Arms around her waist, Sicarius stepped close, his chest pressing against her back. Something—his chin?—came to rest on her shoulder.
“This... may be a foolish question, given our positions,” Amaranthe said, her voice a little squeaky, “but is this... a hug?”
Sure, he’d hugged her before—so few times that she had no trouble counting them—but that had usually been after she’d nearly gotten herself killed some way or another. Certainly never during a mission when there was work to be done and other people were nearby.
Sicarius snorted softly at her question, his breath whispering across her neck, stirring gooseflesh. “Thank you.”
The quiet words startled her more than the hug. Amaranthe couldn’t ever remember him saying them.
“For... sending the men to look in the shaman’s cave? For going against your wishes and bringing along Sergeant Yara, who, as you noticed, vouched for us to Sespian? Or maybe for my unique style of leadership which, at no extra charge, includes non-linear thinking, inappropriate jokes, and a tendency to blow things up?” Stop burbling, a voice in the back of her mind said. She’d been wanting hugs—all right, more than hugs—from him for a long time, so she should simply appreciate the rare moment.
“Yes.” He kissed her on the neck, and the warmth of his lips sent a wave of heat through her.
Amaranthe closed her eyes and leaned back into him, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles beneath his shirt molding into her back. She clasped his hands with her own, exploring his strong, calloused fingers with her thumb. His neatly trimmed nails were lacking in teeth marks. He had to have been as worried of late as she, but chewing on nails had perhaps not been allowed during his young-assassin training sessions.
Too soon, Sicarius lowered his arms and stepped back. “Later.”
“Wait,” Amaranthe blurted, spinning and groping in the dark to catch one of his hands. “Later, what does that mean? Later, we’ll resume hugging in a dark room? Later, there’ll be more than hugging in a dark room?” A cool draft brushed against the skin of her neck, reminding her of the feel of his lips there.
Sicarius opened the door, and Amaranthe groaned to herself, knowing she wasn’t going to get an answer. But, on the way out, he squeezed her hand. Before he disappeared into the corridor, he gave her a backward glance with the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Huh,” she murmured.
It took Amaranthe a moment to collect herself and push musings of what “later” might entail to the back of her mind. When she stepped into the corridor, she was almost knocked on her rump by a sweaty, bare-chested Maldynado skittering backward past the door. He paused in a crouch, his face to the navigation cabin, his fists cocked.
“What are you—” Amaranthe started.
“I’m faster than you thought, aren’t I?” Maldynado asked, ignoring Amaranthe. “You’ll need to come up with more speed or fancier combinations than that to touch me.”
“All you’ve proven so far is that you’re good at running away,” came Yara’s voice from a few paces farther up the corridor.
She was stalking toward him, her fingers curled into fists, her face flushed with exertion.
“I don’t want to hurt you by throwing a punch that’ll knock you on your lean little rump,” Maldynado drawled. “I thought it was sufficient proof of my manliness that I could evade all your attempts to pummel me.” He spread a hand across his muscular chest, fingers splayed.
“Hurt me!” Yara sputtered. “You couldn’t hit a drunk possum stuffed in a sack.”
“What a lovely image,” Maldynado said. “Is that one of your rural adages? It’s quite charming.”
Yara charged him. Maldynado danced back into the cargo bay and glided to the side when Yara ran in. She jumped after him and launched a punch at his belly, a quick jab that would have caught up with many opponents, but he evaded it easily.
Before Amaranthe could veer for Sespian’s suite, Maldynado and Yara sparred their way back down the corridor. Amaranthe stepped between them, hands upraised. “It’s very possible that enemy craft is coming back to visit us. Would you two mind making sure everything in the cargo area is battened down, in case there’s an... altercation?”
A sheepish expression on her face, Yara said, “Of course,” and hustled to the cargo bay.
Though Maldynado couldn’t have managed a sheepish expression if he’d tried, he did shrug and start to stroll in that direction. Amaranthe caught him by the bare, sweaty arm.
“What are you doing?”
