THE HALLWAY SHIFTS AGAIN, RIGHTING ITSELF. Except this time there’s something else with it. A shudder in the thin layer of atmosphere.
I choke and grab Rasha’s arm in case she’ll screech, just as the wretch pushes a tiny cabin door open in front of us to reveal himself—Myles, Lord Protectorate and Blasted Oaf. Standing three feet away. Sporting a handsome face that’s looking a bit nauseous behind a smooth grin.
The odd, enclosed lighting glimmers off that one silver tooth among a row of white, perfectly straight ones. He steps forward, props his arm against the wall, and grins at me. “Rough evening, love? Need a hug?”
I leap at him faster than he can brace himself and clamp my bandaged hand around the cravat at his throat while my gimpy hand reaches for my knife.
“Ah-ah, careful with the clothing.”
I tighten my grip on his frilly bow and jerk him toward me, then slip the blade near his gut. “I should kill you.”
“Ooh, let’s torture him first,” Rasha whispers. “But maybe in the room because Eogan’s men are right outside the hall.”
Myles sneers at her before peeling my hand away even as I continue to hold the blade inches from his stomach. “Seeing as you have just been found sneaking aboard an enemy airship after refusing to report that Eogan has been taken over by Draewulf—not to mention the fact that the little Elemental lost her powers—it seems to me neither of you are in the position for threatsss.” He straightens his cravat to match his impeccable suit and smooths his shiny black hair.
I frown. How does he—?
“Or did you forget that knowing things is my specialty, dear? Because I can assure you, having spent a portion of thisss week in treaty chambers with Eogan and King Sedric, I’m quite aware Eogan’s not the man I know and despise. And the tragic messss in your bedroom tonight gave the rest away—not to mention that if you still had your powers, we’d all be suffering your thunderousss wrath right now.” He reaches out to stroke my arm.
I slap him away. “Treaty chambers? What are you talking about?”
“Nym,” Rasha murmurs. “Ask him once we’re in the room.”
The floor beneath us tilts to the side as the airship suddenly lists and bobs and voices rise from beyond the door. Rasha presses her hand to the wall, and I plant my leg against the baseboard. And watch Myles’s pasty face turn a nauseous color of green. After a moment of what appears to be him repeatedly swallowing, the airship balances out, and I shove my knife again toward his stomach, forcing him to retreat through the doorway he emerged from.
Rasha follows us into the room, which is little bigger than a water closet and boasts a single cot, a covered window, and a mirror. “This is where you’ll stay and my maid will bunk with me,” she whispers in my ear.
I nod. And keep my knife pointed at Myles. “What are you doing here? What have you done?”
“I’m here because I’m part of the Bron delegation, of course. Thank you, by the way, for not outing me to King Sedric. Would’ve been horridly inconvenient for my plansss. And as lord protectorate, I did exactly what needed to be done the last few days. Sssimply ensured we all made it through without you causing trouble.”
He lifts his shaky hand, as if to study his manicured fingernails, and in doing so reveals the bruising on his knuckles. Combined with the thin, healing scar across his jaw, they appear to be the only signs of injury from our tussle a week ago. “Couldn’t have you ruining anything before we made it out of Faelen, could I?”
“We?”
“I assumed you’d get aboard somehow, and I was right.” He runs his gaze down my tattooed arms.
I glance at Rasha.
“I didn’t tell him,” she says.
“Let’s just say in this case I wasss . . . amusing myself to see if I was correct as well as ensuring your conscience didn’t kick in and send you running tail between those lovely legs to tattle on Draewulf to my pathetic cousin, King Sedric.”
Rasha snorts.
“You’re despicable,” I say.
“Yesss, and your insults were much more attractive when you had actual powers to back them up.”
My blade is back at his gut, but my retort is lost as more voices drift beyond the hallway. “Did you know Myles was in council chambers this week?” I mutter to Rasha.
“No. I’ve been kept to the political sidelines as much as you while Faelen worked out its treaty with Bron.”
“Not that it would’ve mattered.” Myles steps back and tips my knife blade away before moving over to settle against the wall opposite us. “She wants Draewulf alive as much as I do. Or should I say her dear queen mum will once the message isss delivered.”
Rasha shoots him a withering look. “You are a sad little roach and you know nothing.”
“We should report him,” I say.
“If we do, he’ll tell King Sedric about Eogan.” Rasha’s eyes spark red. She sits stiffly on the single cot beside me.
Myles grins. “Good. Ssso it’s all worked out then. We all get what we want and King Sedric’s none the wiser. Nice to think we had similar interestsss.”
Is he jesting? “You’re a traitor who tried to kill my friends and betray your own king.”
“Tsssk. I only threatened to kill them. And for the most part, those threats clearly didn’t work on you.”
“Threatened? You fed that orange-haired politician to Adora’s warhorses.”
“Well, that one, yesss. And you might’ve too if you’d known what he did in his private life.” His face twists as the airship lists and we all pitch forward.
“And,” he adds in a shaky tone, “your words sound a bit fickle for someone who hunted down every favor house in Faelen in the past week and threatened the owners with injury.”
How does he know? I didn’t tell any—
“Now”—he saunters a foot forward—“as lord protectorate I can order you to turn over those knives you’re holding, or I can be civil and tell you that the Bron guards will be bothered enough when I tell them you’re on this ship as my personal guest. But when they find you have weapons? Even my influence won’t prevent their wrath. They’ll see it as a threat to their new King Eogan.”
I actually laugh. “Not a chance in hulls you’re taking these. Especially since you’ve not answered what you’re really doing here.”
He spreads his hands out and looks insulted. “Why, achieving safety for all, same as you.”
“He’s here because he wants to rule the Hidden Lands,” Rasha says from the cot.
Ignoring her, Myles holds out a hand for my blades. “I’ll stow them away until we reach Bron.”
“I don’t think so.”
A loud thump overhead echoes through the room. Myles jumps, and Rasha gets up. “Nym, I’m going to make sure the other rooms along the hall are all empty, but then I should go. Whatever else the little roach intends to say or do . . .” She glares at Myles and her eyes are back to blazing illumination. “I can already see. And it’s all idiotic. I suggest we push him off the ship once we’re over the ocean.”
The ceiling bumps again. I nod. “I believe he was just leaving as well.”
She reaches out her hand to squeeze mine, but suddenly her gaze is softening and her pupils grow brighter. “Nym . . .” She studies me. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the way things are. I’m sorry about Eogan.”
I shrug and return her squeeze and say nothing.
“Before I go, is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head. I don’t want her pity. I consider jesting, “Hey, I’m no longer a curse or a slave—so it’s not all bad, yes?” Only right now, I’d give anything to have both those things back if it meant saving Eogan.
“You’ve done enough,” I murmur. “I just need to hide and think a bit.”
From his spot, Myles clears his throat. As if even he knows I’m lying.
“Shut up,” I snap at him.
“Just stay in this room, okay?” Rasha says, turning to glare again at Myles. Then with one last compassionate glance at me, she sashays the four feet to the door.
Myles sniffs. “Whichever god decided to curse the world with that woman—”
I lunge for him.
He dodges from the room and, before I reach the door, jerks it shut behind him. Leaving me standing in front of it, shaking and half contemplating going after him or working my way through the entire airship with my knives.
Not that I’d get far.
With one last curse, I click the lock on the door before slipping over to plop down on the tiny metal cot that is little bigger than a coffin.
After a moment I lie back and pull the thin covers over my head like a lid.