Rysha took the newspaper with a shaking hand, already guessing what this was about. She’d heard Trip had healed people and maybe even saved Major Kaika’s life the night before, but she highly doubted the sensationalist-loving journalists would write him up for that.
Sorcerous Officer Wanted for Attempted Murder, the headline read.
She groaned. A large part of her wanted to thrust the newspaper back at Harper, not to read the lies and drivel the article would contain, but she made herself skim through it. Later, if she had to help Trip prepare a defense, she would need to know what that damn Lockvale had said.
…waylaid Lord Lockvale while the nobleman was riding innocently along the highway… witnesses observed an unwarranted and unprovoked attack… used heinous and vile magic to assault Lord Lockvale… barely survived the encounter… demanding the unstable and dangerous officer be hanged.
Hanged!
The paper crinkled as Rysha’s hands tightened. She wanted to wad it into a ball and hurl it across the room.
“Is it true?” Harper whispered.
“Of course not,” Rysha snapped, glaring at her. Harper had only met Trip once, and they had only exchanged a few words, so she couldn’t expect the lieutenant to know better, but the fact that anyone would doubt Trip made her furious. “Lockvale has an agenda. He was trying to get my father to sell our family’s land to him and—”
Rysha stopped as a realization smacked her in the side of the face like a wet towel. What if Lockvale was doing this because of her? Because she and Shulina Arya had killed his winged business partner and he now had no easy way to scare people and force them to sell their land? Lockvale would know he couldn’t strike at her, since she was a fellow noble and he would need a lot of evidence to cause a judge to rule against her, but Trip wasn’t a noble and he had dragon blood. Even if the return of dragons had changed a lot quickly for Iskandians, the average person still feared magic and those who could use it. A judge might rule against Trip out of fear or distaste. Rysha didn’t know what Lockvale could gain from this, but if he was petty and wanted revenge… this could accomplish that.
King Angulus could overrule a judge, of course, but Rysha had not heard of many instances when he had done that. He liked to be seen as fair and impartial. Besides, Angulus didn’t know Trip that well. He might believe there was some truth to these claims.
Rysha had to talk to him, to convince him otherwise, and to also convince him that it would be worth overruling any court’s decision. Putting aside feelings and emotions, Iskandia needed Trip, now more than ever.
“It says the military police went to his barracks room but couldn’t find him.” Harper pointed to the last paragraph. “If he didn’t do it, why did he run?”
“I’m sure he didn’t run. He’s probably at work and busy fixing fliers after the attack last night.”
Rysha expected Harper to point out that the military police would have looked for him at work, but the lieutenant shook her head and whispered, “It was awful. There were at least eight dragons up there raining fire on the city. I heard they stole a bunch of our special dragon-slaying swords. Were you there? Lots of us were wondering where our dragon allies were.”
Rysha winced. Even though they had been assigned a mission to look for the elder dragon, and couldn’t have been expected back, she felt guilty because she and Shulina Arya had been dealing with her family’s problems when the city had been in danger.
“The silver one finally showed up, but it was really our fliers that saved the day. They’re written up on the first page of the paper.” Harper made a flipping motion with her finger. “I’ve been on the night-watch duty, so I had time to read it all before the sun was even up.”
Rysha closed the newspaper to read the front page where a photograph of the “brave, heroic, and fearless” General Zirkander shared space with one of Major Kaika, who’d been willing to sacrifice herself for the good of the city.
Rysha’s heart nearly stopped at the word sacrifice. But she’d checked in at the flier hangar the night before, and she’d been told Kaika had been injured but not killed. The pilots had lost two of their own, but she’d heard all the blade wielders had survived, albeit not all of them had managed to keep their chapaharii swords.
Still, she skimmed the article to make sure someone hadn’t lied to her to spare her feelings the night before. Whenever the journalist had penned it, Kaika had apparently been in critical condition. If Kaika didn’t make it in to work that day, Rysha would track her down and make sure she was all right. Assuming she could get past all the fawning reporters who would be pushing through the gates and hoping to interview General Zirkander. She shook her head at all the accolades dumped on him when Trip was treated like a nobody who’d done nothing for the city.
