Shaking with the need to guide her faster, harder, he fought the urge to take hold of her hips, to take control. He’d done this to her. Held her still and invaded. It had been pure pleasure. But he hadn’t known how devastating it was to be held helpless in the wake of it. To simply take, until desire was a beast with sharp teeth, and just let it bite into him.
She made Ariq take until her thighs began to tremble, until her effort burst between them in her panting breaths. Her legs fell from around his waist. Her feet slipped to the floor, leaving his body a minefield of explosive arousal.
Yet she still kissed him, finally pulling him down to her height. Turning disadvantage into equality—and both of them suffering the same torment. Her breathing was ragged when she finally tore her mouth from his.
“Tonight?” she whispered against his lips.
“Tonight.” Need roughened his vow. He would have her. And they would finally be equal in that, too.
Because she already had him.
***
One battle at a time.
Just one. But by midmorning, Ariq was forcing himself not to succumb to his frustration at how slowly the battle was progressing. That wasn’t like him. Countless times he’d waited before—for orders, for an enemy to move into position. He’d spent more time in a camp than he’d ever spent on a battlefield.
This wasn’t any different. Instead of a camp, he stood in an ambassador’s study while the man wrote messages at his desk.
He just had to be patient. There was nothing that he could do.
And doing nothing was tearing at him.
Abruptly Ariq stopped his pacing and rolled his shoulders, trying to will away the tension gripping his body. The large window in Basile Auger’s study overlooked the embassy gardens, which butted up against the Red Wall. He could scale its massive height. At night, the guards in the watchtowers regularly walked the battlements, but it would take little effort to slip past them. After Ariq was in Nippon, he could . . .
Do nothing.
He didn’t know whom to talk to. He didn’t know how to make them listen.
Auger did. And the ambassador was helping. When Ariq and Zenobia had arrived in the lantern fish early that morning, most of the embassy household had already been awake. After they’d told their stories and Helene’s initial shock upon hearing news of their marriage had passed, Zenobia had been bustled away for food and rest while Ariq had met with Auger to once again lay out every step from the marauders’ initial attack to the abduction a week before. Auger had begun sending messages then. As there was nothing else for him to do, Ariq had bathed and eaten, his frustration souring every bite. Now he waited for the man to finish and for the initial responses from the ambassador’s contacts to come in.
Auger’s chair scraped back. At the ring of a bell, a servant entered the study. The ambassador gave him a stack of sealed messages. “See that these are delivered immediately. And ask Lieutenant Blanchett to join us on the half hour.”
The servant bowed and closed the door. His expression grave, Auger joined Ariq at the window. A cigarillo box stood on a nearby table. He opened it and glanced at Ariq. “Will you have one?”
“No.”
Aboard the airship from the smugglers’ dens to the Red City, Ariq had seen Zenobia wrinkle her nose and move away from an aviator who lit one near her. Sometimes battles were won or lost for the smallest of reasons. He wouldn’t lose her for a cigarillo—and the pleasure of her kiss was greater than the pleasure of a smoke could ever be.
“I don’t usually indulge so early. Today I make an exception.” Auger regarded Ariq through the curling smoke. “This isn’t easy for you. The waiting.”
How could it be? “Every hour that passes, the fleet sails closer to my home.”
The ambassador nodded and drew on his cigarillo again. Not just smoking, Ariq realized, but using the time to watch him—to judge his reactions and to decide how to proceed.
His next words told Ariq that he’d judged correctly. “Diplomacy often requires me to mince words. I suspect that you would rather I not.”
“I prefer a boar to a squirrel.”
“Boars are also better for eating,” the ambassador said. “Which is why we rarely employ the finesse of one. There are too many pit traps and tigers who lie in wait.”
Those dangers always lay in wait, no matter how a man spoke. “I won’t eat you.”
“You might want to when you hear how I have already made your circumstances more difficult.” Auger scrubbed out the tip of the cigarillo and set it aside. He met Ariq’s eyes again. “I am partially responsible for that fleet. When you were abducted, I sent . . . strongly worded messages over the wall, asking how they could allow a few men on flyers to threaten Nippon’s new alliances. I recognize now that is exactly what your enemies hoped I would do.”
So it was. But the ambassador couldn’t have known. Even Ariq hadn’t known the marauders’ purpose until after he was aboard Tatsukawa’s airship. He’d known the empress might pose a threat to the western coast; he hadn’t known the threat had been manufactured to force him into revealing the Skybreaker’s location to Ghazan Bator.
“The fleet sailed so quickly at my prodding,” Auger continued, “which means I cannot now request the fleet’s return. I would lose all credibility and be of no use to you.”
Like tales of the foolish King You who lit warning beacons to amuse his court and send his nobles into confusion. Eventually the nobles began to ignore the warnings and when real danger threatened, the king lost his head. The ambassador wouldn’t be killed, but he might lose whatever influence he had.
So the fleet wouldn’t be turning around immediately, no matter how Ariq wanted it to. “What do you suggest?”
“That we give them a new target. When you were taken, the intelligence suggested that the marauders were based inland. Lieutenant Blanchett and my wife confirmed this—you found a camp?”
