Only white clouds dotted the sky now. White clouds and airships that weren’t Mara and Cooper’s.
“You’ll forgive me if I trust the aeromancy of a pilot who has flown in this area for decades over your oh-so-analytical forecast,” her friend said dryly.
“I’ll forgive you.” Especially since Zenobia liked it when Helene was as prickly as she was.
Helene smiled a little before looking at Zenobia’s sketch. “The palace grounds are undeniably beautiful, but they simply can’t compare to the towers. They’re so impressive. I don’t understand why the empress doesn’t reside in one.”
On her second day here, Zenobia had wondered the same. Ariq’s answer was scribbled in her notebook, but she didn’t need to consult it. “The governor says it’s probably for two reasons: tradition, and because the fortress is less vulnerable to airship attacks.”
“Ah,” Helene said, but her eyebrows stitched together as she studied the tiered fortress on the palace grounds. The enormous stone structure dwarfed every other nearby building. “An airship can fly over it as easily as it can a tower.”
“But there aren’t as many access points—and the strongest part of the fortress is likely underground.”
Her friend still looked doubtful. “Your husband said that?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose he is right, then.”
So prickly. “Was there any news from Lieutenant Blanchett this morning?”
Zenobia hadn’t asked earlier, because she’d assumed that Helene would immediately volunteer the information if there had been anything to report. But her friend was in a quite a mood, so perhaps she wouldn’t have.
“No,” Helene replied, dashing Zenobia’s small hope. “Any news of Mara? My husband said they had flown to Krakentown to see if anything was amiss.”
“Not yet. But they aren’t due back until later this afternoon.” Zenobia couldn’t keep the tension from her voice.
“I’m certain they are well,” Helene said softly.
“Yes,” Zenobia agreed, though she wasn’t so certain, and the anxiety was twisting ever tighter in her chest. At least this gave her the opening she’d needed, however. “If they don’t come, I expect that Ariq and I will leave for Krakentown by tomorrow morning.”
“You are going, too?”
“Of course I’m going.” Her reply had an edge to it. The question shouldn’t have irritated her so much, but it did—probably because Helene had been so willing to leave Mara and Cooper to their own devices in the smugglers’ dens, as well, simply so that she could return to her husband . . .
Oh. Well. She’d almost closed that opening very quickly, hadn’t she?
Carefully, Zenobia asked, “Unless you need me to stay?”
“Need you?” Her friend seemed surprised by the question, then amused. “I’ll be perfectly well without you. There’s plenty to entertain me. And I imagine that after this is all settled you will be living in Krakentown, anyway.”
“Well, yes, but . . . I wondered if—” Dear Lord, there really was no delicate way to put this. “Has the ambassador learned of your condition?”
“Oh.” As poised as ever, Helene folded her hands over her stomach. “Yes.”
“You told him?”
“He guessed. I was so ill when I returned home the last time—after our trip to the temple—and he asked me if I was with child. I could not lie to him. What good would that do? He would never believe that any child born in seven months was his. So I told him the truth of my condition.”
“And what did he say?”
“He intends to accept the child as his own.”
Zenobia gaped at her. “So easily?”
Lifting her shoulder in an elegant shrug, Helene said, “He is a man of extraordinary compassion.”
And a better person than Zenobia was. If Ariq ever did anything similar . . . oh, she couldn’t even bear to imagine him with another woman. The anxiety in her breast was nothing compared to the pain of a mere thought. She would kill him. Then cry until her heart burst. Then kill him again before leaving forever. She would never recover from such a betrayal of trust.
Perhaps the ambassador and Helene had different expectations of love than she did, however—and Zenobia didn’t doubt that Helene loved him. Maybe that was enough for them both.
And now this was all very anticlimactic. Even if the ambassador hadn’t rejected her friend for infidelity, Zenobia had expected far more arguments and tears, followed by the long process of repairing their marriage. She’d expected to hold her friend’s hand through it all.
