Honovi lifted a hand to trace the edge of Blaine’s jaw. “You said you had something to tell me. Is it about the incursion?”
He’d read about the attack in the broadsheets, mourning the victims but quietly afraid for the ones who had escaped. The Duchess of Auclair had been named in the stories as a survivor, along with others, but hers was by far the most striking identity. She had known sympathies for the monarchy of the past, was stridently opposed to continued Daijal interference, and had a stranglehold on the nobility that mattered. There was a reason Honovi had cultivated a political relationship with Lady Brielle, aside from that bloodline’s connection to his husband through the Clockwork Brigade.
Blaine reached into his pocket and pulled out something that could have been a pocket watch. When he opened it, the internal face of beveled clarion crystal glowed softly, the light hidden from the mouth of the alleyway by Honovi’s body.
“A moment,” Blaine muttered.
He toggled a tiny switch on the side of the casing, and the crystal flickered like candlelight. The rose-colored glow faded into a dark purple hue, the aether that powered it clearly running some sort of spell.
Blaine closed the covering, cutting off the glow. “We’re in the clear. No one is listening. It would have turned green if anyone was close by and eavesdropping.”
“Nifty device,” Honovi said.
“It does come in handy.” Blaine tucked it back into his pocket. “As to your question, no, I didn’t want to meet with you about the incursion, but that’s still of concern amongst those of my acquaintance. The revenants could have attacked anywhere, but it happened too near the duchess for anyone’s peace of mind.”
“And your charge?” Honovi was careful not to use Caris’ name, but Blaine understood who he spoke about regardless.
“Safe. We can’t rule out they were both targets. Everyone is a bit paranoid right now and sticking close to home. I can’t. There’s a package heading to Amari on a train out of Foxborough tomorrow night. It needs to be extracted off the train before reaching the station here.”
Honovi frowned, letting his hand drop to Blaine’s waist. “Do you mean to hijack the train?”
Blaine shook his head. “No. That doesn’t allow for a quick escape. We’re to extract via airship. There’s a crew, and I’m to be part of it.”
Honovi tightened his grip on Blaine, displeasure deepening his voice. “Howexactlyis this extraction supposed to happen?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s a risky night flight, and I don’t trust anyone behind the controls for something like this except you.”
“Blaine.”
His husband leaned closer, ghosting his lips over Honovi’s, voice so low he could barely hear the words. “I know I shouldn’t ask you. That it goes against what theComhairle nan Cinnidheanallows. That it’s outright interference in a sovereign nation’s affairs if you give aid. But Honovi, the package isimportant. We can’t risk losing it.”
Honovi swallowed, breathing against the faint pressure of Blaine’s lips on his. The thought of Blaine participating in what amounted to a nighttime raid in an airship that would certainly not be up to E’ridian standards sent a chill down his spine. Because it could go terribly wrong, and he’d lose the only person he’d ever loved if that happened.
“Let someone else take your place,” he said.
“Ican’t. Fulcrum asked me to go personally.”
Honovi pressed forward, kissing the breath from his husband’s lungs with a fierceness that hurt. “I’m asking you not to.”
Blaine broke the kiss but didn’t let go. He pulled on Honovi’s braid until he could press their foreheads together. “You know why I need to do this. I just don’t want to do it without you for once. Please, Honovi. Captain the airship for me.”
The right answer for E’ridia would beno.
But that wasn’t the right answer for Honovi. It never would be.
He dragged Blaine close, into another kiss, one that left him aching inside. “No one can know I’m doing this. I’m no cog.”
“I’ll get you a veil,” Blaine panted against his mouth, slumping against him in relief. “We’re meeting at Hangar Thirty-Eight tomorrow after the sun goes down.”
Honovi wrapped his arms around Blaine, holding on with everything he had. “I’ll be there.”
Agreeing to the job was the only way he’d ensure Blaine would live to see the dawn.
Four
BLAINE
Hangar Thirty-Eight was attached to one of the smaller piers in the airfield, used more for short-haul airships that ran domestic flights in the western provinces of Ashion. Night flights weren’t uncommon for airships launching out of that hangar. The flight manifest filed with the control tower listed the airship heading northwest to Haighmoor. In reality, it would be heading south.