“Yes,” Ariq said.
“So the commanders in the fleet believed they need to search the settlements and the dens. We’ll point them to Ghazan Bator’s ironship, instead. I won’t be asking them to return, but instead giving them new intelligence.”
Straightforward enough. “Yet you don’t look convinced.”
“There are three primary stumbling blocks.” The ambassador gestured out over the gardens. “The first is as big as that wall.”
“Tatsukawa,” Ariq guessed.
“Yes.”
“Has he returned?”
“I hope to discover that soon. But even if he hasn’t, there will be some who won’t believe his involvement. He’s a well-respected man. That would not be so difficult to get around—except those nobles and officials who supported him when his wife was exposed might lose face now if he is named a traitor. So they will attempt to discredit you, instead, and suggest that your new intelligence is a ploy to direct the fleet against your former general.”
“Why?”
With a shrug, Auger picked up his cigarillo and relighted the tip. “For some imagined slight or disloyalty—and they will believe you must have been disloyal, because you abandoned the rebellion. After a man has acted dishonorably, what limits are there to his dishonor?”
The ambassador truly wasn’t mincing words. “You think they would say I might be leading the marauders? That this is all a plot of my devising?”
“Yes. Anything to cast doubt away from Tatsukawa.”
And onto Ariq. “My mother was his wife.”
Auger froze. “The spy?”
“Yes.”
“Is your relationship commonly known?”
“No. Very few know. But if they begin casting doubts, Tatsukawa could use it to strengthen his position. If I would plot against my general, then I would also plot revenge against my mother’s husband.”
The ambassador nodded. “Then we should not conceal your relationship. Better to have our position temporarily weakened now than to have it used against us later.”
&nb
sp; Because their position was already weak. “So Tatsukawa is the first obstacle we will face.” As Ariq had anticipated. “What is the second? “
“There are those who would agree with him. The admiral is not the only one who wants to see the Khagan destroyed—and is not the only one who believes that when the Khagan showed his weakness and withdrew his armies from the islands to the north, the empress should have chased them back to the mainland and struck the final blows. They saw it as her weakness.”
Ariq couldn’t fault her decision to end the war. It would not have been so easy to finish the Khagan. Not even now, when his power hung by a thread. And far more difficult ten years ago. “Is she weak?”
“No. But there are also those who point to her decision as a sign that a more significant change is needed. That after Empress Go-Jingū led them here centuries ago, it was a new beginning for their people. But they argue that just as spring becomes summer, the time of the empress has also passed, and male issue should once again sit upon the throne. They prefer her brother, who is weak—and more easily controlled. So if Tatsukawa is disobedient, yet is successful, and the Khagan falls . . . it would weaken her position.”
All of which had nothing to do with the threat to Ariq’s home. “So even if they believed that the general and Tatsukawa were leading the marauders, they might discredit me to further their own interests?”
“Yes. And there are others who would like to see the dens destroyed, so they were happy to send the fleet in that direction.”
Frustration boiled up again, riding on familiar anger. This was what had weakened the rebellion. Too many leaders who cared more for their own interests than they cared for the people who most needed help.
Dogs. Every single one of them.
Grinding his teeth to stop every curse ready to jump from his mouth, he paced away from the window. “And the third obstacle?”
“You,” Auger said.
Frowning, Ariq faced him again. “How?”
“You’re a rebel, which means you were disloyal. That is one mark against you.”
One he proudly wore. “They also want to destroy the Khagan.”
“It is not the same. And there is this new mark—your mother.”
Ariq only looked at him.
“Yes, well.” Auger cleared his throat. “We’ll get around those problems. But you must understand that you will not be meeting them as an equal. You’re from the Golden Empire, so already you are seen as . . . a . . . a—”
The ambassador was on the verge of mincing words now, Ariq guessed.
“A barbarian,” Ariq said. His brother and Commander Saito had often joked the same.
Over the wall, it would not always be a joke.
“Yes,” Auger said. “And when they look at you, they will see exactly what they expect. You’re well-groomed, but you are like two men in size, and we’ve all heard of your strength. It would surprise no one if you ripped out hearts with your teeth.”
Not with his teeth. Only with his hands. “Why is that a disadvantage?”
“When you wear the plague mask—and you must wear the mask when we meet with them—you will not seem vulnerable to them. Or even human.”
So they might not believe he needed help. Ariq nodded. “What is the solution?”
“No quick one, unfortunately. You need to take up temporary residence across the wall and wait through the quarantine. When you attend meetings with me, you will have to wear your mask, but soon you will be able to take it off and meet them without it.”
“How soon?”
“A fortnight.” Auger held up his hand, as if anticipating Ariq’s frustration. “Perhaps sooner, if—as governor of Krakentown—you are granted the same dispensation that I have to remove the mask in private residences when I visit in an official capacity. I believe we have the time. The fleet will only search for the marauders first. And there are still French aviators in your town—I will send Lieutenant Blanchett to join them again, and let it be known that any attack against Krakentown will also be an attack against the French king and our allies. If nothing else, it will delay further action for a period.”
