Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1)

by Claire Warner

  “Just in case,” she whispered, before she leant forward and gently brushed her lips against his. There was a stunned pause before, to her surprise, Darius responded. His fingers curled into her hair, trying to hold her with a strength he didn’t have. His lips moved against hers with a passion that shocked her. Mindful of the damage to his side, she slid her arms about his neck, answering his kisses with ones of her own. The sounds of battle faded into the background as his lips explored hers, and she wished that the two of them were somewhere, anywhere, else.

  “You were quite right, I was jealous,” he uttered, as she finally, reluctantly, pulled away. “I’ve wanted to do that since…” His voice trailed off, as he drifted back toward sleep.

  “Stay awake.” Shaking his shoulder for the second time, Tay roused him once more. “We’ll talk about it later,” Tay replied, suddenly unsure of her actions. “I’d better…” She pointed at the door.

  “Good luck,” he whispered, as she shakily got to her feet and began to stagger across the room.

  The door to the corridor opened with some difficulty, and she tottered out into the twisted mess of the train. The carriage was listing at an odd angle, and she pulled herself along using the wall. Periodically she could hear the sounds of gunfire from elsewhere in the wreck, and she began to creep along the corridor. Noises from up ahead stopped her, and she dove into her room. The luxurious cabin was a mess, filled with bits of shattered furniture. The clothing had spilled free from the wardrobe, and now laid in piles of glorious colour across the floor. Pressing back behind the door, she waited, praying that their attackers would pass her by unnoticed. The sound of the lounge door opening made her freeze, and she cowered against the wall.

  “Check there.” The command sounded from the hallway and she knelt, moving deeper into the shadows. A man dressed in a ragged mix of clothing entered the room. Tay held her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t see her. The man crossed the room toward the nightstand. With a wrench he pulled open the shattered drawer, and Tay cringed as he threw Talon’s loaned book to the floor. Ignoring the thin hardback, the man rummaged through the drawer, dragging the jewellery from its box, and stuffing it into his pockets. Tay slid closer to the floor, as she took hold of the door’s edge with her fingertip. Slowly, cautiously, she drew the door toward her, leaving only a crack for her to see.

  “Come on.” The man’s head snapped up, and he turned back. Tay held her breath as the man moved closer. Nerves stretched to breaking-point, she watched him stride from the room with barely a glance in her direction.

  Shaking with a mixture of fear and adrenalin, Tay waited. The sound of an outer carriage door echoed along the passage, and she relaxed. Carefully, she picked herself up, and walked over to the book. Securing it within an inner pocket, she headed back to the corridor, mindful of Darius’ injuries, and the need to find the Prince. Checking the corridor for signs of life, she continued to move toward the lounge, and hopefully, a living Talon. The lounge door hung drunkenly on its hinges, and she moved faster, panic driving her forward.

  “Have you found the others?” She stopped moving at the unfamiliar voice, and leant closer to the open door.

  “Not yet.” She approached as quietly as she could, nerves jangling with each step. Swallowing back the fear, she ducked her head through the door, and almost froze at the sight that met her.

  Sprawled beside the door laid one of the Prince’s guards, his limbs at unnatural angles and covered in blood. She drew her hand to her mouth, and stifled the gasp that threatened to choke her. Before her, in the centre of the lounge, stood two men with weapons cradled in their arms. Tay drew back out of sight, and sank against the wall, heart pumping madly in her chest.

  “Well, you’d better find them,” the conversation continued, and Tay breathed a sigh of relief.

  “They won’t be able to go anywhere…” the other voice started to argue. Tay dropped to her knees and began to crawl forward. Glass cut her hands and knees as she slowly made her way across the floor. She crossed the threshold to the lounge, her heart thumping painfully in her chest as she prayed they would be too busy to see her.

  “No, but I don’t think we’ve got long before the Prince’s guards mount a successful defence.” Carefully, she raised her head and caught a peek at the two speakers. Dressed in a mixture of styles, they seemed to be rebels or bandits. Tay reached the bar and crawled out of sight behind it. Hiding with her back pressed up against the wood, she listened to the men talk, wondering about Talon.

