by Karen Kincy
“I’m not aware of the accusations in their entirety.”
“Christ, you can’t lie to save your life.” Von Bach gripped the desk, the hairs on his knuckles bristling. “Did you bugger the captain? Or were you preoccupied seducing military secrets out of Alexsandr Dmitriev?”
A laugh escaped Konstantin. “Sir, I promise you, seduction isn’t one of my talents.”
“None of your talents will be needed by the Archmages of Vienna.”
“Is that all?”
“Get out of my office.”
Shaking, Konstantin straightened. “Yes, sir.”
On numb legs, he strode through the door and stepped into the cold. The noise of St. Petersburg disoriented him. He sat on the icy steps and unpinned the golden edelweiss from his lapel. It didn’t belong to him now.
Relieved of duty indefinitely.
Walking to the hotel felt like wading through a dream. In the lobby, Konstantin sank onto a sofa, the edelweiss pin in his fist, gold imprinting his skin. He stared at the paisleys on the carpet until the pattern hurt his eyes.
“Falkenrath.” Himmel intercepted him with a shot glass in hand. “Want a drink?”
Konstantin stared at his knuckles. “They sacked me.”
“What?”
“I’m not an archmage.”
Himmel strode to the bar, returned with a bottle, and poured a shot. “Vodka.”
Konstantin stared at chandelier’s light refracted in the liquor. “I’m not an archmage.”
“You already said that.” Himmel dropped into a chair opposite him, crossing his legs. “Breathe. Don’t pass out.”
Konstantin sucked in air. “God, Himmel.” He knocked back the shot, alcohol scorching his throat. “Why did they do this?”
Himmel poured him another shot of vodka. “I don’t know.”
Konstantin stared at the edelweiss pin. “I worked so hard to become an archmage. Years of school. All of it, wasted.”
Himmel leaned with his elbows on his knees. “They don’t deserve you.”
Eyes stinging, Konstantin downed another shot, letting the vodka burn away the ache in his throat. “The Eisenkriegers… the Hex… they don’t need me for anything. I don’t know what to do. Return to Vienna?”
Himmel clenched his jaw. “Words fail me, I’m afraid.”
Nausea gripped the pit of his stomach. Setting down the shot glass, he stood on unsteady legs. “Pardon me.”
In the bathroom, he hunched over a sink, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. The muscles in his arms tensed as he gripped the porcelain. What had he done? If only he could use temporal magic and return to the past.
God, did he even have a future?
Konstantin spat in the sink, washed his face, and dried his hands on a towel. The soft cotton calmed his shaking fingers. He couldn’t stay in St. Petersburg. Not with the countess eager to ship him to Siberia. But the thought of retreating to Vienna hit him like a fist to the gut. Everyone would know he was a failure.
He couldn’t even face Himmel again. The captain had seen enough of his humiliation.
Alone, Konstantin retreated to his room and packed his things. He knelt on the floor, staring at suitcases of technomancy equipment. His experiments would molder until he had access to another laboratory. Inspiration flickered to life in his mind. Archmages had to follow strict protocols and rules of diplomacy.
“I’m not an archmage,” he whispered.
Himmel answered the door after the first knock. A bit tipsy, Konstantin braced himself against the wall. “Theodore.”
“Are you still drunk?”
“May I have a moment alone?”
“Of course.” Himmel stepped aside. “You’re a lightweight.”
“Yes, thank you.” Konstantin lingered by the door. Outside the window, endless snow drifted sideways. “I’m leaving.”
Himmel wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Are you taking that dog with you?”
Fang lay on the rug, wagging her tail. After she had followed the captain from the airship, he begrudgingly hid her in his room.
“St. Petersburg isn’t safe,” Konstantin said. “Not with all these damn Russians.”
“Not so loud.” Himmel glanced at the door. “Those damn Russians might hear you.”
When he petted Fang on the head, she licked his hand. “I have no cover left to blow.”
“Where will you go?”
