“You should wear a veil before disembarking,” Blaine said. “Just to be safe.”
“I’m not the one with a warrant and a bounty on my head,” Caris said.
Blaine’s mouth tipped into a faint, bitterly amused smile. “Better they come for me than you, if they try to come for us at all in this town. This province is under the duchess’ protection, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”
“Her bloodline governs here. It should be safe enough.”
Blaine slanted her a look. “Do you really believe that?”
Caris went quiet at that question, thinking of the reach the Daijal court had these days. She scraped her fingernails against the metal railing, the sound they made lost to the wind, but she felt the shiver of it in her bones. She’d used starfire to save them all back in Amari, the strongest form of magic distilled from the aether and a mark of royalty in all six countries of Maricol.
It made her a target, but perhaps she’d always been one.
The Inferno twenty years ago had eradicated the Rourke bloodline down through the cadet bloodlines. That bloody coup had left behind only a single person capable of casting starfire, or so the history books taught. Crown Princess Eimarille Rourke had been spirited west and grown up in the Daijal court, under the eye of the distantly removed family of the Iverson bloodline. She’d married into the Iverson bloodline but kept her own name as a gift from a star god.
Eimarille was the last living Rourke, not Caris, no matter what everyone in the upper ranks of the Clockwork Brigade believed. More and more, that lie she told herself held no comfort.
“You and I seem to always meet on airships when it matters most,” Blaine said after a moment.
Caris swallowed, throat dry. “I’d rather we didn’t.”
“Yes, well, I would have stayed in E’ridia with my husband if it weren’t for my duty. But I lived because a star god willed it, as did you.”
“I never asked you to follow my road.”
“You didn’t need to. I was Westergard, long ago, and taken as witness. I’ll see my duty through to the end, whatever it might be.”
Caris pressed her lips in a thin line. “I’d never ask that of you.”
“You weren’t the one who asked.” He reached out and tapped his gloved knuckles gently against the back of her hand. “We all make choices, and I made mine. Honovi understands.”
“Is he staying?”
“TheComhairle nan Cinnidheanwants him home to report in person about therionetkaattack. That’s part of why they recalled him. I’m certain there will be more issues he’ll have to deal with once he’s back in Glencoe. He needs rest, though. I’ve convinced him to stay for a few days so that he can get it. Lore has promised to send for a doctor to assess his state of healing.”
“He flew into restricted airspace and fired on a crowd. I’m certain people will object to his methods. It might be safer if he continues to E’ridia.”
“We’re alive because he came, and that crowd was revenants in the end.”
If there was anything that Caris had learned at Meleri’s side, it was that they’d most likely lost their chance to spin the story how they’d have liked, and the public would believe something else. Thinking about the duchess left a sour taste in her mouth, though. Caris was still angry about the lies woven around her by people she’d cared about. That betrayal of trust was like glass in her throat.
“The public won’t see it that way.”
Blaine sighed tiredly. “No, they most likely won’t. We’ll have our work cut out for us in that regard. The Clockwork Brigade has always been a group that many people in Amari and the western provinces held negative opinions about. This will only make it worse.”
“Lore says there’s little doubt her mother will leave Amari and return here.”
“There were always contingencies in place.”
“For me?” Caris couldn’t help but ask, voice coming out sharp.
“For you, yes, but also the Clockwork Brigade and the country as a whole. When the Daijal court claimed Ashion, their king knew he’d lose support immediately across all provinces if Daijal invaded right away. The slow creep of propaganda he used Eimarille for was worse, in a way. Meleri worked hard to ensure enough of the surviving nobles and the army never gave their loyalty to the Daijal court.”
Caris frowned, turning her head to look at him, and found Blaine staring at her rather than the rapidly approaching airfield. “The Ashion army was wound down to abysmal numbers. Everyone knows that.”
“Was it? I’m sure you’ll see differently once we land.” Blaine nodded in the direction of the town, lit by early morning light that glinted off the spires of several star temples held within the protective walls. The bison herd was long shadows on the ground, and Caris could see movement on the town walls close to the airfield. “The army is far larger than it appears on paper, and much of that was Meleri’s doing. Haighmoor is still its historical city, but the majority of its ranks can be found in towns like this and in the east.”
Caris drew in a breath, letting that knowledge tumble through her mind, and could only see one road built from that decision. “You think there will be another civil war.”
