Airships, Crypts & Chocolate Chips

by Erin Johnson

  “Something unique…,” Emmaline continued to mutter.

  I nudged her and spoke through a full mouth. “Ey. Ig starged.”

  She looked up and noticed the models. “Oh. Right.” Her shoulders slumped.

  As I chewed, a thought began to form in my mind. A dangerous one. One that immediately set off alarms, warning me not to explore it further. But I couldn’t help myself. Madeline L’Orange had been trying to get into Carclaustra for years. Even the prison board wasn’t allowed in, though I’d had the distinct impression last night that Henrick wished to change that. I blinked. This could work. I hated using Emmaline like this, but our lives depended on it, and it could work.

  “Emmaline,” I whispered as the models strutted past. “I have an idea.”

  She turned to me, hope flickering in her eyes. “Really?”

  I nodded and swallowed the last of my sandwich. “What if I told you there was a place so exclusive that none of these women had ever been there, or even knew of anyone who had?”

  She nodded and leaned closer.

  “A place that would be thrilling and tantalizing to tour? A once-in-a-lifetime chance?”

  Emmaline grabbed my hands in hers. Her eyes grew wide. “Yes.”

  “And what if I told you this place was right here, in the Air Kingdom?”

  Her chest heaved and her eyes grew wide. “It’s perfect, Imogen. What is it?”

  I held my breath. “Carclaustra Prison.”

  She froze. “Carclaustra Prison?”

  I nodded. “Stay with me. No one’s allowed in there but the prisoners and guards, right?”

  She nodded hesitantly.

  “It’s literally the most exclusive place in all the kingdoms. You’d be safe, but there’d be this exciting air of danger, right?”

  Her eyes slid to the side and down as she thought it over. “I could see that.”

  “It’d give these women something to talk about to their friends and at dinner parties. Everyone would want to know what it was like. If they were scared? If they saw any prisoners?”

  Emmaline’s jaw dropped. “By the west wind, Imogen, I think you’re onto something.” Her eyes slid side to side as she thought it over. She looked back up at me. “It’s perfect.” She whispered. “But you said no one’s allowed in? How do we do this?”

  I squeezed her hands. “Leave it to me. At the party tonight, I’ll tell you what to do.” I gave her a deadly serious look. “You can make this happen.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I can make this happen.”

  A gentle tapping at my arm startled me and I turned away from Emmaline. Hank’s mother beckoned me with a finger. I excused myself from Emmaline and leaned over the sofa back.

  Queen Edith slipped me a folded cocktail napkin and winked.

  I straightened and unfolded it. She’d written in black ink.

  Get me a few of those sandwiches, will you, dear? And I’d very much appreciate a scone as well. Quietly now.

  X The Queen

  I stifled a grin as I looked up. She gave me a serious nod, then turned back to the fashion show. She hid a yawn behind her hand as another tall model strode past her, trailing a train made of what appeared to be crumpled tissues. As I moved away, back to the snack table, I looked the note over again. Something about it tugged at the back of my mind. I reread the signature.

  X The Queen

  I stopped dead. Chills crept up my spine. I glanced back over my shoulder at the sleepy older woman, then back at her note. I stuffed the note in my bra, as I had no pockets. As I made up the queen’s plate I vowed to find Hank as soon as I could. If my new theory was correct…. I shuddered.

  10

  Postcards

  As soon as the fashion show ended and I could get out of the salon, I bolted. I made a quick stop at my room to grab a few things. Despite being directionally challenged, I eventually found my way to the wing where they put up royal guests.

  “Third door on the left….” I repeated the maid’s instructions to myself as I meandered down the white, airy hallway.

  I stopped at a tall, frosted glass door, took a breath, and knocked. A figure shadowed the door pane before it swung open.

  Hank’s face peeked out. “Imogen!” His expression went from surprised, to delighted, to downcast all in the space of a couple of seconds. He stepped to the side and swept an arm towards his room behind him. “Please, come in.”

