“Maybe.” She sighed. “Yes. But . . . every single quadruped on this ship has the fault, built right into the infrastructure. All of them.” She tossed the faulty axle plate to the floor and scrubbed her hand over her face. “And if the Guild finds out what I’ve done, if Julian finds out I sabotaged his war machines, they’ll—” She swallowed hard, her throat tightening around the words. “They’ll hang me.”
Rupert regarded her in silence. “So this is what you’ve been hiding from me these last few months, what you wouldn’t tell me?”
She kneaded her brow. “Yes.”
“Damn it, Petra, why didn’t you say something?” he asked, his voice rising. “You could have trusted me with this! I could have helped you!”
Petra scoffed. “And condemn you too? How could I? This is treason, Rupert. If I’m caught, I’ll hang, and I’ll be damned if I condemn my best friend to hang beside me.”
“And I’ll be damned if I let you hang at all!”
She frowned at him. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. This isn’t your fight, Rupert. If anyone found out you were involved—”
“Well, it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” he said, glaring back at her. “What are you planning to do?”
She rubbed her hand over her face. “I don’t know,” she admitted, sinking against the cabin wall. She pressed her fingers to her forehead, a headache forming in the ridge of her brow. “I was going to leave. Today, after dinner. I was going to run, slip away when you and Braith weren’t looking, board the last train out of the station, and get as far away from the Guild and Julian as I could before they discovered what I had done. But now . . .” She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. “I can’t run from this—I know that—but if I go back now . . . if I report the fault to the Guild, if I try to fix them, Julian will see it for what it is and have me arrested for sabotage. I can’t win, Rupert. No matter what I do, they’ll kill me for this.”
Rupert sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I won’t let that happen,” he said, the anger gone from his voice. “Braith wouldn’t—”
“Braith?” She scoffed. “Braith will follow his orders.”
“You give him too little credit.”
“And you give him too much,” she said, drawing away. “He’s still a soldier. His loyalty is to the Royal Forces. Not me.”
“He might be able to help you.”
“And he might turn me in.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, getting to her feet. She kicked the access panel shut and ran her grease-streaked fingers through her hair. “Why do you think he was ordered to follow me in the first place?” she asked, whirling on Rupert again. “He might not know what I’ve done, but he suspects. He’s known all along I might try to sabotage the project. That’s the whole reason the Guild assigned him to me.”
Rupert regarded her from the floor. “Even if that’s true, you know he would never turn you over to the Guild, not if he knew the truth.”
She shook her head. “I can’t risk that.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
Petra ran her fingers through her hair. She knew the answer, had known it the moment she found the faulty axle plate. “I have to fix them,” she said, turning toward him with a shrug. “I just wish I knew how.”
Rupert stood and laid his hand on her arm. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We have to. If I don’t fix this . . .” She buried her face in her hands. “If this army goes into battle, they’ll die because of me, because of what I’ve done. There’s too much at stake for me to fail.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Then we won’t fail. Now, come on,” he said, gently pushing her toward the ladder set into the back of the pilot’s chair. “We should find Braith and head home. We’ll figure out a plan from there.”
Petra snatched up the discarded axle plate and stuffed it in her pocket, following Rupert out of the control cabin. They left the platoon of quadrupeds behind and quickly crept out of the cargo hold, climbing up the narrow stairs to the upper deck. They were halfway to the main deck when a loud boom thundered in the distance, the aftershock rumbling through the ship. The walls creaked around them, the floor shifting beneath Petra’s feet.
She clung to Rupert’s arm. “What was that?”
“It sounded like an explosion,” he said, turning his eyes to the ceiling.
Then a second boom answered the first, closer this time. The hangar quaked, rattling the metal walls and wooden beams. It shuddered through the airship, and Petra stumbled into Rupert as memories of the Luddite attack on the University sprang to mind—dozens dying in the square, burning, twitching, bleeding, Emmerich pierced with shrapnel, his blood on her hands, reddening the alleys as they stumbled away from the carnage. She dug her fingers hard into Rupert’s arm, her throat closing up.
Not again.
Rupert grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look him in the eyes. “Petra, listen to me,” he said gently. “We need to find Braith and get out of here.” He took her hand with a comforting squeeze. “We need to find out what’s going on.”
Finding an anchor in the pressure of his hand, she focused on Rupert’s determined gaze and nodded, pushing the fire from her mind.
It wasn’t the Luddites this time. This was war. She could feel it.
Rupert dragged her to the top deck, hurrying quickly toward the rope ladder, when on the other side of the building, the hangar side door slammed open and the lights flickered on, the electric bulbs buzzing dimly overhead.
“Petra? Rupert? Are you in here?”
Braith.
Petra turned away from the rails and clutched Rupert’s hand. “Rupert, please . . . Braith can’t know about this. You can’t say anything—not about the quadruped, not about the sabotage or this army . . . Nothing. If he finds out what I’ve done . . .” She trailed off, fear creeping into her chest. “Please,” she begged. “Promise me you won’t say anything, not until I’ve set things right. Promise me—”
“He might be able to help you, Petra.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take that risk. Not until I know what to do. Please, Rupert. Promise me you won’t say anything.”
