“What if we ask Draewulf the questions straight to his face—about what he plans to do with us and if there’s a way to free Eogan? Could you determine Draewulf’s thoughts then?”
She scrunches her cheek and peers back over at me. “I’m not sure. With Eogan’s block in the mix, I could probably see if Draewulf’s lying but not read his mind. Unless he’s clearly planned out his path and Eogan’s not confusing it. I’d have to be near him long enough to get a better sense, but even then . . . If the things you’re hoping for have never been done, Draewulf himself may not actually know the answers.”
“So it’s worth a try.”
Her smile is gentle. “I think so. But the better question is, can we get him alone for a few minutes
to
try it?”
I look down at my cut arm. At my fingers as I flex them into a fist.
“Let me take care of that.”
I
HEAR THE BOY A GOOD HALF MINUTE BEFORE HE reaches the metal grate, mainly because he’s grunting and cursing up a storm. The wall square squeaks, then pops out to fall and hit the floor again just before Kel drops into my already-darkening room.
He scrambles up and tries his best to look very serious, which ends up with him merely showing those big white teeth.
“You’re back.”
“Told you I would be.”
“Well? What do you want?”
He shrugs. “Just making sure you’re not doing anything you shouldn’t be.”
Because I assume he’s doing enough of that for both of us. “Who have you been trying to stab this time?”
“I haven’t. I’ve been sleeping mostly. I was listening in on the delegates for a while, but all they talk about is stuff they want from King Eogan. Well”—his face sours—“except for the cranky one. He
talks a lot about his head and his back and his hard bed and the ship’s noise.”
I grin. “So does that mean you can get anywhere on this ship?”
His little face turns furiously proud. “Just about.”
I eye him. “Such as the room where King Eogan is?”
He frowns. “You want me to spy on him?”
“It wouldn’t be spying. I just . . . want to know if he’s all right.”
“You want to spy on him.”
“Look, boy—”
“Kel.”
“Look, Kel—”
“Is it ’cuz you want to kiss him?”
“ ’Cuz I want to—
what
?”
“When a person likes someone and wants to marry them and have babies, they kiss them. And I heard one of the delegates say you like King Eogan. Is that why you’re spying on him?” His tone says he finds this not only unnecessary, but wholly repulsive.
I stare at this boy who is the strangest small person I have ever met in my entire seventeen years. And burst into laughter. “No. I most definitely am not spying on him so I can have babies with him. I simply . . . want to ensure he’s feeling all right. He’s been ill and—”
“Then why’s your face turning redder than the carpet?”
“I am not turning red.”
He rolls his eyes and walks around the room, poking at the walls and lightly kicking the cot I’m seated on.
“Look, can you or can you not get near King Eogan’s room?”
He shakes his head. “The only air vents I can travel are along this and the other delegates’ corridor. Also, the kitchen and bathrooms
and a few soldier areas. Besides, I wouldn’t listen in on the king for you anyway.” His face takes on that stoic expression, which is promptly darkened by a flash of fear. “And I don’t think you should have babies with him neither.”
Good, then we’re both agreed.
Except . . .
I frown. “Did you know King Odion?” I ask on a hunch.
He nods and looks out the window into the night.
“Not very nice, eh?”
“He was a great king, brave and strong, the most powerful in all the Hidden Lands.”
Right.
His small brow furrows.
“But?”
“He wouldn’t have liked you. And he wouldn’t have approved of you coming to Bron—not just ’cuz you defeated his army, but because he wouldn’t have liked that you tried not to harm my people.”
“
Not
to harm them?”
He nods again. “My people believe power is a responsibility to be used for striking down those who’d endanger our community. They’d think what you believe weakens it.”
I don’t tell him that at the moment I’m tempted to agree with his people and dead King Odion. “And what do
you
believe?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe power comes in different forms, and maybe we get a choice how we use it.” He glances down and his eyes darken. “Maybe not everything that seems weaker is.”
Then he looks back up. “But I gotta go now.” He climbs onto the bed. “And you’re not going to see me again until you’re in Bron. But when you do, don’t let them know you’ve met me. My father and family, they . . . they wouldn’t like that.”
