Dragoon (War of the Princes Book 2)

by A. R. Ivanovich

  “I will adhere to our agreement,” Lord Brendon answered. He stood between the broad, open double doors of the keep, with an array of Militia soldiers on either side of him. More lined the bridge to the mainland, with spears and flapping black flags. Some were armed with rifles, but all wore swords, sheathed on their belts. There hadn't been so many Militia last year, but what else would childless parents do in times like these? “Look after my brother.”

  “Bren, how do you expect me to go along with this? She shot me!” Dylan cried out at his brother.

  “One shot wasn't enough,” Kyle said under his breath. Thankfully, Lord Brendon didn't hear.

  “It was for our own protection,” I reminded Dylan. “He's fine.”

  “I am most certainly not fine!” Dylan argued, clutching his bandaged side with his iron cuffed hands. Having been washed and clothed in his usual fine garments hadn't improved his temper. He stood five feet away from me and it was still too close.

  “Help her,” Brendon told Dylan. “And you’ll find a place in this keep once more.”

  The early evening sun was making its way over the Haven Mountains to the west, and warm golden light spilled over the keep. I could see Ruby, clutching the rail of a tiny balcony on the fourth floor, watching us. Her red hair beamed like a beacon. She was shouting down at us, I could just faintly hear it now, but the bellow of the waves swallowed her voice. I wished I had time to speak with her, alone. I needed to apologize for so many things.

  “You can't do this!” Sterling said striding forward. Kyle lunged out and caught him by the forearm to stop him from taking another step. The guards had their hands to their sword belts in an instant. “Let me bring Ruby home. We’ll never come back, I promise.”

  “Negotiations are over,” Brendon said with finality. Inclining his head in my direction, the Lord of Breakwater gave me a hard look that challenged my authority over my friends.

  “Sterling,” I said in quiet warning. He stayed where he was, but scowled at me for it. His neck was reddening with anger and a pair of long veins became notably visible. I'd never seen him so upset.

  Brendon was right about one thing; Ruby would be safe in Breakwater. I met the Common-Lord's gaze again. “If we could see her one last time.”

  “You have precious little time for that,” he straightened his naturally regal posture. “And I have even less. Dylan’s order for supplies has arrived on the black dock, food, proper clothes and the like. I have lent the coin, but you'll have to find passage on your own. I've spared all that I can, within reason. Good luck to you all, and brother, this is your last chance. See that you don't squander it.”

  * * *

  Walking away from Ruby was one of the hardest things I had ever done. Guilt was shredding my insides. The last time we spoke, we had fought. I doubted that she had gotten my apology note. Would she ever forgive me now?

  It's not supposed to happen like this.

  The four of us had reached the black dock in silence. On a normal day, we would have been speaking. At that moment in time, I was boiling with anger. An eighteen-year-old girl barely scraping the five-foot-five marker wasn't an intimidating sight, but all three of the guys walking with me knew what I was capable of, and gave me a wide berth.

  On our way, we passed scores of coastal fishing boats. Most were out on the water, hissing ribbons of steam from their slender chimneys. Others were stationary, tied securely by ropes to the dock while their owners made repairs. A few were returning with their morning haul and unloading their pungent catch. The Brown Docks, with all of their fishing boats, comprised about three quarters of the harbor.

  Proud, dark birds with long, hook-tipped beaks congregated on the piers, planks and even the boats themselves. Curiously, many of them wore chains about their ankles or collars around their necks. More than a few times, I saw them glide overhead, tuck their wings, and spear headfirst into the water.

  Our destination, the Black Docks, had gotten their name for a very obvious reason. The wood used in their construction was ebony in color. The triple lane byway was only a slice of the sprawling harbor, but an impressive one. This was where the long-voyage vessels would park, and they required more space. There were several ships docked that made the small fishing boats, with their little round hanging lanterns, look like toys on the water. These crafts were each at least two or three levels of height and made of metal. Some were sleeker and shinier than others, but most were blocky and rusted.