Rupert held her gaze a moment longer. “I promise,” he said quietly. “But I wish you’d change your mind about him.”
Braith’s steps echoed off the walls as he hurried across the hangar floor, his heavy boot steps accompanied by a string of curses. “Damn it, Petra, where the hell are you?”
“Up here,” Rupert called, leaning over the railing.
Braith’s footsteps quickened. “Rupert? Is Petra with you?”
“She’s here.” Rupert pushed her toward the ladder. “Go.”
Petra clambered over the rails and climbed down the ladder, her hands sweaty on the coarse rope. She reached the floor just as Braith rounded the corner, his cap gone, hair disheveled, the top of his uniform jacket unbuttoned. Then his eyes met hers, and a dozen emotions ran across his face in an instant.
She gravitated toward him, drawn forward by an irresistible pull until they met halfway, stopping just short of reaching out and touching one another. He held her gaze without speaking a word, his face completely disarmed as he slowly raised a hand to her cheek, his fingers hovering mere inches from her skin. She swallowed hard, paralyzed by the crack in his demeanor.
He had never looked at her like that before.
Then he curled his hand into a fist and withdrew, falling behind the mask again. “Tell me this wasn’t you,” he said quietly, lowering his hand.
The world rushed back into motion, and she shied away. “What do you mean?”
“Tell me this wasn’t your doing,” he said more urgently. “That you aren’t a part of this.”
“A part of what?
” she demanded, her pulse thundering in her ears. “Braith . . . what’s going on? What’s happened? We heard—”
Another explosion thundered outside, even nearer than before, and the floor trembled, the entire hangar shuddering with the aftershock. Petra stumbled forward, and Braith caught her by the shoulders.
He steadied her and forced her to look into his eyes, his grip firm. “Petra, tell me you had nothing to do with this,” he said, his jaw tight. “Swear to me you aren’t behind this attack.”
She blinked. “An attack? How could you think—”
“You disappeared,” he said, his voice hardening. “You said you’d wait for me, but instead you snuck off and left me to come find you . . . and then this happens,” he said gesturing toward the hangar doors. His voice cracked. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you wait?”
“We did wait,” she said. “You didn’t come.”
“You should have waited longer!” He pressed his lips together and tore away from her. “Of all the stupid things you could have done . . . Don’t you realize what this looks like? If anyone finds out you snuck away, that we were separated in the midst of an attack . . .”
Petra blanched. “But I didn’t—I wasn’t—I had nothing to do with this! I’ve been with Rupert the entire time. I swear it. Braith . . . you have to believe me,” she said. “I’m not an anti-imperialist spy. I’m not a traitor. I had nothing to do with the attack. If anyone thought . . . If you said anything to make them think—”
“I believe you.” He touched her shoulders, silencing her fears. “I just . . . I had to ask.”
She closed her eyes with a sigh, relief flooding her veins.
“Despite what you may think, Petra, I’m on your side. I trust you.”
She glanced up at him, her gut wrenching with guilt. You shouldn’t, she wanted to say—but she didn’t. He still didn’t know what she and Rupert had found in the belly of that airship. He didn’t know she had already sabotaged the war machines, that she had lied to him—was still lying to him. But he couldn’t know the truth, not yet, not until she knew what to do, not until she knew how to stop the Royal Forces from sending those machines into battle. Not until she had fixed her mistake.
“What now?” she whispered.
“We need to get you out of here,” he replied. “Away from the hangars, away from the airfield. Whatever is going on here, you need to be as far away as possible before you’re dragged into it somehow. We can’t let anyone think that you were involved. Where’s Rupert?”
“He’s—”
“Here.” Rupert dropped down from the ladder and jogged up next to them. “Braith, what’s going on? Who’s behind the explosions?” he asked. “Is it the French?”
Braith shook his head. “I don’t know, but whoever it is, the military hangars may be their prime target. We should go. It isn’t safe here.”
“Right. Let’s get out of here.”
The airfield was chaos.
Petra, Braith, and Rupert stood at the northern edge of the airfield, their backs to the military hangars as black smoke billowed across the sky. Sirens blared as a pair of water trucks sped toward the fires. Droves of military vehicles rolled across the grassy field, soldiers in uniforms of red and navy wielding rifles as they headed toward the source of the explosions. All around them, people clambered to safety, away from the smoke and flames.
Braith withdrew his pistol from its holster and held it aloft, his finger resting against the trigger guard as he scanned the airfield ahead.
She grabbed him by the sleeve of his red uniform, her throat suddenly dry. “Don’t leave me,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
A faint smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
The earth shuddered as another explosion rattled the airfield—dangerously close. The deep boom ripped through the air, and the resounding shockwave clapped the breath from her lungs as it passed. She stumbled into Braith, and the world plunged into thick silence as he caught her against his chest. A white haze clouded her vision, and ringing filled her ears, dust and smoke clogging the air, making it hard to breathe. Hands touched her shoulders, and she looked up into Braith’s face, his voice muffled and distant as he steadied her on her feet.