I almost grab his foot to pull him back as he clambers up through the square hole. He can’t go. I have more questions!
Too late though.
He’s already through and
scritch-scritching
away.
T
HE BRON GUARD DOESN’T ALLOW ME OUT OF the room again until the following afternoon, and just like before, the two Faelen bodyguards follow as well. Rasha and I are barely in the hall when she stops us all and says, “Can you give us a minute, handsomes?”
Is she going to bring up the boy, Kel? Has she seen him too?
The soldiers wait as she tips toward my ear and lowers her voice. “In case I don’t get the chance to say this later, I want you to know I believe Myles is going to offer you something once we reach Bron. And on absolutely no condition should you accept.”
Oh.
I glance toward his room.
Offer something? What could he have that’d be remotely desirable versus nauseating?
“I sensed it the other night when we snuck on board and ran into him.”
I wait for her to elaborate. She doesn’t. “Okay. And his offer will be . . .?”
“I don’t want to say in case he changes his mind. I simply wanted
to make sure I mentioned it before the day was out. Mainly because what he’s got in mind is . . . unnatural.”
Ha. I bet it is.
“I’m serious, Nym. What Myles
is
—what he does . . . I don’t want to see him do that to you. I’m just telling you so you’ll believe me and steer clear of whatever he’s selling you.”
“Oh, I believe you. I just have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A strange expression slips across her face. She narrows her gaze and seems about to say something but stops. “I apologize for the confusion, but I’d rather caution you against an idea than introduce you to it. And it won’t matter as long as you decide now not to consider it. You are enough as you are. You’ll figure this crisis out without his help.”
An uncomfortable ache edges against my spine. I look ahead toward the door the Bron guard’s holding open to the noisy dinner room.
Rasha’s voice softens. “Promise me you won’t follow him because while some of his desire is to actually help you, his other motives are not.”
“What are his other motives—aside from the world-rulership obsession, obviously?”
“To use you.”
I snort.
Nothing new there.
“Fine.” I pat her hand and pretend it really is fine. “I wouldn’t trust Myles with a ferret-cat, let alone with whatever it is you’re worried about.”
Her sigh is loud and relieved. The next moment she’s grinning and flourishing a hand at the waiting guards. “In that case, onward with the torture, gentlemen.”
“Torture is the accurate word,” I mutter, when we step through
the door to find that, not only are all the delegates seated around the dining table, but so is Eogan.
I choke on the unbidden lump in my throat as everything within me begs to slip over and touch him, to connect with his calm, his closeness, to forget for one moment the monster beneath his skin. The next second I’m rocked by the look of absolute vileness on his face and have to fight the urge to locate the nearest knife to shove in Draewulf’s gut in payment for what he’s done.
Rasha gives my arm a quick squeeze of caution, and after a moment of glaring at him, I force my legs to move and make my way over to a chair at the end of the table near the windows. I sit and study the beast while Rasha takes her seat and my Faelen bodyguards hover nearby.
Lady Gwen is leaning over her plate. “So what did you say in response?”
Draewulf curls his lips. “I didn’t say anything. I simply waited until she fell asleep and then sewed her mouth shut.”
The three Faelen delegates burst out laughing, and for a moment their noise drowns out the airship’s drone permeating the walls as Draewulf’s disgusting comment slips effortlessly from Eogan.
I stare at them.
How can they laugh at that?
He turns me a sly gaze and tucks a strand of jagged hair behind his ear. I narrow my eyes and debate revealing his horrific identity.
“Aren’t you hungry, girl?” Lord Wellimton calls.
“I thought slave girls didn’t get hungry,” Draewulf says. “After all, the good ones are only useful for one thing.”
The group howls with renewed laughter, and a shiver shreds my spine as he continues to leer.
The words the vent boy, Kel, said about his old king despising compassion float into mind. If that was the case, what will he
think of this new king? Will Bron applaud this disgusting Draewulf version?
