If Nathaniel had control of his body, he’d have needed to lock his knees. The desire to stagger back was so visceral he thought he felt it in his nerves, but his stance didn’t change. All his body did was drink more tea. “I need to find her.”
Scarlette smiled sadly at him. “I wish you all the best with that endeavor. I will smuggle you out of Amari tomorrow. Tonight’s rendezvous for package pickup has already passed.”
Nathaniel wanted to warn her that he couldn’t be trusted, that the second he left was when the debt collectors would come for her. But his lips stayed sealed, and Scarlette never saw through the façade he was living. The threat ofrionetkasmust not have spilled down the chain of cogs yet, and her ignorance would cost Scarlette her life once he left her capable hands.
They finished their tea, and then she brought him to the basement below Paradis and into the secret hidden rooms there, where debt slaves were tattooed and kept out of sight. The row of cots was empty, as he was the only package at the moment when he wished he wasn’t.
“You haven’t asked about your family,” Scarlette said as she watched the body fuss with the blanket.
“If I was taken, then so were they.” His body shrugged its shoulders, and whatever expression his face showed to her had Scarlette coming to Nathaniel’s side, grief etched into her own. “But I can’t stay, and my parents would understand why.”
It was eerie the way theKlovod’s orders put just the right amount of tremor into his voice—some hint of grief and guilt guaranteed to put another person at ease with the humanity of his response.
Scarlette took his hand and leaned in to kiss him softly on both cheeks, a dead woman walking, whether she knew it or not. “We’ll look for them. The Clockwork Brigade is still standing.”
It wouldn’t be for very much longer if Eimarille had her way because Nathaniel was a piece meant to shatter it, and no one in Ashion knew of his treachery.
Four
SOREN
Soren thought Ashion should feel different once they’d crossed that northern border, but nothing changed, only their position on the map. The same summery heat from the sun overhead followed them from Solaria into Ashion, to a border town whose walls were old but not crumbling. No town that wanted to keep citizens could ill afford damaged walls. Taxes kept the safety measure in place, but these walls were in need of an upgrade.
It was still a place that wasn’t in the back roads, wasn’t out in the open, and hopefully safe enough that Soren could get some much-neededsleep. Running for days on field stimulants meant his vision was blurring at the edges in a way he knew he couldn’t afford, not if he wanted to keep Raiah safe.
He steered the velocycle off the grassy plains and onto the road, tires leaving the dirt behind. No railroad tracks passed it by, but it had a communication tower on account, which meant it would have a resupply station. Its airfield was of a decent size for a border town, with half a dozen airships anchored at its piers. There were some perks to be had for living on a road that led directly east to the Warden’s Island in the Celestine Lake.
“Can we stop? I’m hungry,” Raiah piped up from behind him.
“We’re stopping,” Soren promised.
The gates to the town were open, guarded by a pair of peacekeepers who were more interested in their card game than Soren’s arrival. A rusted-looking automaton stood on the other side of the gate, its Zip gun arms pointed at the ground and not at any threat on the horizon. A sign stretching over the gates listed out the town’s name as Rouilly.
Soren slowed to a stop in front of the open gate but didn’t remove his helmet or brass goggles. His Ashionen was practically nonexistent, so he stuck with the trade tongue when greeting the peacekeepers. “Where can I find the resupply station?”
The peacekeeper jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Western quadrant of the town, off Summer Square. We’ve only one inner wall, and it’s near that.”
As directions went, they were terrible, but part of being a warden was knowing where you were and navigating accordingly. Soren revved the engine and drove into Rouilly. He followed street signs on a meandering ride into the western quadrant, needing to ask directions from a traffic attendant only once before finally reaching the resupply station.
Not every town was guaranteed to have a resupply station. The building it was located in was nondescript, the roof weathered from sun and summer storms. A single velocycle was parked out front, indicating at least one other warden was taking a break from the road. He took the other parking spot, turning off the engine with a tired sigh.
“Up!” Raiah demanded from behind him.
“I’ll let you up, but you need to remember rule number one while we’re here,” Soren reminded her as he swung his leg over the velocycle. Her accent was distinctly noticeable here in Ashion.
“I’ll be quiet,” she promised.
He undid Raiah’s straps, curling his hands beneath her arms to haul her out of the ride-along seat. He set her on the pavement, not needing to tell her to stay close. These many days together, she knew not to leave his side.
“None of that,” Soren said when she started fussing with the buckles of her helmet. “Keep it on until we’re in the room.”
“I want a bath.”
Of course she did. Resupply stations had rooms for traveling wardens, but they most certainly never had bathhouses. If Raiah expected to find the comforts of home inside these walls, she’d be sorely disappointed, and Soren hated for her to be disappointed.
“I promise we’ll get you cleaned up.”
Soren hauled his main gear from the travel compartments, slinging his rucksack over one shoulder before taking Raiah’s hand in his. She looked up at him through her goggles, curly hair hidden by the helmet, and dressed in nondescript trousers and a linen robe. Alida had chosen her clothing well for a road trip.
