A faint smile twitched Laurent’s lips as he stared at the crumbling cement ceiling overhead. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
Frustration clouded Ben’s vision while grief punched him in the gut, and he shook his head. “You tell her yourself. You’re gonna have one hell of a scar for your honeymoon.”
Sous-lieutenant Pelletier skidded into the room and thrust a wadded-up jacket at Ben. Pelletier’s head bandage covered one of his eyes, and his toss missed. He scrambled after it and handed it to Ben with a muttered apology. “We’ve radioed for reinforcements, but—”
A boom shook the building they were sequestered in, and concrete dust floated through the air, choking both of them. The sound of steady gunfire from their sergeant’s rifle reverberated through the room, and Ben clenched his teeth. There was no way they’d be able to move Laurent from here. He glanced down at his quiet patient and swore.
Laurent’s glassy eyes stared into nothing.
Pelletier braced a hand against Ben’s shoulder and cursed. “They’re picking us off like flies.”
Ben pushed away from the improvised medical table and hobbled out to where the rest of his section sheltered from the onslaught of the terrorists. Only eight of their original twelve survived, and all of them were wounded. He crouched, as best as he could with his injured leg, next to Sergeant Thomas and waited for him to pause and reload. “Reinforcements?”
Their leader shook his head with a blistering oath. “Not close enough. We have to hold out on our own.” He looked back at the side room. “Laurent?”
“Gone, sir.”
The blond man swore again and raised his rifle. “They’re going to regret that.”
“Grenade!”
Ben reacted first. He threw himself at the orb arcing through the air and prayed he’d be in time to save his brothers-in-arms.
Blood sprayed into his face at the same time as curses and shouts from his section abruptly cut off. Then purple. Wavering wisps of purple, black, and green danced through his mind. Finally, black swallowed him.
A different blond man, splattered with blood, stood before him. “Leave, or you risk death.” The stranger yanked on the circlet enslaving Ben. “Anyone left on this ship will meet a similar fate as him. I’ll give you a day to recover.”
“…a day to recover.”
* * *
Ben woke with a yell and fell out bed, landing on his hands and knees. He untangled himself from the sweat-soaked sheets and leaned against the bedframe, his muscles trembling. His hands were clean, utterly devoid of the stain of blood. He tugged his pants leg, revealing a small pink scar—no bleeding bullet wound. He staggered to his feet and stumbled to the washbasin in his borrowed bedroom. He looked into the mirror. Wild blue eyes stared at him from beneath his unkempt hair. And his scruffy red beard begged to be trimmed.
He sank his head against the mirror with a shaky sigh. It was a dream. He frowned and shook his head. No, that was a memory.
Sorrow bowed his shoulders. Now he knew what had happened to Laurent.
“Leave, or you risk death. Anyone left on this airship will meet a similar fate as him.”
Bitter bile rose in Ben’s throat at the memory of what happened to Jaxton, and he swallowed hard. He turned away and snatched a sky blue shirt from a hanger and shoved his arms through the sleeves. His hands trembled as he buttoned it, his head whirling with gory memories. He yanked on his boots. Then he combed through his hair with his fingers as he clattered down the wood stairs into Elinora’s dining room.
Elinora looked up with a welcoming smile. “Good morning.” She set aside the newspaper she’d been reading and gracefully stood, keeping her fingers on the sunshine-yellow tablecloth. “What can I get you for breakfast?”
“Uh.” He spied the slice of bread and link of sausage on her plate. “Whatever you’re having is fine. Thank you.” He sat at the table and worked to calm his racing heart while she gathered the simple meal together in the adjoining kitchen.
It wasn’t just a dream. It had been a memory. Or was it a memory and a dream combined? Should he be panicking right now?
She slid a plate piled with twice as much food as hers in front of him and rested her hand on his arm. Her forehead wrinkled as she looked down at him. “Your head hurting again? Finn said he’d be by this morning, and we can get you more of that medicinal tea.”
