Geared for Pleasure (26 page)

He wove, unsteady on his feet. The day’s activities seemed to crash in on him at once, along with the knowledge that he was about to show his weakness to them all. Again. “No.”

“Cyrus, are you unwell?” Dare’s concern felt too much like pity. He refused to accept it.

He growled. “I just need a drink. And a few more answers about what we’re doing to find the queen.”

Captain Amaranthe patted him on the shoulder too firmly to be mistaken for sympathy. “And they say there is no such thing as coincidence. Answers are what we need as well. Freeman? Make this man a stiff cup of tea while I show him to my quarters for a little chat.”

On her lips the word chat sounded unmistakably like interrogation.

Seraphina was walking away, her head down, her tail gently stroking her thigh as if she were unconsciously offering herself comfort.

He swore. A distraction sounded like a brilliant idea right about now.

The men dispersed, all eyeing him with equal parts judgment
and fear, when Dare returned to his side. Cyrus waited until Bodhan and the others had followed the captain before speaking to her.

“You knew she was here? You know what she did to me?” Unable to look at her, he stared over her shoulder at the clouds rushing past.

“I know she was trying to find you. And yes, I knew you were missing. Bodhan was trying to find yo—”

His expression of disbelief halted the words on her lips. “The whoremonger was trying to save a half-breed? You expect me to believe that? And Seraphina was aiding him, I suppose. Overwhelmed with guilt for drugging me so her friends could have me stuffed in a trunk and shipped off to… Never mind. You have no idea what kind of people you’re dealing with, Dare. You have to trust me. Have I ever been wrong?”

Her answer shocked him. “You know how much I respect you, have always respected you, but yes, you have.” She sighed, whispering in a low voice so no one else could hear. “I was not prepared for this, Cyrus. Neither of you prepared me for
this
.”

He stepped back to lean against the ship’s railing, reeling as much from her words as his body’s damnable weakness. She was not wrong. He’d had enough time to think about it when he was away. About all the things Dare did not know. How he had left the safety of Queen Idony to unprepared palace Wode. His overconfidence in his own abilities had been thoroughly routed.

He thought about what he’d learned this morning. That the queen’s worst fears had been realized while he had allowed himself to be shamed beyond redemption as a prisoner. That they were on an airship with a non-Wode contingent that were, nevertheless, loyal to the queen.

Dare had found her way here alone. She had risked her life’s blood while she believed herself without allies. Had been without allies. It was much to take in.

But he was here now.

And so was Bodhan, captain of the Siren. And it was obvious, even in his current state, that he was involved with the Queen’s Chalice. The way he looked at Dare brought every one of Cyrus’s protective instincts roaring to life.

Cyrus could not deny it vexed him. Dare was his family, the Chalice he had been trained to protect, along with the queen, for as long as he had been Arendal.

“I am sorry for all you have suffered due to my incompetence,” Cyrus began hesitantly. “I can understand your loss of faith in me, but I admit I cannot fathom your recent choices.”

Dare tilted her head, her indigo braid sliding over her shoulder as she peered up at him. “You mean Bodhan.”

Cyrus shrugged. “I am grateful that he cared for you when I could not, but he is—”

“More than you know,” Dare completed his sentence, interrupting him. “He is so much more than you know. Queen Idony may have entrusted you with more of her secrets, but not all of them. Trust her now, Cyrus. She trusts him. And if you cannot, then trust me.” She took a shaky breath and stepped away from Cyrus in unspoken apology. “I love him.”

She loved Bodhan. She stood before him, a strength inside of her that he’d always sensed, but never seen, and declared her love for a criminal whose existence went against every Theorrean law in the books. She had changed. He could not help but see that it looked good on her.

Cyrus nodded. “I assume you know exactly how he feels in return?”

Dare blushed and Cyrus stood up straight, ready to end this uncomfortable conversation. “Good. I reserve the right to dislike him, treat him rudely, and cut off any of his protruding limbs should he
step out of line with you or treat you without the respect you deserve. That being said, we should no doubt take the captain up on her invitation to talk.”

