Exile for Dreamers

by Kathleen Baldwin

  No!

  My shoulders lurched to attention, and I tried to hold in the unbidden noises screaming up my throat—a war cry, a wounded moan. Either sound would betray me and testify to Daneska the hold she had over me. For Madame Cho’s sake, I arched my neck, and choked it back down my gullet.

  She saw through me and scoffed. “You always were too fond of this old woman.” She waggled the bloody knife at me. “If I kill her, I’ll be doing you a favor. I tried to warn you, love makes you weak.”

  A low, guttural rumble came from Ghost. It was a sound achingly familiar to me, having heard his brother utter it. But when it came from Lucien, it sounded twisted and indecipherable. I couldn’t tell if what Daneska had said pleased him or annoyed him, or both.

  He slammed me against the wall and studied me closely. Too closely. His icy gaze seared down the curve of my neck and over the rise of my breasts. Then he glowered at me, taking the measure of my soul. Where Gabriel’s eyes are a warm melting brown, Lucien’s are dark, like soil found at the bottom of a deep pit. There was no light in them.

  He watched my face steadily as he twisted my wrists and bound them with a rough hemp rope, cinching the knot so tight I couldn’t keep from grimacing. My wince drew the faintest suggestion of a smile to his lips, but it quickly vanished.

  “Did you get the drawings?” Daneska asked him.

  Lucien pulled some folded papers out of his coat. “They were right where they were supposed to be.” He shook them open. The first was a detailed drawing Sera had made of Sinclair’s warship.

  The second pleased Daneska enormously. “Notes. A list of parts and materials. It’s all here.”

  Jane’s notes.

  I grimaced. “You’ve got what you want, just go.”

  She grinned and folded up the papers. “Oh, no, my dear, you are coming with us. You’re to be the emperor’s new toy.”

  “You can’t make me dream for him.”

  “Oh, but I can, my dear Tessika.” She laughed and ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of her filthy underdress. “I can.”

  The silver bowl.

  Of course! The green water was probably absinthe laced with laudanum. The two were often mixed together. Once they got me to the palace, they intended to keep me in a drugged stupor, trapped in the madness of my dreams.

  Better I die here.

  She twisted the torn cloth and held it out to Lucien. “Gag her.”

  The instant he turned, I kicked out as hard as I could, aiming a crippling blow at his knee. In one stunningly smooth motion, Ghost dodged it, grabbed my foot, and flipped me to the floor. My head hit the stones, and for a second I thought the lantern had flickered out.

  Daneska laughed, looking quite gleeful as she knelt over me and tied the gag in place. “I told you, you are no match for him.”

  Ghost jerked me to my feet.

  Madame Cho was still unconscious and bleeding when they locked her in the cell. I prayed someone would come for her soon. Like a lamb being led to slaughter, Daneska and Ghost led me out of the dungeon and down into the secret passage that wound beneath Stranje House to the sea cave. We were so far beneath the house that even if I could scream, no one would hear me.

  Their sloop was tied to the dock in the cave. We passed the skeleton that had frightened Georgie so badly her first night at Stranje House. On a lark, Jane and I had dressed those old bones in a pink gown. I thought to myself that the gown was getting a little faded and if I ever came back to Stranje House I might fix that. Odd, the mundane thoughts that tumble through the mind when everything else has turned impossibly dark and hopeless.

  They tugged me into the boat and tied my lead line to a cleat on the gunwale. The thing about the sea cave is that it is rather tricky to navigate. It’s not hard to row into the cavern, especially if the tide is with you. No, it’s the rowing out that’s difficult.

  Ghost, who up until this time remained frighteningly quiet, began to curse. “You’re going to have to help, Daneska.”

  “Must I?” She grimaced at the long oars. “I bet we could make her do it.”

  “With her hands tied? Don’t be daft. Row.”

  And so Daneska did her best, and while they struggled, trying to keep from bashing into the cave walls, I worked on loosening my knot. Neither of us made rapid headway. By the time they managed to row out of the cave, my progress on the knot had taken a disheartening turn. Amid all the sloshing, the rope had gotten wet and the hemp began to swell.