  I brushed past him, a little disconcerted at his formality. I gave the room a quick glance. The big white bed looked soft as a cloud and the giant wall of windows beside it had a dizzying view of the Air Kingdom’s scattered floating islands and the great expanse of sky below us. I turned my back to it and opened my mouth to speak.

  Hank lifted a hand. “Can I— I just want to say, first, how sorry I am.” He shook his head as he walked up to me and took my hands. Bags hung under his eyes. “I shouldn’t have just left like that last night.”

  I swallowed as my throat grew tight. Now that he mentioned it…. “You seemed pretty upset. Are you okay?” I tried to catch his eye, but he stared down at our clasped hands.

  He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I think all this stuff with Colin has just stirred up some old feelings, and the way my family acted last night....” He looked up, his blue eyes pleading with me. “They made me feel like I felt as a kid—powerless. And I lost control, made the lights flicker and—”

  I quirked my lips to the side in a slight smile. “I figured that was you.”

  His throat bobbed and he bit his lip. After studying our hands for another moment, he looked up. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  My face split into a huge smile. “Hank, I could never—”

  He squeezed my hands. “My family, they were afraid of me. Either ridiculing me, or afraid. I couldn’t take it if you felt that way.”

  I grabbed his stubbly cheeks in my hands and forced him to look at me. “I love you.”

  He waited still, his eyes searching my face.

  “You are a good man, and your family doesn’t deserve you.” My stomach twisted as I thought again of how much I was keeping from him. “Sea snakes, I don’t even deserve you.”

  He shook his head and opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but I pressed my forehead against his. His big, straight nose pressed into my cheek and I turned till my mouth found his. We kissed—deep and slow. His hands slid around my lower back and pulled me tight against him. I threaded my fingers through his thick, wavy hair.

  He leaned back and pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  I stared down at his big, bare feet on the sheepskin rug, unable to meet his eyes. Or the worst. I was actively scheming to break into a high-security prison to help two people who’d tried to kill him and his family. As much as I didn’t want to get caught for my own sake, I hoped for success for Hank’s sake as well. I didn’t want to be another person who broke his heart or let him down or disappeared on him. Speaking of which….

  I looked up. “It’s all right—I understand why you had to get out of there. Just…” I grinned. “Take me with you next time? I mean, you left me there with Tristan.”

  Hank grinned and cupped his huge hand around the back of my neck. “Deal. And again, I apologize.” He gently tilted my head back and kissed up my neck. As he got to my ear he whispered, low and husky, “Maybe I can try to make it up to you?”

  Oh geez. My legs nearly buckled and a wave of desire flushed through my body, so strong that it took me a few heaving breaths to regain my composure. I pressed my eyes closed and with difficulty leaned back. I looked into Hank’s heavy-lidded, dazed face and imagined I looked just as intoxicated. My muddled brain fought to find the reason I was resisting the handsome, seductive prince in front of me. I blinked. Oh right—dead mentor.

  I pressed my hand against Hank’s chest. “I say this with deep regret.” I opened my eyes wide. “Deep. But there was actually another reason I
came to see you.” I held up the postcards and birthday cards from Colin that I’d borrowed.

  Hank lifted a thick brow.

  I licked my lips. “Brace yourself.” I turned and spread the notes out on the bed. I opened the birthday cards and pointed. “Colin gave these to you while he was with you, right? He probably handed them to you himself?”

  Hank stood shoulder to shoulder with me and bent forward to look them over. He nodded.

  I flipped the postcards over and pointed at the writing. “And these were ones he sent to you while he was traveling?”

  He nodded again.

  I took a shallow breath and tapped the postcard nearest me. “Look at the date on this one.”

  Hank leaned over and squinted. “March 18. Okay.” He looked up at me. “What am I missing?”

  I held my hands up. “Your birthday is the twentieth.”

  He nodded.

  “You said Colin was the only person growing up, besides Nan, who always remembered your birthday and gave you a card. Why wouldn’t he have wished you a happy birthday in the postcard?”

