Geared for Pleasure

by Rachel Grace

  A world away, despite its proximity. The sun did not shine at the same angle where the settlement stood. The moons were always shadowed by factory steam and ash. The line of windwinders, with their massive turbines that dotted the grassland before Centre City appeared ensured that the wind always blew from the west. Keeping the smell of Felidae and heated metalworks far away from the Hill and blowing it toward the settlement and the dour, simple fishing village on the coast. A village populated more with retired and posted Wode than fishermen. It had been settled in that location, with that unpleasant aroma, for the singular purpose of bordering the settlement, ensuring Felidae land did not reach to the eastern sea. Penning them in.

  She shook herself visibly. She was thinking dark thoughts again. Thoughts she usually killed with drink or intimate pleasures. But there was no drinking for her today, and no one she had the time or inclination to take her grief out on. Almost no one. She had a purpose. She had to keep her head.

  There was thieving to be done.

  She glanced up over her shoulder at Freeman as he stood at the wheel on the helm’s deck. The three men from Aaru sat once more at the table behind him. A handsome trio, they were. Bodhan, Wulf, and Hadi. She wondered if all Aaruan men looked as they did. If so, the city was blessed with a fortunate inheritance indeed.

  The two men were still fussing over that damned game. If only Cyrus hadn’t come aboard, she would have played any game that Wulf or Hadi had in mind.

  Hadi snared her gaze and winked. Phina’s smile grew wide. The Khepri must have told him the same thing he’d told her. Even in captivity, the queen would keep her vow to Phina. If she could get Nephi to safety, Hadiyah of the long braid would bring her the rest of the way. To a place that Phina had not believed existed. A place where families of Felidae and humans lived together as equals, and even mingled inheritance. A place called Aaru.

  It was a thing Phina had not been entirely sure was possible. But she was sure of one thing. Nephi would be fascinated by those babies. By a life where she no longer had to hide her beauty for fear of abuse or work herself to an early pyre for fear of starvation and scorn. All Phina had to do was get into the palace and out again undetected.

  Simple enough.

  The low argument Cyrus was having with the captain drew her attention, their words sounding like shouts in her ears.

  “You have sailed past the city, Captain.”

  “Thank you for keeping me apprised, Arendal.”

  He swore. “Any idea when we will be landing? Where?”

  The captain pulled her dagger out from the low collar of her vest and studied it, polishing it before displaying it against the black of her long jacket. “We will not be landing,” she said without looking at him. “You will. As to where… I suppose that all depends on how gracefully you fall.”

  As delicious as this was to Phina’s taste for torture, she felt compelled to join the conversation. Protecting him again. A few long strides took her to their side. “My lovely Captain, if you scare him too badly he won’t be any use to us.”

  Cyrus glared at her. “There has been no scaring. Frustrating, yes. Bone-grinding irrationality, yes. But no scaring.”

  “Shame,” the captain muttered, sheathing her dagger and walking to the center of the deck. “I thought I was doing a fair job of scaring.”

  Phina knew what was coming. She looked back at the helm’s deck and watched as Freeman shook his head in subtle exasperation. So did her first mate.

  Captain Amaranthe drew her sword and pushed down the false gem on the weapon’s hilt. Its vibration made a sound that always seemed to Phina like a man dying, or a woman finding her pleasure. In the captain’s hands, both analogies could be true.

  Most on board had never heard that sound, or had seen the silver steel of a sword blur unless it was swinging toward them. Phina could see more than the blur. She saw turbulent waves like heat rolling across the desert. A storm of motion in one slender, beautifully efficient weapon.

  The first time she saw the captain’s sword she’d wanted to steal it. For Phina, considering the danger she had already known would be involved in such an undertaking, it was the highest compliment she could pay.

  The captain turned to Cyrus. “You’ll need to take some rope with you.” She raised her voice without looking up. “Freeman, if you could spare a moment.”

