The Rift Walker (15 page)

She impulsively hugged him, pressing herself against the hard brass buttons of his uniform. Words of gratitude were not enough to convey all she felt.

Hesitant at first, but then more boldly, his arms wrapped around her. “It is my honor, my princess. Go now. We will make sure your way is clear.” Anhalt regarded the tall swordsman. “Watch out for her. My dagger won't miss a second time.”

Greyfriar gave a single nod. “I'll protect her with my life.”

It satisfied the Gurkha, who turned and headed out into the bustling street, his company falling into step behind him.

Adele stood for a few seconds caught up in the amazement of what had just occurred. It was Greyfriar's voice that broke her reverie.

“That, I take it, was your Colonel Anhalt.”

She spun back to him, grinning widely. “Yes, that most certainly was.”

“I would not want to disappoint such a man.”

“You won't.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on.”

They ran into the southern districts of Alexandria. The whistles and marching feet of troops faded into the distance, no doubt compliments of Colonel Anhalt's misdirection. They avoided hansom cabs, and the chemical carts preparing to light the evening lanterns. They reached the canals, which meant that Lake Mareotis was close by. Already she could see smaller cottages dotting the edges of the inland waterway, the sails of feluccas forming a procession beyond them. To the south towered great smokestacks belching black dust into the air.

The couple crossed the nearest bridge crowded with foot traffic and closed on the lake. Adele ran for the wharf. She knew exactly where she was heading. Greyfriar chased after her, his eyes watching the suspicious fishermen. There was a tearing sound as the dress snagged on a protruding nail. Adele did not stop, just grateful that more of the heavy dress fell away. She wondered if the soldiers would be able to follow the discarded petticoats like breadcrumbs.

Adele approached a bearded old man sitting on an overturned pail, mending a weathered sail. He looked up at her approach, smiling.

“Salaam, Miss. You're looking quite lovely this evening. That's a fine dress, though I fear you may get it dirty if you're not careful.”

Adele grinned back at him. To her relief, she spied a boat along his dock that would suit their needs perfectly. It had a small engine as well as sails, and a hold for protection from the sun.

He nodded toward a felucca bobbing gently as he rose on crooked legs. “Do you want to take her out for a romantic sail?”

“Actually I'm interested in buying that small dahabiya over there. It's yours, right?”

“Taken a liking to that one, eh? No wonder. She's a fine boat. Seen her share of storms and fair waters alike. I can fix her up for you. Should be ready in a few days.”

“As is.” Adele slipped off her gem-encrusted wedding band and pressed it into his twisted hand. “Today. Right now.”

“But I…” The old man trailed off into stunned silence as he gazed down at the riches in his hand.
“Fata barruk Allah.
I don't know that I can sell this.”

“Pry the gemstones out and sell them piecemeal. The ring itself is unique, and if it's recognized, it will attract attention from the authorities. But, trust me, you can buy five boats for what that ring is worth. I'm buying the boat and your silence.”

He glanced up at her and her mysterious, armed companion and scrutinized them both. For a moment Adele was afraid she would have to steal the boat. Not many women would be wearing a butchered wedding gown and have a ring worth enough to feed his family for years. The sailor merely grinned beneath his white beard. The waterfront was not a place for too many questions into people's backgrounds.

“If you insist, miss. She's all yours. There's food in her pantry and tins of chemical mix for the engine.”

“Would you throw in some fishing poles and an extra sail? And do you have any extra clothes?”

He laughed and nodded at three poles lying on the deck and hefted the sail he had been working on. “It's as good as I can do, but it should hold in a stiff breeze.” Then he stepped into a shanty nearby and came back with a small bundle of clothes. “They belonged to my son, but they should fit you, ma'am. I've nothing for the gentleman.”

Adele thanked him and readied to cast off while Greyfriar retrieved the poles and brought the material aboard before cautiously settling into the boat as Adele hoisted the sail with a wild laugh. In moments, they were under way toward the Nile and freedom.