But apparently Helene would be perfectly fine without her.
Shaking her head in bemusement, Zenobia said, “He sounds very forgiving.”
Her friend gave a tinkle of a laugh. “Oh, he is not that.”
A chill raced up Zenobia’s spine. “Not forgiving?”
“No. Compassionate, yes. Forgiving, no.”
“But . . . is everything well between you?”
Helene frowned. “I have just said so.”
“You also just said he wasn’t a forgiving man. So I’m at a loss to understand how he so easily accepted all of this. Is he angry with you?”
“Of course not.”
Worry snagged at her heart. Was her friend simply saying that to ease Zenobia’s fears? Because she couldn’t understand how an unforgiving husband could so easily forgive Helene for lying with another man.
“Oh, do not look at me like that, Geraldine! That is the same face you wore when your father was home.” Helene clasped her hand. “You don’t have to fear for me.”
If she insisted it was so, then Zenobia must believe it, but she couldn’t shrug away the terrible heaviness that settled onto her shoulders. She looked out over the terrace rail, feeling Helene’s gaze on her profile.
After a long moment, her friend sighed. “You don’t need to forgive someone who didn’t have a choice.”
What? Her gaze shot to Helene’s face, her stomach roiling with horror. She’d been forced?
Helene looked away. Shame? Oh, no. Speechless, Zenobia clung to Helene’s hand, squeezing her fingers in desperate sympathy. In all this time, she’d never even considered Helene might have been raped. She’d just assumed that her friend had been lonely and sought comfort with another man—or, knowing how Helene blossomed with flattery and attention, that she had been seduced by someone with a clever tongue.
Oh, she was a terrible friend. The very worst.
Heartsick, she whispered, “Oh, Helene—”
“Well, he did take advantage of me.” Helene jerked her hand from Zenobia’s. “He knew my husband was away, that Basile’s family all resented me, and that I was alone and out of sorts. He knew exactly which weaknesses to prey upon.”
Zenobia stared at her. What was Helene saying now? What had Helene thought she had been about to say to provoke such a defensive reaction?
Eyes swimming, her friend implored, “What should I have told Basile?”
She didn’t know. She still wasn’t absolutely certain what Helene was admitting to. “You lied to your husband about being forced?”
“What choice did I have? And I thought you of all people would understand, since the same thing happened to your mother when she was left alone and taken advantage of.”
Zenobia’s mother? “You think that was the same?”
“Isn’t it?”
The unapologetic set of Helene’s chin said that she believed it was—or she’d convinced herself it was. Zenobia had to look away from her, feeling as if molten lead had been poured down her throat, burning and heavy, but slowly hardening as it cooled. And toxic. Oh, so toxic. She didn’t answer, terrified of what would emerge if she spoke.
Oh, and she would be glad to go to Krakentown now, to put a continent between her and Helene. Not forever. Just a few months during which she would not hear Helene’s voice and remember how she’d insisted there was no difference between her situation and Zenobia’s mother’s.
<
br /> Her friend sighed. “What could I have done, Geraldine? I would lose everything. Should I be punished so harshly for a mistake? I am not you. I have no wealth of my own. I have no brother to come to my rescue.”
“You have a friend who would do anything for you.”
“Yes,” Helene said, her voice suddenly thick. “And must I now choose between you and my husband? Don’t force me to.”
Zenobia wouldn’t. And now the anger was going, leaving her with a sick ache in her chest and the helpless need to cry. So she only nodded, because never would she ask Helene to make that decision.
But she would still be glad to go.
***
He’d done this before. Only two days ago, Ariq had flown back to the quarantine tower, knowing that he would soon be going again. There were differences. Now he returned in the afternoon instead of the evening. Cooper didn’t wait for him; this time Zenobia stood on the terrace, her face pale and her fingers twisting together in anxious tension.
As the airship docked, she called over the noise of the engine. “Any word?”