  Freeman leaned his big frame forward, grabbing a heavy coil of rope easily with one hand and tossing it over the railing toward the main deck.

  It soared with his strength, heading directly for the captain. She bent her knees a moment before springing into the air in a way that the Felidae in Phina could only admire seeing in a human.

  She made two swift slashes with her sword, the sound a bright song as the steel connected and passed through the thick fibers.

  Phina knew to the rest of the crew this would mimic flight. The sword moving so fast it seemed the captain had sprouted steel wings for a glorious instant.

  Before anyone could release the surprised breath they had gathered in their lungs, it was over. The captain had landed lightly on the deck in a stance Phina had taught her long ago, her sword tip inches from Cyrus’s left eye.

  She stayed perfectly still. They all did. The only things that seemed to move were the four even lengths of rope that fell haphazardly to the deck in front of her.

  Captain Amaranthe straightened and stepped away from him, turning off her sword, sliding it back into position on her hip. She scooped up the rope with her boot and caught it in her hands, handing them to Cyrus. “Here you are.”

  Phina watched Cyrus accept her offering, his white-knuckled grip on the lengths of rope the only indication of his reaction to her maneuver.

  The rest of the men were not so closed off. Phina heard their gasps, felt their fear. Their awe. Her hearing picked out Wulf’s admiring, “Stunning sword for a stunning woman.”

  But it took no special abilities or senses to hear James Stacy. He stood in the middle of the deck, the men behind him wearing identical expressions of shock and pallor when he said, “You do more than a fair job at scaring, Captain. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  The chorus of hearty agreements did something that surprised Phina. It made the captain smile. She had a feeling the crew was as astonished by the change in her appearance as they had been by her sword.

  “Why, Mr. Stacy.” The captain ducked her chin in acknowledgment. “I believe that is the nicest thing you could have said to me.” She started to turn away but stopped herself and forced a frown. “Flattery, as a rule, is not tolerated on the Deviant. I’ve shot men for less.”

  Phina lifted her hands and bit into the hat she’d been holding to stifle her laughter. It was true. She had shot men for less. But somehow, Phina had a feeling James Stacy would still be here alive and well when she got back.

  Cyrus sent her a confused expression and followed her as she walked to the bow of the ship. “Why did she give me rope? Why are we not landing?” When she failed to answer he sighed heavily. “I suppose I shouldn’t have to ask why you’re eating your hat, either. The answers will just come to me.”

  She snorted and her face flushed a little at the unexpected sound. She took the partially bitten hat and placed it on her head, tucking every last strand of hair beneath it as she leaned over the railing, studying the line of tall trees. “Do you enjoy surprises?”

  “No.”

  She smiled and took some of the rope from his hands, coiling it deftly over her shoulder. “I am torn on the issue myself. I enjoy the giving but not receiving of surprises. That sounded a bit naughty. True in more ways than one.”

  She turned her body toward him, meeting his gaze while she gathered the extra fabric of her shirt and formed a knot, which bared her stomach, but it was necessary. “Do not worry, I have done this many times. Tie that cape around your waist. The rope as well.”

  He made a move as if to step away from her. “What?”

  She blew a frustra
ted breath upward, wishing she had more time to explain. “She is not landing. Too many chances of being caught, even with the dodge.”

  His eyebrows lowered. “She’s not landing.”

  “That’s right. We are jumping.”

  “Fuck.”

  She watched him make quick, sloppy knots as she hopped up and easily balanced on the rail. She reached her hands out toward him. “Not now. Now we jump. If you still want to afterwards we can discuss it.”

  When he jumped up beside her, Phina used her strength to stabilize his larger body on the railing’s edge. She leaned in close so he would hear her. “You have to jump out, not down, or you’ll fall into the dodge and take me with you. Do not fall in the dodge.”

  He was afraid, but not frozen with it. She could appreciate that kind of fortitude. She could also tell he was listening to everything she said. She appreciated that as well.

  He glanced down quickly. “Trees don’t look that far. We can do that. Right?”