Then it pierced through the noise, like static through a telephone. “—a way off the airfield.” His brows drew together, and he searched her eyes. “Petra? Are you all right? We need to get out of here.”
She met his gaze and nodded.
“There are still some vehicles at the southern gates,” said Rupert, standing on his toes. He pointed toward the encampment of booths and tents to the south. “We might be able to catch one if we hurry.”
Another explosion sounded, further off than before—another hangar up in flame.
Braith grabbed Petra’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
The three of them headed toward the other side of the airfield, weaving through the panicked crowds as fires burned through hangars and airships, dark smoke curling into the open sky. The sound of popping gunfire pierced the noise of disorder all around them, and Petra gritted her teeth against the sound.
Rupert ran ahead a few paces, and Petra and Braith shoved after him, buffeted and elbowed by the rush of people around them, all running away from the heavy smoke and curling flames. Many headed toward the few remaining airships, escaping the burning airfield by taking to the air, while others hurried toward the airfield entrance to the south, silk hats and lace fans discarded, crumpled beneath muddy boots.
Halfway to the southern gate, Rupert paused and turned toward both Braith and Petra. “I’ll run ahead and hold one of the buses before it leaves, get us a way out of here.” He sprinted toward the departing vehicles, leaving Braith with Petra.
Braith tugged her forward. “Let’s hurry.”
They ran forward as quickly as the two of them could navigate over the trampled tents and booths, passing the few people that still remained as they headed toward the gates. Steam boilers hissed and combustion engines rumbled to life as passengers piled into the scattered automobiles and through the gates, escaping the airfield grounds in a flurry of footsteps and squelching tires.
Petra spotted Rupert several yards away, waving at them from the back of an idle omnibus, the passengers all leaning out the windows as they looked toward the columns of smoke rising to the west. The explosions had stopped for now, but the fires still raged, black smoke spilling into the sky, the sounds of collapsing structures punctuating the cacophony of panic.
Braith and Petra caught up to the bus, and Braith quickly scaled the ladder and held out his hand for Petra to follow.
She hesitated next to Rupert, noticing the lack of space within the omnibus. Her heart sank. “You’re not coming.”
Rupert shrugged. “I’ll catch the next one.”
“Don’t be stupid. There won’t be a next one,” she said. “All the other buses have gone.”
“I’ll be all right.”
Petra reached out and grabbed his hand. “Come with us.”
He raised a hand to her cheek, his touch gentle. “I can’t. Go with Braith. Get back to the city. I’ll message you as soon as I can, let you know what’s going on.”
The omnibus driver shouted something from the front of the vehicle, and Rupert pulled her into a tight hug.
Tears burned her eyes and she hugged him back. “Be careful.”
He sighed against her neck, holding her close. “You too.”
Then he let her go, and Braith pulled her onto the carriage, his hands secure on her waist. Rupert closed the carriage doors behind her and drew the deadbolt shut, stepping away from the carriage with a frown. Not a moment later, the driver shifted the vehicle into gear and they rolled away from the airfield, leaving him behind.
Petra gripped the carriage doors as the
omnibus wheeled down the long, dusty road and out of sight of the airfield. Airships floated overhead, drifting aimlessly above the burning airfield, their colorful banners fluttering in the smoky breeze, until they too disappeared from sight, obscured by tree and hedge as the bus drove on.
“He’ll be all right,” said Braith, his voice close and quiet, the two of them pressed tightly together in the overcrowded carriage.
All around them, the other passengers exchanged frantic worries in hushed tones, speculating the cause of the explosions, who might be behind them. But it didn’t matter whether it was anti-imperialist radicals or French soldiers, not really.
Either way, the result would be war.
Petra curled her hands into fists, fighting back tears.
Hours ago, she had believed she could escape this war, escape Julian and the quadruped and her sabotage, but she should have known escape would be impossible. Julian would always find a way to drag her back into his web. And now he had an army, soon to have a thousand quadrupeds at his command, ready for whatever war might come—an army that would fail in battle because she was stupid enough to think she could stop him.
Braith had been right.
This war would happen with or without her.
There was only one thing she could do now: she had to fix the quadrupeds. Whatever it took. Whatever the cost.
She would not let men die because of her.
CHAPTER 14
Petra stood at the bow of the overcrowded ferry, a cold stone of nausea settling in the pit of her stomach as they approached the brass towers of Chroniker City. She gripped the rail with shaking hands, her fingers and toes soaked through by the relentless mist of sea spray crashing against the hull of the ship. A chill wind gusted over the choppy ocean waves, bringing dark clouds in from the west. Braith stood at her back, the only source of warmth on the deck of this godforsaken ship, but nothing could warm the chill that had settled deep in her bones.
She saw her fate now with the utmost clarity. When she left the city that morning, she had thought she could escape it, but there was only one way forward now. If she wanted to repair the quadruped before war struck, then she had no choice but to expose her sabotage, and if that meant surrendering herself to Julian, so be it.
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