Maldynado hadn’t been there, but he supposed that was all possible.
“Assuming your former warrior-caste status gets you in,” Books said, with an eyebrow raise that suggested he doubted the guards would let Maldynado pass, “how do you propose to divert the guards so we can slip by without being shot? Or even get close to the island, for that matter?”
“How do
I
propose… ?”
“It’s your plan.”
“Uhm.”
“Careful,” Books said, “you’ll overwhelm us with such a profuse outpouring of details.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d turn your sarcasm toward someone else. I’m busy thinking.” Maldynado stalked away. Just when he’d been feeling grateful to Books for helping him with Sespian, he had to go back to being a stuffy, sourpuss.
Though Maldynado was of a mind to keep walking, and leave the junkyard, he didn’t know where he’d go. How did Amaranthe manage to come up with plans while dancing barefoot on a frying pan?
Someone tapped Maldynado on the shoulder. He spun around, prepared to unleash a stream of vitriol—or perhaps a fist—if Books had followed him to give him a hard time. It was only Basilard.
He signed,
Do you need help?
“Probably. Bas, up until a few days ago, I felt like we were all brothers, family if you will, a family I actually liked, most of the time. But now I’m the outcast all over again.”
Sometimes, friendships are tested. You will survive and all will be well again.
“I appreciate the faith, especially since you’re the only one giving it right now, but I don’t know what to do with all of these expectations.” Maldynado scraped his fingers through his curly hair. “I don’t know if I’m made from enough steel to handle them. My mother used to call me the family weed. Maybe she was right. I wasn’t born with leadership qualities. I don’t know how to walk in front. Not like Amaranthe. Not like Sicarius. Rust, even Books would be able to get everyone going in the same direction without sarcastic quips from the troops.”
Basilard regarded him for a long moment, no judgment in his pale blue eyes. Somehow, despite the scars, the bulky muscles, and the morose downturn to his lips, Basilard managed to convey much more compassion than most people.
My grandpa used to say that the only difference between a weed and a plant is that one has proved itself useful while the other’s properties are still in question.
“All right,” Maldynado said, “I’ll come up with something.”
M
aldynado strolled into the junkyard before sunset with a new set of shopping bags dangling from his arms. More business cards stuffed his pockets as well. He vowed to slide some under the doors of suites in the Rabbit Island resort. Maybe he’d foisted a few onto Mari too. The woman dearly loved her shopping.
Maldynado weaved past the towering piles of wreckage and debris until he found the purloined lorry. Several hours had passed since he’d left to come up with his big plan, and he wasn’t sure everyone would be around for his return, but Books, Sespian, Basilard, and Yara were all present, their heads bent in some conference. Akstyr sat against a tire at the rear of the vehicle, a book the size of an infantryman’s shield propped open in his lap. How he’d managed to keep from losing that amidst all the train explosions and dirigible crashes, Maldynado couldn’t guess, though singe marks
did
decorate the corners. More concerned about what the rest of the team was doing—or planning—he hustled toward them, rattling his bags for attention.
“Shopping again?” Yara scowled at him from where she sat cross-legged on the lorry’s covered engine compartment. She still wore her dirt-stained sweater and trousers, even though he’d bargained for those clean, curve-enhancing garments for her the day before. Well, if the team accepted his plan, she’d have to wear his more recent acquisition. It would enhance a lot more than curves.
“Indeed so.” Maldynado set one of the bags beside her. “I’ve come up with a plan to get us all to the docks without being shot.”
“We wondered if you’d decided to back out,” Sespian said. He was seated on a rusty beam across from Basilard, who was cutting the roots off a stack of weeds—knowing him, they were for the stew pot.
“Of course, not,” Maldynado said. “I simply needed time to refine—”
“
Silk
?” Yara held up a midnight blue dress. “And, and, what is
this
?
Jewelry
? Have you gone mad?”
Basilard smirked.
Perhaps the garments aren’t for Sergeant Yara. They don’t seem her style.
“Who else would a dress be for?” Akstyr asked.
The emperor?
Basilard’s smirk widened.
That might be an effective way to disguise him.
“I’m glad you fellows have refreshed your senses of humor in my absence.” Maldynado pointed to the dress. “That garment, and the jewelry, is for my fiancée.”
“Your
what
?” Yara demanded.
