Blood and Betrayal

by Buroker, Lindsay

  Amaranthe planted her hand on Sicarius’s chest, fingers splayed. “If this is about the dirigible, I wasn’t holding his hand out of any romantic notion. He’d brought up the fact that he might have a shortened lifespan because of that drug, and I was expressing sympathy, the same way I would if Books or Maldynado had that problem. Let’s be clear on the situation here. He’s a sweet kid, but nothing would happen between us even if you weren’t around.” Amaranthe, realizing she’d been rattling words off quickly, forced herself to slow down and take a deep breath before finishing. “I love you, Sicarius.” Odd how saying things like that to him made her feel more vulnerable than lying naked beneath Pike’s knife had. “You’re stuck with me,” she added doggedly.

  “I had already decided that while I was coming to find you.”

  Amaranthe watched him through her lashes, wary but hopeful as well. “That… you’re stuck with me?”

  Sicarius’s eyes were half-lidded as he gazed back at her. “That I was unwilling to let someone else have you.”

  The blunt statement sent a little shiver through her. The words, “It’s about time,” floated through the back of her mind, but the intensity of Sicarius’s eyes squashed any inklings of flippancy. “All right,” she whispered.

  “When you have recovered, and you are ready, come to me. I’ll be waiting.”

  Amaranthe didn’t move a muscle, but her heart was beating against her ribs so hard Sicarius must’ve felt it. She wasn’t sure if he’d made a request or issued an order, and she didn’t care. She was suddenly hyper aware of his body next to hers, the honed steel of his torso, the fact that she was almost in his lap. Her body had to be crazy to respond this way, after all it had endured. She doubted Sicarius would accept an entreaty then, even if she made one, but it was with the squeaky hoarseness of a titillated teenager that she uttered another, “All right.”

  Sicarius brushed the backs of his fingers along her jaw, and his gaze drifted to her lips. Amaranthe held her breath. A kiss? Was that what he had in mind? A little promise that there’d be more later? Yes, after the pain of the last week, it’d be nice to experience something pleasant. More than pleasant, she thought, cheeks flushing anew at the memory of the single kiss they’d shared in the Imperial Gardens that summer. She parted her lips, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes.

  “You should sleep,” Sicarius said abruptly.

  “Huh?”

  He removed his arm and slid away from her, leaving Amaranthe alone on the hard, poky boughs. He tossed a few branches onto the fire. “I will stand watch.”

  Before she could object, he disappeared through the cave opening.

  “Sleep?” Amaranthe said, not caring if he overheard. Though she might have been weary a few minutes ago, sleep was the last thing on her mind now. She swatted at one of the roots dangling from the ceiling. “How am I supposed to sleep when you took my pillow? Impossible man.”

  Only the drone of cicadas answered her. Amaranthe flopped onto her back on the boughs.

  At least he’d offered something more definite than the “later” on the dirigible. Once she’d healed and they’d finished the mission—or at least made sure the others were safe—she’d pounce on him. And she’d make sure she kept him too busy to think of fleeing the cave. No, not a cave, she decided. The baths perhaps. A private bath overflowing with bubbles. Or maybe the training ring after a particularly sweat-inspiring workout, one that encouraged the removal of shirts. Yes, she liked that idea.

  When Amaranthe finally dozed off, she slept well, the nightmares of the previous nights replaced by more pleasant, if rather erotic, scenarios.

  Chapter 15

  Brynia tried to seduce Maldynado three more times on the way to the wheelhouse. Had it not been for his current interest in Yara, he might have propelled the woman into a closet and given her what she was asking for. She was a beauty after all. But what she was asking for probably involved distracting him long enough to yank out his knife and stick it in his belly.

  Raindrops splashed onto the damp deck and pattered onto Maldynado’s reclaimed hat. Though he should have appreciated the warmer climate, Maldynado found himself homesick for his haunts back in Stumps. He wondered if the first snow had fallen yet and if Yara would find it romantic to stroll along the canal on Third Avenue, listening to music flowing from the numerous waterfront hotels, dance halls, and drinking houses.