  In the center of the main dock sat a pile of crates, barrels and bundles. A sign was attached to the heap. It read: Kestrel. Four horses were tethered just beyond the gear, two brown, one white, and one shiny gray. The gray was tall, with a strong neck and a square nose. Without a doubt, it was Florian. Strange to think, I'd been presented this horse by each Axton brother. Brendon had really come through for us.

  I walked to Florian. He lifted his head and perked his ears at my approach, and I smiled when he sniffed my hands. Glad as I was to see him, it wasn’t much consolation for the dangers ahead. It would have been alarming enough if I only had to worry about myself, like I’d planned. What in the world were my friends even doing here? The answer was just over my shoulder, in the shape of a stocky, athletic blonde boy.

  I spun on Sterling. “You just had to follow me again, didn't you? You're the reason I'm in this mess. Why did you have to bring them with you?”

  He stopped and had the nerve to appear stupefied by my outburst.

  “What you did to me yesterday wasn't enough? You just had to keep tailing me.”

  “I...” Sterling stammered.

  “You're working for your dad. I know. But, gravity, why did you have to bring Ruby and Kyle with you? You're a real jerk, you know that?”

  The big guy stared at the ground, looking defeated.

  Kyle moved between us to intercept me from my warpath. “Kat, wait. Slow down.”

  “What!” I didn't mean to come off so strongly. I was just a little stressed.

  Mildly stressed. Hah.

  He held onto my shoulders and faced me. There was a certain charm about his easy, lopsided smile, and his lanky disheveled demeanor that always disarmed me.

  He wasn't smiling now, however. He let go of my shoulders when he knew he had my attention. “Kat, um. It was me. I was the one who followed you.”

  “What?”

  “I had to...” Kyle began, trying to explain himself and coming up short. He ran a hand through his hair and then pushed his sleeves up to the elbows, as though the habit would help him speak clearer. “After those stories you told me, well, you know me. Proof first, debate later. I didn’t believe you at first, and the Shadow Chaser was amazing, but Kat, my last name was engraved in mechanical Lurcher bones! I had to see this place for myself, I just had to.”

  A sigh ripped from my throat. “Of course you did. I should have known this would happen. I don't know what I was thinking.” Apparently guilty-Kyle could also disarm me.

  “Technically, I followed you, Ruby followed me, and Sterling followed Ruby,” Kyle said. “It was sort of comical. I didn't even know until the Lurchers herded us together. Kat… they were incredible. Biological machines that obey commands! Does it get any better than that? Anyway, you should have seen Sterling's face! He was trying to fight them off with a stick. Keeping after you in the hills was easy, there was no one else around, but when we got to the city we lost you. We probably looked suspicious, the way we were staring at those automobiles. Then we saw the elephant.”

  “It was huge,” Sterling added, as though I didn’t believe them.

  “Sure took Ru by surprise though. She took one look up at its trunk and screamed at the top of her lungs.”

  “And then we were arrested,” Sterling confirmed.

  “You must have been walking around town for about an hour. That’s how long we waited at the keep. That guy, Lord Brandon…”

  “Brendon,” I corrected him.

  “Yeah. He came in to talk to us. I remembere
d you telling me about him. He let you escape last year and Ruby thought that by mentioning you, he’d let us go. Didn’t exactly work out that way though.”

  My shoulders hung low. A notion of failure sunk into my bones. “I was supposed to come alone. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. You guys were the last people I wanted to be involved in this.”

  Sterling was staring at me now, but I wouldn't look at him. If he wanted an apology, he could shove it.

  “Someone is robbing us,” Dylan pointed out from the sidelines, gesturing with his shackled wrists.

  “What?” I gaped.

  He was right. A crew of people were grabbing armloads of our stuff and hefting it onto the deck of the smallest boat this side of the harbor. The vessel was a quilt of patched copper and brass, with a few mismatched bolts and hinges of silver and gold. Standing among the busy men was a tall, lithe woman. Her dark brown hair was cropped artfully to the chin, and combined with her white buttoned shirt, twill waistcoat, fitted trousers, and thigh-high brown boots, she came off as both practical and stylish. If she was ten or fifteen years older than us, age hadn’t diminished her beauty one bit. She wasn't standing meekly on the sidelines, but delegating orders to the dockworkers.

