Amid Wind and Stone

by Nicole Luiken

  Audrey held onto the doorframe. “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

  His voice was grim. “Drag my mother’s murderer out of whatever hole she’s hidden herself in and then punish her.”

  Perhaps to ward off further argument, he scooped her up in his arms and Called the wind. A wind considerably stronger than Zephyr or even the royal Sirocco answered. Audrey had seen her father call the greater wind Mistral once, but this felt more like Gale.

  And yet all the strength was contained, bent to Piers’s will. It held up their doubled weight as solidly as a mattress, and then whisked them to a higher tier.

  Despite everything, Audrey clung to Piers’s neck and simply marveled. Shreds of clouds flirted with the moon, and a sprinkling of stars played peekaboo with the horizon. The view of the city stole her breath; it was even better than that from the royal palace at the pinnacle of Donlon, because instead of standing on a balcony, they were part of the night, moving through it.

  The fog shrouding the ground below looked white and mysterious instead of poisonous. The houses of the nobility, clinging to the mountain below the palace, were lit like a chandelier.

  Floating in his arms felt incredibly romantic, like a princess in a story. She impulsively said, “It’s so beautiful. You’re lucky to have this.”

  “My mother always said the same thing.” His voice was flat.

  She winced and fell silent.

  Fortunately, Audrey soon recognized the twin spires of her own residence. Piers landed a short distance away. “I’ll watch until you’re safe inside,” he said, withdrawn. “Go.”

  Audrey took two steps, then returned and gave him a quick kiss. His lips might’ve been invisible, but they felt perfectly solid, warm, and startled. “For rescuing me,” she said simply. “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to let her shatter the world.” His voice was brittle.

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, of course I don’t want the world to shatter, but I also don’t want you to get hurt.”

  His mouth opened in surprise, and blood rushed to her cheeks. She’d exposed herself by speaking, but she couldn’t regret it. With his mother and Norton dead, he needed to know that someone still cared.

  When he didn’t say anything, she started to walk away, but he snatched her hand and drew her back. He caught her up in a fierce embrace and kissed her. All her own words scattered and blew away like ash in the wind. She tasted loneliness and passion in his kiss.

  She would have stood there kissing him for hours, but the sound of an approaching pedal car broke them apart. It was just a milkman making morning deliveries, but the sight of a girl embracing thin air was sure to cause consternation.

  Audrey lifted her hand in mute farewell, then hurried home. Still in a daze, she rapped the knocker.

  “Lady Audrey!” The butler all but tripped over himself expressing how happy he was at her safe return. By the time Audrey glanced over her shoulder, The Phantom had vanished into the starry sky.

  “Audrey!” Her mother rushed into the vestibule and enfolded her in a painfully tight hug. Though she wore a night rail and wrapper, Audrey didn’t think she’d been to bed at all. With her hair loose and spectacles on, she looked fragile.

  Audrey hugged her back. Her heart ached. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “I promised God I wouldn’t yell at you, if you’d just come home safely,” her mother murmured.

  Audrey choked out a laugh. Saved. “Where’s Father?” she asked, steering her mother into the parlor. They sat together on the rose settee.

  Her mother’s lips tightened. “He’s with the Fleet.”

  Audrey nodded. She’d expected as much. “Does he know I was kidnapped?”

  “He received your note and deigned to drop by and inform me.” Fury vibrated in her voice.

  Audrey patted her hand. “It’s all right. I understand. I know he refused to obey their demands.”

  “It’s not that,” her mother said. The bags beneath her eyes made her look older than she was, old and bitter. “He refused to even pretend that he might cooperate. He could’ve played for time. Instead, he gave you up for dead as soon as he received the news. I’ll never forgive him for this. Never.”

  Since her mother had never forgiven her father for any of his infidelities, Audrey wasn’t surprised.

  Audrey ignored the sinking feeling in her own chest. “He thinks he’s being a realist,” she tried to explain, “that believing I could be saved would weaken him.” Her mother had never understood what drove her father: his duty to the Harding name.

