Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  Briar blinked her eyes, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling until she remembered that she’d fallen asleep in the cook’s bunk.

  Speaking of sleeping…loud snores echoed through the cabin. She hadn’t heard such noise since she shared the cabin with her uncle and cousin.

  “No, you can’t move like that,” Grayson’s accented voice was soft, but the answering whirr of gears wasn’t.

  Briar turned her head and saw Grayson sitting at her table. Before him was her uncle’s chess set.

  “Knight takes bishop,” Grayson said.

  Another indignant metallic squawk drew her attention to Lock, who to her amazement, sat on the table across the board from Grayson.

  “It does too move like that. Pay attention. The knight moves two spaces forward, then one to the right or left. The bishop moves diagonally.”

  An angry whirr came from the little dragon, his tail whipping in agitation.

  “You knock the pieces off the board again, and I’m making you into a fruit press.”

  Lock snapped his jaws.

  “Try me.”

  “Are you teaching him to play chess?” Briar asked.

  Grayson spun to face her, the motion so fast that she knew he hadn’t known she was awake.

  Abruptly, he smiled. “You have already corrupted it, so I thought I could put it to good use. I was wrong.”

  Lock snapped his jaws again.

  Briar smiled at the little dragon’s spunk, then sat up. She couldn’t quite subvert the groan.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  She rubbed her temple. “I’m swearing off alcohol.”

  He chuckled and got to his feet. Stepping over where Jimmy still snored on a blanket on the floor, he walked to the stove and poured a cup of steaming liquid from the teapot. She didn’t smell coffee.

  “What’s that?” she asked when he brought her the cup. She held it to her nose and inhaled the pungent scent.

  “Willow bark tea,” Grayson answered.

  She brought the cup to her lips and took a tentative sip.

  “I added some honey and—”

  “Ugh.” She pulled the cup from her mouth. “Does the nasty taste scare away the headache?”

  “Drink it down. Don’t be such a baby.”

  She made a face at him, but did as he instructed, holding her breath to avoid the taste. It still lingered when she finished, and she coughed.

  “Disgusting,” she breathed.

  “A necessary evil.” He took the cup back and set it on the table.

  Lock moved closer to poke at it just as Jimmy rolled over, releasing another loud snore. Lock morphed into the pocket watch.

  “I see why Jimmy’s wife doesn’t join him on the boat,” Grayson said. “It’s her only chance to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Is that what kept you awake?”

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate, sitting down on the side of her bunk. “May I see?”

  She glanced down and realized that her shirt was no longer off her shoulder, but the top buttons were still undone to the center of her breastbone. Fortunately, it hadn’t gapped open too much.

  “All right.” She tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. She was curious about the injury herself. She hadn’t gotten a chance to examine it after he finished.

  Working the shirt back off her shoulder, she glanced down at the neatly stitched wound. It was close to four inches long, starting just beneath her collarbone and stretching across the front of her shoulder.

  “Not bad,” he said. “I prepared a poultice. Let me warm it.” He returned to the stove, stepping over Jimmy’s sleeping form again.

  The tea warmed her belly, and she swore her aches and pains had lessened. She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes, listening to the oddly soothing sounds of Grayson working at the stove.

  Her bunk shifted, and she realized he had sat back down beside her.

  “That was quick,” she said, noting how the words were slightly slurred.

  “I think you dozed off.”

  She blinked her eyes to look up at him, but he was studying the wound. “What else was in that tea?”

  “Honey and rum.”

  “Great. Rum knocks me on my ass.”

  He smiled, but didn’t look up from what he was doing.

  She pulled in a breath as he smeared a warm dollop of his poultice on her wound.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “S’all right.”

  Another smile curled his lips, drawing her eyes to his mouth. He had a nice mouth—which was an odd thing to notice. She didn’t recall ever noticing such a thing on a man.

  “I think I’m drunk,” she told him. “So much for swearing off alcohol.”

  “Sorry about that, too.” He kept his eyes on his work, his long dark lashes brushing his cheeks when he looked down.

  “You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said.

  She realized that she believed him. “Why do I trust you?”

  He looked up, his slate-blue eyes more gray than blue in the low light.

  “I don’t know you,” she insisted. “And you don’t know me, yet you’ve put yourself in harm’s way twice to save me—or at least, my physical form.” She wasn’t so certain that her life had actually been in danger.

  He offered another smile with those very nice lips. “Maybe I like your physical form.”

  From any other man, she would have taken insult, yet when he said it, it warmed her more than the tea.

  “I should slap you,” she told him, striving for some semblance of normalcy.

  “You should,” he agreed. His expression turned serious, yet the new look upon his features did not detract from them. How strange that she’d never noticed what a handsome man he was.

  “You should command me to go,” he whispered.

  “I should.” But she didn’t. A part of her mind insisted that she was no longer thinking straight, but she ignored it. Pushing all logic aside, she leaned up and brushed his lips with hers.

  For the briefest moment, he hesitated, then his mouth was moving against hers.