That was only one town. “And the other settlements? The dens?”
“Some in Nippon want to see them destroyed. Others have reason to protect the dens. We’ll appeal to them first—along with those whose loyalty to the empress is the strongest.”
Jaw clenched, Ariq stared across the gardens. The wall loomed ahead, blocking out all but a narrow slice of blue sky.
Two weeks of negotiating and begging and pretending that he didn’t want to tear every obstacle apart with his hands—whether that obstacle was stone or man.
Two weeks. At the very least.
And this wasn’t the only war he was fighting. “I must ask my wife if she will come.”
Silence from Auger made him glance in the man’s direction. By the doubt in the ambassador’s expression, he must have been deciding whether to be the boar or the squirrel again.
“You don’t think she should?”
“I wouldn’t presume to think one way or another.” Auger scratched the side of his nose. “But your marriage was conducted very suddenly and during perilous circumstances.”
“Yes.”
“If she has regrets, I will support her. And if she asks for my protection, I will offer it.”
“She won’t. And she’ll be safer with me.” Especially if Mara and Cooper accompanied them. “Have her maid and valet arrived from the smugglers’ dens?”
“Oh, yes.” The ambassador laughed, then massaged his throat as if in memory of pain. “Let us just say that I had an enlightening conversation with them when they arrived and found her gone. I don’t believe they are pretending to be a maid and valet any longer.”
“Then you know who my wife is?”
“I’m more familiar with her brother’s exploits than her tales—but, yes. I know of her. And I believe that Lieutenant Blanchett is kicking himself for not speaking with her more often while he had the opportunity.”
“He enjoys her stories?” Whereas Ariq had not even read one yet.
“Even if he didn’t, I’m sure he would soon become a great reader. As would many men who meet her.” The ambassador’s shrewd gaze studied him for a long moment. “She’s a wealthy woman in her own right. Her brother’s wealth, however, is not on scale with the wealth of men, but of kings.”
The wealth, but not the power. Still, men often sought both. And they had obviously sought it from Zenobia—and had helped create the defenses that she’d built so high. “I will ask if she wishes to go. If the lieutenant is returning to my town, I need to send messages with him.”
The ambassador consulted his pocket watch. “He ought to be meeting with us soon. My study is at your disposal. I’ll begin making the arrangements for your stay in the quarantined sector.”
Good enough. But Ariq frowned, thinking. The ambassador had known who Archimedes Fox was. Ariq hadn’t until the twins had told him.
Just as Zenobia hadn’t realized what many others could guess about Ariq just by looking at him. The knowledge that he took for granted was not the same knowledge that westerners did—and likewise, that which was taken for granted in much of the Golden Empire might not be commonly known in Nippon. “You say that, as a governor, I might receive dispensation to take off the mask more quickly?”
“Yes. They sometimes make exceptions for diplomatic purposes. We will make a request, which will either be accepted or denied.”
“My father was Qajigin Khan. Perhaps you should tell them that, as well.”
“Qajigin . . . Khan?” Auger stared at him. “The former khagan, Qajigin Khan?”
Ariq nodded. “I was born in the Golden Palace. My mother was a favorite before his assassination. They never knew she was a spy for the rebellion. Still, she might have been executed with the other concubines, but Temür Agha is her brother, so my brother—the current Khagan—thought it wiser to let her go.”
“Temür Agha,” the ambassador repeated faintly. Face pale, he crushed out the remainder of his cigarillo. “I all but called you a barbarian.”
“You did.”
“You were abducted from my home. While under my protection.”
“Yes.”
The man abruptly laughed. “Thank you for letting me live. And, yes. I believe it will be helpful to tell them.”
Then it was the only helpful thing Ariq had done that morning. He looked to the Red Wall. Soon he would be on the other side, but the battle was only beginning.
Just as he would have his wife tonight, yet that was only the start of his war for her heart. Two different battles—but the same fight.
He would win them both.
***
For the tenth time in as many minutes, Helene’s heavy sigh filled a pause in the maids’ excited chatter, as they both recounted the story Zenobia had just told . . . again.
Zenobia closed her eyes. She suspected she knew what her friend truly wanted to talk about, but her patience and her temper were riding on a thin edge, and she didn’t feel like explaining herself. She’d been stuck in this chair for almost an hour while the maids took turns combing the knots from her hair, and the constant tugging had developed into a pounding headache. Never again would she step foot aboard an airship or balloon without a braid to prevent the wind from tangling her hair. At this rate, she’d be bald by the time Ariq visited her tonight.
Tonight.
For an instant, the pounding in her head seemed to warm and spread. The bed wasn’t far from the vanity where Zenobia sat, and when she glanced over at the coverlet it was so easy to imagine herself there. She hadn’t yet decided what to wear, or even if she would wait in Ariq’s bedchamber instead of hers. Surprising him appealed very much, to see his face when he opened the door and spotted her lounging upon his—
Helene sighed again.
Oh, for God’s sake. Zenobia looked into the mirror. In the reflection, Helene had abandoned her seat on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed and stood at the balcony doors, staring forlornly through the windows.
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