“Nice!” Mae praised him, but when she peered over her shoulder, she saw the other carriages picking up speed. “Oh, damn!”
Kieran rolled on his back and reloaded his shotgun. As his fingers fumbled with the shells, one of the motocarriages tried to ram them. To avoid a collision, Mae swerved hard. The sudden maneuver nearly threw Kieran from the top of their vehicle.
“Dammit, Mae, what are you doing?”
“Sorry!” she whimpered. “They were trying to hit us! What was I supposed to do?”
“I don't know... shoot them?” Kieran's hands were shaking as he rolled on his stomach and took aim. His trembling fingers made him miss. Thanks to Mae's frequent swerving, his next shot landed nowhere near its mark. “Shit!” With a grumble, he rolled and reloaded again.
“They're right next to us, Kieran!” Mae warned him. This time, he didn't have any advice for her, so Mae took matters into her own hands. A bullet grazed her shoulder, but her adrenaline was pumping hard, so she barely felt it. With one hand on the wheel, she turned her body and raised Kieran's pistol, taking aim at the motocarriage's driver. She had to fire three times before the shot hit its mark. When the driver slumped over, she squealed with delight.
“Yea! I got him!” Mae shrilled. “Er... wait. I killed someone. Am I supposed to be this happy about killing someone? I'm not, am I?” She tilted her head and winced. “Well, I do feel pretty happy, I can't deny that...”
“Hush... and good job,” Kieran brusquely said. A bullet hit their carriage, barely an inch from his head, reminding him he had to act fast. He aimed his shotgun at the third and final carriage and whispered to himself, “Don't miss... don't you goddamn miss again.”
This time, Kieran's aim was good. The shot hit the carriage's wheel in such a way that the entire vehicle flipped backward. Mae cheered when she saw it go down.
Kieran slid back into the driver's seat and claimed the wheel from Mae, as well as his pistol. As they traded sides, he had her in his lap for a moment, but she didn't seem to mind.
“Damn, Kieran, that was good!” Mae's smile spanned the entire length of her face. She didn't even care that she was bleeding. “We were good. Weren't we good?”
“Sure.” Kieran leaned forward, as close to the wheel as possible. He was trying the see the road, but the sun had yet to rise, so he was driving blindly. When he mashed the pedal as hard as he could, the sound of chugging engines nearly drowned out Mae's voice.
“I mean... there were three of them and one of us! They were pathetic!” Mae gave him a congratulatory nudge. “But we had you, so they didn't really stand a chance, did they?”
“Uh huh.” Kieran hoped she wouldn't notice his face was as pale as the moon above them.
They drove for twenty minutes before Kieran decided it was finally safe to stop the carriage and wipe the sweat from his brow. “Well...” he spoke, “that wasn't eventful at all, was it?”
Nico's head suddenly emerged from the motocarriage window. “That was madness!” he cried. “To be honest, I wasn't sure we'd make it out alive.”
Ella's head emerged next to Nico's, and she said, “I guess we hired the right man to take us to the capital, didn't we?” Though her pulse was still pounding, Ella forced a smile for Kieran's sake. “If he wasn't with us, I'm sure we would've died back there.”
Ignoring their praise, Kieran pointed at the side of the motocarriage, which was riddled with holes. “I hope you lot are paying for that too,” he griped. “Thanks to you, I've got bullet holes all over my beautiful vehicle. Lovely.” As he started the engine again, he added, “And that's the last time I'm escorting anyone anywhere, I don't care how much they beg!”
Thirty One
“So, what's with the mask?” Julian heckled Tom Harriot before their match began. “Is it a fashion statement? Are you hiding something hideous under there? Or are you just trying to scare me?”
Harriot juggled his sword between his hands as he tried to decide which one to use. His right hand was swifter, but his left hand's grip was firmer. Either way, he knew he would win.
“I bet it's the latter. You're trying to look frightening, aren't you?” Julian deduced. “Well, I'm sorry to say, I forgot to shit myself on the way out here. Your scary mask is failing you.”