  It seemed he must have breathed life into her because her body came alive in a way she had never felt before. Then he opened his mouth and trailed his tongue along her lower lip in a shocking, yet deeply intimate gesture.

  “Open for me,” he said against her lips. “Let me in.”

  He licked her lower lip once more, and she opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside, but it wasn’t as disgusting as she would have expected. After a brief moment to overcome the strangeness of the situation, she copied him. She liked the way he tasted—which was really bizarre.

  He groaned, the sound sending another wave of heat through her body. She didn’t protest when he pushed her back against the pillow, his mouth still deeply engaged with hers. This time, she groaned.

  “Briar,” he breathed her name against her lips. “We must stop.” His words didn’t match his actions as he continued to kiss her.

  “Why?” the question was muffled against his mouth.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “You could teach me.”

  “I was referring to the fact that you’re drunk.” He lifted his head, but he remained braced on his hands above her, his eyes shadowed, but his wonderful mouth damp and flushed.

  She didn’t want him to stop. Reaching up, she attempted to wrap her arms around his neck, but the pain in her right shoulder made her stop.

  He pulled back. “Don’t. You already have too much power over me.”

  She frowned, not understanding what he meant by that.

  “Tomorrow, we will arrive in Columbus where you will learn that those plans contain no ferromancy. You will return them and the construct, and we will go our separate ways.”

  Her addled mind tried to make sense of what he was saying. “You’re leaving.”

  “Yes,” he spoke the word firmly as if convincing himself more than her.

  �
�This is just another role to play,” she said.

  He neither agreed nor disagreed. Getting to his feet, he gave her his back. “Construct,” he said to Lock. “Watch over her.”

  Without another word, Grayson climbed the ladder and disappeared through the hatch.

  Lock sprang from the table to the bed and crawled up the blanket until he reached her pillow. He rubbed his cheek with hers, his soft coo questioning.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.” Whether it would turn out to be a good dream or bad, she wasn’t certain.

  13

  Briar woke to the smell of bacon and the awareness that the boat was moving.

  She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. It was full daylight beyond the cabin windows, and through a gap in the curtains, she could see the banks slipping past at the usual speed.

  “Good morning, Captain.” Jimmy sat at her table, a mug in hand.

  “We’re moving,” she said.

  “Aye. We knew you wanted to make Columbus this afternoon, but we didn’t want to disturb your healing slumber. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Jimmy smiled and got to his feet. “Good, but if you’re head’s a thumping, Mr. Grayson makes an amazing tea that will take care of that.” He gestured with his mug.

  “Careful with that. He gave me some last night, and it knocked me out.”

  “Really?” He looked into his mug. “This is my second cup.”

  “There’s rum in it,” she explained.

  “Yeah, but just a little.” He looked up. “Maybe he made yours stronger since you were injured and all. I bet it would have been hard to sleep.”

  She frowned, wondering if that had been Grayson’s motive.

  “Are you upset that we’re underway without your command?” Jimmy asked, misinterpreting her frown. “It was my idea.”

  “No, Jimmy. Thank you for getting us moving. I really made a mess of things yesterday.”

  “Nah. You did great. It wasn’t your fault that Darby cow had a knife.”

  She sighed. That wasn’t exactly the event she was referring to, but she couldn’t go into that with him.

  “Would you give me some privacy so I can freshen up?”

  “Sure.” He got to his feet. “We saved you some breakfast. It’s in the covered pan on the back of the stove. Mr. Grayson made something he called om-mu-lets. You need to hire him.”

  “I’m afraid he has other plans.”

  “A shame. That man would make someone a good wife.” Chuckling at his own joke, he left the cabin.

  A questioning coo broke the silence, and she noticed movement beneath her pillow.

  “Yes, you can come out now, Lock.”

  The little dragon crawled from beneath her pillow. He gave himself a shake, his silver scales shimmering in a glittering wave over his body as the sunlight caught on the shiny metal.

  “Goodness, you’re beautiful.” She held out a hand, and he hopped into her palm. “I’m going to miss you when Mr. Grayson takes you away.”

  Lock moaned, his silver wings drooping.

  “But maybe I can arrange a way to meet you again.” Once the boat was hers, perhaps she could write Molly and get Mr. Martel’s address. But first, she needed to know if he was a ferromancer.

  She set Lock down on the table and headed for her room to change. Today, she would go see Uncle Liam and determine once and for all if Grayson was telling her the truth.

  Briar took her time getting ready. She even sat down to eat breakfast. Jimmy had been right about the egg concoction Mr. Grayson had prepared. It was wonderful.

  When there were no more excuses for her to remain in her cabin, she went topside.

  Jimmy was mopping the crew’s bunkhouse, while Benji cleaned the stables. She found Eli at the tiller, but before she could ask him where Mr. Grayson had gone, she saw him out on the towpath, walking with Zach and the mules.

  “Morning, Miss Briar,” Eli greeted her. “Jimmy said you were much improved.”

  “I am.” She took a seat on the rail beside him.

  “You seem a bit out of sorts, though.”

