“I want those in Ashion to know you belong to me, that you will carry my name when this is all over. That to insult you is to insult me,” Vanya said in a low voice.
Soren could be forgiven for snagging Vanya by the collar of his uniform and yanking him into a fierce kiss. “There was never any doubt where I was concerned.”
He would go to Ashion, fight to put Caris on the starfire throne, and walk away from everything Rourke. He would give up the life of a warden to keep them safe, doing his duty to the bitter end. His road had only ever led to Vanya, and Soren would not change course, not now, not for anyone.
Soren hung the vow around his neck, the weight of it settling him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until he wore it once more. He touched it with careful fingers, having memorized the feel of the lion’s face years ago, the same way he’d memorized the look in Vanya’s eyes that he now knew was love.
“I’ll see you to your airship, and I will see you when you return to me.”
“Yes,” Soren promised, because home would always be Vanya and the life they could make together, and his road would ever lead him there.
Five
BLAINE
Three weeks after Lore’s and Nathaniel’s return, Blaine was wishing for solid decking underfoot while trudging through a garrison trench in ankle-deep mud. A passing autumn storm that did nothing but turn the plains between Amari and Fontaine into a swamp had created what felt like small bogs in the trenches. The muck was terrible for his mechanical prosthetic, and he kept it covered as best he could with sleeve and glove, but he swore he could feel grit in the gears.
The rain had driven the haze from the sky, though Blaine hadn’t removed his gas mask since they landed less than an hour ago. The front lines of the fight were miles and miles from the allied command’s location, buried where it was in a bunker accessible only via trench and fiercely guarded by soldiers, automatons, wardens, and magicians.
Blaine’s fur-lined leather flight jacket was a little too warm for the ground, but it was durable, so he kept it on. He spared a glance over his shoulder at where Caris walked behind him, with Nathaniel and Royal Guards in plain military uniforms taking up the rear of their line. All of them wore gas masks and hard helmets like him, the lot of them just as filthy from the knees on down. Their escort—a grim-faced sergeant who’d hurried them off their airship transport upon landing—never slowed his pace.
A shadow swept over the trench, and Blaine looked up through his brass goggles, squinting through weak sunlight at the pair of airships passing overhead, escorted by aeroplanes. The bit of sky he could see was limited, but he could see they were of E’ridian make, and they flew at the height favored for a precision bombing run.
The E’ridian air force had enacted a limited bombing run of the enemy trenches dug in around Amari during the storm yesterday. Aeroplane squadrons were running long patrols and radioing back updates on troop movements as they worked to keep the sky over their location clear. Keeping command hidden was done out of necessity, but the risk of being overrun was always there, whether by the Daijal army or the revenants that made it through their defenses to claw against the field fencing.
Blaine hadn’t agreed to let Caris leave Fontaine until they were ready to make a run for the catacomb entrance. Unfortunately, all of the ones that led to accessible tunnels mapped out by the Clockwork Brigade years ago were behind enemy lines. It had taken fierce fighting over the last week to get control of even one entrance. Traveling to its location would have to be done at night to keep everyone safe, but there was still a chance of failure.
No one liked the odds, but Caris was determined to go. Despite the danger of it all, Blaine knew she had to get inside Amari. Better to try underground than via airship since half the anti-airship guns were still active around the city. Bombing runs had managed to take out the rest, but they’d lost airships in the effort. Presently, Blaine was focusing on the things within his control to ensure Caris survived. That meant coordinating with command now that they were on the battlefield and preparing to go beyond the field fencing and into the trenches.
The sergeant finally brought them to a cement frame wrapped around a metal door. Two soldiers guarded it, both coming to attention when they spied the embroidered badge over Caris’ left breast that depicted the Rourke bloodline’s crest. It was a subtle notation of rank, the only thing Blaine would allow her to wear to distinguish who she was on the battlefield. She wore a veil beneath her gas mask as an extra precaution. He still fretted that it wasn’t enough to stop arionetkaor sniper from finding her.
The sergeant pushed open the door, entering the bunker. Blaine and the others followed him into a narrow corridor lit by intermittent gas lamp lights. A tingle washed through him as he passed through the cement frame, magic curling against his skin. He glanced to the side, seeing the spell etched into the gray cement. He didn’t know the underlying spell but assumed it was for security.
The muddied cement floor they walked on sloped downward to the command bunker, hidden as deep underground as excavators were capable of digging. Everything above and outside it was muffled, the quiet almost strange. Blaine pressed his thumb against the sigil ring he wore, the one his father had given him so long ago in the city he was returning to once more. As much as Blaine wanted to be on the airship where Honovi was, he had his duty as a Westergard to stay by Caris’ side.
The room they were led to was fairly large, but the ceiling was low. Telegraph machines clattered and hummed away in one corner, their wires fed through a small hole in the cement to run through the dirt all the way to the communications tower located above some distance away from their underground position. The command table, filled with all manner of maps and reports of the battlefield, had the commanding officers of three nations huddled around it, but Blaine’s gaze settled unerringly on the warden.
Blaine rocked to a halt, speaking the name he knew the other man preferred over all others. “Soren?”
“I hear you’re going past enemy lines,” Soren said in greeting in the trade tongue.
“Soren!” Caris moved past Blaine, hurrying over to where her brother stood. She didn’t hug him when she reached him, though Blaine knew she wanted to. She was tactile like that with people she was familiar with. She did reach out and lay her hand on his arm in greeting. “I’m so glad to see you safe.”
Soren cracked a smile but didn’t pull away. “How is Lady Lore?”
“She’s helping sort intelligence in Fontaine, a town south of here. She’s doing better, though, and can walk again for very short distances.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You can remove your gas mask if you like. The air in here is clean.” Gray eyes the same shade as Caris’ flicked to Blaine. “I came north after helping get some of the revenant horde under control with Vanya.”
“Is that something we need to worry about?” Blaine asked as he reached up to unclip his gas mask, breathing in warm, stale air through his nose rather than a filter.
“Perhaps not until winter, if you’re lucky. You’ve enough of the walking dead to deal with amidst the trenches.”
“The prince arrived a couple of hours ago on an airship that kept pace with a steam train. He came with several Legion companies for reinforcements. Imperial General Chu Hua has assigned those legionnaires to the front, many of whom are already aiding the push to distract the Daijalans from our true target,” General Votil said.
“I’ll be going with you into Amari,” Soren said, looking at Caris. “You’ve a mad plan, and you’ll need a warden to get you to your destination.”
Blaine bit back a wince, heart rate picking up at the thought of both Rourkes out in the battlefield and risking death on a desperate chance. It made him want to pray, but he didn’t know to whom—the star god of his birth country or the one who guided the country that had taken him in. He doubted he’d be granted compassion from either.