“Fiancée?” Books mused. “Definitely not the emperor, then.”
Sespian’s eyebrows flew up. He hadn’t understood Basilard’s comments, of course. Perhaps that was for the best.
“Allow me to explain,” Maldynado said. “As I mentioned earlier, I believe
I
can get into Rabbit Island. Even if the guards have heard that I’m disowned, Mari should be willing to vouch for me.” He hoped he wouldn’t have to perform any
favors
to earn that vouching. “And I imagine it won’t surprise anyone if I have a bodyguard and a lady friend.”
“A fiancée?” Akstyr asked.
“Just so,” Maldynado said. “And I believe Basilard would be a very convincing bodyguard. As for Akstyr, Books, and the emperor, someone will have to row the boat I’ve reserved for our use.”
Books made a choking noise. “You want the
emperor
to row your hirsute haunches across the river?”
“He can steer if rowing is a problem,” Maldynado said.
Fortunately, Sespian responded with an amused snort.
“Once we dock,” Maldynado said, “I’ll loudly give orders for my crew to stay and keep the vessel ready for my departure. On the way to the resort, Yara, Basilard, and I will arrange to create a distraction of some sort, the type of thing a few dock guards might be dispatched to investigate. Then you three can sneak aboard the steamboat.”
“Why do I have a feeling it won’t be that easy?” Books asked.
“Amaranthe’s schemes never go as planned either,” Maldynado pointed out. “You’re smart. You can compensate.”
“Somehow that sounds more convincing when she says it,” Books said. “Sire, what do you think?”
Sespian dropped his chin on his fist—he liked to do that when he was pondering, Maldynado had noticed—and gazed at the rusty nuts and bolts scattered on the dusty ground.
“You’ll do fine if you have to subdue a few thugs, Sire,” Maldynado said. “I can attest to the fact that you’re decent at sneaking up and putting a knife to a man’s throat.” Sespian hadn’t shown any appreciation for flattery thus far, and didn’t acknowledge it now. Maldynado pressed on. “You’ll have Books and Akstyr with you too. Akstyr’s got his magics, and Books… He’s tall and spindly, but he’s gotten decent with his fists.”
“Such a magnanimous accolade,” Books murmured.
“Shouldn’t
my
vote matter here?” Yara asked. “You haven’t explained
why
you need a fiancée. I’d, quite frankly, rather play the role of oarsman.”
“My lady, you wound me with your distain.” Maldynado started to lay a hand on his chest, but remembered Books poking fun at his tendency to do that and offered Yara puppy-dog eyes instead. She glared, and he switched tactics. “To answer your question, I plan to get information by pretending I wish to return to the warrior-caste lifestyle and by agreeing to do whatever’s necessary to get back into my father’s good graces.” His stomach turned at the thought. A pretense only, he told it. “Given my previous disinterest in being in anyone’s good graces, I thought my turnaround would be more believable if it were because I’d found the woman of my dreams and decided to marry her.”
Yara’s lips reared back from her teeth like those of a trained attacked dog ready to crush a man’s jewels.
Maldynado continued speaking, though he knew his next words might truly endanger those jewels. “And if she’s expecting, my change of heart will be even
more
believable. What kind of warrior-caste father would want his child growing up as a commoner?”
“Child!” Yara blurted.
Books rubbed the back of his head. “This
is
starting to sound like an Amaranthe plan.”
Maldynado stood straighter. “Do you think so? Would she be proud?”
“I’d like to say she’d be appalled by your entire last forty-eight hours, which included crashing a dirigible and blowing up a steam lorry, but… I can’t.”
“Nope.” Maldynado smiled. “Crashes and explosions have become her hallmarks of late.”
Basilard signed,
She’ll be proud if your antics get the emperor the information he needs.
“Ah, yes, always back to business. What do you think, Yara? Will you play the part of adoring fiancée if it’ll help the emperor?”
“
Adoring
?”
“That part isn’t required. You just have to make it believable.”
Yara sighed and dropped her arms. “Will there be touching?”
“No,” Sespian said with a warning look to Maldynado.
“Wait a moment,” Maldynado said, “it wouldn’t be convincing if we kept a distance. Mari
knows
me, after all.”
Sespian
and
Yara glared at him.