Ariq shook his head, then wished he’d waited until he’d joined her before answering. Instead he had to watch her eyes close in despair and her shoulders slump, and he couldn’t hold her against him.
But by the time he strode down the gangway, she’d already steeled herself again. “I’ve had everything that we’ll need packed.”
Of course she had. Chest heavy, he started toward the courtyard with her. How many times had he watched soldiers leave their families and head off to battle? He’d always known it must have been difficult for them. Until now, he hadn’t known how deep the ache was, aware that he only had hours left . . . and then weeks or months before he saw her again.
She suddenly stopped at the courtyard entrance. Head cocked, she looked up at him. “I just realized. No mask?”
“I received dispensation to remove it this morning.” Not that it mattered now. “And I received an invitation to meet with one of the empress’s ministers two days hence.”
Dismay parted her soft lips. “In two days? What will you do?”
What would he do? Mara and Cooper hadn’t returned. Blanchett hadn’t returned. Damn it all. What else could he do?
Frustration ripped into him. Ariq fought the biting heat of it, but his reply still possessed a sharp edge. “The ambassador will have to speak for me.”
“Yes.” Stepping back, she wrapped her arms around her middle and walked on. “Of course.”
Dregs and hell. He caught her around the waist and pulled her rigid form close, her stiff back against his chest. From day to day, the scent of her hair was never the same. She’d smelled of dust and flowery perfume and the ocean—but today a warmer fragrance, like dried grass in the sun. He breathed deep and felt her soften against him.
“That wasn’t how I intended to greet you.”
“I know. But ‘good afternoon’ hardly fits, does it? It’s a terrible afternoon.”
“Yes.” He tightened his arm around her waist. “But better now.”
“It is.” She threaded her fingers through his, their hands clasped at her side. Quietly she asked, “Are you angry with me?”
“For what?”
“I sent Mara and Cooper. If I hadn’t, you could have gone two days ago. You would already know what was happening.”
“You sent them,” he said and turned her to face him. Uncertainty and guilt darkened her jade eyes. “And if I hadn’t agreed, I’d have called them back. But it’s always best to scout ahead. So it was my decision, too.”
With a sigh, she nodded.
He tugged her closer and she kept coming, sliding her arms around him and burying her face against his shoulder. Still uncertain. Probably terrified for her friends. “It was the right decision to make,” he said.
Her response was muffled against his tunic. “It doesn’t feel like it now.”
After giving orders that left soldiers dead or missing, it never did. Cupping her cheek, Ariq tilted her face up. “It was. And there’s no anger here. Not at you. Not at myself.” That kind of rage would lead nowhere and help nothing. His frustration and impatience now were enough—and even those he needed to contain or else risk accidentally hurting her with them. So he told her, “If I’m ever angry at you, you won’t have to ask.”
She huffed out a quick laugh. “You’ll be blunt then, too?”
“I will.”
Smiling, she pulled out of his arms but kept hold of his hand, continuing toward their chambers. “You returned earlier than I expected. How many arrangements still need to be made?”
“I’ve already made most.” And what hadn’t been arranged would be taken care of in the smugglers’ dens, where he’d cash in every favor he was owed and hire every soldier he could.
“Everything here is ready to go. What we don’t need with us can be taken to the embassy later. Or left here. I don’t care one way or another. Do you?”
“No.” The only thing in this tower that mattered was Zenobia.
“Then how much time do we have?”
Not enough. “A skyrunner will be at the embassy in three hours.”
It wouldn’t be as fast as a lantern fish balloon, but was the fastest airship that could travel over land.
“Why from the embassy? Why not just board the skyrunner here?”
“I thought you’d prefer to stay with your friend. You’d be alone here.”
Abruptly she shot a look at him over her shoulder. Her emerald gaze searched his before she caught her lower lip between her teeth and averted her face again.
Ariq frowned. Hadn’t she expected to stay? He couldn’t take her with him.
