He hoped she hadn’t.
Soren settled his hand on her small shoulder, and Raiah twitched hard, booted feet knocking against the framework of the velocycle. She sniffled loudly again, bottom lip trembling. Soren undid the straps, hauling the four-year-old princess into his arms.
“I want my Papa!” Raiah cried. She tucked her face against the curve of his shoulder, little arms wrapped tight around his neck, too tired and upset still to even try reaching for the hilt of his poison short sword sheathed against his back.
“Shh,” Soren said, trying to soothe her. “Shh. It’s all right, little one. You’re safe.”
The lie felt awkward on his tongue. Comfort had never come easy to him. He’d learned by watching Vanya, having never experienced such a kindness growing up. He’d seen Vanya hold Raiah like this plenty of times before, though. Soren allowed himself a moment to soothe her, even though he knew they’d run out of time back on the steam train.
The hunted never got peace in the midst of the chase, after all.
“I want”—Raiah hiccupped—“my Papa!”
“I know, but he’s not here right now, and I need you to be strong for me.”
If anything, that tipped Raiah over into a full-on crying jag. Soren winced, wondering if he should risk calling Vanya on the televox. Surely, Vanya was back at Calhames now, able to pick up his personal line.
Soren closed his eyes, thinking about the charred ground and half-melted remains of the enemy’s vehicles they’d left behind. He winced as he realized explaining away their escape to Vanya would mean lying. Soren couldn’t be sure Raiah would know how to keep a secret like this if she spoke to her father—and he would have to let her.
His stomach clenched at the thought of asking her to lie, and Soren knew he couldn’t. He’d not make a child lie to her father simply because Soren didn’t know how to speak a truth denied to him by the star gods. And Vanya had to be warned because therionetkaschasing them had been tipped off by someone, either at a way station or on the train itself. Someone knew Soren’s face, as surely as they knew Raiah’s.
I should have asked for a veil, Soren thought.
But what was burned was ash, and there was nothing to be done with the past. Besides, Raiah’s magic was still instinctive at this age. There was no telling how she’d have reacted to wearing a veil for hours on end. It may have provided anonymity for a time, but it wasn’t a guarantee of safety, not if her magic ruined it.
And that was what Soren desperately wanted for her—safety. After what they’d survived, he couldn’t be sure the city they were traveling to was safe, but that begged the question ifanywherewas safe.
Sighing, Soren tried to put Raiah back in the ride-along seat, but she clung to him tightly, shaking her head. “I want to stay with you.”
Soren rubbed his hand over her back. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He’d not been more than an arm’s length from her since they’d left the train. Traveling with a child was slow going, though, and he wasn’t nearly as far along as he’d hoped they’d be by now. He had to stop far too often to scan the horizon with his double-lensed spyglass, looking for revenants andrionetkas. More than once, he’d seen airships in the distance and braked to a halt so he could throw the camouflage tarp over his velocycle and hide them under its shade until the possible threat had passed.
Those moments he treated as a game for Raiah, trying to lift her spirits if she didn’t want to nap. Traveling the back roads like this was tiring for her, and Soren couldn’t press onward as he normally would if he were alone.
It took a few minutes and a whole lot of cajoling, but Soren finally got Raiah to stop crying. She clung to him, sniffling pathetically, goggle lenses misted over from her tears. Soren knelt to set her on the ground, though she didn’t want to immediately let go.
“I’m right here,” he promised like he always did.
Raiah reluctantly unclenched her fingers from his clothes, scrubbing furiously at one cheek with her hand. Soren clucked his tongue at her softly before lifting her goggles off and undoing the strap of her helmet. He set both on the seat of the velocycle, smoothing his other hand over the frizz from her braided hair.
They were both filthy from travel, but he couldn’t provide her the amenities she was used to. What food and filtered water he had in his travel compartments would only get them so far.
“I miss Papa,” Raiah said softly, wiping at her nose.
Soren snagged one of her small hands in his, biting back a grimace as he tried to get his bearings. The problem was he couldn’t tell arionetkafrom a living person, not without confirming if they carried vivisection scars. Thepraetorialegionnaires that had attacked in Vanya’s bedroom had appeared normal right up until they tried to pull the triggers on their pistols.
Using the Imperial writ Vanya had issued him could maybe aid Soren with uncovering if a person was acting of their own free will. Except Soren had wanted to travel under what anonymity they could as a warden and a wayward tithe, and using the writ would defeat that purpose. Karnack was the closest Solarian city to the Warden’s Island, well used to wardens passing through its city walls. No one would have looked askance at them.
It was still risky. Riskier was staying in the back roads.
He’d left Oeiras with no answer as to who had ordered therionetkasafter Vanya and Raiah, though Soren rather thought Vanya’s suspicions were correct. Joelle Kimathi,vezirto the House of Kimathi, would risk the ruin of her House to gain the Imperial throne through her great-granddaughter.
Soren pulled out the vow hanging around his neck, the weight of it familiar. It’d been years since Vanya had bled on the metal and pressed it into Soren’s hand, offering up a promise worth the life of a prince. Soren had never asked for payment because wardens weren’t supposed towant.
But, oh, Soren wanted so many things.
And presently, he wanted Raiahsafe. What safety he’d hoped to find behind Karnak’s city walls was a pretty little lie out here in the poison fields. No House could be fully trusted, not in the wake of the ashes they’d left behind near railroad tracks and therionetkasclawing at their heels. The House of Vikandir’svezirwas tied by way of blood and past marriages to the House of Sa’Liandel, but that was no guarantee of loyalty. Not in the face ofrionetkas. Vanya swore by the House of Vikandir, and perhaps, with use of the writ, Soren could prove their loyalty by the absence of vivisection scars.