  “You don’t really want to take me to see that boy, do you?” Brynia purred.

  Maldynado chastised himself for letting his mind wander. The woman might have wriggled free and escaped again right there. “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re hesitating.”

  “I was thinking.” Maldynado pushed her toward the stairs leading to the rooftop and the wheelhouse.

  “I was given to understand that you didn’t do that much.”

  “Good.” He hoped she’d been flummoxed when he hadn’t walked into her trap. “Why’d you kill my sister-in-law anyway?” Maldynado threw it out there casually, hoping he might startle a response out of her.

  “Why, I didn’t, my lord. You did.”

  Maldynado halted. “What?”

  “That’s what your family will assume when the word reaches them.”

  “You didn’t kill her just to frame me,” Maldynado said. “My family has enough reasons to hate me already. You want her position in Forge or something?”

  “My position is fine. Regardless, I did not kill her. Your comrades barged in, causing a guard to accidentally shoot her.”

  “Uh huh.” Maldynado nudged Brynia so she’d resume walking. She wasn’t likely to tell Maldynado anything useful, and he lacked the stomach to use force on a woman. Maybe Sespian would have better luck questioning her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to duck into one of those cabins for a few moments of enjoyment?” Brynia asked, doing her best to dawdle by insisting on walking around each puddle instead of through it. She stopped and leaned her breasts into him. “I won’t even try to kill you afterward.”

  “How thoughtful,” Maldynado said. “I know you’re trying to avoid chatting with the emperor though. Up the stairs, my lady.”

  “I’m not worried about a conversation with that timid boy. I simply thought you might enjoy the embrace of a skilled lady. Besides, after listening to Mari speak longingly of your honed body, I’m curious to know if her distress over your rejections was founded. We won’t be able to find out later if your reluctance to dally with married women remains true.”

  Reluctance to dally? With whom? Mari? What did that have to do with anything now?

  “Uh huh,” Maldynado said, as if he understood her every nuance, “up the stairs.”

  “So stuffy.” Brynia sighed. “You look like you ought to be fun.”

  “I am fun. I’ll even give you a ride to prove it.” Maldynado adjusted his hat and hoisted her over his shoulder. If she wouldn’t walk, he’d carry her.

  Brynia’s response, whatever it might have been, was muffled by the fact that her mouth was pressed into his back. He strode up the steps, taking them two at a time. He faltered, and almost clunked Brynia’s head against the railing, when he found Yara waiting on the catwalk that connected the stairs with the wheelhouse. Inside, Sespian stood before the six-foot-wide wooden wheel, windows on all sides offering him a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the dark river. Lamps brightened the interior while two lanterns burning on either side of the door illuminated Yara, highlighting the dampness of her short hair.

  “My lady.” Maldynado greeted her with a nod and said nothing of the woman slung over his shoulder.

  “The emperor was hoping you’d show up with that.” Yara waved at Brynia as if she were a package from the postal service, then brought her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn.

  Sespian must have recently relieved her from the day shift at the wheel. Maldynado wondered why she was lingering in the rain instead of going straight to her bunk. Maybe she’d come outside, heard him talki
ng to Brynia, and hadn’t wanted to interrupt.

  “I better deliver it promptly then.” Maldynado knocked on the door.

  “I see you got your hat back,” Yara said.

  “Indeed, I did.” At the emperor’s beckon, Maldynado strode inside and plopped Brynia onto the floor. “Brought you a gift, Sire.” He held up a finger. “One moment.” He patted Brynia down, found a dagger strapped inside her thigh, and, since she wore trousers, had to have her drop her drawers to remove it. Even though she’d been offering to drop them all night, doing it in front of Sespian and in an utterly non-sexual way seemed to disturb her dignity, if the pink tinge to her cheeks was anything to go by. Good. Maldynado didn’t want her at her most vixen-ish to talk to the boy. “There we go.”

  Apparently taking his job as helmsman seriously, Sespian had only partially turned from the river, and he kept one hand on the wheel. “Thank you.”