“Back.” He couldn’t tell the captain the truth, or he would surely stop him. “You?”
Himmel’s jaw tightened. “I have my orders.”
“You stay in St. Petersburg?”
“I command the Nachitgall until Baron von Bach no longer requires me.”
Konstantin faked a smile. “Doing your duty, as usual.” He glanced at the door.
“Wait.” Himmel reached out with his mechanical arm, but hesitated just out of reach. “What about your dog?”
Fang cocked her head at Konstantin. “She seems rather attached to you.”
“Nonsense.” Himmel wrinkled his nose. “It’s because I fed the beast.”
Damn, the dog kept looking at him with such hopeful eyes. “I can’t take Fang on the train. Will you watch her for me?”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Gruffly, Himmel cleared his throat. “Good luck, then, and goodbye.”
That was all he had to say? Konstantin swallowed hard. “Same to you.”
There was no time to wait for more. He abandoned the captain and returned to his room, where he finished packing. The last train to Minsk, Russia left in one hour. After buttoning his coat, he reached for the doorknob.
A knock boomed in the silence. Trembling with adrenaline, he opened the door.
Himmel stared at him with fire in his eyes. “That wasn’t the goodbye I wanted.”
“What—?”
Himmel dragged him into a crushing kiss, his jaw rough with a day’s stubble. Every muscle in Konstantin’s body tensed. Himmel unbuttoned his coat, tugging it from Konstantin’s overheated skin, and started on his shirt.
“Theodore.” He caught his wrist. “My train leaves in an hour.”
“Plenty of time.” Himmel walked him backward to the bed. “Take off your clothes.”
Shaking, Konstantin fumbled to unbuckle his belt. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?” Himmel peeled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his chest flexing. “They already sacked you for buggery.”
Konstantin winced. “A crime I have yet to commit.”
“Would you like to be guilty?”
His heartbeat stopped dead before pounding back. “Buggery?” His voice snagged on the word. “I’m not sure what I think.”
Himmel arched an eyebrow. “You have considered the possibility already?”
“Of course.” Damn it, his body betrayed him yet again. He couldn’t help getting hard. “But I’m—hesitant.”
Frowning, Himmel nodded. “Understood.”
“You sound so formal.” Konstantin laughed. “This isn’t a military maneuver.”
A smirk curved under Himmel’s mustache. He stripped naked, his body all stark lines in the lamplight. “Your orders, sir?”
This might be their last night together. But Konstantin wasn’t sure he wanted to try anything unknown, not with so much uncertainty in his life. His stomach tightened as he met Himmel’s gaze. “Kiss me. Please.”
“Yes, sir.”
he kiss ended too soon. Himmel leaned back to look at Konstantin, his amber eyes gleaming with dark promises.
One hour together.
When Konstantin peeked at his pocketwatch, Himmel stole it, dangling it by its chain. “Don’t think about that.”
“But—”
“You won’t miss your train.” He dropped the watch on the nightstand. “I promise.”
Konstantin sank onto the bed, his fingers gripping the edge of the mattress, and found it hard to breathe. “Theodore.”
&n
bsp; “Yes?”
“We might not walk away from this war.”
“That won’t stop me from living tonight.” He flicked his eyebrows upward.
Shivering, Konstantin resisted the urge to kiss him. “Tomorrow isn’t promising.”
“God, Konstantin.” Himmel growled out a sigh. “If only you were wrong. You shouldn’t have risked your career for me.”
Konstantin swallowed hard. “If it meant losing you, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Not a thing?”
He paused. “Perhaps the train to Siberia.”
Himmel laughed. “Those idiots in Vienna will realize they made a colossal mistake. Sacking you only hurts their technomancy. Who else is so passionate about experiments? You will always be an archmage to me.”
“How sweet of you.” Konstantin couldn’t help grinning.
“Incidentally, I love you.”
That knocked the grin from Konstantin’s face. Lightheaded, he stared at the captain like he was a stranger. “Pardon?”