  “They won’t be able to,” the second man argued. “They’re cut off, and with the City half a day away…”

  “There’s no chance.”

  Tay staggered back, stunned by the words she was hearing. Thoughts of Darius bleeding to death in the cabin flooded her mind. Slumping back against the wall of the bar, Tay felt her courage begin to fail. How could she possibly hope to save Darius when she had no idea of where to begin. The conversation continued, but Tay shut it out, lost in her indecision.

  It took the men walking from the lounge to galvanise her into action. Finally, alone behind the wrecked bar, she tried to pull herself together. Several deep breaths, and she stood. The lounge was a mess, bottles and glasses laid across the floor, and the heavy, acrid mix of alcohol and blood tainted the air. Shaking, she moved from her hiding place, looking for signs of the Prince. Distant sounds of combat still echoed through the air, but she heard nothing from the cabins behind her. The silence may not have meant anything, but Tay hoped that it signalled Darius’ escape from the attackers.

  “Lyana.” Her head snapped up at the sound of her alias, and she looked around the empty lounge in confusion. “Up here.” There was a shifting sound, and a ceiling panel slid open. Talon stared out of the newly revealed compartment, his face nervous. Relief rushed through her at the sight of his face.

  “Talon.” Keeping her voice as low as possible, she stood on one of the upended tables to talk to him. “How did you…?”

  “My bodyguards,” he replied shortly. “They hid me, and then went to fight.”

  “Come on.” She reached out a hand. “We need to help my brother.” The words felt strange on her lips, the memory of Darius’ kiss looming large in her thoughts.

  Talon ignored her outstretched hand, and lowered himself out of the crawlspace. He landed heavily on the cabin floor, and Tay’s head whipped round to the door, convinced that he had been heard. When no shouts were forthcoming, they carefully picked their way across the floor.

  “Wait.” Talon reached behind the bar and drew free a box. Tay stared at it carefully, confused at the slender object. Talon caught her gaze and smiled. “It’s a first aid kit.” He pressed a small button on the side, and it popped open. Several small packages laid within, and Tay reached out a curious finger to touch them. The parcels were bound in a slick, smooth wrapping, unlike any she had seen before. “Royals only,” Talon noted, as he closed the box. Securing the package within his coat, he began heading toward the corridor. “Come on.”

  They left the lounge, shuffling quietly along the corridor. The door to Darius’ wrecked room stood wide open, and Tay pushed past Talon to enter. Her heart dropped like a stone at the empty room.

  “Where is he?” She rushed into the room. A smear of blood glistened on the floor where Darius had lain, but of him, there was no sign. Panic flooded through her mind as she began turning over the room. Cupboards, washroom, and under the bed; all were empty. Throwing the bloodied sheets to the floor, she felt the tears begin to flow. “They’ve got him” She turned her face toward Talon. “Haven’t they?”

  “We don’t know that.” Talon reached her side and awkwardly squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 28

  They hurried through the train, ducking into empty carriages whenever they heard movement. Sounds of combat still echoed through the train, but less frequently.

  “I think they’re winning,” Talon noted, as he poked his head
into yet another empty carriage. For the second time, they stared down at the body of a royal guard. “Which doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

  “How long do you think we have?” Even speaking in whispers, Tay felt they were being overly loud. They closed the door and continued to move, stopping every few paces.

  “I don’t know.” They reached the last door in the carriage. Listening at the door, they waited with baited breath for any signs of occupation. Satisfied with the seeming emptiness of the carriage, they pushed open the door.

  “Darius.” Tay rushed over the ground to the slumped, semi-conscious form in the corner. “Talon.” The prince rushed past her, tearing the lid from the kit as he did so.

  “Hold him up.” Tay drew Darius into her arms, revealing the jagged piece of wood embedded in his side. “Take that out.” Talon nodded at the stake.