“Can we just get on with it?” Harriot quietly requested. He decided on his left hand, as it usually gave him an advantage—not that he needed an advantage against Julian Featherstone. He assumed it would be an easy win.
“Oh, are you that eager to have your ass handed to you, Harriot?”
“No, but I am eager to get it over with.” Harriot slipped his right hand into the pocket of his coat, since he wouldn't be needing it. “It shouldn't take long.”
“What sort of name is that, anyway?” Julian asked as he walked forward, closing the distance between them. “Harriot. It sounds like a lady's name. I mean, I know it's your surname, but if I was you, I wouldn't let people call me that!”
Harriot didn't say a word as he waited for Julian to make the first move. When the baron finally swung at him, he swiftly blocked. And when Julian swung again, he deflected him easily.
After Harriot blocked him several times, Julian chuckled nervously. “Alright. I'll admit you have some skill, but--”
Before Julian could finish speaking, Harriot lunged at his face. When the blade nearly sliced his cheek, Julian leapt backward with a shriek. “What? Why would you go for my face? How rude!”
“We're not allowed to kill each other, but they never said we weren't allowed to draw blood,” Harriot pointed out.
“Oh, so that's how it is?” Julian slashed at Harriot, who blocked and smirked. He swung again and again, and each time, Harriot casually dodged or blocked. “Look, Harriot, I was acting like a pompous ass before, but let me be honest... I'm not all that wonderful at the swordfighting thing.”
“I'd gathered as much,” Harriot said as he launched a brutal counterattack. Julian, who wasn't the most skilled with defensive maneuvers, had to shuffle backward each time Harriot struck him.
“And now you can be honest with me,” Julian continued. He tried to sweep his sword at Harriot's legs, thinking it would be unpredictable, but Harriot blocked that too. “You're not really in this for a kiss from the princess, are you? And you're probably not in it for the glory either... not that much, right?”
“You know nothing about me.”
When Harriot suddenly lunged for his head again, Julian barely tilted away from the blow. Had he not moved, his opponent would have blinded him in one eye. As he swung ineffectually, Julian continued, “Now... I'm assuming you're in this for the money. I'm not. I hate to be a braggart, but I have a lot of money. I mean a lot.” Julian chuckled nervously when Harriot's blade came close to shaving his arm. “If I triple the reward, do you think you could let me win?”
“No.”
“Alright then. If I double the reward, will you at least let me look good in front of all these people? Maybe you could slow down a bit?”
Harriot unleashed a barrage of swings, which he assumed would be an adequate answer. Julian managed to block a few, but not all. When Harriot's blade sliced the length of his collarbone, Julian clenched his teeth and drew a sharp breath. Harriot continued to thrust and slash—he was relentless—so Julian had to run. He sprinted to the other side of the arena and doubled over, panting.
When he saw Harriot charging toward him, Julian shrieked and ran again. His morale was further crushed by the sound of audience jeers and laughter.
“You try to fight him!” Julian heckled the crowd that heckled him. “It isn't easy! He's like a beast... man... person-thing. He's unnatural!” At that moment, Harriot caught up to him and made a sweep for his head. As Julian narrowly ducked, he shouted, “See?”
Harriot attacked him with lightning speed, which was almost impossible to block. By some miracle, Julian managed to squeeze in a counterattack. Julian's swings were wild, less polished and not nearly as graceful, but for one g
lorious moment, he had Harriot on the defensive. Harriot even stumbled backward once, which had Julian feeling a bit more confident.
But his success was short-lived. Harriot's sword made a wide arc, and when it struck, Julian's blade flew from his hand. To make his victory clear, Harriot pressed the tip of his sword against an unarmed Julian's chin. The audience's applause was somewhat meager, likely because they expected the result.
Without a word to his opponent, Harriot sheathed his sword and left the arena. He went back to the palace, back to his room, and restlessly paced the floor. He knew what was expected of him, but doubt had entered his head. Gemellus was a likable fool, the princess was unexpectedly charming, everyone had been kind to him—and yet the mission had to come first. Emotions clouded his judgment, but he couldn't allow it. No matter what, he had to stay the course. His father deserved nothing less than total loyalty.