  “Whoa,” Kyle said, instantly mesmerized. I couldn't tell what he was more interested in, the boat or the girl.

  I pursed my lips and stalked forward to confront her.

  “What do you think you're doing?” Dylan demanded, before I could say a word.

  “Gently, gently now,” she called out to one of the men making off with our crates. Next, she addressed Dylan. “I'm loading my ship.”

  A man came over and reined the horses across the ramp onto the boat.

  “Hey, wait!” I called after him, but he brought them aboard without giving me a second glance.

  “This is property of the Common-Lord of Breakwater. Who do you think you are?” Dylan demanded, halting at the edge of the dock, inches away from the deck of her little ship.

  She raised an eyebrow and looked him over. “I’m Carmine Rousseau. Who do you think you are, pretty boy?” she repeated, and didn’t wait for an answer. A greasy man wearing a black apron and gloves was disembarking from her ship. “Stiller, come back here. Stiller, you good for nothing excuse for a mechanic, if you don’t fix it, you don’t get paid. Fine. Go. I’m never hiring you again!”

  Dylan looked tragically indignant. “I'm Lord Dylan Axton. I order you to return these belongings to the dock.”

  “Dylan Axton? With irons on your wrists? I doubt that very much. I will not remove these supplies. I work for Kestrel,” she said easily.

  As entertaining as it was to see Dylan disrespected, I simply had to intercede. Kyle and Sterling were at my heels. “I'm Kestrel... er... Katelyn. I didn't hire you.”

  She looked at me and blushed. “Damn. I wouldn't have guessed that. You're a girl, and young. I imagined a stocky man with a twirled moustache.” Pacing in a circle, and doing a very graceful job of it, this Carmine Rousseau person seemed a bit disappointed. “Well, this is rather embarrassing.”

  “I'd apologize for embarrassing you, but seeing as you're stealing our belongings, I just don't feel too sorry,” I told her, crossing my arms.

  The last of the items was placed firmly on her deck, and the crew of men swaggered back into the docks.

  The woman sighed. “I meant this to be a grand surprise, simplifying your journey. You don't need to interview ship after ship, if you already have one.”

  “You're out of work,” Dylan translated. “Not surprising.”

  “You will be paying, won't you?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I hate to say it, but you gambled right, we don't have the time to hunt for other ships. We need to be on the water now,” I admitted. Her brazen strategy didn't bother me. We were lucky she acted and saved us some time.

  “Well, that is a matter of some shame. Prince Raserion has drafted all of Breakwater's good mechanics, and, well, her engines won't start,” she told us regretfully, pointing down at the ship under her feet. “I usually tune her up myself, but this time, I just can't get past the problem.”

  “You loaded our supplies and the rust pebble doesn't run? Shocking,” Dylan sniped, leaning against a dock post.

  Kyle practically jumped out from behind me, like a cat pouncing on a mouse. His eyes were wide with excitement. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him so enthused. “Let me get in there! I mean, do you mind if I have a look?”

  “If you're a mechanic, by all means,” she invited, waving us onto the deck of the ship. She led Kyle to an open hatch that took them below decks. Before disappearing completely, she called out to us, “Please, make yourselves comfortable. If your friend is as good as he is excitable, we'll be underway within the hour.”

  I stepped aboard, and Dylan followed, groaning with distaste. Sterling was still on the docks, looking off toward the keep on the water. He had never been the most talkative of guys, and now he was downright mute. As much as I wanted to hate his face forever, the problems in my life overshadowed those with Sterling. His body language suggested that he was worried about Ruby. Was it a ruse to restore my confidence in him?

  The thing was, I was worried about her too.

  Hang in there, Ru. We'll be back for you soon.