  From her mother’s set jaw, she didn’t want to understand. “I requested an audience with the queen. She’s a mother. I hoped she might listen.”

  A spark ignited in Audrey’s mind. “But you haven’t had the audience yet? What time is it?”

  Her mother blinked. “It’s four in the morning. The appointment is at six. Why?”

  Audrey made up her mind. “I need to use it. I have information the queen needs to hear.”

  Queen Winifrid received Audrey in the throne room. All the gay birthday trappings had been replaced with somber, dark blue velvet befitting their state of war. Even the comfortable cushions on the throne had been stripped away, revealing the fierce carvings underneath: a silver falcon’s head in profile, with a glittering emerald eye. The falcon was a symbol of the Royal family; Audrey’s father had told her once it dated back to their pirate beginnings.

  Audrey curtsied. The stiff-rumped herald had gone ahead to explain to the queen that Audrey had arrived in place of Lady Bethany, and now Queen Winifrid was studying her with curiosity.

  “Have you come for your boon? I’m exceedingly grateful for the way you protected Prince Hans.” The queen’s neck bent as if her crown were too heavy, but the smile on her round face was kind. Her use of “I” instead of the royal “we” was a sign of favor.

  Audrey took a deep breath. “Before I request my boon, I ask that you consider what I have to say and not dismiss my words because of my youth.”

  Queen Winifrid’s eyebrows lifted, but she inclined her head graciously. “You have my full attention.”

  Audrey had rehearsed beforehand. As succinctly as possible, she related her encounter with The Phantom at the Children’s Ball and how he’d modified the Snowflake Device, how she’d sought out Robert Norton, and how Norton had been murdered. How the scheme originated with Donlon’s Queen of Thieves, not with Sipar. “The Queen of Thieves manipulated both sides into this war. We have to stop it.”

  The queen shook her head, sad-eyed. “War is inevitable—”

  “No, it’s not!” Audrey burst out, then winced at her own temerity. “Beg pardon, Your Majesty. I—I think that the only thing that makes war inevitable is both sides’ belief that peace is impossible.”

  A long silence followed. Audrey began to sweat. Had she gone too far?

  “You may be right that war could be averted today, were I willing to grovel,” the queen said quietly, “but it will come. This conflict has been building since before my rule began. In the long term, war is inevitable. And since it is, since the ambassador’s death cannot be reversed, it is to Donlon’s advantage to declare war now. We must prune back the Sipars before they build enough zipships to overwhelm us.”

  Audrey said nothing—because the queen was right. Audrey had been deluding herself. She bowed her head. “Your Majesty is wise.”

  “You’ve brought Donlon valuable information,” Queen Winifrid said. “Be assured that I will act on it.” Her voice hardened. “I take the attack on my son very seriously. I will see both this Queen of Thieves and this phantom arrested and imprisoned.”

  “No!” Audrey burst out, then quickly apologized. “I beg pardon, Your Majesty, but there is still the matter of my boon.”

  Queen Winifrid waited, eyebrows lifted.

  “I ask amnesty for The Phantom. His mother is the traitor, not him. He didn’t know what the modification would do to the
Snowflake Device.” The queen’s face grew colder at the reminder, and Audrey clenched her fists; she was messing this up. She tried again. “The Phantom freed me and is working with Donlon to stop Sipar.” Or rather, to take down Qeturah, who was still out there, scheming to shatter Air World. “He can be a valuable resource to the Crown. Please spare him.”

  “By your testimony, he is old enough to know right from wrong. I will not grant him wholesale amnesty. But”—the queen held up a hand to stop Audrey’s protests—“in view of your support, I will give the order that he be captured and go to trial, not shot on sight. That is the best I can do. If there is another boon you wish, you may apply to me again later.”

  That’s not enough! Audrey screamed inside. But the queen had already beckoned to her velvet-clad page for the next supplicant. Her audience was over, her chance to make things better gone as irrevocably as a snowflake in the desert.