Tom paused in front of the looking glass, frowning at his reflection. Every so often, he wanted to tear off his blasted mask and hurl it across the room. Everyone had an opinion about it. It was silly. It was frightening. It was odd. It was intimidating. As much as those words exasperated him, he knew the reaction would be far worse without the mask. He still remembered what it was like to live without it, and he didn't miss the mockery.
“Don't,” Harriot whispered words of warning to himself. “Don't do it. Don't go to her. You don't need this.”
His words had no effect. A moment later, his feet carried him into the hall and to Isabella's room. Tom's entire body was screaming in resistance as he tapped on her door. He almost turned around and fled, but when the door opened, he was frozen.
“Oh... Mr. Harriot!” Isabella's eyes sparkled with surprise. “This is very unexpected.” Tom nodded, but he didn't say a word, so she continued, “I suppose I should congratulate you on your win? You made it look so easy! I was very impressed.”
“It was easy.” A grin briefly flashed onto his lips. “That probably sounds arrogant, but it's true. I expected more of a struggle.”
“Well, I'm glad you won.” Isabella's eyes went wide. She hadn't meant to unintentionally reveal her feelings on the matter. “I mean... I don't mean that I... I... err...”
Isabella never completed her thought, so Harriot looked away, glancing down both sides of the hallway. As soon as he established they were alone, he leaned forward and whispered, “May I come in for a moment?”
“Oh!” Isabella's cheeks were flooded with myriad shades of pink. “Um... I suppose.” When she stepped away from the doorway, allowing him entry, her heart was beating so hard that she swore she could feel it in her throat. No man, apart from her father and brother, had ever set foot in her bedchamber.
When Harriot stepped inside, his hands slipped into the pockets of his coat. Unless she was mistaken, he looked just as unsettled as she did.
“So... there's to be a celebration in two days. A party. My birthday has already come and gone, and still they celebrate it!” Isabella paused to nibble on her lip. “Well, that's when you'll get your prize... although it seems silly to call it a prize. A kiss from me is hardly a prize. Honestly, the whole concept was ridiculous! I should have never allowed Lyneah to talk me into it. A kiss from the princess for the winner of a tournament? Who would ever think of something so completely and utterly ridiculous?” Isabella knew she was rambling again, but she couldn't make herself stop. “So silly. It's so silly, I swear...”
“I don't think it's silly.”
Harriot's response made her forget to breathe. “Really?” she squeaked. Fortunately, several seconds later, her body remembered how to function.
“Of course.” Harriot nodded. “Any man would be lucky to kiss you, Your Highness. Myself included.”
“Uhh...” With that, she was officially tongue-tied. When Harriot closed the distance between them, her entire body went rigid.
“I'm afraid I won't be at the party,” he informed her.
A line of disappointment creased her brow. “You're leaving?”
“Something like that.” Harriot was quite tall, and she was very short, so he leaned down a bit. “What I'm saying is... I'll have to claim my prize right now.”
“Prize!” Isabella rolled her eyes. “You don't have to call it that.”
“But I want to call it that. I'm calling it what it is. I wasn't fighting for the monetary reward, Princess. If I had been, I would have accepted Julian's offer when he tried to pay me off.”
“Julian tried to pay you off?” Isabella shrieked. “Really?”
“Indeed. I think he paid a man to lose the gun round too. I caught him conversing with that sharpshooter fellow. Flair? Was that his name?” Harriot shrugged. “Anyway, my point is, I wasn't fighting for the money. And neither was Julian, obviously.”
“Oh.”
“So while I still have a chance, I wanted to claim what I earned.” Tom tucked a lock of hair behind Isabella's ear. When she felt his finger brushing her skin, she nearly swooned. “Will you allow it?”
“Uh... yes.” Isabella tried not to sound too eager. “But... do you think you could remove your mask first?”
“No.”
“Why not?” The princess' lips dropped into a pout. “I'd like it if I could see your face. Your whole face.”
