The Kraken King (63 page)

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Authors: Meljean Brook

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Adult

BOOK: The Kraken King
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“Always,” she promised. More words that should have been said before.
But she couldn’t stay in his arms right now—not when it had to be agonizing for him. The beetles still burrowed in his flesh, and his pain wasn’t over yet. Wiping her eyes, she drew back and looked for Lady Nagamochi.
“Captain,” she said. “You vowed to take these things out of my husband.”
“I did. Unless you would rather?” The captain glanced at another guard, who stepped forward and offered Zenobia a knife.
She took the blade, and for a long second imagined herself as Lady Lynx, or Mara, or even more like her brother or Ariq—a woman of violence and action who could visit reciprocal pain onto those who caused it. But she was not. Instead she could only wield wrath with her pen.
And her tinker was going to be much, much angrier than she’d once been.
***
Though night had fallen, and he held his wife in the dark on their bed, Ariq couldn’t tell her what desperately needed to be said—and he didn’t
want
to say it. She loved him, but telling her that he was responsible for the horror she’d endured today might push her away.
He
would
tell her. He owed her that. But right now he couldn’t risk any of the guards overhearing.
They had given Ariq and Zenobia some privacy behind their screen, but too many guards still waited nearby. Two on the balcony. Four inside their quarters—two flanking the balcony doors, and the other two standing at the chamber’s main entrance. More were in the courtyard and terraces. Gunships still flew around the tower, a deluge of rain drumming against their taut balloons. Submersibles still blocked their escape below, in waters churned by the wind.
Yet it was all as he’d hoped. Lady Nagamochi had left in pursuit of the Skybreaker—and without her presence, already the tower’s defenses were weaker. Because he’d resisted the torture for so long and only gave in at the worst moment, she’d accepted his answer. Never would she have believed him if he’d easily revealed the location. When he’d exposed the tattoo on his back, she’d thought he was defeated. In truth, this victory had been his.
But his heart lay heavy and aching in his chest. He’d known Zenobia would be afraid, but he’d also known his plan and the end of it.
He hadn’t known how harrowing it would be to watch his strategy play out. Never would he forget her sick panic and terror. Never would he forgive himself. He prayed that she would when he told her what he’d done.
For now he tightened his arms around her, savoring the warmth of her even breaths against his neck. Though his minor wounds had sealed and only the worst of the gouges still pained him, his strength hadn’t yet returned. Lady Nagamochi had left orders for the guards to continue giving him the tea, and to make sure he didn’t purge it after drinking—but one way or another, he would overcome this weakness. The doses weren’t as frequent or as large as they’d been during his torture. If he had to fight with only half his strength, he would just have to be twice as clever about it.
Zenobia stirred in his embrace. Though it was past midnight, he didn’t think she’d been sleeping. Like him, she had simply been quiet. Though the screen blocked most of the light from the lamp burning on the opposite side of the chambers, and their bed lay in deep shadows, he was too aware of the guards within the room to easily find sleep. She probably was, too.
Now her voice was little more than a whisper. “Why did Lady Nagamochi say it had been an honor? Was she mocking you?”
“The opposite,” he replied softly. “It was a gesture of respect.”
“She
tortured
you.”
“Yes. But she didn’t enjoy it, because we aren’t enemies. It was only duty to her.”
She abruptly came up onto her elbow, peering through the shadows to look at him in disbelief. “You aren’t enemies? Do you respect her, too?”
“In many aspects, I do.”
She flopped back down on a huffing breath. “I hate her.”
His heart constricted. “She is much like I am.”
“Would you have cut off my hand in her place?”
“I might have threatened it.”
“She wouldn’t have stopped at a threat—and there is the difference.”
No. His throat ached. There was no difference. Lady Nagamochi had terrorized his wife. So had Ariq.
“I should have given in before she sent for you,” he said hoarsely.
“And what good would have that done? She would have threatened to cut off my hands anyway, just to make sure you were telling the truth.”
Eyes burning, he buried his face in her hair. “And you would have told me to remain silent, though it meant sacrificing them. Your bravery humbles me, Zenobia. I thought I could never love you more than I did at that moment. Yet I already do.”
She drew in a sharp breath, then her mouth found his in a bludgeon of a kiss, swift and devastating. “I love you.” Regret scraped a raw note from the declaration. “I’m sorry you ever had reason to doubt it.”
“Don’t.” Already she had apologized for too much—and none of it her fault. He kissed her again. “I won’t ever let you go. Even if you want me to.”
“I won’t.”
She didn’t yet. But he couldn’t dwell on those doubts now, either. He would tell her the truth about his role in provoking Lady Nagamochi’s threats when he could—and if he lost her, he would fight for her heart all over again.
With a sigh, she settled against him. “It wasn’t where I guessed it would be.”
“The Skybreaker?”
“Yes.”
He smiled into the dark. She sounded irritated that her guess hadn’t been correct. “Where did you imagine it was hidden?”
“Krakentown,” she said, and when he stiffened, she shook her head. “I know. It wouldn’t be practical. Why would your father have it built so far from the empire? If he’d needed it, the machine wouldn’t have been easily available to him. But I remembered how you kept pumping machinery underground so that even when the river dried, your town would have water. And I was thinking of how, even if it was mostly made of mechanical flesh, there would still be parts that would need regular maintenance. So where better to hide it than under your town? You could use the pumps to keep the chamber dry and stop corrosion, and it would be easily available if
you
needed it. But an island in Old Nippon does make much more sense.”
Which was where the code in his tattoo had pointed to—and where Lady Nagamochi was headed now. Carefully, mindful of the guards in the chamber, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell the captain of your suspicions when she asked you to say everything you knew about it? You told them of the mechanical flesh.”