F
OR A LARGER
vessel, the dahabiya handled sharply, and soon Adele had the bow aimed up the delta for the main trunk of the River Nile. There was a great deal of traffic on the water, which actually helped calm her anxiety. It wouldn't be long before the search widened beyond the Ras el-Tin district and Alexandria proper to draw in the River Guards. Among the countless boats, however, they would be hard to find.

Adele was thinking how best to camouflage themselves. The wedding dress would obviously be the first thing to go as soon as they were out of the heavy river traffic and she could dispose of it surreptitiously. For now she kept it hidden under the folds of Greyfriar's cloak.

Greyfriar emerged from belowdecks, where he had stowed the spare canvas. His head wrap was gone, revealing his shaggy dark hair. He still wore his military garb and gloves, but his weapons were out of sight. He brushed persistent drops of water from his cheeks.

The weather was fair, and the two large lateen sails billowed full and fat with the wind's breath. The hull skimmed over the surface, the bow rising and falling in a rhythmic sunburst cloud of spray. But their speed was slow compared to those going the opposite way with the current as it raced for the sea. Adele knew how to capture every scrap of the wind for now. Soon, they would lose the northerly sea breezes and rely more on the motor to fight their way upriver.

Adele was happy. Like a ship, she was always best under full press. There was a light in Adele's eyes; her auburn hair danced in the wind like an ominous crown set upon her temples. The remnants of her wedding dress fought from under his cloak and flew with the wind like a flag.

She smiled at Gareth. She couldn't help it. How long had she hoped for this moment? She hadn't thought it possible. Only hours ago she had been willing to give up her freedom, and now suddenly the world was once more open to her, with Gareth at her side.

Immediately her heart quickened. Standing by the rail, he was as tall and straight as she remembered. He looked the same as he had in Europe, though his hair was a bit longer and more unkempt. There were lines around his mouth, deep with strain. It had only been a few months, after all, but the length of time spent apart was immeasurable. Silhouetted against the setting sun, his chiseled features were shadowed, but his azure eyes shone bright and hungry. She saw his nostrils flare as he took in her scent. Her breath caught, wondering what message her adrenaline-soaked thoughts were sending. But she knew. Because it was mirrored in his face. Their gazes locked on each other.

Gareth crossed the span in two large strides and gathered her up so swiftly in his embrace that Adele's breath rushed out. Their lips sought each other desperately. His fingers found her tresses, entwining and pulling, but she didn't care. Her own hands were exploring his hair, soft and shaggy. Where most vampires handled humans so roughly they left bruises due to their dulled sense of contact, Gareth's touch was gentle, caressing. He understood pressure and always worried about what he could do to a human's frail body.

She fell against him and it was like leaning against a stone. He was immovable.

“I've missed you,” he whispered in her ear.

She let out a soft sob, hugging him tighter than she had ever dared hold anything. Her throat was so tight with emotion she couldn't speak. She didn't need to. His lips found hers again. Shivers rushed over her skin that had nothing to do with the nip in the air. Her breath sounded loud and throaty. This was a scene she had seen played out on stage or in her dreams and, for a moment, she wasn't sure she was awake.

He took her cheeks in his large hands and stared intently in her eyes. Whatever breath was left in Adele's lungs vanished. The chill of his palms cooled her heated skin, traveling a quicksilver path to her core.

“Don't leave me again,” she pleaded.

“Never. Whatever the cost.”

“I didn't dare hope to see you.” He drew her tight as they stood on the stern of the boat.

“I tried to stop thinking about you,” he admitted.

“Did it work?

“Not that I recall.”

He didn't pull away, only held her, as if just that simple act was enough. Such love was something that had been long missing in her life. They stayed that way for a long while, just holding one another.

Adele pulled away with a worried look. “If Cesare is planning some attack, shouldn't I go back? Is my family in danger?”