  “But…” She looked down at the wound, remembering Darius’ words.

  “Do it.” Talon drew a small tube from the box, and unscrewed the lid. “Now.”

  Hesitantly, Tay grabbed hold of the wood. Her fingers slipped on the bloody implement, but carefully, gently, she drew it free. The blood welled up from the wound and began to flow. Panicked, she reached her hands down to stem the crimson flood. “Wait.” Talon reached forward, the tube ready in one hand, a square of meshed cloth in the other. Tay stared at the small square of fabric in distrust. The fabric glistened in the light, and as she watched, Talon smeared the tube’s contents across its surface. With the square soaked in the sharp-smelling liquid, Talon pressed it to Darius’ side.

  Tay held her breath, her eyes fixed on the strange bandage. A gasp escaped her lips as the fabric began to glow. Strange, amber lights lit the mesh and radiated across Darius’ skin. She reached out a curious finger, but Talon held her back.

  “Don’t.” His fingers curled about her wrist. “It’s doing what it’s supposed to.”

  “What is it?” Her voice was hushed, the glow scaring her more than she would have thought.

  “It’s closing the wound,” Talon noted, as he reached back into the box and drew forth a small phial. “And this”－he scanned the printed label on the side, before pressing the tip of the item into Darius’ arm－“will replenish any blood loss.”

  Tay looked down at the simple-looking mesh of fabric. The lights had dimmed, and the fabric had begun to curl at the edges. Darius’ breathing grew stronger and easier with each passing second. As she watched, the fabric fell away, revealing a ragged, but definitely closed, wound. In shock, she reached down to pick up the disintegrating item. Flakes fell from its surface as her fingers took hold, until there were only splinters of wood and strangely coloured ash left in her hand. A sigh drew her attention, and she reached down. Darius woke slowly, his blue eyes blinking incoherently before they finally rested on her face.

  “What happened?”

  “Thank God.” Tay reached out and wrapped her arms about his neck. For a long moment, she held him, holding back tears of joy.

  “Steady on sis.” Darius pulled out of her grasp, his eyes flashing a warning at her. “I’m fine.”

  “No pain?” Talon leaned into his field of vision, and looked down at the wound on his side.

  “A dull ache, nothing more,” Darius confirmed, staring down at the puckered flesh in wonder. “How did you…?”

  “That’s what I want to know?” The voice echoed from the carriage door, and all three turned. Three of the attackers stood in the doorway with weapons trained on them. “Care to tell us, Your Highness?” The speaker walked forward, his eyes fixed on the small box.

  “I don’t know what it is, or where it comes from,” Talon replied, his voice remarkably steady.

  “Just for royalty, isn’t it?” He walked closer, and without warning, smashed the butt of the weapon into Talon’s face. Tay screamed as the blow sent the Prince to the floor, blood spurting from his broken nose. Darius held her back, his fingers gripping her upper arms almost painfully. The leader glared down at Talon, sneered, and slammed a boot into his side. Talon coughed, and curled into a ball.

  “Leave him alone,” Tay demanded, tears of anger sliding down her face.

  “Or what?” The leader reached down and picked up the box. “People like you don’t get to make demands.”

  “Reinforcements are on route.” A head poked around the door and addressed the leader. “We need to move.”

  There was a whistle, and several hands pulled the trio upright. Tay struggled, her hands curling into fists as they flailed out at their assailants. Pained grunts sounded as her wild strikes landed on flesh, before two of the attackers pinned her arms to her sides, and a third raised his hand.

  “Brave of you,” Darius called. “Hitting someone who can’t fight back.”

  The leader ignored him as the threatened blow cracked across Tay’s face. Her head snapped back from the force, eyes watering as her cheek reddened. Talon’s book fell from her pocket and hit the ground.

  “Behave.” The leader called in a sing-song tone. “Or next time”－he glanced at the rough crowd about her－“I’ll let them loose.”