  Brynia refastened her trousers and stared Sespian in the eyes. “Your plan won’t work.”

  He might have snorted with indignation or given her a wave of dismissal. Instead, he blinked a few times and looked at Yara. “She thinks we have a plan at this point? That’s encouraging, yes? That our enemies are ascribing us with more competence than we actually possess?”

  “I’d say so, Sire,” Yara said.

  Maldynado wondered if Sespian was being intentionally disarming, the better to tease information out of Brynia. He didn’t know how much shrewdness to grant the kid. At least he wasn’t leering at Brynia’s chest the way Akstyr had.

  “Want me to stay while you chat with her, Sire?” Maldynado asked.

  “No, we’ll speak alone.” Sespian nodded to Yara. “I’ll have you step outside, too, Sergeant.”

  Yara adopted a lemon-sucking expression, but merely said, “Understood, Sire.”

  When Yara strode past Brynia, she deliberately bumped shoulders. Yara had a good six inches on the other woman, and Brynia nearly fell down. Yara pushed open the door and stalked out without looking back. Her abruptness seemed to startle Sespian.

  “We have some unpleasant history with the prisoner,” Maldynado told him. “She wanted to feed Yara to mechanical alligators. And, even more egregious, she stole my hat.” Maldynado walked outside, closing the door behind him. “Wait there, will you?” he called to Yara.

  She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Why?” The word broke under the force of another yawn. She’d probably been dreaming of sleep.

  “Never mind,” Maldynado said. “I’ll stand watch myself.”

  Yara frowned. “Over them? It sounds like the emperor wants privacy.”

  “She seems to be an accomplished seductress whereas the emperor seems… naive. Brynia might feel inhibited if someone’s standing out here, ogling through the window.”

  Yara leaned against the railing. “Would that inhibit you?”

  “Depends on who’s doing the ogling.” Maldynado leaned on the railing next to Yara. “You can get some sleep. I can ogle by myself.”

  “I’ll bet.” Yara gazed down the stairs but didn’t leave. “I’m surprised you didn’t take advantage of her offer.”

  “Oh,” Maldynado said, disappointed that she’d be “surprised,” but he supposed he wasn’t known for chastity.

  “Maybe not as much as I would have been a week ago,” Yara said.

  Oh? Progress.

  Maldynado stifled a yawn of his own and gazed at the cloudy sky, thinking again of snow and walks along the canal. The rain had tapered off to a mist.

  Yara nodded toward the wheelhouse where Brynia stood, her breasts targeting Sespian like guns on a battleship as the young emperor spoke. “So, the future Lady Marblecrest, eh?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t think she’s eyeing your brother? I thought that line about your reluctance to sleep with married women meant she planned to become your brother’s next wife.”

  Maldynado stared at her, his mind fumbling about as he tried to remember if Brynia had said anything about Ravido.

  Yara tilted her head. “You don’t think so? I thought she might have shot Mari to rid Ravido of the current wife and that she planned to be the one to deliver the news and console him over the loss. After Ravido becomes emperor, he’ll have lots of women courting him, but if Brynia sinks her talons into his shoulder first… ”

  “Is that… all a hunch?” Maldynado was trying to decide if he was being dumb for not having put that together or not. It did sound plausible, but…

  “We enforcers like to call them educated guesses.” Yara shrugged, as if to agree there wasn’t a lot of evidence to back it up.

  Maldynado chuckled. “Well, I hope we don’t find out. I’d prefer that Sespian stay on the throne and my brother die a bitter old widower.”

  “Agreed.”

  Inside, Sespian was leaning forward, gesturing with one hand while he held the wheel steady with the other. He seemed to be speaking a lot. Maldynado feared he had things backward: wasn’t Brynia supposed to be answering questions?

  “Though it’s sweet that you want to protect him from a wanton woman’s charms,” Yara said, “I don’t think you need to be concerned.”

  “Why not? When I was his age, I would have been first in line to, ah… ”

  “Go spelunking in her cave?”