  Once a boat clears the mouth of that cave, the sea is determined to push it back in. Especially at high tide, which it was that night. And if that doesn’t do the job, there are always the rocks. The waves tend to smash unwary sailors against the rocky shore.

  “I’m tired.” Daneska slumped over her oars.

  “Stop complaining and put your back into it.”

  Unfortunately, Daneska did a much better job than I thought she would. Soon we were moving farther from the coast and my chances of escape were lessening by the second. I picked furiously at Ghost’s knot, but between the hemp swelling and my fingers turning numb from lack of circulation, I’d managed to loosen only one loop.

  My heart sank when Lucien said, “You can stop now. We’re far enough away that we can hoist the sail.”

  It was a clear night and I could see the lights of Stranje House atop the cliff. Surely by now they knew what had happened. I hoped above all that they’d found Madame Cho and were tending to her injuries.

  At this point I knew I had little chance of escaping alive. The fading silhouette of Ravencross Manor drew my gaze and filled me with regrets. I wished I’d kissed Gabriel one more time. I wish I hadn’t fretted about not having a future. I should’ve been happier when I had the chance.

  Still, I picked at the rope. Habit, I suppose. Miss Stranje required us to do timed practices of getting ourselves untied. Normally I excelled at it, but Ghost tied an exceptionally good knot, and the wet rope made it nearly impossible to loosen. Frustrated, I growled and bit down on the gag in my mouth, working it with my teeth.

  They were hauling up the sail when I caught a faint sound that made me start picking at my ropes faster. The slap, slap, slap of a paddle wheel. It was far-away, and if you didn’t know what it was you might think it was just the lapping of the waves in the distance or the beat of a sail catching the wind. Except this sound was too regular. Mechanically regular. Even with that filthy gag in my mouth, my lips spread in a wide smile. It was so blessedly wonderfully regular. Quite possibly the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

  They would see the sloop’s white sail, I told myself. Please God, let them see that white sail shining in the moonlight. The sound got louder by the minute, and I picked at my bonds faster. Finally, I could see the outline of the ship and the puff of smoke rising from her stack.

  “Do you hear that?” Daneska asked.

  “Hear what?” Ghost asked.

  I tried to make a noise despite the gag in my mouth. It drew her attention for a moment. “Hush. Be grateful I didn’t make you row. I daresay, I shall have blisters for a week. Whereas you could’ve rowed and spared me—”

  She squinted in the direction of the sound and stood up.

  “Sit down, Dani,” Ghost snarled. “If the sail comes about, it will knock you overboard. I’m in no mood to stop and fish your carcass out of the water. Although you could do with a bath.”

  “Do you not hear that? It’s the oddest noise and it’s getting louder.” Then she saw it. “What is that?” She pointed.

  “I’ll not tell you again, Daneska. Sit down or I will knock you overboard myself.” He held the tiller with one hand and with the other reached over to adjust the boom line.

  She plopped back down on the rowing thwart, and jabbed her finger in the direction of the steamship. “For pity’s sake, look!”

  He turned with deliberate slowness in the direction she pointed. Straightened. Stood and looked harder. “Damnation.”

  Ghost tied off the tille
r and ran to the bow. He drew out the flintlock he’d pointed at me earlier, aimed, and fired. The blast nearly deafened me. But I thought I heard a distant ping. His bullet must’ve hit metal. Please let that be all it hit. Let it be a hole in their smokestack, not in something that would sink them, and not in someone’s body.

  I couldn’t bear it if one of them got hurt trying to save me. I was the one who was supposed to do the saving. Not them. They had too much at risk.

  The sail trapped a cloud of acrid gun smoke in the boat. Dani coughed. Ghost primed his gun and fired again. My heart clenched tighter than the knot Lucien had tied around my hands.

  The warship steamed straight for us. I heard a soft whistling sound. Through the dark I saw moonlight catch on the silver tip of a spear speeding straight for the bow of our sloop. Ghost dove out of the way, just as the spear hit where he’d been standing and exploded in a burst of flame.

  The impact rocked the sloop, and flames crackled to life on the bow.

