Blaine took a seat on one of the benches, watching as she sat opposite him. She grimaced at the accommodations before dragging the blanket over her lap. Curiously, she didn’t remove the veil.
“Who are you really?” Blaine asked in the trade tongue now that they were alone.
She did him a kindness by responding in the same language. “Secrets aren’t kept if they’re told, and the Daijal court has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“We’re still docked. I can leave right now.”
Mainspring pressed her lips together before she let out a heavy sigh. When she spoke, her voice was barely louder than a whisper. “I’m Lady Lore Auclair, of the Auclair bloodline. I was the only one my mother could send when our desperate inquiry over winter bore fruit.”
“Auclair bloodline,” Blaine echoed just as quietly, dredging up what he knew of the remaining bloodlines in Ashion. “Yours is the oldest in Ashion.”
“Because the Rourkes are gone.”
“There’s Eimarille.”
“The North Star considers her Daijalan, and we follow the will of our guiding star.” Lore smoothed the blanket over her lap, lifting her chin. “You’ll need to change before we land. Marcus has a spare outfit for you in his carry-on satchel. You’re of his build. It should mostly fit.”
The corner of Blaine’s mouth tugged downward. “Very well.”
“And you’ll need to speak Ashionen.”
Blaine frowned. “Why?”
“We’ve built a new identity for you, one you must live as while in Ashion. You’re Tristan Arquette now, and you must speak ours, not E’ridian. How much of it do you remember?”
He picked out the words in careful Ashionen, stumbling over the pronunciation here and there, for it was no longer the language he knew fluently. “I was ten when I left. I didn’t lose it completely, if that’s what you’re asking. We trade enough with Ashion it comes in handy.”
“But you’re no longer fluent.”
Blaine shook his head. “No. I’m not.”
“We can work with your lack of fluency. We’ll need to immerse you in Ashionen culture over the coming weeks to make you even passable before the end of summer.”
The idea of attending what was, for all intents and purposes, etiquette classes made him want to groan. She didn’t press the issue, which he was thankful for. It was difficult enough to leave his home and not know when he would return. But to know he’d have to become that which he’d given up at a star god’s urging left him uneasy.
Lore let the conversation lapse until after the attendant had been by to check that they were settled and warn them the launch was imminent and to remain seated. Lore locked the cabin door after the attendant left. The sound of the engines grew distantly louder, and the airship juddered after being unmoored from its dock. The pop in his ears as they rose in altitude was a familiar pressure.
“Will you sleep like that?” Blaine asked.
Lore blinked at him. “Pardon?”
He lifted a hand and gestured at his own face, not giving voice to what he meant but clearly indicating the veil she wore. “It can’t be comfortable.”
“I do not take it off when I’m in the field unless there is no other choice.”
The Clockwork Brigade was made up of secrets, and Blaine would have to live one where he was going. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but there was no backing out now. They were already in the air, heading west, back to a country that could never be home for him.
Eight
SOREN
“You should walk around. Stretch your legs,” Soren said as the fueling hose clicked off, indicating the gas tank was full.
“You should hurry up and finish so we can leave,” Vanya countered from where he sat on the velocycle. He still wore the helmet, though it did little to hide his face. Soren hoped he wasn’t getting sunburned from riding beneath a cloudless sky.
Soren rolled his eyes, glad his goggles probably made the motion difficult to see. The last thing he needed was another argument with his royal pain the ass. “In a minute.”
The way station was an outpost that couldn’t even be called a village. Government owned and operated like every way station in Solaria, it was nothing more than a travel stop some distance from the railroad tracks, not even large enough to merit an actual train station. A single clerk operated the way station, and he hadn’t been much for conversation when Soren had gone inside to pay.
