“Arrogant son of a Void Born whale,” Geist muttered. He pulled his feet under him and bounced up, lifting his fists to guard his chin. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Just remind me again, what’s the score?” Ben cupped a hand to his ear. “Wasn’t it four-two?”
They’d waited half an hour after returning to the house to report their “discovery” that Brandon had snuck out at some point, and while the guards greatly appreciated their honesty, it also cast suspicion on everyone as to whether or not anyone else was involved in Brandon’s escape. But all that visibly changed were the doubled guards along the perimeter and a boat they could see heading to Madrilla Island, presumably to check on the security there.
In the meantime, half the crew had taken over the courtyard that the house ringed around, and they were using it as a sparring ground. Finn and Ezekial had wandered off at some point, and Raine had excused herself to help with lunch. It started to drizzle after lunch, and they moved into the spacious living room, pushing the one table up against a wall, and piling the sitting cushions on and under it.
Everyone who wanted a go at it had already had a turn—or two—and Ben had been content to sit back and watch until Geist approached him, asking for another round. He wanted to learn some more of Ben’s unorthodox moves, and Ben needed to shake off the nerves from the entire day.
Kerlee laughed aloud from where he perched on one of the cushions pushed up against the tiled wall. “That’s right.” He looked over at Roska. “Ten lut on Ben.”
Roska snorted and shook his head. “No way. I’m not going broke tonight. But I’ll take on the winner, if that makes you feel better.” He stretched a thick arm across his chest. “May as well do something while we wait for dinner to be delivered.”
Ben grinned in acknowledgment, then moved forward and feinted a left hook before jabbing with a straight punch. Geist dodged, but got nailed with the straight. A knee to the gut ooph’d the air out of him. He staggered back and Ben shook his head. “That’s twice now that you fell for that.”
Geist held his nose, checking it for blood. “I was expecting you’d change it up.”
“So the question is: Will I go for it a third time?” Ben braced a hand on his hip while he rubbed at his jaw, grinning. “Decisions, decisions.”
“Whatever you decide, it’ll have to wait,” Geist replied as he allowed himself to fall not-too-gracefully onto the floor. He scooted across the floor to recline against the wall. A red mark on Geist’s bare stomach showed Ben exactly where he’d hit, and Ben made a mental note to strike a half inch more to the right next time—for the sake of good sportsmanship, of course.
Geist reached for a glass of water on the nearby table, and Roska slid it closer. “Being walloped in the nose—twice—isn’t all that comfortable, you know.”
Ben used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat on his forehead as he turned to Roska. “Do you want to go at it again right now, or later?”
“You good, or do you need a break?” Roska’s grin turned feral. “I’m feeling lucky. I could take you down.”
Ben grimaced. “I wouldn’t mind a quick break.” He rubbed at his shoulder and admitted, “I’m still sore from the dragon battle, and all that walking didn’t help any.”
“Don’t let Raine hear you say that, or she’ll make you drill even more later to build up that endurance.” Geist chuckled and took a sip of water. “She’s ferocious.”
“Thanks,” Raine’s voice startled Ben, and he whirled around to see her leaning against the door frame. She raised an eyebrow at them. “But what wasn’t I supposed to hear? Mind saying it again?”
Geist propelled himself forward, spluttering on the water. He choked and coughed, pounding himself on the chest. “Whales, woman! Anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people? You’re as bad as Zak!”
“As bad as a Monomi?” Raine smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She pointed to Ben. “It’s only lightly drizzling right now, so I want us to get some practice in before the storm really hits. Meet me in the yard in five.”
“Right.” Ben watched her disappear around the corner. So much for taking a break.
Roska’s deep laugh echoed in the room. “I would say that you got lucky for getting out of a fight with me, but I think not.”
“Yeah, have fun,” Kerlee agreed. He pushed himself off the floor and stretched. “I may as well go see what Steban and Michael are tinkering on. Good luck surviving, Ben.”
“Thanks.”