“Thanks for showing me,” Rysha said, managing a civil tone when she handed the newspaper back to Harper. “I better finish getting dressed and ready for work.”
“It’s a couple of hours until first formation. You’re not going to look for him, are you?”
“If Trip doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found. Don’t worry about me.” Rysha smiled and shut the door, though a part of her wanted to slam it.
She was going to find Trip and warn him, just in case he hadn’t already heard. She didn’t think he should run or would even consider leaving the city, but she did want to assure him that she would use all the connections she had to make sure he was treated fairly. And she definitely planned to request an audience with King Angulus. She didn’t know him well, but she wasn’t intimidated by him.
“Lots to do today,” Rysha said, tossing her nightclothes aside and grabbing her socks. Shulina Arya, is there any chance you’re listening to my mind and want to come give me a ride?
Unfortunately, only silence answered her. Shulina Arya was probably still sleeping somewhere. It didn’t matter. Rysha would take one of the army’s horses.
“I’m coming, Trip,” she whispered as she jogged out of the barracks and toward the stables.
As the gelding trotted down the street toward Sardelle’s house, Rysha spotted a very large gold dragon sleeping curled up on the lawn out front. An empty plate rested next to her snout.
“I guess that explains why there weren’t any dragons available to give me a ride,” Rysha said.
Clearly, she was going to have to figure out how to install an oven in her barracks room so she could bake tarts. Or maybe if she was careful with her lieutenant’s pay, she could subscribe to a daily morning delivery from Donotono’s. It did seem that she should reward Shulina Arya for all she did. And find a place for her to stay so she didn’t have to sleep on Sardelle’s lawn.
If Shulina Arya could sleep in a smaller shape-shifted form, maybe she could stay in the barracks, but Rysha had no idea if that could work. If a dragon fell asleep while shape-shifted, would she revert as soon as she dozed off? Rysha imagined the snapping of wood and breaking of walls and ceilings if something ferret-sized turned into something dragon-sized while in her room.
Shulina Arya opened an eyelid as Rysha dismounted, tied up her horse next to a couple of others, and strode for the door.
Good morning, Storyteller, she said in a muzzy voice, then dropped her eyelid shut again.
“Morning, Shulina Arya.”
The door swung open before Rysha knocked. That was a little disconcerting, but at least it meant she wouldn’t be waking up the household. The sun hadn’t been up for long, and it was an early hour to call upon people.
She stepped inside to the smell of eggs frying and something cinnamon-scented baking in the oven. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t had breakfast yet.
“Perhaps we should test it with some local animal,” a male voice said—it sounded familiar, but it wasn’t Trip or General Zirkander.
“Don’t even think of trying to put Scruffles in there,” Tylie said. “I saw you looking at her earlier.”
“I’ve worked with cats in the past,” t
he male said, “and found they are not amenable to being placed into small spaces.”
“Tell me about it.”
Rysha walked farther inside, saying, “Hello?” as she looked over the back of the couch in the living room. She recognized Shulina Arya’s parents in human form, sitting on the floor with a stasis chamber between them. One of the ones that had been broken?
Tylie sat on the couch watching them, a plate of eggs and frosted rolls in her lap. Through the kitchen door, Rysha glimpsed one of Sardelle’s younger students manning the oven—the boy.
“We won’t truly know if it’s working again until we test it,” one of the dragons said.
That was Bhajera Liv, Rysha remembered, the quieter of the two.
“Perhaps some squirrel or chipmunk or other woodland creature from the forest out back,” the other one, Wyleenesh, said.
“Morning, Rysha,” Tylie said with a wave.
“Hi, Tylie. Is Trip here?”
“With the babies.” Tylie waved toward the stairs.
Rysha blew out a relieved breath. She’d been afraid he would have left town or that the military police would have caught up with him and arrested him.
