The Kraken King, Part 8 Page 6

  “I know this.” She caught his face between her hands. The bleak despair in his eyes ripped at her chest, and she couldn’t allow it to stay. “I know this. And I know that if you had given in earlier she would have still threatened me to make sure you told the truth.”

  “You didn’t know then.”

  “When would you have told me of your plan? Ariq. Ariq. I understand that keeping this vow matters to you. Perhaps you won’t forgive yourself. But you don’t need to seek forgiveness from me. If you’re afraid I’ll walk away because you had to create a strategy that would allow us to escape and then had to keep it a secret from me, I assure you I won’t.”

  “You should.”

  Her heart caught in her throat. “Why?”

  “I knew you would be afraid.” Each word was scraped raw by the broken gravel in his voice. “You didn’t know what I’d planned. And because of that, you were so—”

  “Terrified?” Hysterical and sobbing.

  “And it is what I did to you. Though you have been afraid all of your life and I should have been the last to ever add to your fears. You are my heart, my life. I am your sword and shield. Above all others, my purpose is to protect you. In that moment, I was not worthy of the name husband. Of all men, that I should be the one to arrange for your terror. That I should be the one to—to—” The words stuttered to an end, as if he couldn’t bear to continue. Abruptly he fell to his knees, head bowed and his voice shattered by despair. “I am nothing before you, my wife.”

  Her heart shredded. He truly believed this. And it was not the vow that mattered to him, not truly. It was that she’d been so terrified and that he’d played a part in that terror.

  Throat aching, she sank to her knees in front of him and tilted forward until she could see up into his downturned face. “You are everything to me, Ariq.”

  His jaw clenched. He looked at her, his face pale and his eyes like fire. Just as he’d appeared when he’d looked at her across the table, with Lady Nagamochi’s sword rising above her wrist. Maybe he was seeing it again now. Maybe he would always see it.

  Zenobia saw it differently. “Until that moment, I didn’t know myself. I didn’t know all that I could be. I was so terrified, perhaps more than I’ve ever been— No, look at me,” she said when his eyes closed, as if in agony. She wanted him to see her as she was now, not the memory of how she’d appeared then. Holding his tormented gaze, she continued, “I was more terrified than I’ve ever been. Even more than when my mother died, because I was so young, and didn’t know what was happening, and didn’t know what it was to lose her. But this time, I knew. I knew everything I would lose. Yet I still chose to stand by you. To hold my silence. In that moment, I knew how strong I was. How much I could take and still not break. So I might be afraid again, but I will never be made small. I might be kidnapped and locked away, but I will never be trapped. I am not sorry to have learned that—and I love you.”

  His eyes closed, but because moisture glistened on his short eyelashes, this time she didn’t make him look at her again. And though his voice was still rough, some of the tension and despair had eased from his frame. “I do not deserve you, Zenobia.”

  “Probably not.” Smiling, she rocked forward and kissed him. “Today, I am too wonderful. Next week, you might be asking the heavens why you’ve been plagued with a stubborn, selfish woman, and what you’ve done to deserve that.”

  Shaking his head, he hauled her against his chest and held her close. “Do you still wonder if I love the spy I thought you were instead of this woman you are?”

  Her heart ached. How could she have ever worried? “No.”

  “Good.” His mouth claimed hers. Surging to his feet, he carried her to the bed.

  Desperately she kissed him, letting him feel every emotion swelling through her. The love. The need. Desire burned hot, a deepening ache between her legs and—

  Oh, dear God. She stilled, wanting to cry.

  “What is it?” His body taut, Ariq looked into her face, then around the chamber, as if seeking the source of her distress.

  Her face flamed. “I can’t. With you. Tonight. Or for two more nights, most likely.”

  His brows drew together in a frown as he studied her.

  Her cheeks would certainly combust. “You had best get used to it. It will happen every month.”

  His expression suddenly lightened. His hands cupped her bottom and he lifted her against him again. “Are you sure you can’t?”

  As if he didn’t care. Aghast, she shook her head.

  He lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck, her ear. “But a sword is meant to be bloo—”

  “Do not finish that!” Laughing, she pushed against his chest. “Dear God.”

  Grinning, he only pulled her closer again. “It doesn’t matter, my wife. I don’t need to sheathe myself inside you.”

  “No?” The hard length pressing against her belly made her doubt his claim.

  Ariq sucked in a breath when she bumped against him. He lifted her again and carried her down to the bed, so that she lay against his chest and her thighs cradled his erection. “Even if I didn’t have a cock, you would still be the most well-pleasured wife on this earth.”

  “Probably. You only have to take off your shirt and I am enraptured.”

  His laugh rumbled through his chest, then he unclipped his tunic and bared all that broad, glorious muscle. “Now yours,” he said.

  Sitting up, she straddled his hips and slowly peeled away her tunic. Her heart pounded and her nipples tightened to aching points as he gazed at her.

  Hunger darkened his eyes. “My beautiful wife,” he said softly.

  She did feel beautiful when he looked at her like that. “My husband,” she whispered, and the sweetest ache rushed over her. With her hands braced on his powerful arms, she simply stared down at him, wondering how she could survive loving him so much.