Roska offered a two finger salute and followed Kerlee out of the room. Ben swiped his glass of water off the table and grimaced at Geist. “This is gonna hurt.”
“Probably.” Geist stretched out his legs and pulled his shirt off the table, slipping it back on. “I’m glad the guys left. I wanted to ask you something. Do you think Finn is part Elph?”
“What?” Ben blinked at the dragon hunter. “Part Elph?”
“Yeah.” Geist shrugged as if the thought wasn’t all that odd. “Everyone out here seems to recognize him, but they remember him by a different name. What if Flint is his Elph name, and he’s been going by Finn while around us humans?”
Ben rolled the concept around in his mind. “Interesting idea.” He stretched one arm behind his back, then the other. “I’ll think on it. But I should probably get moving for now.”
“Have fun getting beat up,” Geist snarked as Ben rose.
“I’m not going to get beat up,” Ben replied, rolling his eyes.
Geist laughed and Ben winced. “You positive? ‘Cause every time she’s done with you, you can barely walk.” Geist’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“All right, I’m outta here.” Ben snatched his sword off the table. “You’re lucky she didn’t hear you say that,” he called out as he jogged out the door, leaving Geist’s laughter behind him.
The damp cool air and colder drizzle smacked into his face, instantly chilling the sweat on his skin. He inhaled deeply, already invigorated by the salty tang of storm and sea that carried on the wind.
Raine shot a grin over her shoulder from where she stood at the edge of the cliff, the purple haze of the barrier just barely visible in the distance. The choppy surf churned below, casting spray up in the air. “I love the pre-storm anticipation.” A gust blew across the yard, and Ben braced himself against it while Raine opened her arms, face tilted up to the sky. Water droplets glistened on her skin. “Papa says I was found on a rainy day, and my parents named me Raine in remembrance.” Her hair floated around her face, and she started braiding it back. “It works for me. I love storms.”
Ben crossed his arms against the chill and moisture, smiling at Raine. “I could’ve guessed that much.” His smile slipped. “Wait. You were found?”
“I’m adopted,” Raine stated with a small shrug. She wrapped a tie around the end of her braid. “My parents were killed in a robbery, and Papa took me in.” She turned away from the encroaching black clouds. “Remember the meeting in the Crimson Hawk, when Papa mentioned about his notes being stolen?” She waited for Ben to nod before she continued. “Papa thinks the men who stole from his house followed him to my parents’ home, in hopes that they’d find more knowledge. It’s the reason we never settled. Papa didn’t want us to become easy targets again.”
Ben nodded, letting the meaning of her words sink in. If she was adopted, then even if Finn was an Elph, it was unlikely that she would be one, too. Or maybe Finn wasn’t an Elph, but she was, and he’d changed his name while they were on the run? But what about his appearance? He apparently looked strikingly similar to the mysterious Flint.
Ben swiped at the water dotting his forehead. Not that any of it mattered. Finn and Raine were his friends, and he didn’t care about bloodlines. How could he, when he was a Void Born, and he was pretty sure he was as good as a physical ghost? Dark clouds rumbled over the horizon, and he gestured to the sword on Raine’s hip. “I hesitate to bri
ng it up, but if you want to practice, we’re going to need to hurry.” He hesitated. “And are real swords a good idea when there’s lightning?”
“Good thought. But look.” Raine pointed to the roof of their house. “See all those metal rods? Dragons come from the sea frequently enough during storms that the Antians have those lightning rods just about everywhere. We’ll be fine until the storm gets much closer.”
Ben nodded slowly. Somehow that explanation didn’t seem overly reassuring.
Raine backed up from the edge of the cliff face with a grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to spar in the rain. You need to be more aware of your footing, and you’ll find that the rain can blind you. Try to find a rhythm that will keep your head tilted just enough that it’s not in your eyes.”
“Slick ground, high chance of being blinded, and sharp swords. What could possibly go wrong?” Ben deadpanned.
