by RJ Metcalf
The blotchy crimson drained from Richard’s face, leaving him the color of limestone and devoid of all emotion. He clicked his heels together and gave a shallow bow. “As you command, Father.” He pivoted on his heel and stalked to the back of the throne room, his pace staying even and measured the whole way, as if he’d left his heart elsewhere.
Rupert sank down onto his throne and heaved a heavy sigh as he motioned wearily to where Slate was standing. “Lieutenant Stohner.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Slate strode forward and bent at the waist, freezing halfway in his bow, waiting for the king’s command.
“I want you to take an honor guard to go meet with the princess and bring her and her envoy to the palace safely. Reformers have stirred up enough unrest, and we want to avoid any mishaps. The princess is traveling by airship, which will be docked at the Stohner Shipping Yards. You understand now why I’m assigning you for this?” King Rupert’s moustache twitched with what could almost be considered a smile.
Slate straightened from his bow and dipped his head in a respectful nod. “Yes, sir. I will see it done.”
“Good. Oh, and give your mother our greetings.”
#
Slate turned in his saddle to glance back, taking in the twenty other crimson-coated soldiers and the burnished carriage that created the honor guard for Princess Violet’s arrival. Despite King Rupert’s concern, no protestors or ill-contents had shown up thus far, but it was too soon to relax. They still had to wait for the Perennian princess to arrive and get her back to the palace. Still plenty of time for things to go wrong.
Of course, even if they got back to the palace, there was no guarantee that Prince Richard would even be there, or what mood he’d be in. Not my problem.
Well, maybe my problem. He held no stock in the rumors of Richard being jealous over Brandon because of Sapphire and Adeline, but if Richard insisted on continuing with his temper, it would ripple and affect the rest of the royal family, as well as the royal guards and other palace staff. Slate winced at the thought. Knowing his luck, he’d be on rotation with Richard during the worst of it. Because, technically speaking, they were “family.”
Brandon may not see it, but he fit the requirements for crown prince like a sword to a custom-made sheath. Even if Richard were to take back the title in a few years, Brandon as crown prince now wasn’t a bad thing.
The final wall of High Doldra came into view, and Slate scanned the horizon, finding no telltale gleam of an airship or any sort of aerial machinery coming in yet. On the left, his mother’s sprawling shipyard came into view, and the tension in Slate’s chest eased just a fraction at the familiarity of his childhood home.
Granted, it wasn’t quite the same now as it had been, but the original brickwork building was still there in the center of the grassy yard, as were the two maple trees that he, Cole, Sapphire, and Connor would climb as kids, and the apple tree that Garnet had used to sit under to read. Since those days, Elinora had added three large storehouses, and she was in the process of designing a dormitory for airship crews as they came in to port.
Men scurried in an organized fashion from around the corner to a storehouse labeled with a large black “1” painted over the open doors, and Slate could make out over the edge of the wall the gleaming masts of two different airships he recognized as part of her fleet.
Though his mother had been widowed quite a few years ago, she didn’t let sorrow slow her down. The daughter of a merchant family, she poured herself into her shipping business, working hard to distribute goods throughout all of southern Terrene, importing and exporting for Doldra and working closely with as many other kingdoms as she could. Now she was considered one of the wealthiest and most successful of noblewomen.
Two brunette women stood in the center of the open gate leading to the airship docks, both of them turned out, watching the workers haul in the boxed goods. One was young, appearing to be around his own age, a pair of goggles nestled amongst the sun-kissed braids piled on her head. She stepped away from his mother to speak to a worker, and her long colorful skirt shifted in the breeze, the latches to hoist it up to a practical, working knee-length clattering pleasantly as she moved.
Elinora made notes on a paper, then turned and caught sight of Slate and his entourage. She brushed her hand against the younger lady’s shoulder and handed over the paper and quill, then lifted her skirt just enough that she could briskly walk to Slate without tripping on the hem.