  His smile faded. “What is it?”

  Only days ago, she would have hidden this. Not now. “I feel like my heart will burst.”

  He rocked up and caught her mouth in a warm, slow kiss, and the ache inside her grew sweeter, tighter.

  And he was right. They didn’t need anything else.

  Just by being here in his arms, she was the most well-pleasured wife in the world.

  ***

  This time Ariq didn’t need to wonder what had awakened him. Though Zenobia lay quietly against him, he knew by her careful stillness that she was awake and staring into the dark. With no paper or pencil beside their bed.

  “We will find another notebook for you tomorrow,” he said quietly.

  She turned toward him. “My brother probably has one. But that is the least of our worries.”

  Yes, it was. He held her closer.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair. “What is your plan?”

  No misdirection this time. He would simply lay out the options. “We will fight. Or they will decide fighting isn’t worth it.”

  “Can your machine truly destroy a fleet?”

  “Yes.”

  “And will the empress sacrifice so many?”

  Of her sailors? “Yes.”

  “Will you have to use it, then?”

  “If I do, it is the end. They would consider using the machine against the fleet a declaration of war.” And even if Ariq won tomorrow, the empress would send more. And more. By then, even with the Skybreaker at his command, there would be no town left.

  Zenobia came up on her elbow. “That is a declaration of war? But you would be defending yourself against their aggression.”

  “It doesn’t matter. After it is over, they will say we were the threat, and the empress was only defending her people. I will be the dishonorable rebel who attacked her forces with my machine.”

  Zenobia shook against him, as if she wanted to refute that, b
ut knew she couldn’t. Histories were always written by the people who won.

  Her voice was thick as she asked, “Is there any hope?”

  “The town might burn. But the people will be safe. You helped see to that today.”

  Zenobia would be safe, too. Knowing that would always give him hope.

  Her fingers traced his jaw. “And you?”

  He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips. “I cannot make promises. But I’ll fight until my last breath to return to you.”

  A soft sob wracked her slim frame. She immediately attempted to stifle it, burying her face against his shoulder, but her tears burned against his skin.

  His throat thick, he held her. And didn’t sleep again.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  It was still dark when Ariq rose from bed. Zenobia rose with him. He dressed carefully, knowing that his appearance would matter almost as much as his words. Both had to be respectful but strong. If this battle was won or lost, it would not be by his fists or his weapons. It would be easier to fight if it was.

  He’d already arranged for a breakfast at the soup house, where he would meet with his soldiers before they began taking everyone who wouldn’t be in the machine to the town’s eastern border.

  The chilled morning air smelled heavy with recent rain. He’d given Zenobia an extra tunic to use as a coat, and she wrapped it tightly around herself as they passed through his gate and onto the street. A borrowed tunic. Borrowed boots. She’d lost everything—and all of it because of what others wanted from him. If Ariq had never shown interest in her, she would have still possessed her belongings, her gold, her letters and her manuscript. Yet despite all of the danger that being with him had added to her life, she was still here.

  And slowing as she walked. He glanced ahead. Other townspeople were gathering in the streets, all of them gazing east.

  Zenobia tugged on his sleeve. “Ariq. Look at that.”

  Against the eastern night sky, hundreds of lights bobbed in the distance like fireflies. Ariq stared, not daring to believe. The darkness hid too much and his town couldn’t afford for him to be wrong.

  Ariq watched until he was certain the bobbing pattern could only mean one thing. The lights weren’t from fireflies—they were lanterns suspended on walking machines.

  The laugh that burst through him then was propelled by sheer relief. Grabbing Zenobia’s waist, he swept her up and kissed her full on the mouth.

  She was smiling when he raised his head. “What is it?”

  A little more hope. “The Wajarri,” he said.

  ***

  Ariq was obviously grateful for the support of Meeng’s tribe. So was Zenobia. But as the sun rose over nearly three hundred walking machines forming a wall of steel on the eastern side of the town, she didn’t see how they would make any difference. They were an awesome sight, but the thin metal frames provided the Wajarri little protection, and the fleet’s firebombs would surely destroy them. Looking from the line of giant walking machines to the fleet and their airships in the west, Zenobia didn’t know how this still wouldn’t end with the town completely destroyed and most of its people dead.

  Yet she wasn’t afraid. What she felt now was beyond fear. This was dread that settled in her bones, dug icy claws into her gut, and seemed to rip a new doubt and worry from her brain with every second that passed and the admiral’s midday deadline drew closer.

  The only relief came from keeping busy, helping to load steamcoaches and wagons, and assisting those who couldn’t easily walk to the outskirts of town under their own power. Soon the walking machines’ wall of steel had a shorter wall of humans at its base, and Zenobia could hardly bear to see the fear and hope that many wore so nakedly on their faces.

  The town was all but empty when she and Mara returned for the final time, searching for Archimedes. They found him standing with Cooper beneath Lady Nergüi’s shadow and apart from a larger group of Ariq’s soldiers. The only sound was Ariq’s voice as he spoke to them in Mongolian. Giving them their final instructions, she assumed—which meant it was almost time for her to go, too.