He watched the smaller Wode lead the way with confident strides. She chuckled. “That was no invitation. And consider yourself warned. If you argue with Captain Amaranthe… make sure you aren’t anywhere near the railing. Or her blades.”

He rolled onto his back with a sigh and pushed off the blankets. The bed was comfortable, the sheets were soft, and he was clean and cared for. Why was he awake?

He swung up to a sitting position, resting his arms on his knees and savoring the cool wood of the floor with his bare feet. He could see the sky out the window. No desert dunes. No mountains beckoning in the distance. Just dark sky and stars. It should perhaps be a disturbing idea, such a heavy ship hovering this high above the ground. However, he had more pressing worries than gravity or its lack at the moment.

Still. The first twitch of a smile formed on his lips. He wished he could have been there to see Dare’s face when she had first seen this. Or when she’d discovered she was on a submersible beneath the sea.

It had been a frustrating and unproductive meeting with the captain, Freeman, and Bodhan. Having to tell them the dagger had disappeared after he’d been taken, having to admit to that shame aloud, had done nothing for his pounding head or his pride.

In an effort to comfort him, Dare had come to his room, Bodhan
in tow, and told him in detail about her experiences before he arrived. She’d reminded him so much of the queen, he’d had to bite the inside of his cheek to maintain his composure. Queen Idony did love to tell stories.

Dare’s tale emphasized the loyalty of the people around her: Bodhan’s tender protection, Freeman and the captain’s concentration on protecting the queen, her unusual friendship with Seraphina and even the incredible message from the queen sent on the wings of what Dare described as a tiny metal hummingbird.

He had known that despite the Theorrean Raj’s attempts to isolate her, the queen had a sweeping reach they could not touch. He had been sent on enough “training exercises” over the years to know that she was as beloved as she was wise.

Yet he had not imagined this. According to Dare, the queen knew Seraphina personally and believed her loyal. In his life, he had never known his sovereign to be wrong, but he could not believe the queen would countenance what the Felidae did while her back was turned.

Dare told him she had felt true regret in Seraphina when he’d attacked her on the deck. That she did not believe Seraphina could be responsible for his abduction—not knowingly.

While he was not so sure about that, he had regrets as well. Now that his mind was truly beginning to clear, he knew his lack of control was inexcusable. The yearning for the vayun that still lingered in his body, his slow recovery and her betrayal; none of those reasons gave him permission to forget himself.

He was the Queen’s Sword. He was no abuser of women, no oafish brute that enjoyed inflicting pain. No matter what they had tried to turn him into, he had never forgotten that he was Wode.

His stomach rumbled and he got to his feet, grabbing his threadbare pants and tugging them up over his hips. Perhaps there was something in their galley’s pantry for him to eat, now that he was finally regaining his appetite.

He slipped out of his bedroom and walked quietly down the hall, hoping he would not be interrupted. The captain wanted information, and his mind was finally clearing, but for the moment, he would rather work out his answers on his own.

He could recall his last meeting with the queen, when she had given him the dagger along with her cryptic instructions. She had been concerned, even then. Worried, and not just for him.

Cyrus should have known something was wrong. In that moment he’d wished he had Dare’s gift of empathy, so he could understand her pain and ease it. Perhaps she’d known of the dangers that were coming for her, that he would disobey her to stay at her side if she’d told him. It made no sense, and yet Queen Idony’s nature would cause her to make that sacrifice.

He walked past the floor hatch that he assumed led to the engines. Dare had told him about the Deviant, that it ran on both theorrite and steam power, depending on the need. He’d heard rumors of its existence, but he hadn’t been aware it was this advanced. That it had discovered a way of hiding in plain sight.

He’d also heard stories of another, more frightening ship that only traveled the skies at night. No one had said exactly what it might be able to do. Only that no one was ever left behind to reveal its secrets.

His hunger gnawed at him once more and he sleepily scratched his chest. There was a door without a lock ahead and the smell of cooking meat coming from its direction. He had to assume it led to the galley. He pushed it open with the flat of his hand and froze.

