Honovi withheld a sigh before obeying the wordless order and claimed a chair. “The Imperial emperor has the Dawn Star’s blessing.”
“And Queen Eimarille has the support of the Twilight Star. An argument could be made for who is more favored, but it is not one theComhairle nan Cinnidheanwill participate in.”
Honovi met his father’s gaze. “Standing on the sidelines is not the answer.”
Alrickson sighed, spreading his hands. “It is not our fight.”
“The vote today was wrong.”
Honovi knew it in his gut, in his soul, in a way he thought his father might have until he’d voted no. Honovi might bejarl, but his father wasceann-cinnidh,and it would be years yet until Alrickson ceded the clan seat to him. He knew there were some in Clan Storm who disliked his persistence regarding the dangers of Daijal, but he was resolute in his fear that to ignore what was happening beyond their borders was detrimental to their own sovereignty.
He’d been sounding the alarm since last year, and no one seemed inclined to listen. It didn’t matter that he wasjarlof Clan Storm—he had limited power to make people listen when they’d rather turn the other way.
Unlike his mother and sister, Honovi was no magician. Perhaps he was graced with a little foresight, though he’d forever wish he weren’t when the city sirens pierced the walls of the government building just then.
Honovi jerked to his feet, the tone one he’d never heard before outside the yearly tests to ensure the whole system was working. Siren warnings for revenants were a pattern everyone knew, the sound bone-deep and jarring, but this one—this was a nightmare of their own making that had followed the winds back home.
He watched his father stand, all the blood draining out of the older man’s face as the siren positioned outside the building blared the inconceivable.
“All airships are to launch in defense of the city. All citizens are to seek immediate shelter.”
Alrickson opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the office door banged open, one of the peacekeepers on duty in the building appearing in the doorway. “Ceann-cinnidhAlrickson,jarlHonovi, the building is being evacuated. We need to get you to the shelters.”
E’ridia had stood for several thousand years, and the clans had not always been so easy with each other. Even after the Age of Separation, when they’d gained sovereignty, learning to govern with so many disparate groups had sometimes degenerated into actual, physical battles. And when aeronauts fought, airships were always involved.
Their country had an old history with aerial bombardments, but the bomb shelters had not been needed in generations. Funds were always allocated in the yearly budget for their continued upkeep and repair over the centuries, but Honovi knew that Glencoe wouldn’t have enough to shelter every citizen. They hadn’t needed them for war, and the walls kept revenants out.
They would need them now.
The telephone on Alrickson’s desk rang, the sound different from the unceasing warning siren. His father snatched up the receiver and pressed it to his ear, nearly knocking the base off the desk in his haste. “Ceann-cinnidhAlrickson speaking.”
Honovi couldn’t hear the person on the other side of the line, and the peacekeeper was gesturing hurriedly at them to move, but his feet remained planted in the office. He stared at his father, watching as that political mask he’d worn for years cracked, a horrifying disbelief filling his gaze. Alrickson swayed on his feet, leaning forward to press his hand to the desk to hold himself steady.
“I understand,” he rasped. Seconds later, he placed the receiver in the cradle with a shaking hand. He blinked, focusing on Honovi, eyes terribly wide. “Compass Air Force Base and the Ferric Repair Yard were attacked. Initial reports indicate we’ve lost nearly half the war airships at the base and almost all those in the yard.”
The bitter truth of the situation wasn’t a victory for Honovi—it never would be, when it was his country that had been harmed. He looked at his father, the siren still piercing the air as if it were trying to wake the dead as the peacekeeper entreated them to evacuate.
“Daijal was never going to stop at our border,” Honovi said.
And E’ridia’s insistence for neutrality had crippled their vaunted air force in a preemptive attack no one except for Honovi and Blaine had feared might happen.
Two
TERILYN
Terilyn wedged herself in the corner behind the captain’s seat, squinting at the murky, silt-filled water of the swampy wetland that lapped against the front viewport. They’d left the main tract of the river behind yesterday, the Urovan fleet of submersibles pressing ever northwest toward their target. The swamp waters here in this part of Solaria were deep enough to allow for submersibles to travel through the waterways beneath trees whose branches hung low overhead, blocking out the sky and keeping them hidden.
The Urovans hadn’t sent an icebreaker ship south—there’d been no need for such a powerful vessel in open waters—but they’d reworked the engineering on the submersibles’ prows to cut through overgrowth rather than ice for this endeavor. The water was trending more shallow with every hour they put behind them, and she thought the trees and low-lying plants were starting to thin out.
“Maybe another hour before we hit the shallows, according to the maps,” the captain said in Urovan as he pulled on a lever and flicked a toggle with his other hand.
Terilyn pulled her pocket watch free and lifted the lid with her thumbnail to check the time. This far south in Solaria, the sun set faster than it did in Daijal, but they’d reach solid land before sunset truly started, and that was all that mattered. It would be light enough still for the Urovans to execute Eimarille’s orders. By Terilyn’s calculations, the submersibles tasked with traversing E’ridia’s rivers should have already finished their attack. Terilyn would have no way to tell until she reached a city and could pick up a broadsheet.
Eimarille and Terilyn had planned the two-pronged attack during the latter half of this past winter, when it became apparent that Ashion would not stop requesting aid from other countries. They’d picked apart every possible detail with Kote until they had a solid plan in place to head off what support E’ridia and Solaria could provide Ashion.
It meant targeting E’ridia’s airfields and repair yards while targeting something else in Solaria altogether. Solaria’s Legion was next to impossible to fully cripple, but its forces could be split. One just needed to find the right leverage.
She tucked her pocket watch away and shifted on her feet, arching her back a little to crack it. She’d shed the heavy jacket she’d worn for most of the travel south, the inside of the submersible quickly becoming warmer than was comfortable. It was built to stay insulated in icy-cold seas, not in the middle of a swampy wetland. Someone had popped the hatch after they’d breached the water, and Terilyn tilted her head around the edge of the entryway, hoping to feel a hint of breeze to cool the sweat on her skin.