Slate grinned as she approached, and he slid off his horse, striding forward to pull her into a hug. “Hi, Mom.” He released her to gesture at the men waiting on their horses behind him. “We’re here to await Princess Violet’s arrival.”
Elinora Stohner looked over Slate’s shoulder to smile and nod in greeting to the men, then she focused her attention on Slate. She pursed her lips, then whacked a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been in town for two months, and you’ve only come by to visit once! And this your second visit, it isn’t even to see me!”
Slate heard one of his men trying to cover his guffaw with a cough. He scowled back to find the perpetrator and spotted Matthias innocently looking away.
“See what I have to live with? There’s a reason I don’t come to visit all that often. She’ll beat me up and make me work for my dinner!” He complained over his shoulder, grinning as he risked another smack. He dropped a kiss on his mother’s graying temple, careful to not knock into her mini tophat fascinator. “I love you too. Do you know when she’ll likely come in?”
His mom shook her head, blue eyes sparkling in fondness. “I think she’ll be here fairly soon if the letter is accurate. We’re hurrying to get Captain Leigh loaded up and moved out before Her Highness arrives.”
Gravel crunched underfoot, and Slate looked around his mother to see the young woman, whom he could only assume was Captain Leigh, walking toward them. Bright, intelligent, liquid brown eyes, enticing cheekbones, and full, gorgeous lips grabbed whatever expectations he had for a female airship captain and threw them out the window. He inhaled sharply and straightened, quickly tugging at his uniform and shoving a hand through his hair, hoping it was it still in decent shape after the ride down from the palace.
Elinora shot Slate a marginally amused look and leaned forward, “You do anything to scare off one of my best airship captains, and I will personally tan your white hide in this yard, you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Slate murmured, unable to form any other semblance of words. Not that he’d ever thought about what he’d expect when meeting a woman captain, but somehow whatever his subconscious expected, she wasn’t it. She blew all expectations out of the water. Maybe I’ve been looking in all the wrong places.
She held a sheet of paper out to his mother, her demeanor calm, professional, a complete contrast to the mess of thoughts scrambling in his mind. “Everything is loaded and accounted for. We’re ready to head out.”
Slate tried not to stare when she looked him over, her dark eyes studying him from his boots up to his hair. And she must have liked what she saw, for she offered her tan hand out to him. “Captain Samantha Leigh.” Her lips turned up in an almost smirk. “You can call me Captain Sam.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.” He bowed deeply and kissed her slender hand, all-too-aware of the wonderful dichotomy of her soft skin and calloused palm.
A smile blossomed on Samantha’s face, as if she knew what he was thinking, then she turned her attention back to his mother. “We’ll get out of your hair, since I know you want that spot open soon.” She shook her head, regret dimming the light in her eyes. “I truly am sorry that we arrived so late.”
Elinora shook her head, loose curls swinging wildly about her neck. “There’s nothing you can do to evade terrors. They’re like bad weather and taxes: completely unavoidable.”
“Terrors attacked you?” Slate asked before he could stop himself. “Where? Did everyone make it?”
The captivating captain nodde
d. “Twice, actually. During one attack, on the outskirts of Aerugo, a terror caught Rebecca—my sister—and tore up her arm and face. The second attack got one of my men even worse. They’ll both be fine,” she added hastily at his expression of horror. “But they’ll both have scars.”
Slate suppressed a shiver. Terrors were flying dragons that preyed upon anything they wanted, airships especially. Metallic claws and the manipulation of electricity made them a foe that he never wanted to meet in his lifetime. To be attacked twice in one shipping run was beyond unfortunate.
“I hope the poultices we have here will help some.” His mother rubbed Sam’s shoulder blades, sympathy creasing her face. “I should have another shipment ready for you to move in a few weeks. When do you expect to come back to our port?” Elinora gave the paper a cursory inspection, signed it, then handed it back to Samantha.
Samantha folded it and slipped it away in a pouch on her hip. “I’m not sure, but soon, I expect. We’ll be taking these goods straight to Aerugo, and from there I plan to go south through Piovant. I’ll send you correspondence if I can. If not, well, our arrival shall speak for itself.”