Rasha stands, about to voice a defense from the look of it—but I stand as well and drain my face of all emotion. “It’s fine. I was just leaving anyway.”
On my way toward the door leading to the deck, I stop long enough to brush up against Draewulf and curl my fingers into a fist, as if my powers have returned. I lean into his ear. “Tell me, how does it feel to know you haven’t quite won?”
Without waiting for a response, I straighten my shoulders and proceed to the small deck.
A Bron guard is positioned outside the door. “You have thirty minutes until we—” he says, as my Faelen bodyguards join him.
I nod, straining to hear him above the engine noise. Then stall because whatever he’s mouthing suddenly doesn’t matter when I look up.
The enormity of the airship is beyond comprehension. Overhead spans a white, larva-shaped balloon easily a quarter the length of King Sedric’s castle. It billows slightly at the curved ridges and along the one tip I can see. Whatever’s powering the ship is burning and creating heat ripples in the air around a giant metal chimney chute. Steam flows from it into a hole in the base of the balloon that is attached to the airship by metal ropes similar to the ones Eogan used to control our man-eating warhorses.
The ship bumps five times in a row, as if it’s a farm cart riding over tills of soil. The vibrations beneath my feet are jarring compared to standing on the floor inside. I edge to the railing and glance down over the bulk of the ship to what I presume is the lower level. A few windows dot here and there, but for the most part, it’s a hull of shiny, glistening metal big enough to hold
servants, guards, food storage, and probably whatever fuel they use for burning.
Above it sits the level we’re on, which appears to simply be the dining and bed quarters. And on top of that sits a smaller section—made up of what, I can’t tell. I peer high at the single row of windows.
Is that where Eogan’s been hiding?
“A bit freezing out here, don’t you think?”
Flipping around, I discover Myles ten feet away. A superior smile is playing around his pale mouth as he leans over the metal railing, arms spread like a bird with the wind and rain ruffling his black hair.
I frown and walk over to him to find the raindrops are being thrown full force beneath the balloon here as the ship rushes along on the air currents. The water pricks my skin, making it feel alive and nervous as Rasha’s warning flares in my head. “Where are my knives?”
“Not hungry, eh?” he says, ignoring my question.
I scowl at him, at his thin face which is pale, but no longer green. “Couldn’t stomach the company.”
“Ah yes. Whereas me? I couldn’t ssstomach the food.” He glances out at the ocean. “Impressive though, isn’t it?” He stays watching a minute longer before turning back to smooth his hair and tip his head at the dining area. “About that nauseating company . . . Care to speculate what his plansss are?”
“The man who makes it his business to know everything, doesn’t know?”
“Ah, but Rasha would’ve already told you I don’t.”
“How about a guess? I hear you’re good at it.”
“I suspect in thisss case, your estimation is as good as mine, my dear.”
“Then I’m afraid neither of us is going to get far.”
He turns back to staring at the ocean.
I step closer, my tone cautious. “How long do you think before he does something with all of us?”
“I think the better question is, how long do we have before Eogan loses his battle inside his own body? That, I suspect, will be the defining point for the rest of usss.”
I make a snide face. Clearly he doesn’t seem too traumatized by the prospect.
Except . . .
My chest tightens. I narrow my gaze and study every crease and twitch of his aristocratic profile. “Do you think Draewulf can be separated from Eogan’s body without killing him?”
“How would I know?”
“Like I said, you make it your business.”
“Alasss, that is not an area I’ve ever cared to look into. Although . . .” He eyes me. “If anyone could have helped separate them, it would’ve been an Elemental. Too bad you don’t have the ability any longer to find out.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
“If my abilities could’ve freed him, I would’ve done so the other night.”
“If you’d been trained correctly, yes. Especially considering Elementals have always been the most powerful Uathúilsss. But, as I said, how would I know?”
“You’re suggesting you could’ve trained me to separate them?”
His gaze moves from my eyes, to my hands, to a quick, aloof sweep down my body. “I may know someone who could’ve advised me.”
He has my attention as well as my suspicion. “Who? Are they still around?”