“We have little time,” she said, but Lykos was already heading down the hallway.
***
Sophia stirred and frowned. Her head ached and she was almost positive it would be easier to notice how many places didn’t hurt as opposed to how many that did. She stretched her foot and let out a little sound of discomfort.
“I could not agree more.”
Her eyes flew open and she jumped. Bion grunted when her head smacked his chin. But he caught her before she went rolling over the edge of the bed.
“There’s no need to worry that your father is going to burst in on us.” He made sure she was steady before sitting up and stretching.
Sophia was fascinated. She was certain she should have looked away, but the opportunity to study him was just too rare.
Admire him, you mean.
Well, yes. All of the things she’d always been told should endear a man to her didn’t seem to matter when compared to the simple reality of what Bion was. Songs spoke of fair features and merry eyes, but she found herself absorbed by the way his upper torso moved. He’d always struck her as a powerful man in uniform, but there was something very intimate about the way seeing him in nothing but his skin made her feel.
Breathless.
She rolled over and stood up. The room was cast in shades of gray. There were two windows set up at head level. Outside, the sky was covered in dark clouds.
“With that storm brewing, there will be no Marshal arriving.”
Sophia tried to smooth out her clothing. The skirt was crumpled from having slept in it. The chain rattled as she moved.
“We need to get you out of that chain.”
“I thought you enjoyed having me bound.”
He was up and getting into his discarded trousers. “I did. I find immense satisfaction in knowing exactly where you are while I am sleeping. The night was far more restful.”
She propped her hands on her hips and pouted. “That isn’t very nice. I do believe I would be far more sympathetic if our roles were reversed. You make it sound as though I am an errant child.”
“I believe I have taken ample notice of your womanly attributes.” He reached for his shirt and shrugged into it as she considered his words. “But your stubbornness tends to keep me awake.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked. A little warning bell was trying to get her to drop the subject, but her pride just wouldn’t let it go.
Bion offered her a piercing look. There was no relenting in it and she recognized it very well.
“Becoming an Illuminist means I don’t have to follow all the silly rules of always staying in the parlor until some grand gallant takes me out for a stroll. Don’t tell me to stand up and face your training challenges and then insist that I sit about waiting for an escort the rest of the time.”
“Being a Navigator sets you in a rare category, which means you should not place yourself at risk.”
She raised her chin. “Is that so?”
“It is,” he insisted in a tone that grated on her nerves.
“You might want to be careful, Bion Donkova. You’re a Navigator now, so the rules you are imposing will bind you too.”
His eyes narrowed. “Hardly. I am not helpless.”
She gasped. “Neither am I. Why, I’ve protected you as much as you have me.”
He didn’t agree with her. She could have screamed out of frustration but shook her head instead.
“Don’t shake your head, Sophia. We owe a great deal of our success to luck. Maybe now you will understand why I insist on certain things. I’d appreciate it greatly if you didn’t place me in the position of knowing it’s my duty to take your life because you fail to take proper precautions.”
The chamber went silent.
“Don’t look stricken. Would you really want to end up a member of the Soiled Dove’s crew?” Bion looked like he wanted to curse but his gaze remained unwavering. The man didn’t know how to allow his feelings to interfere with his actions.
She was a fool to even toy with such an idea.
She shook her head and turned away. He followed her, the sight of her back impossible to bear. But the door opened before he could touch her.
“I would say good morning but from the sounds coming from inside here, you are not having such a good morning.” The Guardian shrugged. “But I must admit that I am happy to hear you, for it seems our other guest departed during the night.”
“Mr. Graves is gone?” Sophia asked.
“I warned you he was a Helikeian,” Bion snapped.
The Guardian removed a key from his vest pocket and fit it into the manacle locked around Sophia’s wrist. There was a metal scraping sound as it released.
“It does look that way.” He replaced the key and gestured toward the doorway. “We do not have enough personnel here to set a night watch. He’s made good on his escape plans.”
***
The market was busy. Mr. Graves listened to the sounds as the merchants opened their stalls for the day. People were already inspecting the fresh produce and haggling over the prices. Maids walked by with baskets on their arms and freshly pressed aprons. Some of them had young boys following them to help carry away what would no doubt end up as some rich man’s supper.
There was plenty of noise, horses, chickens, and children. He picked out the easy openings to steal something to eat, but for some reason, didn’t act on any of them. For the first time in a very long time, he didn’t have anyone to impress or please—only himself—and he smiled as he realized the next steps he took would be entirely up to him.
No more worrying that he’d be tossed over the rail if he didn’t please someone. Even his rumbling stomach didn’t dampen his mood. He moved through the market, enjoying the scent of fresh baking bread.
“You there.” Graves looked up and found a plump merchant pointing at him. The man’s arm was wrapped in fabric and bound to his chest in a sling. “You look hungry, sailor,” the merchant continued. “I need a pair of able arms to unload the wagon. Do it quickly and you eat your fill.”