  Hank frowned and blinked a few times. “Maybe… he was busy traveling and forgot?”

  “Maybe. But there’s something else.” I shoved my hand through my collar, which wasn’t the easiest considering my dress’s high neckline, and fished the napkin out of my bra. Hank stifled a smile. I handed him the note with a deep exhale. “Your mother gave me this today at the salon.”

  His eyes slid left to right as he read it over. “Tell me she doesn’t make you get her food often?”

  I waved a hand. “All the time.”

  Hank rolled his eyes. “She should not be treating you like—”

  “It’s fine.” I tapped the napkin. “But look at her signature.”

  Hank groaned. “I can’t believe she signed it, ‘The Queen.’ She handed it to you, right? Did she even need to sign it?”

  I grinned in spite of myself. “Good point.” I licked my lips and grew serious again, bracing for the moment when Hank realized what I’d realized. I tapped the page again. “But what I mean is, see how she wrote ‘X The Queen’?”

  He nodded.

  I glanced at him a few times for his reaction. “On the birthday cards, Colin signed his name, ‘Yours, Colin.’”

  Hank frowned.

  I licked my lips and pointed at the postcards. “But on the postcards, where he forgot your birthday, he signed his name, ‘X Colin.’”

  My eyes slid to my boyfriend. His breath caught and his mouth dropped. He turned to me, eyes wide.

  I jogged to keep up as Hank strode down the royal hallway with his long legs. He held his mother’s napkin crumpled in his trembling fist, the postcards in the pocket of his lounge pants. He hadn’t even bothered to put on shoes.

  I skipped and pointed at my feet. “Shorty in heels here, maybe you could slow down?”

  If he heard me, he didn’t acknowledge it. His red face held a storm of emotions. He stopped abruptly in front of another glass-paned door and banged loudly with his fist. I slid up beside him.

  “Come in.” His mother’s voice came faintly from within, barely audible over the manic yapping.

  Hank pushed the door open so hard it slammed against the wall behind it. I winced, bracing for the glass to shatter. Only it didn’t. Thank the sea goddess for magic. I followed him into the dim room. The queen had drawn the heavy white curtains over her wall of windows and lounged on a chaise opposite the bed. Her tiny dog barked once more, eyed Hank’s livid face and whimpered, then crawled under the bed to hide.

  The queen lifted her cheek from her hand. Her glazed eyes blinked at Hank, then at me. “Oh, I thought you were the maid.” She plunked her head back down in her hand and closed her eyes. “I rang for tea and cookies ages ago. I can’t imagine what’s taking her so long. You know, your father, Harry, would never tolerate such poor service to our guests. I daresay—”

  Hank stopped in front of the chaise and towered over her. “T-tell me you didn’t d-do it.” His voice trembled as violently as his hands.

  Queen Edith raised a hand to her mouth and yawned, widely. She blinked at her son. “What is this now?”

  He thrust the postcards at her. “Did you write these?”

  She squinted at them. “Harry, you’ll have to be specific. I write a great many things and I can barely see in this dim light so—”

  Hank’s eyes flashed and the curtains magically flew open so fast I jumped.

  The queen winced from the sudden bright light. She clicked her tongue. “Was that necessary now?” She pressed the back of her hand to her eyes. “Can’t we talk later? I’m exhausted from the salon. Imogen can tell you. Just watching those models parade back and forth made me tired for them.”

  Hank’s chest heaved. He dropped to his knees in front of his mother and pushed the postcards into her free hand. “Did you kill him, Mother?” His lip trembled. “Tell me you didn’t kill him.”

  She dropped her hand and squirmed more upright. She frowned at her son. “Kill who? What nonsense are you—” She blinked at the postcards, really took them in, and then grew still and quiet.

  Hank pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  “These are so old. Why were you looking at these?” She pulled the corners of her mouth up, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “This—this is in the past. Let it stay there.”

  Hank dropped his hands and looked up at his mother, his face contorted with grief and disbelief. “You did. You killed him.”