“Not so far as I could tell. He wants you. And Senator Clark. You are the two who drive the war machine. Killing your brother or father only fuels human determination and hatred. He wants to break the alliance, and stop the war. He is more likely to wait for you to return than to stage an attack against lesser targets. You are safest away from Alexandria.”

She relaxed, relieved by Gareth's words. Then she noticed him staring out over the dark waters as the river traffic increased, eyeing each ship as they passed, each set of eyes that moved over them, expecting pointed fingers and shouts of discovery.

“We're safe,” Adele assured him. “We're one of thousands now. The river will hide us.”

He glanced down at her, his expression dour. “I have no doubt. I couldn't be in safer hands.”

A gust of wind threatened to ruffle Adele's dress, and she fumbled to keep his cloak covering the stark white of her gown. “However, it would do well to get rid of this thing. I'll go change.”

She indicated for Gareth to mind the tiller, then paused, contemplating something. She threw one leg up on the rail and tossed the silk away from her thigh, revealing the Fahrenheit khukri strapped there.

Gareth's brow furrowed. “Were you expecting danger as well?”

“A girl needs to be prepared for anything on her wedding day.” Adele drew the blade and handed it carefully to him. She turned her back. “Do you think you can cut me free? I'll never get the thing off.”

“Hold still.” With a quick slice of her blade the torturous ties flew from her midsection.

“That's a relief. Thank you.” Unhindered, Adele drew in a deep breath for the first time since she'd squeezed into the gown. She held the sinking bodice of the dress tight against her breasts and gathered the fluttering skirt as Gareth stared openly at her. She pointed firmly ahead of them. “Just keep her prow following that ship dead ahead. I'll be right back.”

Scrambling down the short steps she came into the hold. It was sparse, but Adele could see where the old man had been storing bottles of date palm wine. A few bottles, both empty and full, rolled with the sway of the ship. She picked one up and studied the bottle. Not a bad brand. She stored them more securely. In the hold, there was an old tarp in addition to their extra sail as well as some old buckets, a light emergency anchor, and coils of cable.

She inspected the boyish clothes, simple but serviceable. Then she realized, wiggling her toes on the rough deck, that she had no shoes. She slid out of the wedding gown and changed from glamorous princess to water rat with a laugh.

Adele came back on deck. Gareth raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She had the wedding dress wrapped in a blanket and tied tight with twine. A moment later she had the spare anchor tied to the bundle and was dragging it to the rail. Gareth got up to help her, and together they dropped the wedding gown overboard. She stared after it to make sure it found its way to the bottom of the river. Gareth mistook the concentration for emotion.

“Regrets?” he asked.

“None. I hope some lucky she-crocodile enjoys it.” Adele held her arms outstretched for inspection. “How do I look?”

“Strong. Determined.”

“No. I meant my disguise.” She smirked.

“You look like an urchin.”

“Perfect.” Adele settled against him as if they were taking a holiday. The western sky was blossoming into the shade of a lotus flower with the last burst of the sun. Its colorful tapestry stretched across their heads. “How are things in Edinburgh?”

“Much the same as they've been for a hundred years or more.”

“No, I mean how are the people? How is Morgana?”

“Oh. She's well. She speaks of you often. Your time there was very special to her. To everyone.”

“She has no idea what it meant to me. I miss her, and everyone. But Morgana particularly was so sweet and helpful when I first arrived and I thought everything I believed in was a lie.” Adele sighed with memories. The friendship with the serving girl had been her salvation in those earliest dark nights in cold Scotland.

Gareth didn't speak. He well remembered the moment on Castle Hill when he revealed the true identity of Greyfriar to Adele. Feeling betrayed, she had run him through with his own sword. Her limitless trust and affection had turned to hatred, which cut him more keenly than any physical wound. That was the reason why the eventual but gradual return of her affection had washed over him like a flood and altered his life forever.

