So Ariq would try the smugglers’ dens. He didn’t like leaving his town. He didn’t like leaving Zenobia. She probably wasn’t the marauders’ target—they’d destroyed many airships, not just hers—but she
did
have secrets, a pack full of documents and gold, and two mercenaries as guards. She must be expecting trouble. And as long as she was in his town, Zenobia was under his protection.
But neither the town nor Zenobia was undefended. And staying here, hoping that the marauders would drop into his lap, could be more dangerous for them all.
Rain began to fall in heavy drops as he crossed the bridge. A thick and oppressive quiet accompanied the pattering rain. The houses stood farther apart on the southern end of town, the gardens more extensive. Low walls and gates marked the boundary of each. Farther along the road, a lantern stood beside his own gate—always lit at night, so the townspeople could easily find his home if they needed him.
Someone waited for him now.
She stood in the shadows, but he knew immediately.
Zenobia.
Her brown hair in a messy pile, her body tall and slender, her spine straight—straighter now that she’d spotted him.
So she’d come after all.
Fire sparked through his blood. Why had she changed her mind again? But he didn’t care why. Even when she’d looked at him with heat in her eyes, he hadn’t expected her to visit that very night. That she had come was a gift he wouldn’t question. Soon he’d have that messy hair spread across his pillow. He’d have her prim mouth open and panting under his. He’d have her long legs wrapped around his back, her hands clinging to his shoulders. He’d feel her against his skin again.
But she wasn’t alone. Two more figures waited in the shadows behind her. Zenobia’s guards.
The rush of heat cooled. Ariq knew to choose his battles.
Sometimes they chose him.
The vestiges of hope still lurking in his chest died when he saw her expression. No interest, no smile. Her face could have been carved from marble.
She didn’t move as he drew near. Her pale hands were empty except for a letter she held tight against her stomach—protecting it from the rain. But she didn’t need to carry weapons; the mercenaries behind her did.
Her chin lifted when he reached his gate. “Governor. Might we speak?”
“Speak?”
After being targeted by her stony stare, he’d half expected a bullet. He wasn’t sure that talking with her was any safer. The last words she’d spoken to him had been a knife to his gut—and he still didn’t know why she’d decided against having him.
Color darkened her cheeks. “
Only
to speak.”
Of course. He opened his gate. “Come out of the rain.”
If she’d come for any other reason, he’d have taken her to his personal quarters. Instead he pushed past the door to the reception hall and led her around the screen into the main room. At the rear of the hall, the doors to the courtyard stood open. Light from Taka’s building spilled across the small pond in front of his walk. A possum’s eyes gleamed from the branches of a eucalyptus.
The mercenaries didn’t follow them in. Ariq touched a spark lighter to a lamp. In the rising glow, he watched Zenobia slowly take in the sparse room. Water dripped from her hair and cheeks, but she didn’t stop to wipe it way. He suspected that if she’d had her notebook, she’d have been scribbling a description of the long rectangular building, the wooden beams overhead, the low table and seats. She wouldn’t see much of him revealed here. Though other families’ reception halls were warm and welcoming, his wasn’t. Strictly utilitarian, the room had exactly what it needed and no more.
Ariq clasped his hands behind his back. He wanted to dry her hair and face. But he wouldn’t touch her or come any nearer than he was.
As he watched her, a low thrum started beneath his feet, rumbling faintly through the boards. Despite the lamp burning in Taka’s quarters, his brother wasn’t home. He must have gone to the underground chamber beyond the south wall of their property when the rain had started.
Zenobia moved to the courtyard door and looked out. “What is that? It feels like an airship engine.”
“It’s the water pumps.”
“Won’t the vibrations attract another kraken to the beach?”
“No large ones. A season usually passes before another adult moves into the territory.” And he didn’t want to talk about the pumps. He’d told her they collected water for the town to store through the dry season. That was only partially true, and he didn’t want her to begin questioning the missing part. “Why did you come, if not for my bed?”
Her body tensed before she turned. “My friend and I must continue on to the Red City.”
“You will.”
“Not in a month,” she said. Her expression still resembled marble when she faced him, but carved by an anxious sculptor, pinching her brow and lips. “Within the week. We cannot wait for word to reach Helene’s husband and for him to arrange for a ship to retrieve us. Are there truly no airships that will come?”
Why couldn’t she wait? Was she in danger? She must be desperate to risk traveling without her French escort.
But the last time he had asked her reasons, she’d said she didn’t owe him an explanation. Ariq wouldn’t expect a different answer now.
“We don’t see many airships.” Not after the marauders had begun attacking them.
“But it’s possible that one might come in the next week?”
“Unlikely.”
“What of a boat? There are several small vessels in the harbor.”
“They stay near the harbor to avoid the megalodons and kraken. No one would get far in a fishing boat, not on the open water.”
She didn’t give up. “Over land?”
“You wished to arrive in the Red City in less than a month.” If she arrived at all. The Australian interior was a harsh and unforgiving land. “Even my walkers would be hard-pressed to cross the continent in that time.”
“And the balloon flyers we took from the marauders today?”
“They aren’t made to travel long distances.”
He saw frustration begin to take hold. Fingers clenching on the letter against her stomach, she turned away from him and just as quickly turned back. “Is it true that you intend to search for the marauders in the larger towns farther south?”