He needed food to live, but somehow, the offer sounded much better than that—better than anything Aetos had offered him. Graves touched the brim of his cap before climbing up onto the wagon. He’d almost finished when the sound of approaching hooves grew loud. People scurried out of the way as two columns of mounted men rode through the market without a care for anyone. Their uniforms were buttoned to their necks and each man wore a polished helmet. The horses they rode were fit for battle.
“Someone is going to have a bad day,” the merchant remarked. “Prince Afanasi always gets what he wants and he has the men to make sure he is never disappointed.”
***
The Head Guardian wasn’t very apologetic. In the kitchen of the Solitary Chamber, he sat down to eat around a long table where two women were serving up the first meal of the day. There was no eating hall, no other tables. There were also less than twenty people in the room.
“Is this your entire membership?” Sophia asked as she passed a plate of morning biscuits to Bion.
The Head Guardian nodded as he swallowed what was in his mouth. “Maybe you understand the need for the shackle a little better?” He poured fresh milk into a cup from a pitcher. “There are few freemen here and many of our membership have left for countries that have outlawed serfdom.”
“It seems like more than a few,” Bion remarked.
The kitchen seemed quiet, as though the entire building understood how empty it was. Sophia shivered, feeling like she was sitting at the bedside of an old man as he drew closer to his final moments. Everyone at the table had a look in their eyes that reminded her of a family gathering to await the death of their patriarch. There was no energy, no bright faces looking forward to the day, as she’d seen in London. Here, they were just holding on.
“I’m surprised you are still here,” she muttered.
The two women at the hearth turned from where they were tending the pots on
the hearth to look at her. Hope was flickering in their eyes until their head Guardian squelched it.
“We will not abandon our posting,” he said in a firm voice. “We are Russian Illuminists. Proud of our dedication to the Order.”
“You mean you will not ask to be relocated,” Bion countered. “Or admit that this location is not performing the true function of a Solitary Chamber.”
The Head Guardian turned red. He flattened his hands on the surface of the table, opening his mouth to draw in a deep breath. “Now, see here—”
“I see very well.” Bion sliced through the man’s outburst with a razor-sharp tone. “I see you being too proud to take a position at another Solitary Chamber where you might not be the Head Guardian. The Order is about the preservation of knowledge and the furtherment of education.”
“Which is in good order here.”
Bion shook his head. “I doubt it, and I am going to make sure the matter is investigated. By maintaining your position, you have placed all the members under your authority in jeopardy. The books in your library could easily be stolen since you do not have the Guardians to protect them.”
“No one here is in any danger and no one outside the walls even knows of our vast collection of books,” the Head Guardian argued, but Sophia was busy watching the women behind him. They nodded in agreement with Bion, relief shimmering in their eyes.
“I disagree.” Bion stood up. “Had I known how few members you had last evening, I never would have allowed my charge to sleep here.”
He reached out for Sophia, surprising her by offering her his hand instead of grasping her wrist. She placed her hand in his without thinking, too stunned by the fact that he was granting her a choice. Her chair skidded back but just then someone pounded on the front door.
“Open up in the name of the prince!”
“Don’t,” Bion commanded.
The Head Guardian was already waving his men toward the door. “This is Russia. When the noble landowner demands something, we give it to him.”
Bion pulled Sophia from the kitchen, searching for an exit. There was the sound of boots running down the stone hallways, but she didn’t have time to decide if it was theirs or the men demanding to be admitted to the Solitary Chamber. The building was solid stone and the only door they found was locked with a thick chain.
“Stop there!”
Bion turned in a flash, shielding her with his body. Something snapped inside her, some emotion that made it impossible to let him protect her.
“I am your counterpart, Bion Donkova,” she snarled, drawing a perplexed look from him. “And you’re going to learn to respect that if I have to lock you in chains.”
“You will come with me.” The man wasn’t really asking. He was staring down the barrel of a gun as his comrades leveled their own weapons at them. Her stomach knotted, but a strange sense of calm settled over her as well.
She’d endured this before and she’d rise above it again.
They both would.
***
Lykos sniffed the wind and frowned. The sun had set long ago, but the horizon was glowing orange. However, it was still too early for dawn. According to his map, the Solitary Chamber where Bion and Sophia were was close. Which was welcome news. Lykos was sure he could happily face a solid month of not having to sit on a horse.
“Something’s burning,” Decima said. She lifted a pair of binoculars and looked through them. “Up ahead.”
They rode on toward the village, the scent of smoke growing stronger. A large building was smoldering, its roof caved in. The heat of the fire had shattered the windows but the stone walls still stood, portions of them glowing red-hot from the fire that had fed greedily upon the contents of the building.
Lykos dismounted and climbed the stone stairs. Lying across them were the double doors that had once been mounted in the huge front entrance. The seal of the Illuminist Order was still visible.
“We’re late,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Too late.”
“Not necessarily,” Decima offered with a touch of hope that seemed misplaced amidst the wreckage. Lykos cut her a hard look that she returned. “We aren’t too late if there aren’t bodies inside.”