Her laugh echoed off the walls of the buildings around them, getting lost in the wind. “This is more about form than actual sparring. You need to feel what it’s like, a real sword in the rain versus practice swords. We’ll slow our strikes, focus specifically on form.”
True to her abrupt nature, she pulled her sword from its sheath without commentary, spinning on her heel in the damp grass. But she slowed the strike, allowing Ben time to adjust to the slick hilt. Their swords clashed. She rocked back a half step before gliding at him. Ben blocked and pressed his sword against hers, taking advantage of his strength. Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed back with a surge of energy, sidestepping. He fell forward, catching himself at the last minute.
“It’s different, sparring when everything is wet. Your footing is less sure. Use that to your advantage,” she directed. “You almost had me when you used your strength. That was good. Now try using what nature is giving us.”
Ben nodded and swiped at the water beading on his face. The drizzle was leading into rain already. The storm was getting close. How soon would Raine be willing to call it quits?
“Ho there!”
Ben and Raine both spun to the voice. An Elph in light browns with an oil-slicked poncho waved at them from the fence and lifted a basket. “Dinner delivery!”
“Let me help you with that,” Ben called out, sheathing his sword. He jogged over, Raine on his heels.
The delivery lady lifted the basket over the fence. “Best get inside soon, if you don’t want a drenching.”
“Thank you. We will,” Raine replied. She lifted the cloth covering the basket and grinned. “And thank you for the pears.”
“Mmhmm. And the next to be interviewed are on a list at the bottom.” The lady turned away and sped toward the emperor’s castle.
Ben’s breath eased in his lungs as the first splatters of rain hit his head. Raine shot him a look, the skin tight around her mouth and eyes. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or concerned by their response to Brandon getting away.”
Ben shook his head, and the sky opened up, pouring rain down on them. “I haven’t been able to decide either.”
Water ran in rivulets down Raine’s face, and her red tunic darkened from the moisture. She tilted her head up to the sky for a long moment, then started walking. “Maybe they’re waiting for one of us to slip up and admit to knowing it was premeditated.”
“Who knows?” Ben shrugged as he followed her toward the house. “I’m just hoping he makes it to her in time to somehow help. And that we’ll somehow get to Madrilla Island before Victor and Lucio do.”
“Agreed.” Raine stopped, one foot on the porch, still standing in the rain. She used her free hand to push wet hair from her face as she shot him a small grin, her cheeks darkening in the dim light of the storm. She tapped the toe of her boot against the floor, then added, “I’m glad it worked out for you to come with us into the city. I enjoyed our time together.” She bounced up the steps of the porch, leaving him slack-jawed.
Did that mean—did he dare think that—just how was he supposed to interpret such a comment?
He belatedly followed her in, conscious of his wet-soled boots on the tile floor even as his brain whirled. Of course he’d find a woman who caught his interest while in another world, and of course she would keep him on his toes while in the midst of a dangerous mission. Under house arrest. With the fate of her land essentially on their shoulders. Sara had warned him once that he’d never find a woman to settle down with if he was always running around, saving the world with his platoon.
No, he’d find a woman while running around and saving another world. And—his heart plummeted while his mouth dried—of course the two women would never get the chance to meet. They were literally worlds apart.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Weston
Weston jammed his hand into the doorway to the machine shop, and he shook it out, cursing under his breath. “Sorry, sorry, I—” he glanced back at Jade, Zak, Krista, and the wheelchair-bound Briar. “I suppose I should warn you, my master is a bit eccentric, but she means well, and—”
A tight smile crossed Jade’s face, and she reached past him, grabbing the door handle. “And we appreciate any excuse to get out of the villa, so thank you for getting this excursion worked out for us. It was getting ...tense, back there.” She tugged the handle and cracked the door open.
Weston got the hint and moved out of the way, opening the door fully. Krista walked past, smirking as he held the door like a common doorman or guard. He swallowed his ego and let Briar and Zak through, then he entered the workshop last.