The smugglers’ dens? Ariq stiffened with surprise. He’d made the decision to go that evening—and he’d only mentioned it to his brother and Commander Saito at dinner, then told a few of his people to prepare for the journey. They wouldn’t have spoken of it to anyone else.
“Where did you hear that?”
“I overheard someone talking. I don’t know who they were.” She waved her hand, but the casual gesture didn’t match the direct gaze she fixed on him, as if to force an answer from him by her will alone. “Is it true?”
No reason not to tell her. “Yes.”
“And how will
you
be traveling?”
“The mountain walkers.”
“How long does that take?”
“Three to four days.”
She gave a short nod, as if satisfied by that answer. “Not every airship in those busier ports will have been destroyed. Will you arrange for one to come for us?”
And she would be gone before Ariq returned. Sooner than he thought.
He’d already accepted it would happen. He had to let her go. Yet the demand that she stay flared through him, strong and hot. She couldn’t leave. Not until he’d had a chance to fight for her.
Ruthlessly, he battled the urge, the heat. He couldn’t keep her. And he couldn’t let this need rule him.
But he had other reasons not to send an airship here for her.
“No,” he said.
She sighed. “I suppose it would be difficult to convince an airship to fly here.”
“Some would.” Finding an airship wasn’t a problem. No one would refuse Ariq. But nothing remained secret in the smugglers’ dens. If he hired an airship, soon the marauders would know where that vessel was headed and why. “But it might be attacked as soon as it leaves port. Or the marauders might wait until after you board it.”
“But an airship could fly east from the smugglers’ dens to the Red City?”
“Probably.”
“Then Helene and I will also travel south and make further arrangements from there. It isn’t such a long distance. Will you sell a flyer to us?”
So she could go to the smugglers’ dens? “I won’t. Such places are not for you.”
“Not for me?”
It was an incredulous echo. Then anger whipped through her voice. “I am not in the habit of allowing men to decide what is good for me, sir, and you obviously misunderstand my reasons for coming. I am not here to secure your permission; I am here for a consultation. And if I do not like what you have to say or what you have to offer, I will either find someone who will tell me of another way to the Red City, or offer enough gold that someone will sell us another vehicle.”
She advanced on him with each sharp word. Ariq expected her to jab a forefinger into his chest when she made her final point, but she stopped a full step away, staring up at him with her jaw set and her color high.
And this was the woman he intended to let slip away. No longer cold, her jade eyes burned with fury. But he’d seen her laugh. He’d watched her look at him with a different heat in her eyes. She’d jumped from a balloon to save herself and her guard, then picked apart the marauders’ motivations as easily as tearing a stray thread from a hem. He would never see more of her. He’d never know more of her fire and humor—or the warmth of her skin, the kiss of her lips. How could he let her go without even
trying
to keep hold?
But he would. Voice rough, he said, “No one in this town will.”
“Then I’ll find someone in another town. One flyer is ours, sir. I can send my man ahead, then have him return for us with a different vehicle, but that would take longer and is nonsensical. We only need one more flyer now.”
“You need more than that. It’s a three-day trip, even on the flyers, and if they carry two people there’s no room for supplies or fuel. You’d be stranded halfway there.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered that. Sensible even when angry.
Even when desperate.
Stiffly, she asked, “May we travel with you, then?”
Ariq would rather she stayed here. But she was determined. He didn’t doubt she’d find a way to leave while he was gone. At least she could remain under his protection for a few more days.
“You may,” he agreed. “We’ll depart the morning after tomorrow.”
No relief softened her face. Her stony gaze held his. “We will pay for our own supplies, of course, and compensate you as our guide. Name your price.”
His price?
Anger shot through him as he understood why her expression remained hard, as if she were bracing herself. She thought he might extract the price in her bed.
No, she must have
expected
that he would. She didn’t lack for brains. She’d come here knowing that he intended to visit the smugglers’ dens, yet it had taken her until now to ask whether she could travel with him. She’d exhausted every other option first, as if she feared that he’d demand more than she wanted to pay.
Jaw clenched, he didn’t speak until he trusted himself not to raise his voice. Finally, he said softly, “There is no price.”
He must not have completely concealed his anger. Though she didn’t step back, her face paled. Her fingers clenched on her letter. “I don’t want to owe you.”
“And I don’t want to take you to the smugglers’ dens. So we will both live with outcomes that we don’t want.”
“So we will.” Her gaze fell to his mouth before she averted her eyes. “Thank you, Governor.”
He didn’t want her gratitude. He wanted her to look at his mouth again. That wasn’t the glance of a woman who wasn’t interested. That was regret, as if denying him had been another outcome she hadn’t wanted.
Ariq couldn’t fight this battle now. But that glance gave him hope again.
He wouldn’t have to fight, if Zenobia surrendered.
And he would have less than a week to see that she did.
***
Zenobia gave Cooper the letter to deliver to Lieutenant Blanchett, then rushed with Mara through the rain. Mud splashed up over her boots. By the time they reached their own gate, she was soaked through.
In the main hall, she shook out her hair and glanced at Mara. She and the mercenary hadn’t spoken since leaving the governor’s house, but Zenobia assumed Mara had used her listening device while waiting for her to finish their travel arrangements.
“You heard?”
“Yes.”
Zenobia nodded. “I’ll tell Helene.”
The buildings’ sloping roofs overhung the courtyard, offering a covered path between their quarters. Despite the rain, the night was still warm. Zenobia tapped on Helene’s screened door.