“What’s he doing up there?” Rysha had visited the stasis babies—his little siblings—with him before, but Trip always seemed a little awkward and uncertain about what to do with them. Good-hearted but clueless, as Sardelle had teasingly put it. Rysha couldn’t imagine him up there rocking the baby girl to sleep or burping her over his shoulder. She could imagine Trip discussing engineering and flier technology with the baby, rather one-sidedly.
Tylie’s eyes grew distant as she used her magic to check. “Mm, he’s still working on something in their room. They’re asleep. Well, no, Zherie is awake and watching him through the bars in the crib. Maybe he’s entertaining.” Her nose wrinkled, as if she couldn’t imagine it.
Rysha had no problem imagining being entertained by Trip working on something—he was cute when his face scrunched up with concentration and he groped for a solution to a problem.
She left the dragons debating which woodland creature they should entice in to test the stasis chamber and went to look for Trip. She hadn’t been upstairs in the house before and hoped she wouldn’t stumble across General Zirkander walking around naked.
He’s still at work, Jaxi spoke into her mind. You’re safe. Though Marinka was naked just a short while ago. She’s at the age where she wishes to assert herself regarding whether or not clothing should be required.
I think I can handle a nude toddler without being embarrassed.
But not a nude general? Embarrassment isn’t the emotion most women feel when they imagine Ridge naked.
Uh, imagining things and being presented things in reality are slightly different.
I suppose. It’s difficult to embarrass a soulblade, you know. I’ve seen everyone in the house nude.
Shulina Arya’s parents too? Rysha asked.
No. Thus far, they’ve kept their tweed on.
There weren’t that many rooms on the second floor, and Rysha soon found Trip, since the door was ajar. She pushed it open farther and started to step in, but paused. Large sheets of drawing-filled papers were strewn everywhere. Or were those schematics?
Trip leaned over a diaper-changing table that he was using as a desk. Rysha hoped he’d used his super sorcerer powers to sanitize it before starting.
She opened her mouth to ask but, since he hadn’t turned around yet, spent a moment admiring him from behind. He was still in his fatigue trousers, but they fit well and gave a nice glimpse of his backside, especially since he was bent over. At some point during the night—had he been up all night?—he’d removed his jacket and draped it over a chair, so he stood in his short-sleeved undershirt, also nicely fitted. His dark hair stuck out in all directions, and she suspected he’d been shoving his hand through it all night, but he looked good tousled. She imagined it could be even more tousled if he engaged in something more vigorous than drawing.
She shook her head at her fantasies while wondering why journalists weren’t writing about how wonderful and heroic—and handsome—he was instead of picking on him.
“I believe there’s an office downstairs with a desk in it,” she finally said, since he seemed too engrossed to realize she was there.
“There was a dragon sleeping in the chair in there when I peeked in.” Trip turned and beamed a surprisingly warm and heartfelt smile at her, especially given that he should have been exhausted. “I was hoping you would come.”
“Because you were bereaved without my companionship?”
“Because I need someone to check my math.”
“Hm, math wasn’t what I had in mind when I was looking at your ass.” Remembering that there were babies in cribs in the room, she glanced over at them and corrected that to, “Your butt.” She wasn’t sure at what age babies started remembering things adults said, but it was probably a good idea not to use suspect language around them at any time.
Trip’s smile widened. “Only because you haven’t seen what I’m working on yet.”
He waved for her to join him.
“Which dragon was in the office?” Rysha asked, knowing Shulina Arya seemed to prefer lawns, and it had looked like the bronzes had been up all night too.
“Phelistoth. He gave me a baleful look when I asked if I could use the office. Sardelle mentioned that he’s cranky before he’s had his coffee. And also after he’s had it. And during all the times in between.”
“He’s not as amenable a soul as Shulina Arya.” Rysha picked her way down the crooked aisle between the drawings strewn about, trying to guess what he was designing. A building? An airship? A combination of both?
“I don’t think anybody is.” Trip wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her.
