The warden who had administered the antidote looked up from the vial of blood she’d drawn from his husband’s vein. “I’ll need to go with you.”
Honovi found it difficult to breathe suddenly. “Is the antidote not working?”
“He’ll need more screening, and only a warden can provide that.” Her attention focused behind him, on Ksenia, looking to the person she considered being in charge. “Ksenia?”
“The governor is in Glencoe. You can report back to her about what happened tonight. It’ll be hours before we can get a report to her, and she needs to know,” Ksenia said.
The warden nodded before starting to pack up her kit. She didn’t look older than twenty, but the weight to her gaze spoke of surviving a road most others wouldn’t. “I’m Banshari.”
“Thank you” was all Honovi could think to say in return.
Pressure in the air had Honovi looking up, squinting as theCelestial Spritedescended nearly directly overhead. Someone had already flung a rope ladder overboard; he could see two crew members standing at the railing, ready to haul people up.
Honovi knelt and reached for Blaine, trying to ignore the stench of blood and urine that permeated his husband’s clothes. He pulled Blaine over his shoulders in a fire brigade carry with gentle hands, hating the way Blaine was deadweight and never even reacted to Honovi’s touch. Easing into a standing position, Honovi hunched over a little with a grunt.
“Someone toss me some rope,” Banshari said.
A different warden pulled a loop of rope from their velocycle’s storage compartment, and Banshari used it to deftly secure Blaine’s leg and arm together where they draped over Honovi’s shoulders. It wasn’t a proper harness, but it would do for the climb up to the airship. He hefted Blaine higher onto his shoulders and turned toward where the airship was holding steady in the air above the rooftops, the keel on its hull lined up with the street. It dipped lower yet, the rope ladder there within climbing reach.
“You’re staying?” Honovi asked Ksenia.
She nodded, still carrying the grenade launcher, though she’d put her wand away. “The Ashion battalion seeks to hold Foxborough. We want accountability from Daijal. It’ll be a war of propaganda beginning tomorrow, but we’ll stay as long as we can.”
“Maybe Caris should have come after all.”
“The duchess can send her when it’s deemed safe if she feels the need to.” Ksenia looked up at the sky, where theCelestial Spritewaited. “Best get going.”
Honovi grunted a wordless goodbye and headed for the airship at a ground-eating jog. Lore joined him, reaching the rope ladder first. She got her hands on it to hold the ends steady while Honovi rocked up onto it with Blaine’s weight hanging off his shoulders.
It was a precarious position to be in, but every E’ridian who served as crew on an airship was trained to haul up a fallen comrade the same way they trained with jump vests. Besides, there was no road in existence where Honovi would leave Blaine behind on the ground.
His shoulders burned with every ladder rung he reached for, Blaine’s weight pulling him backward with the inescapable tug of gravity. He maintained his balance on the swaying ladder as Lore added her weight to it below, kept his head back, eyes on the crew members above him limned in gaslight from the decking.
It felt like an age before he reached the railing. Two pairs of hands reached for him and Blaine, hauling them both over. He fell to his knees on the decking, Blaine’s weight lying across his shoulders and back, gasping for breath.
“Jarl, your husband—” one of the aeronauts said before swearing viciously.
Honovi fumbled at the rope securing Blaine. Someone batted his hands away, leaning down to cut away at the knots with a knife. “Haul Lore and the warden up and get us airborne. We’re heading to Glencoe.”
The rope came undone, and Blaine slid off his back, caught by more than a few willing hands. Honovi turned on his knees, reaching to pull Blaine into his arms. He bowed his head over Blaine’s unconscious form, tears stinging his eyes as the stump of his arm pressed against Honovi’s chest. Taking a breath, Honovi stood, bracing himself against the swaying of the ascending airship out of long habit.
By the time Lore and Banshari made it to the decking, Honovi was carrying Blaine below, the airship’s assigned nurse right on his heels.
Fourteen
VANYA
They passed bodies ofpraetorialegionnaires who didn’t appear to have died at the hands of revenants. Bullets to their heads and torsos were proof enough of betrayal. Vanya clenched his teeth, the heat of starfire as hot as his rage as they followed Soren through the familiar halls of the private family wing.
“What if they’re not here?” Cybele asked softly, giving voice to Vanya’s worst fears.
“If they’ve fled the wing and made it to the gates, thepraetorialegionnaires there will not leave the Imperial princess’ side. But I believe they must still be here. If they tried leaving, they would have put Raiah at risk. Alida would never allow that,” Vanya said.
He wanted to believe that, despite her betrayal, Alida would never put Raiah in danger. If her loyalty truly lay with the House of Kimathi, if she was here to deliver his daughter to Joelle, Raiah needed to be alive for that to happen. There was no chance of surviving a horde of revenants that had them all cornered. Whatever escape plan Alida might have had, he doubted she had managed to fully implement it once the crypt was excavated.
“I’ll clear the way through into the princess’ rooms. You willlistento my warnings once inside, Your Imperial Majesty,” Javier said fiercely.
“If Alida and the Blades are here, I think it’s best I’m not the first one through any door they’re hiding behind,” Soren said quietly over his shoulder.
