“No, thank you,” Kamari said, taking a seat.
Aesira positioned herself behind Kamari, eyes searching the room.
There wasn’t much to see. A few weathered couches, upholstery worn down on the arms and back. A table with far too many chairs around it to be comfortable. Piles and piles of abandoned ship parts, buckets filled to the brim with what appeared to be gears, bolts, and tools.
“So,” Stone said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of the queen's visit and the highly esteemed Commander Zeliath?” His smile pulled his scar taut, but otherwise brightened his face.
His arrogant face, she reminded herself.
Aesira glanced away, looking toward the tarp, watching for any rogue ears that might be listening.
“I have a proposition for you,” Kamari said, setting the journals on the table. “As you know, my husband has gone missing.”
Stone took the pencil from behind his ear, fidgeting with it between his fingers. “There’s not a soul in Vargah that doesn’t know the king’s disappeared.”
Kamari drew in a long breath. “I’m looking for someone that has the ability to navigate a ship through the stormy season.”
Aesira’s breath hitched, her shoulders growing stiff. Her sister didn’t tell her why she was coming here and now she understood. If Aesira had known this was her plan–
“According to city records,” Kamari said, “you have flown more trade runs in your time on parole than anyone else in the Boneyard District.”
Aesira scoffed. “He also has more citations than anyone else.” Kamari shot her a glare. “Apologies, Your Majesty.” Aesira clenched her jaw, forcing her mouth to stay shut. They weren’t just Kamari and Aesira here, they were Commander and Queen and Kamari outranked her every time.
Stone glanced between them before popping the pencil he’d been tapping behind his ear. “That’s because no one else in the Boneyard District is trusted to fly a ship,” he said. “The only reason I was granted access was because I offered something in return. Nothing’s ever given freely, especially to an Odega.”
“And what was it you offered?” Kamari asked, folding her hands across her lap.
Stone sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “A new engine model. One that can fly twice as long and run on half the amount ofastra. A miracle the armada ever made it through the desert at all before with that primitive design. When I was released from prison, the Boneyard District was my station whileon parole. Didn’t take long to realize it was a fucking mess.” His eyes blew wide. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Kamari said. “Please, continue.”
“Anyway, the district was still running with decades old equipment. An absolute abhorrent and unnecessary use ofastra.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “In fact, it was King Desmond that offered me the promotion. He was generous enough to take a meeting with me and my supervisor at the time. Heard my pitch about the new model. The next day, Chap was gone and I was in charge of the lot.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Awfully impressive for someone your age,” Kamari said.
Stone shrugged. “That’s not the point,” he said. “Your royal fliers have been trained on how to operate and maintain the new engines, you don’t need me to fly for them anymore.”
Instinctively Aesira looked around the dim room, confirming no one else was joining them. This was the kind of conversation to be had behind closed, secure doors, not behind a ratted old tarp.
“Along with an experienced flier,” Kamari said, “I’m also looking for discretion.” Stone’s brows shot up. “As far as the council and anyone in Vargah knows, this will be a routine drop off to the Outpost. Nothing more.”
Aesira’s hand was beginning to ache, clenching her sword so tightly, her jaw and teeth bound together. Kamari was always the reasonable one. The one who guided Aesira and Eldrin, their younger brother, when they were lost; which for them was often. This plan, leaving during a storm season, made no sense. It was dangerous. Reckless.
“Except if it were routine,” Stone said, “it wouldn’t be for another few months, after the sandstorms have died down.” A smile tugged at his lips and his eyes drifted past Kamari, landing on Aesira. She shifted, looking away but she could still feel him staring and despite how hard she tried, her cheeks began to heat. “It still doesn’t answer my question, Your Majesty. Why would you need me to fly a ship during storm season?”
Three
Kamari
“Ihave weighed the options,” Kamari said, which was of course, a lie. There were no options to weigh. Finding Desmond was theonlyoption and this was theonlyway. The thought of sending a crew farther than the perimeter had been marinating since the first day of Desmond’s disappearance. Now, with the council on her back and the threat of marrying Raffe hanging over her head, she couldn’t imagine anyotheroption. Storm season or not, she couldn’t just sit and hope Desmond would show up on his own. She had to find him.
“Our city needs its king. If you are up for the task, your crew will sail west, past the Outpost–”
“Past the perimeters?” Stone’s brows tugged together. Kamari nodded. There was a long beat of silence as the weight of hersuggestion settled around the table. She didn’t need to look to know Aesira was frowning, disapproving of her idea. It wasn’t long ago Aesira would have suggested something similar but the Order had changed her and even though she shouldn’t, sometimes Kamari missed the wildness of her younger sister.
“What makes you so sure he headed west?” Stone’s eyes bounced between Kamari and Aesira, a hard look on his face that was impossible to read.
Kamari filled her lungs, held the breath until it burned, then released it with a silent prayer to the stars. “I brought you these.” Kamari placed the stack of leather-bound journals on the table, her fingers trailing over the raised lettering that sprawled across the spines. “They’re my husband’s most recent journals I found in his study.” She peeled one open, revealing several folded maps. “All of these maps are of the west, though they’re vague as you can imagine.” Her fingers traced over Desmond’s soft writing in the margins. “He’s written notes all throughout. If he left, this is where he was headed.”
