Her family’s estate wasn’t very far from the one Meleri lived in. At this late an hour, only those out at local restaurants and pubs were on the street, the shops all closed up and most other people taking their meals at home. The motor carriage drove down the cobblestone street toward home, Caris’ hand held in Nathaniel’s for the entire way. They didn’t speak, not until they exited the motor carriage and made their way inside. A maid greeted them in the small foyer with a quick curtsy and took their coats with deft hands.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Lore said.
She walked off, boot heels clicking against the floor. Maurus took his leave as well, heading toward the set of rooms the Royal Guard worked out of when coordinating her protection. Nathaniel offered Caris his hand again, mouth tugging upward at one corner. “Just us, it seems.”
Caris laughed, gladly taking his hand and letting him kiss the back of it with warm lips. “I quite like that.”
They went to her favorite spot in the home, what had once been her nursery and long since turned into a study room with a balcony that overlooked the back garden. The glass doors were closed and the curtains drawn, but the gas lamps burned bright when she turned them on, illuminating a room filled with books, folios, and a comfortable sofa that fit two easily enough.
Perhaps it wasn’t proper to sit beside Nathaniel and curl in close, to let him wrap his arms around her and have his mouth press to hers. But it felt strangely good, made her stomach clench in a delicious way, though she never wanted more than that.
Nathaniel had always been respectful of her desires and boundaries, even when they were alone. He was ever the gentleman outside of the kiss. When they broke apart, Caris rested her head on his chest, over his clockwork metal heart, the sound of it beating an odd but welcome cadence in her ear. She could hear the hum of the clarion crystals that powered it, the song one she hoped would always be present.
He was self-conscious these days about the vivisection scars on his chest, always keeping his shirt buttoned up to his throat and his cravat securely knotted. The clarion crystal shards hanging from the necklace around Caris’ throat were matched by the one Blaine wore on a necklace and the one embedded in Nathaniel’s chest that he didn’t know about. The pieces could track each other on a spelled map the way Meleri’s metal map had done so for the cogs who traversed the catacombs back in Amari. Honovi had used his shard to find Blaine in Foxborough last year, and Caris intended to find Nathaniel if he was ever lost to her again.
His hand stroked up and down her arm, the light touch comforting as she listened to him breathe. “You yawned quite a bit during dinner. I don’t want to keep you up too late.”
Caris reached up to frame the side of his face, stroking her thumb over his cheek. “I like spending time with you.”
Nathaniel turned his head so that he could kiss the palm of her hand. Everyone kept insisting she shouldn’t be with him, that Nathaniel was a danger to herself and so many others. Caris knew otherwise. The one and only time he’d ever put his hands on her to harm, it hadn’t been him. When one was bound by the compulsion of arionetka, they weren’t themselves. In his right mind, Nathaniel couldneverhurt her.
His hand settled over her shoulder, anchoring her against him. “The broadsheets aren’t as optimistic as they used to be. I know you can’t speak of what’s going on with the war effort with me, but the public could do with some good news.”
Caris closed her eyes. “We all could.”
The Ashion army was doing its best, but Eimarille had played a very long game indeed with her death-defying machines, stolen automaton war designs, and the favor of a star god. Some days, Caris wasn’t sure how she could ever hope to compete with the woman who was her sister in name and bloodline only. They were nothing alike, she and Eimarille, the same way Caris knew she wasn’t like the brother that Blaine swore was alive.
For all the wardens she had met over the past many months, Caris had yet to meet the one who’d once been a prince.
“You’re giving people hope with what you’re doing. I don’t mean to dismiss that,” Nathaniel said softly.
Caris reached for his other hand and tangled their fingers together. “Hope isn’t enough.”
Winning would be, but all her prayers toward that had so far gone unanswered by the North Star.
Seven
BLAINE
TheCelestial Spritejuddered as it settled into the anchor berth inside the hangar the colored smoke marker had guided them to. Blaine looked away from the engine readouts in the flight cabin, watching Honovi converse with air force Captain Caoimhe of Clan Sky. Honovi had flown them west over the Eastern Spine to Cosian, but since this was a military airship, Caoimhe was technically in charge.
Blaine flexed the fingers of his left hand, the sound of gears clicking softly as the mechanical prosthetic, powered by tiny clarion crystals and magic, moved with the intent buried in the remaining muscles of his left arm. He glanced down at the rods, plates, gears, and screws made from various kinds of metal that fit snugly around the stump of his forearm and the bend of his elbow, gripping his upper arm. It was a familiar sight these days.
He folded his fingers down one at a time against the metal cage of his palm, making a fist. Last autumn and winter had been a frustrating time for him as he came to terms with the torture he’d endured at the hands of Daijal soldiers and the recovery process once he’d been rescued. Losing part of his arm had shifted his worldview in terms of accessibility, but it hadn’t deterred him from living his life how he had been.
Honovi had been there every step of the way as Blaine struggled through the learning curve of using the mechanical prosthetic and how it affected his role as an engineer. Honovi loved him just as he was, and for that, Blaine was grateful. Being here, back on an airship, was an important milestone for them both.
“We have clearance to disembark,” Honovi said as he put down the radio.
Blaine nodded. “Let me log the numbers, and we can leave.”
He did so quickly and then followed Honovi out of the flight deck. The flight leathers they wore had the plaid of their clan curving over their shoulders, with more embroidery than would be found in the uniforms the rest of the crew wore. In Cosian, he and Honovi would be treated not as aeronauts but as visiting foreign dignitaries.
Honovi, asjarlto Clan Storm, would one day take over his father’s seat on theComhairle nan Cinnidheanand aid in ruling E’ridia. He’d held many roles over the years, all of which served to make him a politician with a keen eye toward the future, not just for E’ridia but Maricol as a whole.
Blaine reached up to touch the gold marriage torc hanging around his throat. He’d missed it greatly during his time spent as a spy and a cog in Ashion. He’d meant to stay by Caris’ side until he saw her claim the starfire throne, but the ties to the country that had become his home after escaping the Inferno had vied with his promise to stand witness to her. His recovery had been spent in Glencoe, and he’d only conversed with Caris through telegrams or telephone calls.
It felt as if he were letting her down, but she seemed safe enough tucked away in the eastern province of Ashion, where Cosian was located. The city was far from the front lines, but those lines were changing with every month that passed.