  Dismayed, Audrey curtsied and took her leave.

  Her steps slowed as she approached the Harding family pedal car. There was nothing for it but to go home now. Nothing she could do to change the course of the war. Everything would happen miles away and far above the city, while she and her mother huddled together in fear and waited for news.

  She hated waiting. Despised being helpless.

  She almost wished she’d been born a boy so she could enlist with the Fleet. If she was on the spot, she could intervene if The Phantom and her father clashed. She could identify the Queen of Thieves and foil Qeturah’s plans.

  Instead, she’d be trapped here.

  No. Everything inside her rebelled at the thought.

  Jem took her arm and helped her into the pedal car. “Home, Lady Audrey?”

  Determination filled her. “No. Take me to Grady’s.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dorotea

  Stone World

  Someone kissed her gently on the lips.

  Dorotea sucked in a surprised gasp and retreated until her back pressed against a cloth-covered bench. If she hadn’t been sitting down, she might have fallen over, so great was the avalanche of disorientation. Where was she? What was happening?

  Her eyes focused on a dark-haired boy. His face was only inches away. Even in the dim light, she could tell he was very attractive. Had he really kissed her? Her pulse jumped.

  Apparently, the answer was yes, because he leaned in and kissed her again. His lips were soft against hers, as if asking permission.

  She felt dizzy. Confused. He gave her something to cling to. That was the only explanation for why she kissed him back, this stranger in the dark. Her thoughts fragmented as the kiss deepened, grew hungrier and less sweet.

  “Leah…” His hand smoothed over her hair, urging her closer.

  A warning bell rang in her brain, but she ignored it, still kissing. Their lips clung together.

  “Your hair is so soft,” he said wonderingly. He threaded his fingers through her curls, but in doing so his hand touched a raw spot on her neck, and she flinched.

  “Sorry.” He drew back, his expression chagrinned. “I forgot.”

  Forgot what? What was wrong with her neck? Dorotea touched it and winced at the stinging sensation. The chafed area ringed her entire neck. Had something choked her? What had happened while she was on Fire World?

  She took a quick inventory of her body. She still wore her Artisan robes, but her calves felt abraded, and when she patted her hair, grains of sand fell out.

  Not knowing how any of that had happened bothered her. A lot. She needed to take precautions to keep Leah out. Though Leah had chosen to let Dorotea back in—Dorotea wasn’t quite sure why.

  “What is it?” the boy asked. He sat very close to her on a padded bench. The ceiling almost brushed the top of his head.

  Where are we? Dorotea choked the words back. She twisted to look around. The light level was increasing, though she could see neither candles nor electric lights.

  Despite the low ceiling this was no cave… The walls were flat and straight. And was that a window, like the skylights in the Unskilled caverns?

  The conclusion was inescapable. “We’re Above.” Dorotea shuddered. That explained why the light was strangely yellow. At least it wasn’t red like on Fire World.

  She could see the boy better now. He was shirtless, and his shorts were old and worn. Her face grew warm, and she became very conscious of where their legs touched.

  What clan was he? He didn’t have a tattoo on his cheek, so his caste must be Skilled. Unless those Above didn’t have clans?

  The boy snugged her close to his side, sharing his warmth. “Shhh. We survived. The storm is ebbing.”

  His words brought brief flashes of wind and stinging sand, a memory that was hers and yet not hers. Weird and frightening.

  She tried to piece together the clues. Had she come here searching for a cure for Marta, or had she been exiled? Was this boy an exile? A scavenger? A cannibal? No, a cannibal wouldn’t waste time kissing her.

  And where was the gargoyle? Jasper?

  As soon as her mind asked the question, she knew.

  Heart beating wildly, she stared at his face as the increasing light spilled through the dirty window.

  He looked exactly like Leah’s memories of Gideon: dark hair and brows, well-formed lips, and a firm chin. Except for his eyes. They shone golden. Like the gargoyle’s.

