother.”
Dawes nodded. “As I am about your family. Those nights left us all scarred.”
When Torque gave a wry smile that twisted the scars down his face, Captain Dawes’ eyes widened. “I mean, not all physically, just—”
Torque nodded. “I understand.” He clapped the captain on the shoulder and turned to face the crowd. “Let’s hear it for one of the men who sacrificed everything to keep our families fed, our stores full, and our enemies combing the skies.”
A cheer ran through the crowd. Captain Dawes smiled, but it was obvious by his expression that he didn’t relish the attention. After a few seconds, he lifted his hand and the crowd quieted. Expectation tingled in the air.
“I’ll never stop fighting for you, my friends.” Captain Dawes looked around the room, meeting the gazes of many and said, “My family. You were there for me after the loss of my wife, our unborn child, and my brother.”
Zyla’s head jerked up and she stared at the captain. I had the impression she didn’t know her uncle and aunt had been expecting a child. The loss in her gaze was heartbreaking.
Captain Dawes continued with, “You gave me a purpose. Now I return the favor.”
His eyes met mine. A rush of adrenaline flooded through me at the anticipation in his expression.
As if he read my nervousness, his eyes creased at the corners and he turned back to the crowd. “You need a sign? I give you the Orion you have been looking for.”
He pointed in my direction. The Revolters around us fell away until it was only Zyla and I standing at the back of the room. I hadn’t been prepared for such a rushed introduction, and wasn’t sure what was expected of me.