  “Brendon Axton,” I murmured, looking over the harbor waters to the island keep. “If you let anything happen to her, any single thing, I'll light you up brighter than the stars.” My consolation was simply that he knew what I was capable of.

  “Sterling,” I said gently. He looked at me like he'd forgotten where he was, frowned at his feet, and stepped aboard the ship that would take us even farther away from her.

  Chapter 11: The Flying Fish

  At two hundred feet in length, the ship was smaller than the other boats on the Black Harbor and still larger than any floating vessel I'd been on. As if rowing canoes on Dragonfly Lake counted for anything. This one was eye-shaped, and fitted with a pair of bulky cabins topped with upper decks on either end of its length. A pair of twenty-foot metal masts obstructed the main deck in the middle, where I stood. Curiously, two horizontal poles intersected them at their full height, spanning nearly the width of the ship, but there was no sail that I could see.

  On the rear of the ship, I counted six pipes leading to steam stacks that twisted out of the hull like trumpets. The cargo hold was on that end too, as were the stalls for the horses. Dylan had called the ship ugly, but I found it strangely beautiful.

  “I don't like this,” Sterling said, peering over the side at the water below. The tide was kicking up and we were rocking and creaking against the docks.

  “You didn't have to come,” I chided.

  “Can you please take these blasted things off now?” Dylan swooped in, blocking my view of the rear deck. He held his wrists up and jangled them. He was still favoring his side, despite the wound having only reached just beneath the skin. “For pity's sake, I treated you better than this.”

  Ire cracked my nerves. “Don't! Don't you dare ever say that to me again.”

  “Fine,” he frowned at me, attempting to blow the long hair from his hazel eyes. “I won't. But neither will I be much use to you in my current state.”

  I looked at the mass of supplies huddled near my feet. They wouldn't put themselves away.

  “Fine!” I gave in, fishing the key from my pocket. “Why, why, of all people, did I get stuck with you two?”

  Sterling glanced at me, then away.

  Dylan glared. “The loathing is mutual.”

  I didn't want to touch him, but I had to. My skin crawled, despite his beauty. I grabbed his hands, one at a time, twisting the iron key in each lock, freeing his wrists. He pulled his arms away from me, seeming to hate the contact as much as I did.

  “Thank you,” he said inclining his head and forcing a smile. Each of his hands worked at rubbing the other wrist. “You see, some of us retain our good manners despite traveling with backbiters.”
<
br />   And there it was. We weren't even out of the harbor and I already wanted to kill him.

  Before I could act on my desires, the boat groaned and trembled with the vibrations of a working engine. Muted cheering wafted up from below decks where Kyle had no doubt worked more of his machine magic.

  When they resurfaced, they both looked a little more than pleased. Kyle's sleeves were rolled up and there were splashes of grease on the front of his shirt. He and Carmine's hands were both covered in the stuff.

  “You got it running?” I asked hopefully.

  “Just needed some love,” he grinned.

  “Your friend is talented,” said Carmine. “I hadn't thought of stripping the couplers and using them to bypass the auxiliary lines.”

  “Just going off a hunch,” Kyle said, stuffing his greasy hands into his pockets.

  “And he's modest too,” she said, giving him a smile so charming it nearly made him blush. “We can take to the water at your command.”

  After hefting our supplies into the rear cabin cargo hold, we followed Carmine to the front of the ship. A door led us down a narrow hallway. It was constructed of honey-toned wood, floor to ceiling. We passed three doors on either side, entered a fifth at the very end of the hall, and found ourselves at the helm. It was a wide, triangular room, and the front two walls were glass. Facing the windows was a raised desk the shape of a horseshoe. Dials, levers, switches, gauges, and a great round wheel filled its surface. Behind us, the single solid wall was covered in dozens of maps, plastered one over the other to form haphazard wallpaper.

  “We should be underway,” Carmine said to me. “A storm is coming, and I'd like to clear the harbor before it reaches us.”

  I looked around, confused. The five of us were the only people on board. “Don't you have a crew?”