  They were trying to shoot us down. Even with me aboard the ship. It stung. But a split second later I realized they’d chosen rightly. Daneska and Ghost had to be stopped at any cost.

  Good!

  As things stood, I’d planned to attack Ghost once I got these ropes off. I’d intended to sink the ship, along with Ghost, Daneska, and the stolen warship plans. I would much rather die out here under the stars and the wide-open sky than trapped in Napoleon’s silken prison.

  But as I considered where the spear struck, I suspected Jane had the spyglass to her eye and knew exactly which end of the sloop I was sitting in. Either way, shooting us down was my best chance of escape.

  “Bucket!” Ghost shouted from where he had fallen amidships. But Dani grabbed a wool blanket from beneath the thwart and began beating the flames. It didn’t work. There is oil in a Greek fire bomb and that oil spreads and latches on rather handily to things like woolen blankets.

  “Wet it!” Ghost yelled at her as he grabbed a bucket. She dipped the blanket in the sea. He hung over the side and scooped water onto the flame, spreading the oil in blazing rivulets along the bow. He cursed.

  Daneska grumbled that it was all my fault as she beat out flames. Then she changed her tune and swore that as soon as she could get her hands on Georgiana Fitzwilliam, she would ring her worthless neck.

  “This is that smart-mouthed little redhead’s doing.” She made sure I was paying attention to her rant. “Mark me. I’ll have her freckled hide for this.”

  I quietly slipped off my shoes and hoped she hadn’t noticed that I’d finally freed myself from Ghost’s confounded knot.

  Waves lapped against the side of the boat. This was my chance. Soon the fire would be out and Daneska would have the presence of mind to tie me more securely. I heard the constant chug of the steam engine getting closer. The quarter-moon cast little light that night. It glimmered soft as doves’ wings on the rolling swells. I slipped out of my gag and silently set the ropes aside.

  The Mary Isabella’s silhouette was black and distinct against the charcoal gray of night. The pinprick glow of a lantern twinkled on her starboard bow like a guiding star—a very tiny needle in this vast watery haystack. I marked her direction and, gauging the moonlit ripples of the sea, noted that I would need to cut across the current.

  The fire crackled quieter. Daneska beat at the flames less furiously. It was time.

  I did not mean to make a splash, but flinging oneself out into the sea tends to have that effect. When I surfaced, I heard Daneska scream, “She jumped!”

  Dani cursed me in one of her many languages, or maybe several. Then she tried to reason with me. “Would you rather drown than serve the man who will one day rule the world? Are you that big a fool?”

  I am.

  My petticoats quickly waterlogged and weighed me down. I chided myself for not ripping them off before I’d jumped. The ocean was cold and salt burned my eyes. I’d expected that. What I hadn’t expected was the strength of the current pulling me off course.

  Despite the sloshing in my ears, I heard Daneska’s frantic plea. “Lucien, do something. She’s getting away.”

  “What would you have me do? Our ship is afire.”

  “She was supposed to be my gift to Napoleon. If she’s going to be obstinate, shoot her. Kill her!” Dani always was the sort who would rather rip something up than share it.

  “Don’t be a fool. Help me get this fire out. Let her go. She’ll drown before they get to her anyway.”

  “Not her. She’s not the drowning sort. Give me your gun. I’ll do it.” Daneska usually remains calm. Nothing ruffles her scales. She never screeches. Why would she screech when she found cooing so much more effective? And yet, that night, she shrieked at Ghost, as if the clawing pitch of her voice might force him to comply. “Change sail. Bring us around.”

  I didn’t look back. I swam. Swam for all I was worth. The current fought me. My waterlogged gowns kept pulling me under. Still I swam.

  “Give me your gun,” she screamed.

  The first shot seemed to echo across the waves. It sounded louder than a flintlock on land. The blast seemed to ripple through the massive sea and stir the waves. With a splash, the musket ball plunged into the water next to my shoulder.

  I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. I was. But I raced against terror almost every night in my dreams. Terror and I were old friends.

  The galloping of my heart only made my arms and legs pump faster. I dove under the waves, thinking if she couldn’t see me, she couldn’t hit me. But I couldn’t tell direction from under the waves, and underwater the current seemed to blow me sideways as if I were nothing but a feather. I burst through the surface gasping and lost.