The ladies shared a laugh, and Slate found himself smiling with them.
“I’ll see you around, Ellie.” Samantha winked at Slate. “See you around, handsome.”
Handsome? Slate choked on his tongue as she sauntered towards her ship. Did she really just …
The men closest to Slate didn’t even bother trying to contain their amusement this time. “Looks like someone knows how to play the same game the lieutenant does!” Matthias hooted from atop his horse as he slapped a dark hand against his knee.
“Ha, ha.” Slate muttered under his breath, his cheeks warm as he watched Samantha’s airship rise above the height of the wall on a cloud of steam. Thank goodness she’d missed Matthias’s comment. Who knew how she’d have taken that? The four turbines for steering hummed to life and turned the airship gracefully before it burst to the east with another whoosh of steam.
It had been gone not even a full minute when he spotted a gleaming speck on the horizon to the south. He shaded his eyes, squinting. His mother unsnapped a monocular from her belt and lifted it to look through. “Looks like your princess is almost here.”
Slate turned to the men who’d been waiting behind him. “Listen up. We don’t want any diplomatic incidents or awkward fumbles here. Extra vigilance on the ride back. Smooth and seamless.” He scanned the men, eyes narrowed. “Look alive!” Backs straightened, hands brushed dust off uniforms, and humored looks were exchanged for stern guard-like expressions, and with that, the men were back to looking their role of honor guard.
Slate marched to the wide gate, then turned to the narrow walkway to the berth they’d be landing in. He waited patiently, holding his position with formal military precision as the metal-and-wood airship grew in size as it got closer. Finally, he could read and confirm that it was the Radiant Blossom, airship to the Perennian royal family. Really, the vivid purple mainsail was his first clue. Two of his mother’s workers slipped past him to guide the ship to the dock, and it slid between the wood planks almost silently, settling down with a quiet whir as the turbines poured down. A moment later, the hiss of steam erupted from the back of the ship. Once it settled, Slate sucked in a deep breath, released it, and walked to the side from which the crew and princess would be disembarking.
The entire ship gleamed in the sunlight, all smooth lines and elegant-yet-economical curves, making it difficult for him to look directly up to the top deck without being blinded. He squinted, hand raised to defend from the glare and heat radiating off the sides, noticing vines and whorls and flowers stamped into the metal-encased wood. The hatch released and came down with a hiss, latching to the deck with two spiked claws, and a man appeared at the edge of the deck. He walked down, dressed in a deep purple dress jacket with a tailored white button-up, black slacks, knee-high black boots and a tall black top hat to finish the polished ensemble. He bowed to Slate in silent greeting.
Slate returned the formality and straightened. “Welcome to High Doldra. I am Second Lieutenant Slate Stohner of the Royal Guard. My men and I will be escorting Her Highness and her retinue to the palace today.”
The man nodded, his rich black skin glinting in the sun. When Slate finished speaking, the man lifted his arms, revealing a stone ring on his right hand, and, with great deliberation, he started moving his hands in signs and gestures while looking directly at Slate.
“Thank you. I am Princess Violet’s uncle, Samuel Thistle.” Words floated into Slate’s mind as Samuel signed. “I am her advisor, escort, and emissary, for this trip. If the ship’s safety is guaranteed here, we have four crew members and two guards who will follow Her Highness, her handmaiden, and myself.”
Slate licked his lips, wracking his memory for what he should do to communicate with the deaf advisor. His sign language skills were minimal, at best. If they’d known in advance, they could have had an interpreter maybe, or at least a chalkboard, or—
Samuel noticed his hesitation and he smiled, his white teeth glimmering. He started signing again. “I assume you have not had much experience with the Deaf. If you look at me while I face you and sign, you will understand what I am saying. And you can speak to me. I will lip-read, and what I don’t catch, the stone will translate.” He lifted his hand, drawing Slate’s attention to the simple gray ring.