Ben took a ragged breath and tried to banish the visions that his mind supplied him with: blood, disembodied limbs, and the screams of his dying friends. “Thank you,” he rasped.
She hummed in reply and returned to her seat, only to get up a moment later when the doorbell whistled. Ellie straightened the tiny hat nestled in her silvery-brown curls and left the elegant room.
Ben slouched and stared at the steaming food in front of him. Appetizing though the smell was, the idea of eating caused his stomach to churn in rebellion. How had he survived that grenade? How did he get here?
“Madame Stohner says you need more tea,” Raine spoke as she passed through the dining room and into the kitchen. She had yet to ever greet him with a simple “hello.” Raine flicked her long hair over her shoulder, lit a fire on the stove, and set a tea kettle over the grate. She turned to face him, and her eyebrows shot up. “Rough night?”
Ben nodded and bit into his bread. It tasted of sawdust and ash. The second bite reminded him of MREs, and the third tasted like sweet bread with melted butter.
Finn entered, talking to Ellie in serious tones, and squeezed Ben’s shoulder in silent greeting as he walked around the table to sit. Dark puffy circles under his eyes and a wrinkled tan shirt from the previous day indicated that Finn had had a difficult start to his day as well.
“Elinora, do you have any jav? I could really use some right now.” Finn tapped his hand against the sheath of papers he’d brought in. “I’ve been looking over the notes, scrolls, and documents salvaged from Doctor Taylor’s office, and, to be perfectly honest, I’m concerned.”
Ellie pulled a metal jar down from a cupboard and set it by the tea pot, then looked over her shoulder. “How so?” She grabbed a teacup and leaned her forearms against the counter to look under the ceiling-mounted cupboards into the dining room. “What did you find?”
Raine set a mug of tea in front of Ben, slid a jar of honey over, then settled into a chair next to her grandfather.
Finn shuffled the papers and pulled one out. “Did you know Jaxton was looking into the barrier and Void magic?”
“Oh, that?” Ellie smiled and moved away to fix Finn’s drink. She returned to the table a moment later with a mug of something that smelled even more bitter than Ben’s tea. The chair made no sound as she pulled it out and sat down. “Slate has been searching for a way to restore the Doldran keystone to full functionality, and Jaxton had helped with the research. They found the artifact they needed on a recent mission.”
Lines creased Finn’s brow like a freshly plowed field. “What artifact?”
Elinora shrugged. “A stone.”
“A black-and-red stone?” Ben spoke into his mug of tea. He lifted his face to look at Finn. “That’s the mission that they’re on while I’m here with you.”
Tea sloshed out of Finn’s trembling cup. He hastily set the drink down and patted a napkin on the damp tablecloth. Color drained from his face until it matched his shirt. “A bloodstone?” He pressed a hand against his papers. “They can’t! Why would they think that would help?” Panic imbued his voice, and Raine put her hand on his arm with a disquieted frown.
Ellie settled her fork on her plate and wiped her fingers on a linen napkin. “Doctor Taylor and the royal manipulators assured Slate and the crew that it would work.”
Finn gaped. “How could that be?” He gestured at a flattened scroll. “This here very clearly describes that a bloodstone would take down a keystone. Not restore it!”
“That’s not the scroll Jaxton sent to the palace with the captain. It—” Ben stopped as Finn slid the scroll to him across the ta
ble. Ben traced the lettering, and his voice grew quiet. “It looked exactly like this.”
“A forgery.” Finn rubbed his forehead. “Jaxton gave the palace a forgery? This is an original.” His lips pursed. “I know for a fact that this is the real scroll. Please, don’t ask how I know.”
Ben looked up from the letter. “Why would he give the palace a forgery?” The memory of Jaxton asking inane questions about the Void rose to the forefront of Ben’s mind. There had been something off about the doctor for the last few weeks. But would he have really lied about something so important?
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Ben studied Finn. The older man hadn’t changed his posture, but his expression had smoothed to be purposefully bland, and he met Ben’s gaze with a steady eye. Finn leaned back and drummed his fingers against the table.