Maldynado’s eyes widened innocently. “What do you mean?”
“She finds you annoying. Why are you bugging her by inflicting yourself upon her?”
“She only thinks she finds me annoying.” Maldynado smiled and gestured toward the corridor. “This seemed like the best way.”
“Way for what?” Amaranthe wondered if she truly wanted the answer.
“Wooing her, of course.”
“Wooing?”
“It’s drafty up here. You don’t think I’d be running around with my shirt off for no reason, do you?”
Amaranthe glanced toward the cargo bay, but Yara was out of sight. “What do you mean wooing her? Are you joking?”
“Of course not, boss. We’ve been out of town for several days now, and a man has needs.”
Amaranthe dropped her forehead into her palm. “I didn’t think you even liked her.”
“Oh, she’s insufferable, but there aren’t many options up here. She’s prettier than Books anyway.”
“Listen, Maldynado. I don’t think you’re going to have much luck wooing her, but either way, she’s off limits.”
“What? Why?”
Aware of the fact that Sespian was probably in his suite a few feet away, Amaranthe lowered her voice. “I brought her along for the emperor.”
“Uh, pardon?”
Amaranthe wasn’t about to go into the real reason, so she said, “He’s the one who promoted her, and I think she feels loyal to him. Maybe more.” The last was a stretch—nothing Yara had said implied she had romantic notions toward the emperor, but surely he was a more appealing candidate than Maldynado, someone who could vex her without saying a word.
“If that’s her interest, that’s fine,” Maldynado said, “but I’m not going to step aside for his sake.”
“I don’t think it’s very gentlemanly of you to pursue a woman you’re not genuinely interested in.”
“Maybe not, but I’m a disowned lout, not a gentleman, remember?”
Amaranthe was surprised he was fighting her on this. He usually accepted orders without much of a battle, so long as they didn’t involve getting up too early. “But what if the emperor developed real feelings for her? He could offer her a wonderful future, not simply a roll around the cargo bay.”
“If he wants her, he can fight for her.”
Amaranthe opened her mouth, intending to protest more, but Maldynado added, “I don’t think it should be within your prerogative as my employer to tell me whom I can and can’t date.”
Her shoulders slumped. He was right. Amaranthe didn’t even know if Sespian had any interest in Yara or vice versa. She’d simply hoped that she could play matchmaker and forever end Sicarius’s concern that Sespian might have feelings Amaranthe. Well, maybe that could still happen. Maldynado might be pretty, and he might look quite scintillating walking around with his shirt off, but Yara didn’t seem to be impressed with any of that. Maybe she’d prefer a sweet fellow who would treat her well. Anyway, Sespian hadn’t said anything on the train that suggested he still had feelings for Amaranthe. Maybe he’d forgotten all about it when the drugs wore off.
“Very well,” Amaranthe said. “Do as you wish.”
She left Maldynado scratching his head, and she wondered if she should have fought harder. He seemed to have expected to lose.
Amaranthe lifted her hand to knock on Sespian’s door, but paused. She heard voices. Had Sicarius gone in to speak with Sespian? If so, maybe sh
e should wait. But, no, he’d asked for her help for any conversations they might have.
She knocked, and the conversation stopped.
“Come in,” Sespian called through the door.
When Amaranthe entered, she found Books in there with Sespian, not Sicarius. He sat on one of two purple velvet chairs edged in gold trim with a crystal chandelier dangling precariously low overhead. Books’s hands were on his knees, and he wore an earnest expression on his face. Sespian faced him while sitting cross-legged on a wide bed draped in flawless white furs. Barefoot and clad in rumpled clothes stained with grease and coal, he didn’t quite fit into the opulent room. Amaranthe wished she’d thought to have fresh clothing available for him. Women were supposed to think of such things, weren’t they? When they weren’t busy planning kidnappings and train infiltrations?
“Come in, Corporal Lokdon,” Sespian said.
Amaranthe realized she hadn’t moved passed the threshold. She took a couple of steps, then hesitated again. “I’m sorry, Sire. I’m not sure what the proper protocol is.” She looked toward Books for advice. “Should I bow or curtsey as I come in?”