The group clumped together in the doorway, unsure of where to go next without his guidance. Weston skirted around Briar’s chair and motioned. “This way.” He led them past Master Rafael and to the quieter corner of the workshop room where Pistoia focused on assembling a new steam-rifle. He looked over at Zak. “And, again, this entire area is guarded, so you don’t have to be overly concerned about security here. Really.”
Zak gave a short nod, his eyes roaming the room of benches, apprentices, and tech equipment. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“As you will.” Weston shrugged. If Zak wanted to hover over Jade’s shoulder, that’d be his choice, unnecessary as it would be. Then again, those two had gone from Zak shadowing her everywhere, to the two of them being as close as a nut and bolt. And Jade looked ...happier.
Some things weren’t worth dwelling on right now.
“Master, we’re here.” Weston shoved a chair out of the walkway, hoping it’d be wide enough for Briar’s chair contraption. He’d made sure there was space by the workbench for Briar, but he’d forgotten to check the aisles first. Thankfully, Krista was already skilled in guiding the ungainly chair, and they settled in the wide zone that Weston cleared earlier.
“This is your—” Jade’s surprise showed in her face as her eyes darted from Pistoia to Weston, and he had to bite back his laugh. Getting across the uniqueness of Pistoia was impossible with words, and he could tell that Jade hadn’t really believed him earlier when he’d told her that his master was a woman.
“Jade, meet my master. Pistoia, this is Jade, Krista, Zak, and Briar.” Weston gestured to each as he said their name. “Briar’s the one whom Jade and Krista have been working on.” He winced. “That—that didn’t sound the greatest.”
Briar waved a hand. “You aren’t too far off the mark.”
“We’re not working on him,” Krista stated, rolling her eyes. “We’re working on his leg.” She propped her hands on her hips as she slowly pivoted, looking over the tools hanging on the walls, the cupboards, the billows. “Nice place you have. Don’t suppose you have any ceramics and molds in here?”
Pistoia set her tiny screwdriver down and scooched her goggles up to her forehead. “I assume you’re looking for a composite ceramic?”
Jade and Krista leaned forward at the same time, both of them planting their hands on the edge of the workbench, their eyes glowing. “Do you have cermet?” Jade asked, her voice brightening more than Weston had heard in
the last two days. “Because if you have cermet with aluminum qualities, that would be of interest.”
“And if you could do custom molds here, that would be beyond amazing,” Krista added.
Pistoia pushed the steam-rifle to the center of the table and wiped her hands on her apron before standing. “Ladies, follow me. Have I got some toys to show you.”
Jade let out a little squeak of joy, and Krista turned from the table to drop a kiss on Briar’s lips before spinning away, her braids flying. “We’re going to get you on your feet again, Cookie!”
They followed after Pistoia like ducks following their mother to water, and Weston leaned against the work bench with a small sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, giving Zak and Briar a hesitant smile. “I think they forgot about us.”
Zak and Briar laughed.
“This is a normal occurrence,” Briar explained with a grin. “Once their brain gears get lubed with an idea, they’re in their own world, and we’re as good to them as chopped liver.”
Zak moseyed to the bench and stared down at the steam-rifle, examining it from all angles. He tapped a finger on the table by the handle, cautious to not touch it. “This looks similar to Ben’s steam-pistol. Is this the model that’s going to the Hollows?”
Weston pulled his stool out from under the table and perched on the edge, letting his nerves settle. This was his workshop. Jade and Krista had hit it off with Pistoia, Zak and Briar were being friendly, and his father was nowhere in sight. He could relax a bit. “You got it. This is the final version, and the one we’re making copies of.” He pulled it close and touched the leather bag attached to it. “We changed out the glass tank and elongated the barrel, and we finally fixed the jamming issue we’d had for a while.”
Weston fell silent, rubbing at the smooth seal at the mouth of the leather bag. Francene had mentioned to him earlier that day that one of Count Mendez’s former guards may be open to their scheme, but she still had to test those waters and determine how trustworthy he’d be.
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