  “I—how—why would you—” She pursed her lips and stared daggers at the silky silver blanket strewn across her lap. “Of course I didn’t kill Colin. Why would you think such crazy things?”

  “Because you wrote these to cover up his disappearance.” Hank shook the cards at her. “Deny it!”

  The queen’s eyes flitted to me, standing awkwardly by the door, then to her son. She let out a heavy sigh and waved me closer. “Come in, dear. No need to stand so far away.”

  I edged closer. I wanted to be here for Hank, but this also seemed like a family matter and I felt as though I was intruding.

  “Yes, I admit. I wrote those postcards.” She licked her lips. “You were heartbroken when Colin left.” She reached over and gently patted Hank’s shoulder as he knelt beside the chaise. “I thought you’d get over it, move on. But every day for months you pestered the whole palace with questions about where he’d gone and why he’d left.” She lifted her thin brows and her eyes grew clouded and distant. “Your father grew tired of it… of you and your questions.” She clenched her jaw. “Your father has never… understood you, Harry. And he was losing patience with you.”

  I frowned. What the heck did that mean? And why did it sound so menacing?

  “So, I took it upon myself to…” She twirled a hand. “…give you some closure. I decided to write from Colin, and since he’d left behind his quill and, well, all his possessions, it wasn’t hard to replicate his handwriting.” She rested her hand on Hank’s shoulder. “And it worked. You calmed down, seemed appeased. And then time went on, and I figured you had healed and also, life got busy and one always has so many obligations, so… I stopped. And we never spoke of it again.”

  I literally had to bite my tongue to keep from chastising her. Did she have any idea how hurt Hank had been when the letters suddenly stopped coming? His family was the worst!

  The queen blinked at her son. “But I certainly didn’t kill him.” She pursed her lips. “Though I’d have liked to.” She shook a finger at no one in particular. “We house our servants, provide food and shelter and opportunities. And then the man goes and disappears on us? I’ll never forgive him for disappointing you like that.” She patted Hank’s shoulder, then turned to me. “And such an inconvenience for us as well. He gave us no notice whatsoever. What an unthinking, selfish man.” She huffed. “And where is that tea?”

  I cleared my throat. “So… you don’t know why Colin disappeared? Or where he we
nt?”

  The queen patted Hank’s shoulder one more time, then slumped against the arm of the chaise and folded her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes. “I’m just resting my eyes, dears, don’t mind me. But no, no idea.”

  Hank rose, his face more relaxed now, but pale. “I understand why you wrote those postcards. But I wish you hadn’t lied to me.”

  The queen kept her eyes closed. “You’ll understand someday. The things you do for your children….” She yawned deeply.

  Hank dipped his head and moved toward me. I took his arm and we headed for the door.

  “Oh, and Harry.” We turned. Queen Edith peeled an eye open. “Don’t mention this to your father. It’s a topic that always gets him quite… agitated.”

  Hank and I nodded and turned. Hank coughed and the curtains magically slid shut again, casting the room in semidarkness.

  As soon as we stood back in the hallway and the door had closed behind us, I grabbed Hank’s shoulders.

  “I don’t think Colin ever left the palace.”

  He shook his head. The dark bags below his eyes stood out even more against his now pale face. “I don’t either. She said he’d left all his belongings. I can understand leaving some if he was traveling but… he wouldn’t have left his quill. I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh Hank, I’m sorry.” I threw my arms around him in a tight hug.

  He sighed and leaned his head against mine. “Sometimes I just want to get away from it all. Away from the palaces and the politics. Sometimes I feel like none of it’s real. Like my whole childhood is nothing but secrets and lies.” He kissed the top of my head. “That’s part of what I love about you. I can just be myself around you, Imogen. And I know that when you’re with me, it’s because you want to be. And you’re always just yourself— funny and caring and sincere.”

  My stomach twisted and I groaned inwardly. I hadn’t been so sincere with him lately. And now, even if I’d been brave enough to tell him about Horace, I couldn’t without risking my brother carrying out his threats.