Merrick, despite everything, smiled slightly. It was so wildly improbable. But then he thought of Nynnia, and how even in the dark there was always hope. If he could find her across time and death, then perhaps there was a chance for Sorcha and Raed.
“I will tell her you sent her to safety.” He embraced the Young Pretender. The other man stiffened in the brief hug. “If you want to say hurtful things to her, then you’ll just have to say them to her face.” He pushed back and gave Raed a wry look. “And if you can do that, then you are a braver man than I. Look after yourself, Raed. I hope your ‘business’ is finished to your satisfaction.”
A flicker of pain passed over Raed’s face, and he ducked his head. “So do I.”
As Merrick walked back to the Summer Hawk, he wondered what that meant. Yet, as bound as they were to one another, he and Sorcha were Deacons, and Raed would always be a threat to the throne they served.
He climbed back onto the dirigible and saw Sorcha’s limp form being carried into one of the cabins. Merrick would have followed, but he remembered his other duty.
It seemed he was too late. Zofiya was talking to his mother in the shadow of the cabin. This was not how he would have had her told about Onika’s death. The grieving woman’s lips were pressed together in a tight, white line, her eyes crowded with tears, and her hands around her full belly. Her son could only imagine what fears and pains were going through her at this moment. The Grand Duchess, though, did have an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. It was a touch of compassion Merrick would never have expected from her.
When they faced him, he realized how alike they were: beautiful women of power, used to being in control, able to stand firm against the winds of fate. He was proud to call one of them Mother. She had survived the gruesome death of his father—she would survive this.
“Your mother is returning with us to Vermillion.” Zofiya had regained her Imperial tone.
“I wanted to have the baby in Chioma,” Japhne said in a low voice that threatened to break, “but the Grand Duchess has pointed out that she and these troops cannot guarantee the little one’s safety.” She raised her head and looked at Merrick steadily. “I will have the boy in Vermillion, but then we will return immediately to secure his place as ruler of Chioma.”
What could he say? He was a Deacon, and these women were stronger and more powerful in matters of state than he could ever dream of being. So he took Japhne’s hands. “I just want you to be safe, Mother.”
She brushed tears out of her eyes and stared at him bleakly. “Where are we ever safe in this world? Safety is just an illusion.”
Mother and son stood still for a long moment. Beneath their feet the Summer Hawk shifted, lifting into the skies, the sailors around them running to their stations. It was Zofiya who broke the silence. “What is not an illusion, Lady Japhne, is the power of my brother. We will ensure your unborn son’s future with a strong Imperial hand. Never fear.”
“And what of the people of Chioma?” Merrick straightened, no longer afraid in the presence of the Grand Duchess. “Until your strong Imperial hand descends to bring order, what will they do?”
Zofiya’s face betrayed nothing, but her voice was flat and grim. “They will have to make do as best they can. They did, after a bring much of this chaos down on themselves.”
He did not need to be a Sensitive to know there was no point arguing with her. Zofiya looked as set as a statue, and despite everything Merrick had seen, he felt sorry for her. “And what of you, Grand Duchess?”
Her eyes dropped away, but her voice was strong and clear. “It has all changed for me, Deacon. And I see, finally, the truth of many things—including myself.”
Her eyes met his, and they were not sad. A Sensitive’s peculiar talents told Merrick she had spent a long time looking after her brother, and yet only now did she understand her own value. What the Grand Duchess Zofiya would do with that knowledge was another question altogether.
Before the Deacon could see further into her, she turned on her heel and strode aft toward her troops.
Merrick watched her go but wrapped his arms around his mother. She hugged him tightly, her breathing unsteady but the tears still held back. He kissed the top of her head. “It’ll be all right, Mother—I’ll make it all right.”
People always thought his partner was the most determined one—however, he would show them all. Merrick would take his mother to Vermillion and see his new brother born. Then he would get Sorcha well, so that she could once again bless him with her certain prickly charm. He needed that in his life.
Merrick decided that as long as he made those things happen, then everything else could take care of itself. The Empire and the world owed Deacons Faris and Chambers that much. It was time to rest for a while and regain strength in the arms of the Order—then once more they could both begin setting the world to rights. Merrick was sure Sorcha wouldn’t have it any other way.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in New Zealand, Philippa Ballantine has always had her head in a book. A corporate librarian for thirteen years, she has a bachelor of arts in English and a bachelor of applied science in library and information science. She is New Zealand’s first podcast novelist, and she has produced four podiobooks. Many of these have been short-listed for the Parsec Award, and she has won a Sir Julius Vogel Award. She is also the coauthor of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences novels with Tee Morris. Philippa is currently in the United States, where her two Siberian cats, Sebastian and Viola, make sure she stays out of trouble. Visit her website at www.pjballantine.com.
Ace Books by Philippa Ballantine
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SPECTYR
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Spectyr to-2 Page 34