Adele asked, “What about the cats?”

“They're fine.”

“Thank you for Pet, by the way. It was the most amazing gift I've ever received. I can't believe you moved him from Edinburgh to Alexandria.”

“The Greyfriar has a long reach when necessary.” Gareth reached out his hand dramatically and then smiled at his foolishness. “I'm glad he made it to you.”

“Oh yes. My brother, Simon, loves him. Partly because he came from the mysterious Greyfriar.” Adele listened to the ruffle of wind in sails and the gentle lapping of water. “How is my good friend Baudoin? Is he still with you?”

“Of course. Baudoin has always been with me. And he always will be.”

“He doesn't much care for me, does he? I think he was unhappy with your dalliance with a human.”

“Nonsense,” Gareth replied flatly. “He adores you.”

“You're a worse liar than I am.” She playfully patted him on the cheek. “So what did he say when you told him you were coming to Alexandria to rescue me from my wedding?”

“Nothing. I didn't tell him.”

Adele laughed.

“I am the prince,” Gareth retorted stiffly. “I don't need Baudoin's approval to come and go as I please.”

She laughed even louder. “Oh, no doubt. Just like I don't crave the support of Colonel Anhalt and Mamoru in everything I do.”

Gareth breathed out in acceptance. “I suppose you're right. Baudoin means more to me than anyone, except you. I would do anything for him. Except give up the Greyfriar and you.” He shifted his weight, scanning around the boat for any undue attention to them. “Adele, when we encountered your Colonel Anhalt in Alexandria, you mentioned being a party to genocide. What did you mean?”

Adele felt a little sick at the question, but there was no way to break it gently. “In the coming war, the Equatorian and American armies, under the command of Senator Clark, intend to slaughter the humans in the north.”

Gareth reared back, his teeth flashing. “For what purpose?”

“To remove your food supply and diminish your ability to resist. Clark's mad.” Her face fell. “And my father as well it seems. He agreed to this insanity.”

“That strikes me as the type of strategy Cesare might have birthed.” Bitterness laced Gareth's every word. “Can humanity be as horrific as my own kind?”

“Believe me, I'm ashamed to be human at the moment. I had hoped to stop it, but no one would listen to me. No one cared. I don't deserve to be empress if I can't even sway my own father. I have failed my people.”

Gareth straightened, rising to his full, imposing height. “That you care for your people—and even for the humans of the north, who are no direct charge to you—does you credit, Adele. It is for that reason alone you deserve to be empress. Rich, poor, slave, or free—you care about them all. Apparently it is something both your father and my brother have forgotten.”

“But we are both outcasts now. So what can either of us do?”

Gareth took her chin and tipped her face up at him. “As you told your Anhalt, you will make them see reason. True leaders, even displaced ones, can effect changes. You will alter the future of your people. Although, personally, I would prefer you do so without marrying that blowhard.”

Adele blinked. The wind and Gareth's words were blowing away her worries. Her hand covered his. “We'll find a way to do it together.”

“As it should be,” he told her. “How long a journey do we have?”

“Abu Simbel is at least a week upriver. Maybe longer. We'll have to live like vagabonds and river folks. We can stop in Cairo for provisions for the long haul up the Nile. I kept a few of the gems from the dress to buy what we need. We'll be fine.”

Gareth's gaze lifted to the spectacle of fading color above them. “It will be a warmer day tomorrow. I may have to hide belowdecks when the heat becomes too much. I won't be of much use to you.”

She drew in a breath, suddenly unsure of her decisions.

Gareth leaned forward to kiss her. He couldn't feel her lips against his, but once more the tang of delicate spice and rich sweetness washed over his tongue and lingered there at the back of his throat. He heard her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. The musky scent of passion blended with the sweet perfume of an inexperienced woman was a tantalizing mix. He held her lightly and his heightened senses absorbed her, feeling her spent adrenaline and growing weakness.