| |
Shortly before lunchtime, Gideon and I woke to an empty hotel suite. Niffin had left a note explaining he, Malita, and Brigette had gone out to gather supplies and would return before nightfall. I asked Gideon if he wanted to order room service or if he preferred following our noses to a nearby café. He chose the latter.
I waited in the sitting room for him while he washed up and changed clothes. “If you need to stock up on personal supplies,” I called through the bedroom door, “we can do some shopping too. Your friend Brahm made sure we were well off.”
The door opened, and Gideon stepped out, toweling his damp hair. He looked like a workman in sturdy but worn canvas pants and suspenders over a homespun shirt rolled to his forearms. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” He hung his towel over the back of a chair and sat to tug on his boots. “How things went with the Schulzes.”
I combed my fingers through his hair, smoothing his cowlicks. “Hannah is a horror.”
“She is, isn’t she?” He chuckled and finished tying his laces. Then he stood and strapped Sephonie, his crossbow, onto his back. Perhaps the average gentleman didn’t wear weapons in public, or had the decency to keep them hidden beneath their coats, but Gideon was no average gentleman. He was a warrior at heart and the future captain of my guard. His crossbow was as much a part of him as were his blood and bones.
“Brahm’s not so bad. I liked him a lot, actually.” I grabbed a shoulder bag with my Thunder Cloak and a bit of money stashed inside, laced my fingers between Gideon’s, and trailed him out of the hotel into a blessedly temperate day. The storm the night before must have brought in dryer air. A salty, cool breeze trailed us down the street.
As we walked, I told him everything that happened during his absence, from the fight with the band of street urchins in Petregrad to the train trip and meeting Brahm during the battle with a band of angry Dreutch farmers. I told him how we’d found Brigette and about Hannah’s scheme to either have me fight Lord Daeg or steal his Magician away. We reached a corner café and took seats at a sidewalk table where we could watch boats float up and down the canal. We shared plates of butter-drenched prawns and scallops, and I told him about meeting his father. “He wanted you to know the Schulzes are taking good care of him.”
Sullen, Gideon stared at his plate and crumbled a crust of bread into a puddle of olive oil.
“I told him...” I swallowed hard and picked at a loose string on my napkin. These words had been burning on my tongue since the moment I’d said goodbye to Gideon’s father in Steinerland. The only relief was to confess them. “I told him I loved you. And your sister. And that I promised to look after you both and take care of you as long as you’d let me.”
Gideon’s head jerked up. Heat smoldered in his gaze. “You told my father you loved me?”
My throat went dry. I bobbed my head.
His eyes sparked. “But you’ve never told me.”
“I haven’t loved many people, Gideon. And those I have loved were all taken away from me. Losing them hurt worse than any wound I’ve suffered.” I touched the raised pink line of scar tissue on my chest. “It scares me. I’d rather be shot through the heart again than to ever know the pain of losing you.”
A fierce intensity lit his face, and I almost couldn’t bear the raw emotions he revealed. He tossed coins onto the table, tugged me to my feet, and led me away from the café. At the first shadowy back alley we came to, he pulled me around the corner and drew us into the gloom of a deep doorway. His arms cinched around me, fingers tracing deep circles along the groove in my back. As he held me, his eyes blazed. “Say it, please. I need to hear it.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I love you, Gideon. Maybe I have since the day you followed me into the forest outside Daeg’s castle.”
He pressed his cheek against mine, his breath coming fast and hot against my ear. “No, you hated me then.”
“Hate and love.” I half sniffled, half chuckled. “So very similar, sometimes.”
“You hate Jackie.”
“I refuse to waste that much energy on him. He’s a wasp that needs swatting. That’s all he is to me.”
Gideon cupped my jaw and stroked a thumb over my cheekbone. “Look at me, Evie.” I blinked until my eyes cleared, and his stormy gaze pierced mine. “I already watched you die once. I lived my worst fear and survived. Loving you is easy compared to that.”
My heart soared into my throat, throbbing like a white-hot star on the verge of exploding. I knew he loved me, knew it in every action and sacrifice he’d made on my behalf since the day he helped me escape from Inselgrau. But to hear the words in his deep, gravelly voice as his warmth burned against me... My throat was too swollen to speak, so I whispered, “I need to hear it too.”
He kissed me. So, so, sweetly. “I love you, Evie. Both the goddess who commands the storms and the woman who washes dishes and tames mechanical lions. Maybe I have since the day you found me bleeding and half-dead on the road to Thropshire and took me to the inn and cared for me, even when I was horrible to you.”
I laughed, remembering those early days and how terrible they were, and how his strength and steady presence had convinced me I could survive. “I deserved some of your anger—for being so careless.”
“It wasn’t anger as much as fear. You were so naïve.”
“But not anymore, am I?”