  Tay settled down, her cheek burning from the blow. In quiet, simmering anger, she watched the leader pick up the book and pocket it. Two more men walked into the room, and picked up Talon’s semi-conscious form. As a group, they were marched from the train and toward the side of the track. A set of self-rolling wagons waited near the ruins. The doors were flung wide and their captors pushed them inside, slamming the door behind them.

  “Talon.” Tay rushed to the Prince’s side. Blood dribbled from his mouth and nose. His eyes were puffy and swollen. “Will he be okay?” Darius knelt down beside her and checked Talon’s wrist.

  “His pulse is strong,” he replied, releasing the Prince’s wrist as he leant back. “He’ll have a pair of beautiful black eyes, but”－he nodded back at the prone form－“he’ll be healthy for when they decide to shoot him.” There was a jolt as the wagon began to move.

  “What do they want?” Tay asked, trying hard not to pay attention to Darius’ last words.

  “I’m not sure,” Darius replied, looking about with some interest. “They appear to be rebels.”

  “But aren’t you,” Tay stammered to a halt as Darius pressed his finger to his lips. “I mean,” she continued, “how can you be sure?”

  “The clothing, the attack. Take your pick,” he replied, in his laziest tone, but Tay was watching his eyes. They were troubled and full of concern. “I’m sure they’ll tell us eventually.”

  “I’d rather not wait for that to happen,” Tay retorted, fear making her voice sharp. The wagon rocked violently to the side, and she cried out as her arm smacked against the wall. “Where are they taking us?”

  “I don’t know,” Darius admitted finally, his voice hushed and regretful. “I’m as in the dark as you.” He settled back against the wall, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “From here on in, we’ll have to play it by ear.” Closing his eyes, Darius relaxed against the wall. Jolted by the increasingly bumpy ride, Tay moved to sit beside him.

  “How’s your side?” Her fingers strayed to the puckered flesh, but hesitated before they could touch it.

  “Sore, and slightly itchy.” Darius opened his eyes and glanced downward. “But that’s all.” A sense of awe flowed through his voice. “That stake should have killed me.” His voice was low, and Tay had to lean closer to hear. “The blood loss alone would have done it.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why I’m alive.”

  “But surely you’ve used that medicine before?” Tay replied in the same, low tones.

  “No.” He nodded down at Talon. “It was meant for him.” He reached out a hand, and caught hold of hers. “I never even knew that was there.”

  “But…” They fell silent as the door at the back of the wagon swung open to admit a man in the ragged garb of the others. Over his shoulder, Tay caught a glimpse of rough scrubland before the door closed again. The man weaved
across the floor, reached the side of the Prince and injected something into his neck. Tay almost moved, but Darius’ fingers dug painfully into her wrist, and she stayed silent. The man threw them a nasty smile, before he sank to the wagon’s floor and trained his gun at them both.

  “That’s what I like in a noble.” His voice rasped out. “Silence.” A barely audible sigh escaped Darius’ lips. “Something to say?” the man asked, waving the gun in Darius’ face. “Well, do you?” Darius stayed silent, his eyes following the gun with a strange intensity. The man waited, a sneer creasing his lips as the silence lengthened. “Shame,” he muttered. “I was looking forward to shooting you.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Darius replied, in a mild, flippant tone. Resting his head back against the wall, Darius closed his eyes and ignored the man.

  As Darius retreated from the conversation, the guard turned his attention back to Tay. His tongue flickered out and ran across his upper lip. Taking a shuddering breath, Tay moved back and huddled against Darius’ warm body. The guard gave a smile and mouthed slow, suggestive kisses in her direction. Unnerved, she wrapped an arm around Darius’, and tried to emulate his nonchalance.

  The wagon continued on its rattling journey. Neither Darius nor Tay spoke again, and the guard continued to mouth obscene gestures toward her. By the time they came to a halt, she was almost glad. At no point during the journey had Talon woken. The back of the wagon was wrenched open, and several more of the roughly dressed ‘bandits’ entered.

  “Get off!” she yelled, as several hands grabbed at her. In an instant, their guard pressed the nose of the weapon in her face.