  She ought to have realized the truth at once, but her mind had trouble reconciling this boy with the same beast who’d clamped a hand over her mouth and pinned her to the grotto wall.

  The gargoyle had annoyed and terrified her by turns.

  She’d kissed the boy.

  Her hand flew to her lips in incredulity. She’d kissed a gargoyle, and she’d liked it. It occurred to her that if anyone found out, she would be shunned— Except she was already a traitor, already shunned. What more could they do to her? The thought brought a curious freedom.

  Besides, Jasper was only half-gargoyle. Right now he looked like a boy, and he’d behaved like a boy—a boy who was attracted to her. Of course, he thought she was still Leah.

  What would he do if he found out the girl who’d enslaved him had returned? Would he react like a boy or a monster?

  Dorotea didn’t want to find out.

  He bent his head to kiss her again, but she put her finger to his lips. “This isn’t a good idea,” she whispered.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” he countered.

  Regretfully, she shook her head, and he subsided against the seat with a sigh.

  “Is it because of him? This Gideon you spoke of?” he asked after a moment.

  A lump formed in her throat. “Partly.” What had Leah told him?

  He gripped her hand. “He’s dead. You’re not. You shouldn’t waste what time you have.” His lips twisted. “Take it from someone who spent a lot of years only half alive.”

  Her heart twisted. “It must have been horrible. Being stuck there in the Cavern of Gargoyles for so long,” she ventured.

  He shuddered. “You can’t imagine. It drove some of us mad. Most of the elders retreated into their minds, trying to imitate the slow time of the Cave Lords.”

  She felt a twinge of dread. “But you were just a child.”

  “Yes.” He stared into the distance. “I didn’t understand what had happened, why I couldn’t move. I screamed for days before I finally quieted enough to hear the others. I’ll never forget that moment of joy when I realized I wasn’t all alone in the dark, that my brethren were there with me.”

  She squeezed his hand in sympathy and encouragement.

  “Rose Granite says that I saved them as much as they saved me, that keeping me entertained and educating me gave them all a long-term, shared project that kept them sane, but I know better. They could have just pushed me down into sleep. They didn’t have to be kind.”

  “I’m so glad you didn’t have to be alone. And I’m so sorry you went through that.” That my people did that to an innocent child.
>
  He shrugged. “It’s hardly your fault, Leah. But do you see what it means? I could be recaptured at any moment.”

  Her grip tightened. “Don’t say that!”

  “It’s true. But it’s true for everyone. We can never know what tomorrow will bring. So say you’ll live each day. You might even consider staying here with me.” He ducked his head bashfully.

  Dorotea gaped at him. “But this isn’t my body. What about Dorotea?”

  “And why should I care about her?” he asked belligerently. “She shaped her cave; let her live in it.”

  She wanted to protest his callousness, but what could she say? From his point of view, she was the villain, the monster who’d hurt him.

  “She didn’t mean to hurt you,” Dorotea said hesitantly. “She was having a nightmare and mistook you for the gargoyle that killed her father.”

  “Maybe.” A brooding frown pulled his brows together. “You know, I thought I was getting through to her, that she was considering freeing me, but she’d never have actually done it. She hates my race too much.”

  Dorotea’s stomach hurt like she’d swallowed a burning coal. The truth was that if he’d looked then like he did now, she’d never have used the collar. But he was still the same person—only his appearance had changed. What did that say about her?

  You knew he wasn’t truly a beast as soon as he spoke in something other than grunts. You just refused to face it, because you were afraid.

  The harsh truth made her cringe.

  He mistook the reason behind her guilt. “Dorotea isn’t in prison or anything, is she? I’d much rather be here with you than her, but I know what it’s like to be caged. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  “She’s not in prison, I swear, just Fire World.” She paused. “It’s very kind of you to be concerned about her.”

  He sighed. “I suppose I understand that you need to go back to your world. And with the collar gone, Dorotea can’t hurt me. But it doesn’t have to be now, does it?”

  She shook her head.