“No, and I sometimes regret it.”
“I don’t regret anything. If I hadn’t gone through the things I’ve been through, I wouldn’t deserve the crown or Inselgrau’s throne. What I’ve been through was the crucible that burned away those spoiled and childish weaknesses. It’s what I had to go through to be the person who could defeat Le Poing Fermé and be the queen Inselgrau deserves.” I glanced away as a blush rose into my cheeks. “It’s what I had to go through to be worthy of you.”
He grunted low in his throat, a sound of disagreement. “We could argue worthiness all day, but I can think of better things to save our breath for.” He plopped a kiss on the tip of my nose. “But not here. Not now.”
Pulling myself away from him, I inhaled several deep, calming breaths. “Right now, we’ve got more immediate issues to deal with. One in particular.”
Gideon’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“There was one item I left off Niffin’s list. I wanted us to see to it ourselves.”
“I saw your supply list. It seemed thorough.”
I took his hand and pulled him out to the street. “Yes, but how are we going to get to the island, without a—”
“Boat.” He clicked his tongue. “How did I miss that?”
“You can blame me for keeping you distracted, I guess.”
“Do you have something in mind?”
We tromped down the street, keeping our gazes trained on the canal, studying the numerous boats. Most were the narrow water taxis used to ferry people around the city, or the pleasure barges of the rich and elite. Neither would work for our purposes. “We need something strong enough to propel us through ocean currents.”
Tugging me to a stop, Gideon snapped his fingers. “I think I know the place we should look.” His expression turned serious. “How much money did Brahm give you?”
“A lot, but it’s not limitless. Brigette has been burning through it like kindling on a cold winter night.”
“Hmm...” He tapped a finger against his lip. “We might have to make this up as we go along.”
“Make up what?”
Gideon started off again, pulling me alongside him. “You’ll see soon enough.”
We stayed off the canal and threaded through the crowds on the streets. I lost my sense of direction in the city’s labyrinth, but eventually the tall buildings spread apart, replaced by lower, squatter structures that allowed for a view of the wide Isolas bay. Gideon’s route had spit us out several miles east of the hotel, in an area reserved for industry—boat making, primarily, it appeared.
Several wide warehouses crouched on the banks. Vessels in all states of construction and disrepair littered the yards and docks. A weathered old fishing boat, half rotten and riddled with holes, listed to one side in an open field between two buildings. A glistening new steam ship, something worthy of cruising the deepest oceans, floated at a dock as workers climbed about it like gnats swarming a carcass, hauling ropes and sails. A large, steam-puffing device with a long, tall arm and a system of pulleys and ropes loaded crates stamped with the word carbone onto the ship.
I pointed “Carbone? Is that—”
“Coal,” Gideon said. “Seems like only pleasure sloops and cutters or old retro-fitted ships still have sails anymore.”
“We don’t need anything very big or sophisticated.”
“No.” He jerked his head toward a smaller warehouse hunkering between two bigger ones. “That shop over there makes little steam-powered pleasure vessels for the weekend voyager types. Its seems the merchant class has developed a fetish for pleasure cruising.”
I squinted, but from our position, the details were vague. “How do you know this?”
“I got here several days ahead of you. I’ve had time to look around a little.”
“A little?” I gave him a hard look from the corner of my eye. “I knew you hadn’t been sleeping.”
Ignoring me, he gestured for me to follow. We hurried through the alleys behind and between warehouses, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Gideon might have passed for a dockworker with this big shoulders and broad hands, although anyone who worked around grease, oil, paint, and coal would never have kept their clothes as clean as his. When I’d dressed that morning, I’d been more concerned with Isolas’s hot sun and humid climate. I looked utterly out of place in my flouncy cotton culottes and white shirtwaist.
We stopped behind a heap of pallets stacked beside the small warehouse, and I tugged my Thunder Cloak out of my bag. Gideon nodded his approval as we eased closer to the docks. We spotted the boat at the same time and glanced at each other, our eyes wide with excitement. “That’s it,” he said, his voice low. “That’s what we’re looking for.”
A narrow white cruiser bobbed at the shallow end of a short dock. A black potbelly stove squatted halfway between bow and stern, its smoke stack protruding through a striped canopy shading the boat from bow to stern. “Not particularly inconspicuous, is it?” I asked.
“Maybe Brigette’s Magic could help.”
I held out my cloak. “I don’t know anything about operating a boat like that or even how to begin. I think you could make better use of the Thunder Cloak than I can.”
He took the fabric bundle from me. Catching the sunlight, the cloak glimmered like the canal waters where oil collected on the surface in rainbow slicks. He slipped it on, and the sleeves barely reached his wrists. The fabric strained across his wide shoulders. I bit my lip, trying not to giggle. But my next thought diluted my humor. “Assuming you can get away with it, where do we take it?”