Ellie wove her fingers together and settled her chin on them. “What about the stone they have?”
“We need to know if it was a bloodstone or not.” Finn pulled a clean piece of paper from his pile and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He scrawled a message and folded it twice, then he handed it to Elinora. “Please deliver this to the palace as quickly as possible. I need an answer from them immediately to know how to proceed. And arrange the fastest possible passage to Doldra for me. I need to run home and prepare a few things—in case this is what I fear.”
Ellie tossed the letter on the table in front of Ben. “I’ll take care of the travel arrangements. Samantha should be arriving within the hour, and I can rearrange her schedule for this. Ben has been to the palace before; he can take the letter.”
Ben stood and slipped the paper into his pocket, his head feeling remarkably clearer. “I’ll go right away.”
“Not dressed like that, you’re not!” Raine exclaimed. She pushed away from the table and marched past him. “If you’re going to the palace, you need to be presentable. We need them to take you seriously.” She tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear as she eyed what Ben wore. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” She paused, her boot on the first step, and turned. “Either trim your beard or go shave it while I find something suitable.”
Finn nodded. “Go to the palace and find the queen or someone who can answer this.” Fire burned in Finn’s eyes. “And do not dawdle.”
* * *
Ben straightened the jacket Raine had thrown over his shirt and skimmed his fingers over the watch chain that she’d tucked into his pocket before he’d rushed out the door. She’d warned him to not lose her watch and that she’d personally end him if he did. His small smile of amusement slipped away as the guards pulled open the massive doors on silent hinges. His boots echoed eerily in the grand hall.
He couldn’t afford to mess this up. Not if everything he understood of this world was true. He clenched his jaw as he looked around the stark entryway. The guard had told him that someone would be with him soon, but who?
“What are you doing here?”
Ben turned to the voice to the side of him and had to remember to bow. Good thing Jade isn’t here. “Prince Weston. Good morning.”
Weston frowned and crossed his arms over his silver-embroidered black jacket. He raised a black eyebrow and exaggerated looking around Ben. “Here by yourself?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
Ben set his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. “I need to speak with the queen on behalf of Madame Elinora Stohner.”
“Mother just left for a trip to Perennia.”
Taken aback, Ben quickly thought over his options. What he’d heard of Lord Everett suggested that the man would be even less helpful than his son. Ben eyed Weston. “I need to talk to Andre, then. It’s urgent.”
Weston tapped his foot against the tile while he studied Ben. He nodded once. “Andre’s likely in his chambers right now.” He crossed the vast entry and paused in a hallway. “Are you coming?”
Ben followed the prince through the palace’s twists and turns with long strides. Silence stretched between them, despite the side glances that Ben could feel from Weston.
Finally, Weston spoke. “How is Jade?”
“She’s fine.”
Weston brushed a short, dark curl off his jacket shoulder. “What did she think of the steam-pistol?”
“She gave it to me.”
Weston’s shoulders sagged, and Ben decided to give the man a crumb. “We discovered I have more skill at it than her.”
“I’ll have to design something that fits her better.” Weston stopped at a closed door that matched all the other white doors in the hallway. He rapped his knuckles against it, and they waited.
Andre opened the door, and only the slight twitch in his brow showed his surprise. He bowed at the waist and pressed his palms against his regal, deep blue coat. “Your Highness.” He nodded to Ben. “What can I do for you?”
Weston gestured to Ben. “He wanted to speak with my mother.”
Ben nodded. “I have an urgent request from Madame Stohner and a friend.” He stepped forward. “If I may speak with you in private?”
Weston cocked his head with a severe frown. “What can’t you say in front of me?”
Ben floundered for words for a long heartbeat. He shrugged. “I don’t want to betray the confidence of Madame Stohner. That’s all.”
Andre motioned for Ben to enter the spacious two-chamber room, and he bowed again at the prince. “I’m sure this won’t take long, Your Highness.”