Slate hesitated, looking between the ring and Samuel, then spoke slowly, taking care to enunciate his words. “This port has high security, and belongs to the Lady Sapphire’s family; no harm will come to your vessel here. We welcome your crew and guards, and we have horses and a carriage for all whom you wish to bring to the palace.”
A shadow shifted behind Samuel, catching Slate’s attention. Samuel offered a small smile as he moved both hands in a gesture of presentation, signing a moment later, “Princess Violet and her handmaiden, Deisy.”
Breath seized in Slate’s lungs, stiffening his entire body as he bowed. Violet looks even more like Rose now than she did before!
Violet’s poise through the brief exchange helped soothe Slate’s shock enough to get through the pleasantries, and once properly greeted, he escorted the princess and her handmaiden to the bronze-and-glass carriage waiting for them.
He glanced back, analyzing Violet through the glass window of the carriage. Straight sable hair flowed down to her waist, and her vibrant chestnut skin glowed in the warm afternoon light. She was as beautiful as Rose, but in a different way. Where Rose was tall and slender, Violet was more average in her height, and petite, yet sturdy. But the sisters shared the same dark copper skin and black hair and eyes.
As if she felt his gaze, Violet gestured for him to bring his horse alongside her carriage, then she spoke as soon as he neared her. “I forgot how close it is.”
Slate blinked. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
She pointed beyond the roof of a nearby building to the ethereal purple barrier visible in the distance. It wavered as they watched, rippling with deep purple and a blue so dark it was nearly black. Princess Violet dropped her hand back to her lap and wove her fingers together, a slight frown pulling at her youthful face. “The barrier. Do you ever fear it will fall?” Violet gazed at the curtain of magic, biting her lip. “Or do you become so accustomed to it, that you don’t even think of it?”
Slate blinked again, then shook his head. The carriage turned a corner, and he waited until he could ride alongside her again. “No. For the barrier to fall from this location, something drastic would have to happen. The Monomi guard the keystone, and no one can get past them.” He gave Violet as reassuring a smile as he could while his stomach churned acidic concern over how Richard would take the sight of her. “The magic is stable and well defended. And honestly”—he shrugged lightly—“you do get used to it always being there.”
She gave him a shy, yet grateful close-mouthed smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He nodded
and urged his horse to trot back to his position at the head of the guard, then glanced back at Violet. Richard would not handle this well at all.
Slate twisted to face forward again and realized Samuel was watching him. He grimaced. What was Samuel thinking? That Slate had less than proper thoughts, staring at the princess, or was he already aware of the similarities between the sisters?
Samuel settled the reins in his lap to sign, “She and Rose share a strong resemblance, I know. I hope that won’t be a problem for Prince Richard.” His brow creased. “This is a very difficult time for him, and we do not wish to add to his sorrow.”
“Ah.” Slate wasn’t sure how to respond to such an accurate statement of his own private concerns. “Thank you.”
Samuel nodded, looking around the city as they rode up the street. Tall buildings towered up on either side of them, casting shade over the cobblestone street and their winding escort. Everyday traffic stopped as they passed by, pedestrians lingering on the edge of the road, watching with wide eyes and hushed excitement. Samuel glanced behind to their procession and up ahead, then turned to sign to Slate. “Does your kingdom prefer to use horses? Has Doldra considered the use of steamtrans?”
Slate cocked his head in thought before shaking it. “We don’t really have a preference to horses or anything, but many citizens are resistant to new steamtech and such.” He gestured at the road. “Personally, if it makes trips like this faster and more efficient, I see no reason why not to add them.”
Samuel grinned, his teeth flashing as the shadows from the buildings fell away and sunlight shone down on the processional. Shadows darkened Samuel’s eyes as his black hat shielded his face, but Slate could see a few silver strands shining amongst Samuel’s ebony hair. Samuel raised his eyebrows. “Perennia uses steamtrans everywhere, and it has greatly aided in reducing travel times, traffic congestion, and undesired messes to clean.” He nudged his horse with his knees, and his horse sidestepped a large and fresh pile of droppings in the middle of the road.