This plan is a little too impulsive for my tastes, Grandfather said.
Rather than criticism, you could offer some help. Do you know a good place to hide a boat in Isolas?
How about in plain sight?
What?
You’re making this entirely too difficult. That fancy hotel of yours has a garage for watercraft, does it not? And as a paying guest, you have access to those facilities.
I blinked stupidly for several beats then shook off my stupor. “Do you think we could get it back to the hotel without being followed? It should have a garage. We can stash it there.”
Gideon canted his head. “That sounds too easy.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but why would anyone think to look for this boat at the Terrazzano?”
He drew his lips into a crooked grimace. “It might work. Look.” He pointed at several large boats chugging back and forth near the docks, most designed for bay or ocean travel. “The only boats in operation are the big ones—the ones that can’t follow us into the canals.” He scanned the shoreline, eyes narrowed. “Look at the smaller ones—no smoke, no sails. Their boilers are all still and cold. If we can get away from the docks before anyone notices us, the smaller boats will never heat their boilers fast enough catch up, and the bigger ones can’t track us.”
He drew the Thunder Cloak’s clasp closed, whispered my grandfather’s name, and faded into a shimmering, translucent ghost. “Wait for my signal, then run like your skirts are on fire.”
Grit crunched under his footsteps as he hurried away, but otherwise, he was imperceptible. As I hunkered in the shadows, holding my breath, my nerves buzzed like a beehive. There’s no way we’ll ever get away with this.
Have some faith, Grandfather said.
A minute ago, you were saying this was too impulsive for your tastes.
It is, but once a plan is made, you have to commit to it.
Perhaps you’ve noticed that I’m not running away.
Much later, when my muscles were sore and cramped from too much adrenaline and from staying still for so long, I finally spotted a puff of smoke from the boat’s little chimney. Something moved under the water, sending up a flurry of froth and bubbles. Gideon’s shrill whistle called me to attention.
“Here goes nothing.” I inhaled a deep breath and made sure no one was watching as I sprang from my hiding place and sprinted to the dock.
“Untie us,” said Gideon’s disembodied voice.
I unwound the mooring rope, tossed it into the boat, and jumped in after it. Crouching low, I hunkered near the floor as he stoked the fire, shoved a long-handled lever jutting from the floor, and turned the wheel. Something shuddered beneath us, vibrating floorboards, then our little boat chugged away—slowly at first but quickly gaining speed.
Gideon tugged off the Thunder Cloak and cursed under his breath as he glanced over his shoulder.
“What is it?” I followed his gaze and spotted a little skiff racing toward us, puffing angry black smoke. Gideon and I knew plenty about horses, and he could perform some amazing feats of accuracy with a knife and a crossbow, but I didn’t think either of us knew much when it came to boats—not compared to a local who had grown up on these waters and sailed them daily.
“Can we outrun him?” A knot of worry formed in my chest, and I called for the storms. A well-timed bolt of lightning might solve our problem.
“I have another idea.” He reached over his shoulder, popped a snap, and slid Sephonie free from her holster. “Keep the boat as straight as you can.”
I grabbed the wheel as he braced his feet wide. He took aim and squeezed the trigger, and with a sharp thwack, the crossbow released a bolt. Three more times, Gideon shot at our pursuer before turning back to the wheel.
Although I had never known it to happen, I watched our pursuers gain on us and wondered if it meant Gideon had missed his mark. But I never should’ve doubted. Moments later, the boat behind us sputtered, and its chimney stopped puffing smoke. The distance between us increased as it lost speed. “What did you do?” I asked.
“Put a couple of holes through the boiler. No pressure, no speed.”
Mouth agape, I blinked at him in awe.
He tugged the wheel, taking us around the sharp corner of a rock jetty separating the dockyards from a residential part of the city. After pointing the boat toward the nearest canal, he tugged the floor lever again, and the boat slowed as he glanced at me. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“That boat had to be more than fifty yards away, and we were bobbing through bumpy waters.”
He bit back his grin. “I guess you have your talents, and I have mine.”
As soon as we crossed into the shadows of the first tall buildings, he slowed us to a crawl. “No need to draw attention, right?”
I reclined on a padded bench lining the side of the boat and tried to pretend like I was relaxed and having fun, out for a pleasure cruise. Pay us no mind. We definitely did not just steal this boat, so no need to follow us. Gideon threaded us through the city, watching over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. “I think we’re clear.”
“I hope the others are back from their shopping trip. There’s something we’re going to need to do as soon as possible.”
“I saw you had put paint on the list.”
I nodded. “If we can camouflage this boat without using Magic, Brigette can save her energy for more important things.”
So perhaps your plan wasn’t quite as impulsive as it seemed, Grandfather said.
What was it you told me earlier? I asked. “Have some faith.”