“Ah, well. What does it matter what the machine is made out of? But if I was right about the location, I would have been revealing what you’d tried so hard to conceal. And if I was wrong, then the people in your town would probably have beetles crawling into their eyes right now, all so that Lady Nagamochi could learn the location of a few pumps. And it was only a guess. A bad one, apparently.”
Tengri help him. Ariq palmed her cheek and kissed her hard again, and thanked the heavens that she was so accustomed to keeping secrets.
From beyond the screen came the brief rustle of cloth, a scuffing of boots. One of the guards at his post by the balcony door—probably moving to keep himself awake.
With a sigh, Zenobia pillowed her head on his shoulder. The gentle weight made his mangled flesh ache, but he didn’t care. If he reminded her of the injury, she would quickly apologize and move—so if the price of her touch was pain, he would pay it.
“Do you think the empress will let us go after Lady Nagamochi comes back?” she asked softly.
“Yes. As soon as she confirms the machine’s location.”
“How long?”
“Three days to fly there. Three back.”
Unless the captain could communicate with the empress from that distance by using another automaton. Which meant Ariq had to make sure he and Zenobia escaped this tower before three days had passed and Lady Nagamochi discovered the Skybreaker had been moved years ago.
“Almost a week?” Worry filled her voice again. “What about Mara and Cooper? We still don’t know what’s happening in your town.”
“We will soon enough,” he said.
As soon as Ariq could take her out of here. As soon as he decided how to do it.
Not tonight. He hadn’t slept since the previous morning, and had endured the agony from the beetles throughout the previous night. This day had been spent healing and waiting for the decipherers to read the kraken on his back. The effects of the tea might not be so strong when he wasn’t mentally exhausted and physically fatigued. So it would have to be tomorrow night, or the next—and in the early morning, when it was still dark, and the guards would be least alert. If the storm continued, even better. Wind and rain could conceal sound and movement.
But how to leave the tower? Zenobia would be with him. They might find a glider in the tower, but they’d be visible and vulnerable in the air. Swimming seemed the best option. In the dark, they might escape the notice of the soldiers in the submersibles—but since the guards knew how Ariq had escaped Tatsukawa’s airship, they might expect him to head for the water. He didn’t know how many waited in the lowest levels of the tower, and Zenobia couldn’t jump from their current level. So maybe he would follow his mother’s example. During his father’s assassination, they’d hidden in the rafters. If the guards expected him to head for the water, he could hide with Zenobia in the tower, instead. With so many levels, courtyards, and chambers, the tower had to contain spaces that would be overlooked despite a thorough search. They would escape after the search concluded and the guards had moved on. Then they would have to make their way through the imperial city, avoiding the Empress’s Eyes and spies. That might prove more difficult than the tower. They couldn’t hide among the people. He was too big. Zenobia was too foreign. They would have to hide again. An airship, or a boat. Maybe one of the fishermen’s vessels.
But first, they had to escape the tower.
He closed his eyes. Zenobia’s breathing had deepened. Asleep. It pulled him down, too, and as he drifted he pictured the construction of the chambers, the courtyard, the terraces. The vendors’ levels and the baths. He would see the answer, eventually. When he wasn’t so tired.
Then he was awake again.
Ariq lay still, listening. The wind moaned through the courtyard and whistled around the eaves. Zenobia was sitting up beside him, her slim figure an unmoving shadow in the dark. Frightened by the storm? Looking for her notebook?
Abruptly she sprawled over his chest. Her palm clamped over his mouth and her lips opened against his ear.
“Are you awake?”
Not quite a whisper, each word was barely louder a breath. So the guards wouldn’t hear, even with a listening device.
He nodded against her hand.
“Then be ready.”
She shook against him, with excitement or fear.
“I heard a sound—a whistle that Cooper uses when a room has been secured. I think he and Mara are here.”
Her mercenaries? He nodded once more and she sat up again, tense and listening. They had both worn light tunics and trousers to bed, in case the guards woke Ariq to give him more tea. If he and Zenobia had to escape now, they only lacked shoes. Slowly he drew the blanket up, wrapping the covering around his left forearm. He had no weapons, but his padded arm could be used as a shield, and the trailing end of fabric could entangle a sword or confuse an archer’s aim.
A sudden gust howled through the courtyard and rattled the balcony doors before the wind lowered to a steady moan again. Silently, Ariq sat up. Zenobia’s body was trembling violently. He slipped his arm around her waist and flattened his hand between her breasts. Her heartbeat thumped wildly against his palm. He pulled her back against his chest and let her feel his deep and even breaths, trying to share some of his calm.
If Mara and Cooper were out there, they had the advantage. All of the guards were focused on keeping Ariq
in
the tower. They wouldn’t anticipate an attack from outside.
Another howling gust. Rain battered the shutters. There was no other sound.
Had she mistaken the wind whistling past the tower for Cooper? Even Zenobia seemed unsure now. She turned her head, and he bent so that she could breathe into his ear,
“Maybe I was wrong—”
A gust tore through the chamber. Wood cracked against stone. The balcony doors slamming open, Ariq realized. The distinctive
thwack
of a crossbow cut off a startled shout. The lantern flared out.
Even as darkness fell, Ariq surged to his feet with Zenobia in his arms. The day would
never
come when he wasn’t strong enough to carry his wife.
Steel hissed, followed by the thud of a bladed hilt against flesh. From near the main entrance came the rasping gurgle of a sliced throat. At least two people were in the chamber and silencing the guards before they could call for help. One might have been Mara, but the other was lighter on his feet than Cooper was. The mercenaries had apparently brought friends.

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