  Quietly, she asked her brother, “Is there anything else that needs to be done before I board Lady Nergüi?”

  “You’re not boarding her.” When she looked at him in surprise, Archimedes said, “Yasmeen and I are flying your husband out to speak with Lady Nagamochi.”

  “She’s here?” Zenobia looked to the western sky, searching for a new airship. But there wasn’t just one. There were several new vessels—all in the red and gold that indicated the presence of the imperial guard. “When did she arrive?”

  “Only a few minutes ago.”

  Her heart thudded sickly against her ribs. “And you’re taking Ariq out there?”

  Though she’d tried to keep the sudden panic out of her voice, she hadn’t concealed it well enough to fool her brother. Archimedes caught her face between his hands, made her look into eyes so similar to her own. “It will be all right, Z.”

  Would it? The three people she loved the most in the world would be on an airship that was heading straight into an enemy’s line of fire. “You will all be so vulnerable.”

  “We’ll be all right,” he said. “His soldiers will be bringing out the machine—not to attack, but just as a warning that any aggression will be answered.”

  Why wasn’t Ariq going to be in the machine? But she knew. He could hardly negotiate from inside it.

  Though her stomach roiled, she swallowed down the sick fear. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Be safe, so we don’t worry about you.”

  God. She didn’t exactly have a talent for staying safe.

  No . . . her talent was a different one.

  Abruptly she turned to Mara. “We need to talk to Tsetseg as soon as Ariq is finished speaking to his soldiers. And find a notebook,” she said urgently. “And that pirate queen.”

  ***

  The calm that Ariq carefully fought for as he rode the cargo lift up to Lady Nergüi’s decks vanished the moment he saw Zenobia rushing across the boards toward him, a notebook clutched to her chest.

  Tengri help him. He couldn’t fight her on this now, but she absolutely could not be on this airship. “Why aren’t you at the eastern boundary?”

  “I was going to be.” She slipped past him and onto the cargo lift, where she struck the chains, signaling for the crew to lower it to the ground again. “But I’m going to be in the Skybreaker, instead. I’ve already asked Tsetseg and she said I won’t be in the way.”

  In the machine? He slammed the lift’s lever back, stopping its descent. The platform halted a few feet below the deck. “Tell me why.” His wife was sensible. She had to have a reason. “Is this for the adventure?”

  “No.” Her jade eyes were serious as she looked up at him. “Mara and Cooper will be with me. I’ll be safe.”

  That was true. The machine was probably the safest place to be right now. “But tell me why.”

  “Because I can’t fight. I can’t shoot a gun, and I’m useless with a sword. But I have this.” She held up her pencil. “And you told me that if the worst happens, you’ll be painted as a threat and as the aggressor. But I can paint a different story. Because no matter what happens, Mara and Cooper will see that I make it out of here alive. I can make certain that everyone knows the truth of what occurred, because I will have heard every order issued in that machine—and I’ve asked Aisha to take photographs from the edge of town with her tintype camera. If we need to, we will stand witness that you only tried to defend them all.”

  He could not love her more. “My wife,” he said roughly, then leaned over the rail and palmed the back of her head. She rose up and met his kiss, her lips sweet and soft.

  “Be safe,” she whispered when he let go, and her voice was clogged with tears. “Because I don’t want to write that story. I lik
e happier endings.”

  So did Ariq. But he wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He kissed her again, then pulled back the lever. The platform lowered on rattling chains, and he held her gaze all the way down. He couldn’t love her more.

  But he already did.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  With Mara and Cooper at her sides, Zenobia raced with them down the streets to Ariq’s home, and to the pump house behind it that served as the entrance to the Skybreaker’s chamber.

  The mercenaries were barely winded when they caught up to the soldiers descending the narrow stairs, but Zenobia gasped for air like a cheap steamcart. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned. God, she should have infected herself with nanoagents first. Sprinting long distances would be so much easier.

  They rushed past a machine that filled most of the chamber with pipes and pistons—the actual pumps, Zenobia realized. Ahead, Tsetseg vanished behind a holding tank. The other soldiers followed her.

  A hidden entrance. Little more than a hole cut in the floor, it could be covered with a pipe when they’d passed through. Chilled air swept Zenobia’s face as she looked in. A ladder led down into darkness. Tsetseg had gone through first, holding a lantern, and she had not even reached the bottom yet. Even the light didn’t touch the floor, and there was nothing to see but the ladder and the soldiers descending it. Just endless dark.

  Cooper slipped past her and started down. God. He was so high above the ground . . . wherever that was.

  Mara touched her shoulder. “Are you all right? Can you do this?”

  Zenobia tucked her notebook into her tunic and gathered her courage. “I can.”

  ***

  From the airship’s deck, Ariq could follow Zenobia’s path to the entrance of the pump house, battling his every instinct to go after her. It might be the only battle he won that day—and he didn’t know if that victory would be worth it.

  The sun rose higher. Almost midday. He hadn’t seen any contact between the imperial guard and the admiral’s ironship, but they might have a communicating device that allowed them to speak from ship to ship.