  Still, I pulled myself forward through the sea, spitting out salt water and flinging seaweed out of my eyes and mouth, trying to cross the current to where I’d last seen the Mary Isabella. Desperate for air and unable to see between the swells, I kicked my hardest and lifted my head as high as I could above the waves. When a swell carried me up, I spotted her lantern shining in the distance and I dove for it.

  Just as I dove forward into the sea, another shot rang over my head. The ball whizzed past and sliced through the water not more than an arm’s length in front of me. I prayed she would be slow at reloading.

  The warship chugged toward me, coming closer and closer. Not much farther, I told myself. How could I make them see me? They wouldn’t even know I was in the water. If I tried to wave or shout, it would give away my position to Daneska. Except then I realized Georgie would know. She would hear the shooting and guess I had jumped. Jane would know, too. And Gabriel. When I thought about it, I realized everyone aboard that warship, with the exception of Mr. Sinclair, would be absolutely certain that I’d jumped.

  I flung my arms ahead, pulling and grabbing at the water as if it were a fallen ladder and I was crawling across it to save my life. Sloshing and churning across the waves, my arms burned and I’d gulped down near as much water as I had air. I stuck my head up and through bleary eyes I thought I saw that there were not one but two lamps on the bow.

  If I could see the Mary Isabella, so could Daneska. And she would know where to follow me. Another gunshot cracked through the air. This one struck mere inches from my head. I swam under the waves, spreading my wings through the water like a bird. A very weary bird. When I emerged for breath, I heard Gabriel. His voice echoed like a church bell over the water. “There! She’s in the water. There.”

  “They’re shooting at her. Fire another arrow!” That sounded like Georgie. I heard the panic and wanted to call out to her and tell her to not be afraid. But every ounce of my strength was needed for forcing one arm in front of the other.

  Another shot shook the night. This one came from in front of me. They were firing at Daneska.

  “This will scare them off.” It sounded like Lord Wyatt. I heard the twang and sharp snap of a spear firing. An instant later, an explosion ruptured the sky.

  No! I wa
nted to shout. Don’t frighten them away. Chase them down. They must be captured or sunk to the bottom of the sea. Our warship was faster than their crippled sloop, or it would be if they didn’t stop to rescue me.

  But I was tiring out, gagging on brine, and sinking lower with every floundering stroke. I would never make it to shore. Even reaching the Mary Isabella seemed an impossible feat. At least Daneska had stopped shooting at me. Ghost was right; she needn’t have wasted her ammunition. His prediction that I would become fish food was proving true.

  Bitterly chilled, my arms felt wooden and numb. My fingers were so cold I couldn’t feel them. I’d swallowed so much salt water I needed to retch. I hadn’t taken a full breath for far too long. Still, I flopped one hand forward and tried to drag myself through the waves as best I could.

  “I think I see her,” someone shouted. But I could no longer discern voices. They sounded so very faint and far away, as if echoing to me from across a great valley. I heaved up water. There was no strength left. None. Not even an ounce. My arms relaxed and floated wide. I bobbed on a swell. My gown felt so very heavy. It tugged at me, luring me down into the blissful deep.

  I vaguely heard shouts—arguing. “Ravencross, no! Don’t. You’ll never find her in those waves. Good Lord, not in your boots, man. You’ll drown.”

  Somewhere in front of me I heard a splash. But the water around me was not stirred.

  They shouted his name, hollering for him to come back. In the feeble meanderings of my air-starved mind, it dawned on me that Gabriel had jumped in after me.

  The thought spiked through me like a fiery dagger.

  No!

  With the same certainty that Georgie and Jane would’ve known I jumped, I knew Gabriel had dived in to come get me.

  I moaned. Gabriel had a chest full of stitches. These waves would tear them out as sure as night follows day.

  For his sake, I rolled to my side, belched out seawater, and flung my arm out, grabbing at the water in a desperate stroke forward. And then another. And another. A terrifying thought drove me to move faster. I remembered hearing of men who drowned because their boots filled with water and, like lead weights, dragged them under.