The Kraken King (57 page)
The bed was too far. The wall was closer.
He pinned her against it and shoved deep. She cried out, her slick sheath tightening around him. Her nails dug into his biceps, and she looked up at him, her lips swollen and her eyes like polished jade.
“Zenobia.” He loved the breathless, whimpering sound she made when he rocked against her. “You want rough and merciless?”
Though gasping, pushing back against him, she still managed a laugh. “So long and hard we’ll need three days to recover.”
As he’d promised. But three days or three thousand, it didn’t matter. Ariq would never recover from this.
He gripped her bottom and slid her higher up the wall, and thought of the invisible wall surrounding her.
Long and hard.
If he battered against them long enough, hard enough, one of these walls would fall.
Long and hard.
If he battered against them long enough, hard enough, one of these walls would fall.
Ariq prayed the wall would be his wife’s. Because if it didn’t crumble, he would never recover from that, either.
XXVI
Even if a long, hard bout of coitus against a wall had actually required it, three days of quiet recovery would have been too much to hope for. By the second morning, anxiety had a constant hold on Zenobia’s chest, gripping her heart in a tight and heavy fist. Though Ariq appeared as calm as ever when they watched the sunrise from the eastern terrace, he hardly touched his breakfast before Ambassador Auger arrived and they boarded the airship that would carry them to their first meeting of the day.
Oh, but this worry was all so foolish. At least
now
it was. