The Kraken King Read online

But he wouldn’t hurt her. If an enemy found her out, they would. She’d have a blade at the back of her neck.

  And Ariq would never let that happen.

  Taka suddenly sobered. Thinking of their mother, too. “I hope she isn’t one.”

  “She might not be,” Ariq said. “She might have been forced into it, instead. Not everyone who carries information wants to.”

  But voluntary or not, she would still be in danger if discovered.

  “Pushed into it by the French?” Taka asked. “Blanchett wanted to travel with you to the smugglers’ dens as soon as he heard the ladies were.”

  Ariq shook his head. Blanchett’s request to join them had been a rueful one—and as a former commander in the rebellion, one that Ariq understood well. The lieutenant had been caught in an impossible situation. When he’d first arrived, he’d chosen the prudent course: to remain in town until a ship could be sent for him and his aviators. If he’d chosen any other route to the Red City, his superiors would have reprimanded him for taking unnecessary risks. But if two women from the airship arrived in the Red City and Blanchett did not, his superiors would question his capabilities. So Ariq would keep an eye on the lieutenant, but didn’t suspect the man now.

  Saito downed the remainder of his tea and wiped the drops from his beard. “What of the mercenaries? Are her guards helping her, or were they hired by someone else to force her along?”

  “Helping her.” Ariq had seen the affection and respect between them.

  But helping Zenobia might also mean making certain she stayed on course—and her attentions toward Ariq had abruptly changed after speaking with Mara Cooper. Had the mercenary reminded her of the mission? That made more sense than anything else he’d tried to imagine. Perhaps Zenobia had made the same decision Ariq had. His town had been threatened; he’d chosen to fight that battle rather than fight for her heart.

  If she’d been forced into carrying information, someone must have a hold over her, as well. Perhaps keeping something she cared about hostage. Of course she would choose that over a man she’d only just met.

  Whatever she carried, Ariq would help her. He’d keep her safe. But why did she worry about Ariq suspecting her? Unless the information she needed to deliver concerned the rebellion. He no longer fought with them, but his loyalty wasn’t in question.

  Would it affect the rebellion? Ariq couldn’t see how she could know anything of it. But he’d find out.

  Ariq glanced at the letter again. The Kraken King suspects me.

  Of what?

  ***

  Zenobia hadn’t written a word on her manuscript since the attack on the airship. To avoid attracting notice, she’d stopped jotting ideas into her notebook, as well. Now she stood beneath a pink sky watching their supplies being loaded into two mountain walkers, and didn’t know how she would find a private moment to work. She’d go mad.

  If the seating arrangement didn’t destroy her sanity first.

  “So we ride with the governor?” Helene said beside her.

  Her friend sounded delighted by the idea. And why not? Helene was feeling generous toward the man, and Zenobia hadn’t said exactly why he’d fallen out of her favor. Helene probably meant to throw them together, starting the moment they boarded the vehicle.

  Now that the mountain walker stood before her in the light of day rather than creeping down a street at night, the machine didn’t resemble a spider so much. More like a crab, with a carriage on its back and storage in the belly. Two of the jellyfish balloon flyers waited nearby. Cooper would ride one. The other would be flown by the wiry man waiting silently beside his flyer, his hair hanging in ropes to his shoulders and his dark chest bare. A native Australian, she thought. Four of the townspeople—three men and one woman—were taking the small crawlers that resembled the walkers, but were half the size. And so they would all journey across the Australian southwest, a family of mechanical spiders and two flies.

  Three aviators had joined Blanchett at the second walker. The lieutenant had been given a quick education on driving the machine the previous day. Zenobia wished she’d taken that lesson, as well. Instead she and Helene had spent the day buying items needed for the trip.

  “Perhaps you would like company, Lieutenant?” she called up to him. The arrangement was that each walker would carry four people, but there was space in each for at least twice that number.

  “I would.” Standing on the walker’s ladder, Blanchett hefted a tin water canteen into the carriage. “But I must decline. I am not as accomplished a driver as the governor. I would never forgive myself if I endangered you.”

  “But you will endanger them?” Zenobia nodded to the three aviators who would be traveling with him.

  Blanchett grinned. “I will.”

  “Geraldine, I’ll sit in the rear-facing seat with Mara,” Helene offered. “I’m sure you want to jot your little notes about everything you see.”

  Helene looked much too pleased with herself for coming up with that excuse to put Zenobia beside the governor. Zenobia might have asked Mara to take the front, but Helene would pop a vein at the thought of placing a maid next to him, and would take the seat herself.

  If the governor wanted to know Zenobia’s secrets, there were few better people to ask than her friend from girlhood. Helene would only have to let slip Zenobia’s maiden name and the governor might realize who her brother was.

  So perhaps it was for the best. Zenobia couldn’t steer the machine, but she might be able to determine the course of any conversation.

  The last bundle of supplies went up into the walker’s belly. They’d hoped to be off by sunrise. So where was the governor?

  She looked to the south and saw him walking toward them, with his brother and Commander Saito at his sides. He stood a head taller than the other two men. Gone was the beautiful embroidered tunic from the first evening. He’d replaced it with a simple blue one that fastened with a brass buckle at his shoulder, edged in darker piping that matched his trousers. A wide belt cinched the tunic closed. Zenobia’s own tunic was disturbingly similar. Though longer, with a hem that reached her knees instead of stopping at her thighs, it had apparently been made of the same fabric by the same seamstress.

  It wasn’t so surprising. This was a small town. The seamstress made men’s clothing, too, and she likely had a limited variety of cloth. Half the people in Krakentown probably had a similar tunic.

  Still, the tips of her ears burned. She and the governor looked like a matched set.

  Helene muffled a laugh behind her hand, then rushed out from beneath Zenobia’s glare.

  “Governor! Commander!” Her friend hurried forward to bow and give her thanks.

  Zenobia remained where she stood, her stomach in heated knots. She wanted to tell herself that it was just remembered anger, or hurt—or even the irritation of wearing similar clothing, as if it declared her his.

  But, no. This was the portion of herself that still wanted everything between them to be like that first day, when she’d held his every glance and word and laugh close to her heart for safekeeping. When she hadn’t been able to stop looking at his mouth and anticipating a kiss. When she’d felt a part of something unexpected and wonderful.

  The fanciful, stupid portion of herself. She wished it was easy to tuck away, like her luggage. Right up into the belly of a cold, unfeeling machine. And fool that she was, Zenobia was staring at his mouth again, watching him greet Helene.

  Then he looked past her friend and his gaze narrowed on Zenobia.

  Instantly the knots in her stomach tugged tighter. His expression seemed speculative and determined, but she didn’t know what he was thinking.

  She shouldn’t care what he was thinking. After an abrupt nod of greeting, she looked away. Smoke stained the view toward the bay. The townspeople must have started roasting the kraken on the beach. Above, pink and gold gilded wisps of clouds. The day promised to be hot and humid again.

  Even watching the sky, she was aware of his ap
proach. Helene’s chatter moved closer, punctuated by short replies from the men. It was as if Zenobia couldn’t hear anything but that conversation. Her friend was already telling the governor how they’d decided on their seating arrangements.

  And of course she made it sound as if Zenobia had asked to sit beside him.

  By the balloon flyer, Mara gave Cooper a quick kiss—Helene must not have seen that, or Zenobia would have heard a scandalized gasp—before joining them.

  She was surprised when the governor’s brother approached her, as well. He spoke and Mara translated, “It would be my honor to assist you onto the ladder.”

  He looked sincere. He must think that ugly women couldn’t climb, or that her long nose would get hung up while rising past one of the rungs, and had decided to take pity on her. How kind.

  “Thank you,” she said, then her heart jumped when the governor spoke beside her.

  “The other ladies first, Taka, so that they can settle in the back.” His voice lowered as his brother took Helene’s hand. “Did you secure everything you need, Lady Inkslinger?”

  “I believe so.”

  Despite her offer to pay for supplies, he’d taken care of the food, tents, and fuel. She and Helene had only needed to replace the personal items lost on the airship.

  His brother turned to help Mara, but Cooper was already there. With a grin, he boosted his wife level with the carriage in one smooth toss. She easily caught the ladder at the top rung and laughed down at him before climbing in.

  Unwelcome envy stabbed Zenobia’s heart. Anyone could leap to great heights on steel legs or listen to distant conversations. They only needed an infection of tiny mechanical nanoagents and a clever blacksmith to create the devices. But she didn’t know of any inventor who could build what the two mercenaries shared. People fell in love all the time. Yet somehow, love was still precious and rare and difficult.

  But maybe inventors had the right idea. Creating automatons was so much easier than manufacturing love. The machines would probably be easier to live with than people were, too.

  Taka glanced at Zenobia and extended his hand. The governor spoke in Nipponese. His brother moved to the side of the ladder, as if waiting.

  She didn’t want to look at the governor, but movement drew her gaze to his chest. He withdrew two small bottles from the fold of his tunic and offered them to her.

  “Kraken ink,” he said.

  She would not think well of him. Her heart only leapt as her fingers brushed his because the ink was marvelous. “Thank you.”

  “As I promised.”

  Before she’d rejected him. She hoped he wouldn’t misunderstand her accepting the gift. “My friend is determined for me to sit with you. I trust you will not take it as encouragement.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  “But you may take everything I say as encouragement.”

  Her gaze shot to his profile. “What?”

  “Every word I say. Everything I do. You may take it as encouragement,” he said as easily as if he were only remarking on the color of the sky. He wasn’t even looking at her, but surveying the other machines as their engines started. “If you change your mind again, know that my desires remain the same.”

  Like a lash of a whip, anger cracked through her surprise. He didn’t desire her. “For me to visit your bed?”

  If he did want her in bed, it wasn’t for herself. Only to gain her trust, to seduce away her secrets.

  “Yes.” Now he looked at her, his gaze burning. “And I desire to know why you need to leave my town so quickly. Why you travel with guards. Why your airship was attacked.”

  He not only wanted her secrets, but Helene’s, too. And answers that she simply didn’t know. What could the marauders have to do with her?

  “Geraldine!” Helene’s voice came from above. “We are settled!”

  And waiting on her. She glanced at Taka, but the governor moved behind her before his brother could assist. Big hands spanned her waist and he lifted her onto the ladder. For a moment, his broad chest was hard against her back.

  “I also want to know why you refuse me, then look at my mouth as if you wonder how I’ll taste.” Carried on a warm breath, his voice was deep and soft against her ear. “And I want to know why your friend calls you Geraldine, but your maid called you Zenobia.”

  Her fingers slipped from the rung. Tension steeled her body. She didn’t fall. He still had hold of her.

  Though her heart pounded, she said evenly, “You misheard.”

  “I didn’t.” The hands at her waist tightened when she reached for the rung again, keeping her securely against him. “Whatever you are running from or running toward, I will help you.”

  “Sir.” She put iron into her voice and gripped the ladder. “Right now, I am trying to get away from you.”

  He let her go.

  VI

  She shouldn’t have worried that Helene would spill secrets. Within twenty minutes of starting off, the slight rocking motion of the walker had her spilling her breakfast over the side instead. Her friend sat with her eyes closed and a wet cloth over her forehead through the remainder of the morning, and didn’t talk much at all.

  None of them were talking. Mara sat quietly, watchful as always. The governor seemed occupied by his own thoughts—and he was occupying hers.

  He’d heard Mara call her Zenobia. When? She couldn’t remember—and the mercenary was usually so careful. Was he testing her reaction? Did he already suspect that she was Zenobia Fox or had he only heard the first name? Had the notebook given her away?