But he said nothing, waiting until she entered their chambers and kicked off her wooden sandals. His wife would know when he was angry. She didn’t make it as obvious. He had to read it in the thunk of her left sandal against the entry wall and the stiffness of her shoulders. Not just angry, though. Hurt, too. She still didn’t look at him and didn’t lead him to the bed, where he’d hoped to spend these remaining hours. She stalked across the chambers and out onto the balcony, instead.
Chest tight, he followed her. He was fighting two battles—and today, he had to abandon the war for her heart until he saw her again. Her walls had begun to crumble. But if he left while she was angry and hurt, no doubt she would rebuild those defenses stronger and higher while he was gone.
Arms crossed beneath her breasts, she stared out over the sea. “You told me that you wouldn’t leave me behind.”
That wasn’t the promise he’d made. “I wouldn’t leave you behind in the hands of my enemies,” he said. “I will leave you behind if it means you’ll be safe. I’ve hired more guards to watch over you at the embassy. You won’t be taken from there again.”
Her eyes closed. Voice thick, she said, “You also told me that we would make important decisions together.”
“We will. But this time there is no decision to make.”
“And you just decided that? Without consulting me, you determined that there is no other option?”
He had. So they’d both gone about this badly. “And without consulting me, you decided that you would go.”
He saw her realize the truth of that. On a shuddering breath, she glanced at him.
“Should we take our clothes off and argue about it, then?”
Once, Ariq would have thought there was nothing he wanted more than Zenobia naked against him. “I’d rather sort this out first.”
She nodded and looked out over the water again. “I know why you don’t want me to go. Tatsukawa and Ghazan Bator attempted to use me to force you into giving up the Skybreaker. Now you think the silence from Krakentown means that they’ve targeted either your brother or your town in a second attempt to force you. And you won’t leave me behind in your enemies’ hands . . . yet if I go, you might be throwing me into their hands, and this time they probably wouldn’t just lock me away on an ironship. They’d threaten worse. Th
en what would you do?”
Give them the machine. And she’d outlined his reasons exactly. His sensible, practical wife. So why did she still want to go?
But Ariq knew that, too, because he loved her ferocity and her loyalty. “And you won’t abandon the Coopers.”
Her eyes suddenly swam with glittering tears. “You’re going to help your people. But Mara and Cooper are mine.”
“And you are mine. So trust that I won’t abandon them, either.”
Trust, though it was the hardest thing for her to do. He watched the uncertainty and indecision string her emotions as taut as a bow, tears slipping over her cheeks before she hid her face in her hands.
Heart aching, he gently gathered her close, but his voice was rough as he said, “If you choose to go, I won’t stop you. I’d rather you don’t come until I know my town is safe, but I won’t make this decision for you. But if you do come, know that I will put you above everything. I will take risks for you that I wouldn’t take for anyone else. So if you go into this battle knowing how you might be used as a weapon against me, also know you are endangering us both.”
She stilled against him. Her chest filled on a ragged breath. Then she lifted her head, nodding and wiping her cheeks. “You’re right. There is no decision to make.”
No. But there was one he hadn’t considered before. “Would you prefer to stay here? I can arrange for guards at either location.”
He hadn’t thought it would be so hard for her to decide. But she stared out over the balcony for another long moment before she asked, “At which location would you worry about me less?”
It didn’t matter. The worry wouldn’t stop until he held her again. But at least he could know that she was among friends. “The embassy.”
“The embassy, then,” she said, then gave a hollow little laugh before shaking her head.
Still unhappy about staying, Ariq guessed—though there must be relief, too. Her loyalty wasn’t only to Mara and Cooper, and she’d told him before that she needed to be near Helene. “You won’t have to abandon your obligation to your friend.”
Her back stiffened slightly. “That’s all settled,” she said, and her voice had the same hollow edge that her laugh had. “Her predicament was resolved rather painlessly.”
The Kraken King Page 45