Sespian’s eyebrows arched. “You’re worrying about protocol now? You were giving me orders and having me shovel coal before.”
“That’s when we were busy kidnapping you. Given the chaos of the moment, it seemed more acceptable to be remiss in social responsibilities then.” Amaranthe waved toward Books. “I thought you were piloting the dirigible.”
“Basilard said he’d get me if anything came up.”
“Ah. Are you discussing... economics?” Though removing the implant was foremost in Amaranthe’s mind, she ached to know what mission Sespian had in Sunders City and how it might tie in with the team’s counterfeiting scheme from the winter before.
Books’s brow crinkled in puzzlement.
“Not yet,” Sespian said.
“I came to, ah...” Books picked at a thread on the arm of his chair.
Sespian waved Amaranthe toward the second chair. “He’s been inquiring after the fate of the Spearcrests.”
Ah, Books hadn’t mentioned Vonsha Spearcrest often, but Amaranthe had suspected he still had feelings for the woman, despite her betrayal.
“Yes,” Books said, “it seems the family was asked to retire in the south.”
“On a piece of land near the Gulf,” Sespian said. “Their role in the water debacle demanded reprisal, but I didn’t wish to decimate the entire family because of the actions of one individual, one who had a reason to feel bitterly toward the throne. They’ve been asked not to return to the capital, but they retain their warrior-caste status, and their new home is arguably more appealing than that remote mountain property.”
“It has lemon trees,” Books said, “and a view of the water.”
A longing note in his voice made Amaranthe wonder if he was thinking of retirement too. Or maybe visiting Vonsha. As far as Amaranthe had heard, the woman had been sleeping with that shaman and had only spent the night with Books to distract him, but she supposed it could be hard to put feelings aside, no matter how inappropriate they were. Not for the first time, she thought of what her father would have to say if he were alive and knew she was mooning after an assassin.
“I came to talk to you about the implant, Sire,” Amaranthe said. “The men recovered samples and a schematic, and Akstyr believes he can remove the device. How would you feel about a small surgery?”
“A schematic?”
“Yes,” Books said. “From the Mangdorian shaman who made the devices. I translated the text for Akstyr, and he studied it on the way here.”
“Surgery, you say.” Sespian touched his neck. “There’s a possibility of death, I assume.”
“Yes,” Books said. “According to the information I translated, the implants were never intended to come out. In fact, they’re something of a death sentence. Even if they’re not called upon by their controller, they wear out after about six months, and the poison within leaks into the bloodstream where it—”
“Books,” Amaranthe whispered, making a cutting-off motion with her hand. “Let’s focus on the details of how it can be removed, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, yes, I apologize, Sire.”
Though Sespian had grown pale, he said, “No, it’s fine. I want to know everything before I make any decisions.”
“That’s about all I have. Akstyr will have to tell you the rest.” Books shifted to face Amaranthe. “Though I need to talk to you about our flight over here. The pilot Lady Buckingcrest sent with us assaulted me, and there were two men hiding in the engine room who tried to shoot Akstyr when he went down to explore.”
“I see.” Amaranthe dropped her chin into her hand. “Do you think the men might have been along to spy and Akstyr, in stumbling across them, forced them to take action?”
“The pilot wasn’t open to discussing the situation with us, and the other two died in the fight. Akstyr was lucky to survive.”
Amaranthe glanced at Sespian, worried he would frown with disapproval over men being dispatched, whether it was in a fight or not, but whatever he was thinking wasn’t on his face. He’d been much easier to read when he’d been influenced by that drug. Now, he reminded her more of Sicarius, though there was a gentleness to his visage, even when it wasn’t giving anything away.
“Is it possible Maldynado’s lady friend is a member of Forge?” Amaranthe asked Books. “Or one of their allies? And unbeknownst to Maldynado, she sent the men along to hinder us?”