  Whatever he suspected, she didn’t think he was after money. He knew she was hiding something and he’d offered to help. But perhaps that was test, too, and he was searching for confirmation of his suspicions.

  Well, she would not confirm anything. Revealing her identity might put her in danger—or her brother. Archimedes could take care of himself. And if he couldn’t, then his wife would tear apart anyone who threatened him. But Zenobia didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

  Again.

  At least the governor wasn’t like the other men who had pretended interest in her but whose eyes had been on her money. He’d told her what he wanted. Mara had overheard him saying that he wanted to know her secrets, and he’d seemed deceptive. But only two days later, he had come out and said it himself.

  Zenobia had no intention of exposing herself, but his bluntness was refreshing.

  By midday, the heat wrapped around them like a heavy wet blanket. The shade from the canvas canopy provided little relief. The landscape had settled into a flat brushland dotted with stiff shrubs and leafy trees. Birds chattered constantly over the hiss of the hydraulics. Feeling hot and sticky, Zenobia watched it all pass beside the walker’s swiftly undulating legs, wishing for her notebook. Surely a sketch wouldn’t be suspicious? A deer poked its head up from behind a bush, dark limpid eyes watching them approach. Then its full body came into view, and Zenobia sat forward, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. The deer here could sit on their haunches and feed themselves with their hands!

  “A kangaroo,” the governor said, as if he’d noted the direction of her astonished gaze.

  A kangaroo. Not a deer. It stared at the walker for a moment longer, chewing a mouthful of leaves, then suddenly bounded away.

  Averting her face, she silently laughed at herself to tears, stiffly trying to conceal the shaking of her body. She didn’t do very well. Though he wasn’t looking at her, the Kraken King wore a slight smile when she finally got hold of herself and dared a glance his way.

  She had been trying not to look in his direction. He would know she was—just as she could see when he was watching her. He had often. Not always. His gaze frequently scanned the landscape. But the walker was simple to drive; he’d only had to set the direction and engage the engine. Aside from guiding it around trees, the navigation didn’t require close attention. From the corner of her eye, she could see when he glance
d her way.

  Now he stared straight ahead. He must be aware that she was studying his profile, but probably also knew that she would look away if he turned his head to meet her gaze.

  And she would. Instead of boldly staring at him, she would slide her gaze away. She hated herself for that.

  She hated herself for not turning away now. But she liked the look of him. She liked the way his trousers pulled tight over his thighs, and remembering how hard his muscles had been. She liked the easy grip of his big hands on the steering levers. As the temperature had climbed, he’d unfastened the buckle at his shoulder and folded the collar of his tunic down, and she liked the triangle of smooth brown skin exposed at his throat. In this heat, she’d have loved to let the flap of her tunic fall open, too. She liked his jaw, the angular lines of his face and the high set of his cheekbones. She liked the heavy-lidded darkness of his eyes and the low, brooding cast to his brows, suggesting that weighty thoughts were never far from his mind. She liked the blunt knot of hair high on the back of his head, as if he’d gathered it all together and cut straight across.

  He glanced at her face and Zenobia dropped her gaze to his mouth, because he already knew she liked looking at it and if she was going to hate herself, then she would at least please herself at the same time.

  Except it apparently pleased him, too. His mouth widened into another smile while she was watching, and she tore her gaze away and looked over her shoulder. Lieutenant Blanchett’s walker trailed behind far enough to avoid the dust kicked up from their passing.

  On the rear bench, Helene was reading one of the books she’d purchased before they’d left town. Mara appeared asleep, but Zenobia knew the mercenary had only closed her eyes and activated her listening device—not just to detect nearby threats, but those from afar. Cooper and Meeng’s flyers were tiny spots in the distance. The two men were scouting ahead, but also had to secure permission to enter the next territory, which the governor had said might take the better part of the day; they would stop at the boundary and wait for the tribe to grant them all passage. The two smaller crawlers walked a half mile ahead, one far to the right and the other to the left, staying just within sight.