Ben walked into the room and stood in the center of a plush burgundy carpet with golden-yellow designs woven in.
Andre closed and locked the door, then faced Ben, his eyes sharp. “What happened?”
Ben pulled the note from his jacket pocket, handed it to Andre, and started explaining as Andre’s eyes skimmed over the message. “If it’s a bloodstone, as Finn fears, apparently it could take down the entire barrier. Do you know of it, by any chance?”
Alarm flashed in Andre’s blue eyes as he crumpled the note in his hand with an oath. “They have a bloodstone. I’m sure of it.” He looked at Ben. “You have to get a message to them as quickly as possible, before it’s too late. The Quee—”
Andre’s door reverberated with the pounding of fists. “Andre Catalina! Open this door, in the name of Lord Everett!”
Ben stumbled as Andre shoved him toward the four-poster bed. “Hide under there. Stay down and don’t say anything, no matter what.”
Ben scrambled under the bed as best as his stocky frame would allow and held his breath as Andre adjusted the burgundy bed skirt.
Andre opened the door. Ben could just barely see through the fabric. At least six guards clattered in and surrounded Andre, followed by a shining pair of black boots that stood nearly toe-to-toe with him.
“Do you know why I’m here?” A voice asked with icy anger.
Andre’s voice was calm, betraying no hint of his earlier agitation from Ben’s news. “No, Your Majesty.”
“You are under arrest for treason against the crown of Aerugo.”
“On what charges?” Concern colored Andre’s tone, but he didn’t sound surprised—more resigned.
Ben took in shallow sips of air, unable to breathe deeply, wedged between the cold tile and the sharp wood bed frame. He inched forward, trying to see better.
“On account of hiding that you knew the Doldran princess, Adeline, was alive.” The shiny boots stalked away from Andre, pivoted, and then returned. “How dare you hide that threat against the throne? My throne?”
Andre didn’t answer. After a moment of silence, he said, “How did you find out?”
“I had an inside source on the Sapphire. I can’t believe you, parading her through my palace, under my nose, calling her your family.” A wad of spit landed on the floor near Ben’s hiding spot. “I’m done with your mockery.”
“Jade doesn’t even know who she is.”
Shock rippled through Ben at Andre’s words. Jade? A princess? He tried to imagine the fiery mechanic in an e
legant dress and tiara, but he couldn’t.
Lord Everett spoke again. “Whether she knows or not is not my concern.”
“What are you going to do about her?” Andre asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
The malice in Lord Everett’s tone sent a chill down Ben’s spine. “As far as I’m concerned, Adeline Doldras has been dead for the last nineteen years. I see no reason for that to change.” Ben jerked up, and his head bumped the wood slats. No! Someone snapped their finger, covering the sound. “Take him away.”
Ben waited for a full two minutes after the group left the room to settle his breathing and crawl out from under Andre’s bed. He stared at the closed door and wracked his brain. What should he do now? Jade—a princess!—was in danger. There was a traitor on the Sapphire. And the crew that had taken him in was about to inadvertently take down the barrier! That couldn’t happen.
He had to escape Aerugo and get to Doldra. He paced on the rug. How was he going to get out now? If Lord Everett discovered that Ben had overheard everything, it wouldn’t go well. And the timing of Andre’s arrest. Did Weston have something to do with it?
Ben dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. If Weston had been involved, they would have searched the room for him as well. Nothing in the conversation hinted that the guards or Everett knew Ben was there.
“Ben.”
Ben whirled and dropped to a fighting crouch at the unexpected voice. A bookshelf swung open, revealing a dark hallway and Weston leaning against the framework. Weston’s warm brown skin tone had faded to an ashen hue, and he swallowed hard. He pressed his hand against his stomach.
“I…I was angry, and I eavesdropped on you and Andre, and—” Weston gulped in a lungful of air and shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting that.” His gaze dropped to the floor, and he closed his eyes. “She’s the princess. He was protecting the princess.”
Renegade Skyfarer Page 28