“Perhaps. Or...” Books eyed the open door and lowered his voice. “What if it wasn’t unbeknownst to Maldynado?”
A chill crept in the pit of Amaranthe’s stomach. “What are you saying?”
“He’s the one who directed us to Lady Buckingcrest and this mode of transportation. As I recall, you had another errand you wished him to accompany you on that night, but he insisted that we needed a superior conveyance.”
Sespian’s interest sharpened at this new turn in the conversation. “As a Marblecrest, he could stand to gain much if his family took the throne. If Forge knows you’re between them and success, they might have infiltrated your group with a spy.”
Amaranthe raised both hands and patted the air. “Maldynado’s not a spy. He’s the first man I recruited for my team, and running into him was accidental.”
“Are you certain?” Sespian asked.
“Yes. I was dodging enforcers at the time, and he was wearing a loincloth. Nobody would set something like that up. Since then, he’s been among my most loyal of team members.”
“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?” Sespian stroked his chin. “An unreliable man would be suspect or in danger of being released.”
“He’s not a spy, Sire. We’ve been through life and death together in the last nine months. He would have gotten fed up and left my side at some point if he didn’t have a very good reason for being there.” Amaranthe glowered at Books, annoyed that he’d brought this up in front of the emperor. Sespian had just met Maldynado and had no reason to trust him yet, but Books ought to know better.
“And what is that reason?” Sespian asked.
“He wants a statue made of himself,” Books said.
“I see,” Sespian said in a tone that meant he didn’t think that was “a very good reason” at all.
Amaranthe sighed. “Let’s wait until we have more evidence before we start accusing comrades of colluding with the enemy. For all we know, those two men followed Books and Akstyr, snuck on board, and were hoping to collect someone’s bounty.”
“That wouldn’t explain why the pilot attacked us,” Books said, “but I’ll agree that there’s insufficient evidence to accuse anyone. Besides, Akstyr might be the one to blame for at least some of our troubles. He has a new bounty on his head, and he told his mother he’d be at Forkingrust or the pass.”
“His mother?” Amaranthe resolved to get the full story from Books, but he’d already said more in front of the emperor
than she would have liked.
Someone cleared his throat in the corridor. Basilard. We are approaching a tall mountain, and this boat may need to make a course adjustment.
Books stood, bowed to Sespian with a, “Sire,” and headed for the door.
Also Maldynado is attempting to teach himself how to pilot.
“Dear ancestors.” Books’s calm walk toward the door turned into a sprint.
“Boat?” Amaranthe asked Basilard, in part because the word choice amused her and also because she wanted Sespian to know they weren’t chatting about suspicious things when her people signed back and forth.
No word yet for... Basilard pointed toward the ceiling.
“Not many dirigibles in your mountain homeland, eh?” Amaranthe asked. Though Sespian had other concerns at the moment, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him that Basilard was a foreigner, here helping because he wanted to improve his people’s lot.
Basilard shook his head and lifted a hand for a departing wave.
Shut the door, please, Amaranthe signed. And if you see Sicarius, can you tell him to join us in a few minutes?
After Basilard left, Sespian crossed a finger over his throat and asked, “What’s that sign mean?”
“Ah, that’s the one Basilard made up for Sicarius.”
Sespian grimaced. “I hope you were telling him to have him leave us alone.”
“If you’re left alone with me, I’ll pour all my efforts into convincing you to let us perform this surgery on you and then to use my team as your own personal... emperor’s edge.” Amaranthe felt silly saying the group’s name—Maldynado had teased her about it so often that she’d stopped using it—but maybe it would amuse Sespian.
“Hm,” was all he said.
“Are you thinking of letting us try to remove it?” Amaranthe asked, wanting a feel for where he stood.
“Oh, I’m thinking of very little else. Having the promise of instant death held over my head every day for the last five months has dampened my enthusiasm for my job. In the beginning, I thought I could fight Forge, keep them out of the Barracks and the government, but they have spies everywhere. Knowing they can track me down and end my life at any time has made it difficult to keep up the fight, but if the implant were gone...”