Himmel looked away. “You heard me.”
The world tilted on its axis. Konstantin fell back on the bed, gripping fistfuls of sheets, feeling like he might float into heaven.
“There isn’t much time,” Himmel said gruffly. “We should—”
“I love you.” Konstantin sat bolt upright in bed. “I wanted to tell you first, before all this, but I couldn’t articulate it until now.”
“Couldn’t articulate?” Himmel rubbed his mouth, rather bashful. “Three words?”
“Are you blushing?”
His eyes sparkled. “You’re a fine one to talk.”
“Theodore.” Konstantin blushed even hotter, which he had thought impossible. “Why did you decide to tell me tonight?”
“Because this might be my only shot.”
When Himmel looked at him, vulnerability gleaming in his eyes, Konstantin kissed him without restraint. Himmel matched his passion, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping his shoulder as he climbed over him.
“I want you,” Konstantin whispered, “but I want to try buggery another night.”
“That means you have to come back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who’s giving the orders here?” Himmel laughed, his eyes alight. “What happened to the chain of command?”
Konstantin smiled. “We can collaborate.” He grabbed the hard length of him.
Groaning, Himmel throbbed in his hand. “God, yes.”
“Could you…?”
Himmel glanced into his eyes. “Tell me.”
“Do what I did last time.”
“Suck you?”
Konstantin shivered. “Yes.” He was so hard, it almost hurt.
On his hands and knees, Himmel crawled down to Konstantin’s belt. He rubbed the inseam of his trousers, torturing him, before unbuckling the belt. His mustache tickled him as he exhaled, his breath hot. “Like this?”
“Yes!”
Himmel kissed the tip of him. He drew back, straddling Konstantin, and arched his hips to grind against him. Hard on hard. Himmel’s fingers spread a hint of anticipation, wet and slippery, gliding between their skin.
When Konstantin laughed, Himmel squinted at him. “What?”
“Friction.”
“What?”
“It’s such a troublesome phenomenon, the bane of physicists, but—”
Himmel bent to lick the length of him. “Continue.”
“God.” Gasping, Konstantin struggled to inhale. It took a moment to remember words. “But I like this friction best.”
Himmel took him into his mouth. His growl trembled through him. “Good.”
Konstantin knotted his fingers in Himmel’s hair, holding him there, trying not to push too hard, but the pressure kept building. The wet heat of his mouth, the light graze of his teeth; it was enough to make any man explode.
“Theodore. Please—”
Himmel sucked while pumping him in his hand. Konstantin held on for a millisecond longer before he shuddered, stuttering out a groan, and came in his mouth. Himmel swallowed every last drop and met his gaze.
Konstantin’s ribs worked as he fought to breathe. “Theodore, my God.”
Himmel smiled. “Something to remember me by.”
Pain gripped Konstantin’s throat. He dragged Himmel down beside him on the bed. If he held him close enough, perhaps he would never forget the feel of his skin. For a wild moment, he considered telling him the truth.
But Himmel could never know his destination. Not until this was over.
Konstantin thought of another way to say goodbye. His hand slipped between them and slid down Himmel’s stomach. He stroked him in his fist, slow at first, then fast and hard. Himmel closed his eyes, his face beautifully blank, and arched his hips. Sweat clung to his skin. He grunted, tensing, and jerked in his hand.
Afterward, Konstantin kissed him, tasting salt in his mouth. “How was that?”
“Unforgettable.”
Alone in the snowy evening, Konstantin walked through St. Petersburg. At the station, he bought a one-way ticket to Minsk, where he would change trains to Königsberg, Prussia. He felt nothing more than numb.
The train huffed into the station, a steam locomotive painted green. He lugged his suitcases aboard and found a seat in third class, where he hoped to be inconspicuous. Countess Victorova wanted him gone; surely she wouldn’t stop him now. After a tense minute, the train lurched along the tracks, rattling as it accelerated. Smoke clouded Konstantin’s window, St. Petersburg a smudge of light and shadows.