Lykos nodded as he moved to look inside the building. There was still enough heat coming from the smoldering remains to burn his face. He had to back down the steps, furious at the delay in discovering whether or not Bion and Sophia were dead.
If they were, the delay wouldn’t matter.
The need to know gnawed at his insides. Even a hint of possibility that they might still be rescued promised him a restless night. The sky was clear now, offering him no hope of a rain shower to expedite the matter. Which left him nothing to do but wait, though waiting was better than knowing for certain that his comrades were dead—even if he found that poor comfort.
***
Chains rattled for what must have been the hundredth time, the sound echoing through the lavish dining room. Sophia didn’t bother to look at Bion; she knew that he was restless and didn’t need to see his white knuckled fists to confirm how frustrated he was to be in chains.
You don’t need to see it because you feel the same way.
That was a solid truth. Fate had an odd sense of humor at times because the frustration she had felt last night paled in comparison to what she felt now. Both her hands were clamped in shackles like Bion’s. On either side of them were guards, both men holding guns on them.
They stood in a hallway, just inside a doorway that was open to a dining room, kept back like servants waiting on the master’s whim. The room was lavishly furnished. A dining table with ornately carved legs was draped with a lace tablecloth. Its surface was set with fine bone china and silver flatware, which gleamed in the light. There were no candles in the room; the lamps used Deep Earth Crystals to produce light. Prince Afanasi seemed to enjoy Illuminist technology as much as he did pomp. The butler serving the table wore white gloves and a formal three-piece suit. His shoes shone and he made only the barest sounds as he waited on his master.
The Russian noble sat in a throne-like chair at the head of the table. His military uniform was covered in gold braids and there were numerous medals secured to it. Two servants stood beside him, their attention on his hands. All he had to do was lift a finger and they hurried to serve him. The man did not even pick up his own flatware. Instead, he lifted his hand and his butler placed it in his hand from a tray. The man never used soiled utensils.
Another servant passed by Bion and Sophia, her hands full with another dish to present to the master of the house. She curtsied the moment she stepped out of the hallway and twice more before offering the tart she held to Afanasi. Meanwhile, she and Bion stood waiting, their bellies empty while the scent of the meal being served made them even more aware of their hunger.
“We’re nothing but chattel to him.” She’d have been wiser to hold her tongue but couldn’t seem to keep silent.
“Exactly,” Bion spat softly. “Perhaps facing the reality of our circumstances will soften your judgment of my dedication to duty.” There was a note in his voice that surprised her. Somewhere past the frustration and stubborn devotion to honor was an undercurrent of injury.
“I wasn’t judging you, Bion.”
He pressed his lips into a firm line and peered at her over the rims of his purple-tinted glasses. The man was a fully dedicated to his duty, and she realized she would have him no other way.
“Then why did you turn your back on me?”
It was there again, the note of injury. Heat teased her cheeks but she maintained eye contact with him.
“Because I realized if I truly wanted to be your counterpart, I would have to shoulder the same duty you do. I did not like the feeling of knowing I might have to harm you or that I have belittled the burden you carried in the past by not realizing that I am considered a commodity beyond the walls of the Solitary Chamber.” His eyes were beginning to show the amber streaks now, the transf
ormation continuing its course. “Or that I sentenced you to the same without asking you if you wanted it.”
“Sophia—”
“Who is talking and disturbing my dinner?” Afanasi pounded his fist on the table. One of his servants whispered in his ear and he snapped his head about to look at the opening that led to where they were being forced to wait upon his leisure.
The two men guarding them made a slashing motion with their hands, but Afanasi slapped the table again. “Well, bring them in, since they cannot maintain their place while I finish my meal.”
“You’ve done it now,” one of the guards threatened in a low tone as he prompted them forward with his pistol.
“Better to be done with waiting,” she insisted as she stepped into the dining room.
“I agree,” Bion said.
She looked toward him, suddenly fearing that it might be the last conversation they had. It wasn’t her own fate she feared but his. She felt as she had on the deck of the Soiled Dove, but now it was much stronger. It was no longer the simple desire to not see someone else harmed; this was a very personal emotion attached to Bion himself.
You’re in love with him.
She didn’t have time to argue with herself. The guards pushed her forward when she hesitated too long.
“The prince has called for you.”
The Russian nobleman was drumming his fingers on the table. Sophia stared at his fingers, astounded by his arrogance. She was sure she’d never seen anyone so spoiled—except for perhaps Captain Aetos. A chill traveled over her skin as she realized how similar the two men were, as well as the circumstances they had thrust upon her and Bion.
“Closer,” the prince insisted. “I need to see their eyes.”
The guard made to push her forward but Sophia stood fast. “I do not need your assistance.”
Afanasi frowned. “You were not given leave to speak in my presence and where is your curtsy?” He looked at Bion, his face turning red as Bion refused to bow.
One of the guards hit Bion on the head, but the man had made a grave error. Bion lifted his leg and sent an Asian back kick at the man. The guard went rolling as the pistol fired into the air. A chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling, making a dull thud as it landed on the polished wooden floor.
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