  She fought her smile. Men. “I can do that. I am Felidae. We have to see what you can do. Just keep hold of my hand and when you hit the tree do not let go. Ironwoods only have branches up top. If you fell… Just don’t. Do not fall.”

  “Good advice.”

  Phina looked down. Perfect alignment. “Jump. Now.”

  She launched herself into the air, her hand caught in his bruising grip. Flying. She loved this feeling.

  Her laughter drowned out the stream of male cursing she could hear on the wind.

  Chapter Five

  “Are you broken?” Phina used her legs and tail to cling to the sturdy branch, the top half of her body dangling upside down in order to check on him. He was tightly gripping the trunk of the ironwood, balancing on a heavy limb several feet below her. The last limb before a straight, long drop to the ground.

  Phina had to admit, she was impressed with how well he had handled himself. She’d known his legs were strong enough to take him past the dodge, but he’d stopped himself from tumbling to his death as well. He had decent survival instincts for a palace Wode. She’d had a feeling he would.

  She catalogued him from her unusual angle, hearing his racing heartbeat, seeing the heat that radiated off his body. She assumed it was fear until he looked up at her. He was not afraid.

  He was angry.

  Cyrus moved until he was straddling the thick lower branch, one of his arms grasping a thinner limb just above his head.

  “Did you think?” His words came out like shots from a pistol. Short bursts of angry sound. “Did it occur to you even for a moment that I should have been told? Prepared?”

  She had told him. Within moments of discovering he would join her on her jump. The captain had, in fact, descended more than usual to compensate for his human disabilities.

  There was no doubt in her mind that he would respond badly were she to defend herself with that bit of information.

  She swung back up, away from his reach and judgmental gaze. “The captain is the way she is for a reason. She knew I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Dare knew I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And nothing has. You are alive and unbroken, with a lovely view of the Felidae settlement and Queen’s Hill beyond. Are all Wode as ungrateful as you?”

  “Ungrateful?” She could hear his teeth gnash. “What reason do I have for that? I am merely trapped ninety or more feet off the ground without the human trappings of wood grips or sawboots to get down.” His laugh was more a groan as he looked down. “I am also lacking Felidae claws and equilibrium. No. Nothing to be ungrateful for.”

  Phina rolled her eyes. “The rope is all you will need. Let me see it. And keep your voice down, if you would. We are not that far from the stormfence.”

  Cyrus handed her his two strands of rope and her fingers began to weave a harness as she had done so many times. There were occasions when simple stealth was more necessary than gadgetry.

  “May I ask how you plan to get inside the palace, from here, of all places?” Cyrus stilled when the wind made the ironwood creak and sway. “It seems a backward sort of route.”

  She would not share her secrets with him. Not all of them. She finished the last knot and grinned. “That should do the job. Did you know I once gave a tree feller an enormous amount of pleasure in one of these contraptions? I was distracting him at the time, of course—”

  “Seraphina.”

  She bit her lip at his warning tone. “I was trying to reassure you that it works.” She slipped backward into a hanging position once more. “Come on, stand up on the branch.”

  Cyrus grumbled, but did as she asked, if a bit unsteadily. He had a crushing grip on the limb above him when he finally muttered, “Why am I standing?”

  She watched his struggle for balance without a tail, and decided not to tease him. For the moment. “You’re going to put this on like a pair of pants. One leg at a time and pull it up.”

  “Now is not the time for fun at the gullible human male’s expense, Seraphina.” His teeth were clenched and she quickly readjusted her strategy.

  She shrugged, though she knew it would be hard to see from their current positioning. “It makes no difference to me. You can build a nest and live here until you sprout wings if you’d like. I was just attempting to give you an alternative other than that. Or death.”

  The look he sent down to her was withering, but she knew he understood her meaning. He was still listening. Good. The last thing she needed was another person to worry about. What was waiting for her down below would be bad enough.