  She glanced over, and he lifted his bushy brows in question. In the past, she could always share her troubles with Eli and he could help her work through them. But she knew he’d be furious if she admitted that she’d kissed Mr. Grayson. It was times like these that she wished she had a woman to talk to.

  “I’m still a little groggy from yesterday’s beating.” That did stick in her craw as well. It just wasn’t as vexing as this issue with Grayson.

  “It happens, Miss Briar. You’ll whip her next time.”

  Briar smiled at his optimism. “I guess I better get to work, especially after lying around all morning.”

  “Don’t over do it. That wound needs a good day or two to get the healing well started. Me and the boys will do the big stuff.”

  She sighed and, well aware that he wouldn’t relent, went off to find some little things to do.

  * * *

  She was oiling a mule harness when they reached Four Mile Lock on the Columbus Feeder Canal. The lock was so named because it was only four miles from Columbus. They should be there in a little over an hour.

  After helping Zach and Benji swap out the team, Grayson came aboard.

  “Shall I lay out a midday meal?” he asked her. “I had planned a simple repast since we’ll be docking this afternoon.”

  He didn’t seem to have any trouble speaking to her. Maybe the whole exchange hadn’t left him uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, grew annoyed with the way her gaze kept dropping to his mouth when he spoke. She needed to have this out.

  “I’ll help you,” she said, then continued before he could refuse. “The crew has assigned me light duty until this scratch is healed.”

  He smiled at that. “Very well.” He walked to the hatch, then held it open for her. She climbed down and he followed, the hatch thumping closed behind him.

  “You’re getting the plans back today?” he asked before she could speak. He stepped past her and walked to the stove.

  “Yes. My friend, Mr. Liam Adams lives in Columbus.”

  “Ah.” He pulled out the cutting board and unwrapped the ham.

  She frowned at his back a moment.

  “How’s the shoulder?” he asked.

  “Fine.” She took a breath. “About last night—”

  “My wits abandoned me. I apologize.”

  She spread her hands, though he didn’t see the gesture. “This is awkward as hell,” she complained.

  “You’ve never kissed a man before, have you?”

  “What does that have to do with—”

  “You would know that the easiest solution to avoid the awkwardness is to pretend nothing happened.”

  She guessed that was what he’d been doing. “You are the one with the experience.” She stepped up beside him. “How can I help?”

  “Slice the bread?”

  “What bread?”

  “Oh.” He took down a basket and unwrapped a crusty loaf.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “I made it this morning.”

  “Damn, that tea of yours must have knocked me out cold.”

  He didn’t comment, probably because that tea had led her to kiss him. Pretending it didn’t happen. Right.

  She carried the loaf back to the table and began to slice it. Lock crawled out of her pocket and hopped down onto the table to inspect what she was doing.

  “What about Lock?” she asked. “Will I ever see him again?”

  The little dragon sprang up onto her shoulder and huddled against her neck.

  “Probably not. The railroad is expanding westward. That’s most likely where I’ll go.”

  “Those are Mr. Martel’s plans?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced over, but he still had his back to her. She considered asking more, but returned to her tas
k. The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “What does Mr. Martel have on you?” she asked. “Is he the one keeping you from your freedom?” She remembered well his envy of her life, even though a lot of other details were hazy.

  “It’s no concern of yours.” He carried over the baskets, one already filled with sliced ham and a round of cheese. He began to gather up the bread she’d sliced. “Do you want to get the plates?”

  She huffed, but did as he asked.

  Looping the baskets over his arm, he started to climb the ladder, but she caught his sleeve.

  “My freedom wasn’t just given to me,” she said. “I had to fight for it.”

  “And I admire that in you.”

  “Then let me help you.”

  “You can.” His gaze held hers. “By letting me and your Lock go.” He climbed the ladder and left her standing there.

  She noted that it was the closest he’d ever come to calling Lock by name. But it seemed a hollow victory.

  * * *

  She left Eli and Jimmy to oversee the unloading of the lumber, and walked with Zach to the Columbus canal office. Her silent companion glanced around as they walked, and she wondered if he was taking his bodyguard duties a little too seriously. Ever since the assault in Chillicothe, the crew had been insistent that she venture nowhere alone.

  “I saw Mr. Grayson on the towpath with you this morning,” she said as they walked. “You seem to have befriended him.”

  Zach nodded.

  “That’s nice.” She wished Zach could tell her what Mr. Grayson spoke of—if anything. Most people fell silent when they spent any time around Zach.

  “I’ll certainly miss his cooking when he goes.”

  Zach glanced over. A considering look, then he nodded and faced forward once more. He went back to scanning their surroundings, and she glimpsed the scars that ran down the right side of his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt.

  She sometimes wondered what he’d been like before the accident. Did the silence bother him? She always made a point to speak to him and not to imitate his silence, but it was hard to hold a conversation when she was the only one talking.

  “Ah, here we are,” she said as they reached the canal office. “I’ll pay our tolls. Hopefully, the boat will be unloaded when we return.”