Before Rysha could get excited about that kiss and wrap her arms around him to lengthen it, he drew back and pointed at the drawing in progress. It seemed he was too excited about his project for extended smooching. That was what she got for falling in love with an aspiring engineer. Maybe it was for the best. Sooner or later, the military police would think to look here for him. If he was building something important, he had better do it before they came.
Although… as she looked at the schematic or blueprint or whatever this was shaping up to be, she couldn’t imagine the actual structure being built in anything less than months. That would be a long time to evade the police.
“These are remarkably detailed.” Rysha glanced at the pencil on the table and pen in his hand. “Are you doing it all freehand without any tools?”
“I have a tool.” Trip leaned over and pulled something pink off the shelf next to a stack of diaper cloths. A six-inch ruler with a pink-spotted mushroom on the top.
“Ah, a staple for every architect. I’m impressed with how much you’ve done, but what is it exactly? It looks like a large building, but there’s a runway, and an engine room and propellers… Those aren’t balloons, are they? They look more like poofy pontoons.”
“Poofy? That can’t be an academic term.”
“If you want me to check your math, you’ll let me use whatever terms I wish.”
“So long as you don’t call my integers cute.”
“Can they be handsome? I’ve always been inordinately attracted to the number seven. Primes are sexy in general, don’t you think?”
Trip smirked. “You truly are as odd as I am. Are you sure you don’t have any dragon ancestors?”
“You’d be the one to know. There is a portrait in my father’s study of the original Lord Ravenwood, and people have compared him to an aardvark. It’s a good thing he was granted land and a title, because I don’t think he would have attracted the original Lady Ravenwood otherwise.”
Rysha eyed the drawings on the floor more carefully, gradually getting a feel for what he was designing. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t done a basic overview sketch, but… “Some kind of flying fortress?”
/> “More of a weapons platform, though I was thinking of a Cofah flying fortress that attacked the city three years ago. I remember seeing a sketch of it in the Charkolt Reader and then researching everything I could about it because I was fascinated. I was a little disappointed that it employed magic—dragon blood to be exact—and couldn’t have flown without it. Though since I’m planning to use magic in this, I can’t be an engineering elitist, I suppose.”
“Magic? Like artifacts you create or dragon blood?”
“I will likely end up using a lot of my own power to create energy supplies for the engines, but I was actually planning to ask one of the dragons for some vials of blood, yes. And to see if I can pull in Dr. Targoson for this, as he has a lot more experience with making things from their blood than I do.”
“Have our dragon allies proven willing to give blood before? I remember Kaika and Blazer taking vials from the silvers that attacked us in the Antarctic because there wasn’t any left back here.”
“I don’t think they have, no, but it’s possible the tart bribe wasn’t high enough when they were asked previously. But if they’re not so inclined, there’s a relatively fresh dragon carcass in the yard beside your castle. My understanding is that the blood stays viable for weeks after a dragon’s death, and months if it’s bottled in something airtight. Actually, that’s Jaxi’s understanding. I’m quite ignorant on the matter. I just draw things.” He waved the pink ruler. “So, the plan is to create this fortress that can hover indefinitely over the harbor or out at sea—it’ll be fully mobile so it can be moved if necessary—and to mount weapons on it capable of tracking and shooting dragons.”
“What about their barriers? Even the acid-bullets bounce off, right? Until the barriers are down? And what would keep the dragons from destroying your fortress?”
Trip grabbed a pad of paper with a bunch of arithmetic on the top page and a number circled at the bottom. “I’ll need to do some testing—or maybe someone without dragon blood who wouldn’t be bothered by it will need to do some testing—but that’s about how many pounds of metal I believe we’ll need from the banded iron quarry in Rakgorath. I’m basing my guesses on what I saw in Bhodian’s floating palace. He didn’t actually have that much of the tainted iron mixed in with the building materials, but I think it would have repelled dragons as well as sorcerers. As you remember, it nullified my powers when I was completely surrounded by it.”