“And I'd like it if you couldn't,” he said, chuckling dryly. “My mouth isn't covered by the mask. I don't have to remove it to kiss you.”
“I... suppose.” Though she was disappointed, Isabella decided not to complain. Whether he wore the mask or not, she had been dying to kiss him, and she couldn't deny that fact. As smitten as she was, she would have accepted his kiss no matter what. “I... I probably shouldn't confess this, but I've never actually kissed anyone before.”
Harriot's lips fell. “You haven't?”
“No. But I'm really looking forward to it, so...” Isabella lifted her head, closed her eyes, and rose up on her toes. She was ready for it.
He felt guilty stealing a first kiss from such a lovely girl, especially when he didn't deserve it. But he would have felt more guilty changing his mind, so he indulged himself. His hand cradled her waist as he brought his lips to hers. The princess' mouth was soft, and tasted vaguely of honey. When he heard her make a tiny squeaking noise, his lips smiled against hers.
To Isabella's great disappointment, their kiss ended quickly. He didn't want to take advantage of her, but she wouldn't have minded if he did. She was tempted to pull his head back down, to kiss him again, but her shyness wouldn't allow it.
“That was... nice,” she whispered. Harriot didn't say anything, but he was still smiling, so whether he admitted it or not, she assumed he enjoyed it too. “There's something I should probably tell you, Mr. Harriot.”
“Alright.” Harriot's hands returned to his pockets. “Go ahead.”
“I... really like you,” Isabella confessed. “I have feelings for you. When you're around, I can't stop staring at you. When you speak, nothing else matters. I feel oppressed by these feelings, and I've never felt this way before. I--”
He stopped her. “Don't. You don't want to say this to me, Your Highness.”
“But I do, because it's true!” Isabella exclaimed. “I really, really like you. I want you near me all the time. When you won the tournament, I was ecstatic, because the thought of kissing you was almost too much to bear.”
“You're being ridiculous.” He needed to say something cruel, to put her off for good. He didn't want to hurt her, but it was necessary—for her sake and for his. “You don't know what you're saying. There's nothing between us. And even if there was... which there most certainly is not... there is absolutely no way I would act on it. I'm a thirty-year-old man and you're a silly child. ”
As soon as he saw the tears in her eyes, Harriot regretted his words. But there was no way to undo the damage. He didn't want to undo it.
Isabella's voice shuddered as she spoke. “I... had no idea you felt that way.”
When a tear slipped from
her eye, she quickly swatted it away, but not before Harriot saw it. It made him feel worse. “I'm sorry if I've upset you, Princess, but it's better to be honest in situations like these.”
“Uh huh.” Isabella didn't know what else to say. She was crushed. Completely, totally, irrevocably crushed.
“Well then, I suppose I should go.” He turned toward the door.
“I suppose you should.” Isabella's voice had gone painfully cold.
“Goodnight, Princess...” As Harriot hovered in the doorway, he whispered words that wrenched his heart, and yet Isabella didn't think much of them: “I'm very sorry about tomorrow.”
Thirty Two
When the motocarriage rolled into the ICC, everyone but Nico was awed. Tall, block-like buildings loomed on both sides of the capital's busy main street, and airships peppered the sky. The air, tainted by smog and steam, was difficult for Mae and Ella to breathe, since neither of them had ventured outside of Bordeaux before. Their hometown was violent and filthy, but at least the air was clean.
As he stopped the motocarriage in front of a pub, Kieran said, “Well... we're here. Let's hope no one shoots at us this time.” He hopped down from the driver's seat and opened the carriage door for Nico and Ella.
“I can't believe we made it!” Mae grunted and stretched. “That was a long way to travel.”
“I know. And Kieran and I get to make the journey again,” Ella said, frowning at her dedicated driver. “Sorry, Kieran.”
“So, where's everyone off to now?” Kieran looked marginally interested as he glanced around at his three companions.
Ella was the first to respond. “I should find the nearest pharmacy. I need to look for my brother's medicine.”
“And I'll go with you,” Kieran added.
The Lady Captain Page 21