  Maldynado groaned and rubbed his face. Why did he have a feeling that ill-advised line would be etched into his urn after his funeral pyre?

  “I think his heart is taken,” Yara said.

  Maldynado’s hand dropped from his face so fast it smacked the railing. “What? By whom? He’s been out of town for months, and there’s nobody out here.”

  Yara’s eyebrows elevated.

  “I mean, not nobody, but, er… ” Bloody dead ancestors, had Amaranthe been right? Was Sespian competition for Yara?

  “It’s Amaranthe, you twit.”

  Maldynado blinked slowly. “That doesn’t make any sense. They’ve barely spent any time together, and she’s… well, she’s pretty enough but not exactly trip-over-your-toes-and-fall-in-love-at-first-sight gorgeous. Especially not when she’s running around in blood—and grime-spattered military fatigues.”

  “You’re being all kinds of flattering tonight, aren’t you?”

  Maldynado rubbed his face again. Maybe he should go down to the engine room and find a tool to rivet his lips shut.

  “He hasn’t confessed having such feelings out loud,” Yara said, “but, while we’ve been up in the wheelhouse, he’s mentioned being concerned about her fate often. If you’re still trying to get him to bond with you, maybe you could give him tips for attracting older women.”

  Maldynado thought of Books’s insinuation that Amaranthe and Sicarius had some sort of relationship and grimaced, though his thoughts quickly shifted to Yara. “Tips? I wouldn’t have thought you’d admit that I have any expertise in that area.”

  “A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought so either.” Yara only met his eyes for a moment before looking out over the dark river.

  A giddy frog hopped about in Maldynado’s stomach. Was that… an admission? That his efforts were working on her? He decided not to push things. He’d ask for the canal walk later and, as Akstyr had suggested, let her know he appreciated her.

  The door opened.

  “Sergeant Yara,” Sespian said, “will you take our guest to the brig?”

  “Of course, Sire.”

  Yara escorted Brynia down the stairs. Meanwhile Sespian stood in the doorway, regarding Maldynado through slitted eyes.

  “Did she tell you her destination, Sire?”

  “She told me the town of Markworth. I didn’t believe her.”

  “I wouldn’t either.”

  “I do believe it is as we guessed and Lake Seventy-three is the correct area. If she hopes to meet her comrades, she’ll need us to land nearby.”

  “So, where are we actually going?” Maldynado asked, noting that Sespian’s eyes remained slitted. The kid still didn’t seem to tru
st him overly much. Or perhaps Brynia had said something to implicate Maldynado in Mari’s death. That figured.

  “Once we reach the lake, you will direct me on how to find Marblecrest Island.”

  Sespian stepped into the wheelhouse and closed the door with a definitive the-conversation-is-over thud.

  “Can’t wait,” Maldynado muttered.

  • • •

  Soft rain splashed onto a clear pool. While Amaranthe washed up, she avoided looking at her reflection too closely, though she’d already glimpsed more than enough. Her cuts and bruises, though they were healing, had turned her face into a mottled patchwork of sickly blue-yellow that failed to flatter.

  She pulled her bare feet out of the water and dried them as well as she could before applying a purplish paste Sicarius had made. City girl that she was, she found herself skeptical that anything that came off a dirty leaf instead of out of an apothecary’s jar could truly have medicinal qualities, but she slathered it on anyway. Given the grimy state of her makeshift bandages, and the even grimier state of the swamp, she needed all the armor she could cobble together to fight off infection.

  Aware that Sicarius was waiting, and had to be chafing at their slow pace, Amaranthe finished with her ministrations and eased her feet back into the oversized boots. They’d been on the move since dawn, and she wanted to take a nap, but that wouldn’t help them catch up with Forge.

  When she returned to the trail, she expected to find Sicarius pacing about or perhaps standing watch from high up in some tree. Instead he stood beneath a branch, using the foliage as shelter from the rain as he wrote on a piece of paper. When she approached, he put his pen away, folded the page into precise thirds, and tucked it into his pack.

  “If that’s a shopping list, I’d love a stack of flatbread and a jar of apple butter.”