  With a stream of curses that surprised even her bawdy sensibilities, Cyrus took the harness she was holding out to him and did as she asked.

  While he did, she uncoiled the rope she had wrapped around her shoulder and, with some creative knotting, let one end fall toward the ground.

  She swung forward and grabbed the middle of the harness where it met between his thighs. She licked her lips, studying the buttons that held his pants closed. “This is something I’ve never tried before. Interested, Cyrus?”

  He made a sound she could not decipher and she laughed. “Perhaps another time.” Her free hand reached around to slap his rear end playfully, then finished attaching her rope to his. “Now all you have to do is grab the rope and lower yourself down. Then you can control the rate of your descent and you won’t break anything when you land. Although the rope isn’t as long as I’d imagined. You may fall the last bit.”

  “You want me to slide down the tree, and I may fall the last bit.” His voice was emotionless, but she knew he was still perturbed.

  She pulled herself upright once more, tilting her head so he didn’t notice her looking at his lips. He had lovely lips… unless they were pinched and frowning. “I believe that is what I said, yes.”

  His sigh was like a caress. “You’ve given me all the rope, Seraphina. How do you intend to get down?”

  She got to her feet to stand on her branch without aid, causing him to call out to her in warning. In worry. There was no need.

  She smiled coyly. “You keep forgetting I am Felidae, Sword. These boots may stop me from climbing as, I’m told, the old tribes of my people could.” She reached for handles of the ton sticks, pulling them out and spinning them in her hands. “But I am a master at the art of leaping.”

  “So I’ve seen.” He still sounded concerned.

  Phina sighed. “Slide down and take the southern route around the settlement. The Wode assigned here are lazy, and since there is no opening on that side, they rarely guard it. With a swift pace you can reach Queen’s Hill by nightfall. I will be close behind.”

  She had not allayed his concerns. “There is no place for you to land. If you jump too far you will hit the fence. You know what happens to any flesh it touches.”

  She met his indigo gaze, her feelings a jumble. She was irritated with his disbelief in her abilities but gratified at the protectiveness in his tone. There was no time for that kind of distraction. The kind that would reve
l in someone caring whether she lived or died. She decided the irritation was safer. For the moment. “Let me ease your mind. If I do not see you in the palace, I will do your job as well. Once I have the dagger and return to the Deviant, we will come back to gather any pieces of you that might be left.”

  She smiled, though her tone was determined when he opened his mouth to argue. “I refuse to listen to another word. Perhaps a demonstration of what I can do will help you focus on your own task.”

  She would not stay and watch over him to ensure his safety. He could handle himself. And now he had to. If only to prove her wrong.

  She took off at a run toward the edge of the long branch, leaping out with her arms outstretched, the ton in her hands. Her tail swinging instinctively to direct her flight, she aimed for the top of the stormfence, keeping her eye on the whitish-blue light that arced over the charged wire, a clear indicator of the potential danger.

  It was thrilling.

  She slipped the ton sticks long end down and directed their tips toward the wires. These weapons of wood were good for more than protection. They were also nonconductive.

  When the wood touched wire, she used her momentum to flip midair, pushing off the flexible fence and pointing her body toward the nearest earthen roof.

  Her boots touched down and she rolled on the curved surface, landing with a soft bounce on the ground behind what she knew was the mound home of an elder Felidae.

  She glanced up at Cyrus, seeing him clearly through the branches of the tree, and lifted her arm. He may not see her expression, but the relief in his told her he had watched her flight. Knew she had been successful.

  Now she was back where she had started. Trapped.

  As she untied the knot in her shirt to let it hang, she wondered if Cyrus believed, as Dare had told her she had, that the Felidae had chosen this life. That they preferred solitude to intermingling and had asked for protection from human invaders.

  It was not a belief unique to nobles and Wode. The ignorance stunned her. What sentient being would choose this? She had comforted Dare with a partial truth—most Felidae here accepted their lot and did not suffer for lack of food or excessive violence. Certainly not from lack of drink.