Seraphina sat cross-legged on the thick wooden table in the center of the room, surrounded by dirty pots and empty jugs. James Stacy, the man Cyrus recalled from his short time on the Siren, seemed to be leaning toward her in an intimate fashion as she laughed.

His desire for food vanished.

The guard with the mussed brown hair and the ever-affable expression noticed him first. “Cyrus the Sword, I was hopin’ to see you again.” He chuckled. “Not sure you knew this, but when you first talked about bein’ a sword, the boys and I thought you were talkin’ about—”

James Stacy caught Seraphina’s gaze and they both began laughing again, as though sharing a secret jest that did not cast him in a favorable light. Cyrus felt a tic pulsing near his eye but stayed silent. He could care less who she had moved on to. For all he knew, she had bedded the entire ship’s contingent. If memory served, she certainly had the sexual energy required for such a feat.

When he did not respond, the laughter died out and James Stacy shifted awkwardly. Cyrus stepped inside the room and headed toward what he hoped was the pantry. Pulling back the curtain that hid the food from view, he studied the nearly empty shelves and the windup icebox that, when opened, revealed a paltry amount of shriveled produce and a single mauve-shelled egg swimming in a puddle of melting ice. The reason for tomorrow’s descent made sense now. The ship desperately needed to resupply. It was not as if they could drop a fishing net off the port bow for sustenance.

Her voice surrounded him like a lover’s embrace. “A bit of threehorn shank is warming on the stove. James and I were scrounging up a late-night treat, and we have already laid waste to the last of Freeman’s stew, so you can have it.”

Cyrus grit his teeth. “Generous of you.”

She chuckled. “Not particularly. We discovered we would both rather drink than stuff our bellies tonight. Food makes somber sober men of happy drunkards, as they say. Isn’t that right, sweet Jamie?”

James stood up politely to move out of the way as Cyrus grabbed a plate and headed toward the small stove. Meat. He had come here to eat, not wallow, and he would prove it. It no longer mattered that it was the last thing he wanted to do. He would chew down every
last bite of the threehorn shank, imagining he was beating James Stacy bloody. Or carrying Seraphina over his shoulder to his bedroom.

Once he’d made himself a plate and turned away, the silence had become distinctly uncomfortable. He picked up the greasy meat with his fingers, gnawed a bite off, and chewed slowly. Seraphina watched him before taking a drink from her large opened jug. It was so quiet they could hear the wind rustling the side sails, and a male snore sawing through the wall from one of the bedrooms.

James Stacy was the first to blink. “Seraphina, I do believe I have sufficiently drowned my sorrows for the evenin’. I thank you for the company.”

He nodded to Cyrus without meeting his gaze and headed for the galley door.

“Jamie?”

The man looked back at Seraphina. She lifted her half-empty jug and smiled. “Trust me. For you? She
is
the waiting kind.”

The guard-cum-deckhand nodded shyly, his shoulders hunched as the door swung shut behind him. Cyrus felt his eyebrows lift. “Who is
she
?”

Seraphina tilted her neck in a stretch designed to drive him insane before answering. “You may remember a girl in a coral dress from your time on the Siren?” She shrugged, not waiting for his reply. “He believes himself in love with her, but his duty to Bodhan comes first. With the Siren closed for business indefinitely, he worries she will be in search of another job or another protector. Away from the security of the Siren, bad things can happen to a girl like Coral without a man to protect her. Despite that undeniable truth, he asked her to wait for him until his return.”

Cyrus heard the touch of cynicism in her tone. “You lied to him.”

Her lips pursed. “As my captain would say, men often believe their pricks are so unique as to change a woman’s destiny. Coral
found a way to survive before she met him, she will find a way without him.” She sighed, swirling her jug of liquid and grimacing at the sediment that whirled up from its base. “James Stacy is a sweet man, and he would be no good to us in our search for the queen if he was pining over a broken heart. I said what he needed to hear.”

Cyrus set down his plate and crossed his arms. “Is this your new calling on the Deviant? You don’t exactly look the maternal part. Though I know you have ways other than kind lies and bad drink to comfort a man.”

He felt like a bastard for his words, particularly after his earlier actions. Something about her brought out the worst in him.