Bracing himself on the back of seats, the conductor navigated the swaying corridor. Konstantin gripped his ticket and passport in his sweaty hand. He no longer had the protection of a diplomatic passport or immunity.
“Passport?” said the conductor.
Konstantin handed him the battered little book. The conductor stared at the double-headed eagle on the cover, the heraldry of Austria-Hungary, an enemy of the Russian Empire. His dark eyebrows descended. He glanced at Konstantin, flipped open the passport, and inspected the photograph pasted inside.
“I’m returning from business in St. Petersburg,” Konstantin said. “Matters of diplomacy.”
Shaking his head, the conductor punched his ticket and handed it back. He trudged onward to the next passenger. Exhaling, Konstantin returned the passport to his pocket. Clearly, they didn’t care if he exited the country.
Returning, on the other hand, might be risky.
From his coat, he fished out a red leather notebook, where he often scribbled down his latest thoughts and hypotheses for experiments. He sketched the clockwork dragon, from memory, concentrating on its eyes. Siberian chrysoberyl. The same gemstone as the eyes of the black bear in the clockwork menagerie.
I understand the countess intended it as a gift for the count’s birthday, though the poor fellow bit the dust prior to the occasion.
Psychothaumaturgy required a soul captured at the moment of death.
Countess Victorova pretended to be a sweet widow, but suspicion festered in Konstantin. She must have scheduled her husband’s unfortunate demise, a convenient yacht accident where he drowned under the ice. The combination of water and cold would be ideal; a slow death, with technomancy waiting to capture his soul.
At first, Konstantin considered tinkering with the clockwork, to make the dead speak, but he wasn’t a necromancer. The soul of the late count had degraded into a fragment of energy, a battery for a grotesque dancing bear.
He would have to reverse time itself.
“Chai?” A redheaded attendant smiled at him.
He understood that word, and tea would be most welcome. “Da.”
She poured him a cup. He handed her a coin in return. Sipping the steaming drink, he gazed out the window, heat pooled in his stomach. Himmel had been all business when they parted, but he could see the pain in his eyes.
God, he hoped this would work. The sooner, the better, so he could return.
Serbia chafed under the control of Austria-Hungary; Serbia’s ally, Russia, declared war after discovering Austria’s development of Eisenkriegers. The Archmages of Vienna claimed they built the metal giants as a precautionary defense, but the Kaiser himself requested an army of Eisenkriegers for the German Empire. He wondered when France would enter the fray. They would love revenge, after losing the last war.
All of Europe was a mess of alliances, each country eager to defend its honor.
As the train rattled through endless snowy trees, Konstantin’s eyelids drooped. His bones outweighed lead. He hadn’t slept much lately, and Himmel wasn’t quite helping. With a faint smile, he closed his eyes, just for a second.
“Last stop, Minsk!”
The conductor’s shout startled Konstantin awake. He lurched to his feet and buttoned his coat while stumbling down the corridor to his suitcases. Hopping from the train, he blinked at the mist and steam clouding the morning.
So this was Minsk. Where the hell was his next train?
Konstantin hauled his suitcases down the platform. The train from St. Petersburg belched burnt coal before chugging from the station.
“There you are!” he muttered, earning a few curious glances.
Frost spiderwebbed the windows of the train to Königsberg. It waited two platforms over, puffing clouds that floated over the medieval rooftops of Minsk. He squinted at a bird of prey over the station. A golden eagle, feathers glittering in the sun, wheeling in the sky with mechanical precision. Searching for something.
Or someone.
Balanced by a suitcase in each hand, Konstantin raced to his next train and hurdled inside the nearest car. He collided with a conductor, who gave him a disapproving glare. Though he hadn’t seen the golden eagle’s eyes, he knew they had to be clockwork. Siberian chrysoberyl. Another pet of the countess.
He had to act fast, before she deduced his plans.