“You don’t have to go,” Sespian told her. “You can be on the boat crew.”
“No, no, Sire, I
have
to take her. My sister-in-law will find it suspicious if I have a change of heart for no obvious reason. Yara and a pretend-baby-on-the-way make a good reason.” And, he had to admit, he wanted to see her in that dress, but he’d best not admit that aloud, not if he didn’t want her to throw a knife at him. “Besides, I’m hoping her presence will keep Mari from wanting to be entertained.”
That drew a round of blank looks from everyone.
“By me,” Maldynado clarified.
The blank looks did not turn into expressions of enlightenment. Would he have to draw pictures?
“By my man parts,” Maldynado said.
More than one set of eyebrows lifted.
Yara’s lip curled again—it was good at that. “That’s disgusting.”
“Oh, no, they’re quite fine.” Maldynado waved to his lower regions. “You’re welcome to see them anytime if you don’t believe me. Perhaps it’d even be wise, in case someone questions you about my manhood while we’re perpetrating this ruse. You wouldn’t want to say anything in err, would you?”
Yara’s lip curled up further until it was in danger of swallowing her nose. “I meant that it’s disgusting that your sister-in-law would proposition you!”
“Oh, yes,” Maldynado said. “She’s done so during more than one family gathering. For whatever reason—well, we all
know
the reason—she finds me quite irresistible.”
“Maldynado… ” Books managed a pronounced sigh as he said the name.
“Have you ever returned her… ardor?” Sespian asked.
“Of course not. With my brother’s wife? I have some scruples, you know.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve slept with someone’s wife,” Books said. “Isn’t Lady Buckingcrest married?”
Maldynado folded his arms across his chest. “Not to any of my brothers.”
Yes, come now
, Basilard signed to Books.
Maldynado has standards.
Of course,
Books signed back.
What was I thinking?
“I wish I understood that hand language,” Yara said.
“They’re mocking me,” Maldynado said.
“Then I
really
wish I understood it.” Yara’s eyes glinted.
Maldynado thought to scowl at her, but he’d best not do anything to squash improvements in her mood, slight though they may be.
“Enough of this foolishness,” Yara said. “Let’s visit your lecherous relative and get this information as swiftly as possible.”
“Does that mean you’re agreeing to become my fiancée?” Maldynado went down on a knee and opened his arms, inviting her to run into his embrace.
“Let’s just say that I believe your family would be highly skeptical that you’d agree to settle down and take on responsibility unless you’d been suitably whipped into submission by a woman.” A thoughtful expression came over Yara’s face. “Yes, actually, a good overbearing woman who bosses you around and takes none of your frivolity is just what you need. I do believe I can play that role.”
If Yara meant that to concern him, she’d be disappointed. Maldynado offered his best lazy smile. “Whatever you say, dear, so long as you do the whipping while wearing that dress.”
A perplexed wrinkle furrowed Sespian’s brow. “It’s hard to imagine you’re the group’s charm specialist.”
“Actually, that’s Amaranthe,” Maldynado said. “I just get all the women.”
“Not all of them,” Yara said.
Maldynado kept his response, one of
we’ll see
, to himself.
• • •
Pike’s salve hadn’t healed Amaranthe entirely, only “enough so you won’t die overnight.” Locked back in the crate, she hunkered in a ball, face buried in her knees, the walls pressing in from all sides and denying a change of position. Moving wouldn’t have been wise anyway. Any time she so much as twitched, a scab opened up and fresh blood or pus dripped down her arm or leg and splashed onto the waste-stained floor.
Early on, Amaranthe had wished to swab the crate with a mop, sterilizing it—and herself—with copious amounts of alcohol. She’d grown too weary to think of such things now. She longed for sleep—oblivion—but it rarely came. Chances to escape were even rarer. The one time she’d tried to sprint for the exit as soon as her crate door opened, the claw had swept down from the ceiling, plucking her into the air before she’d gone more than three steps. Pike had punished her attempt with an extra hour of “work,” as he called it, before starting in on question-asking. She’d tried lying to him, hoping to end the torment, but he had, with a knack that reminded her far too much of the one Sicarius possessed, seen through her attempts at mendacity. However many years had passed, Pike
had
known Sicarius well at one time and must have a good idea of what would and what
wouldn’t
motivate him to protect someone.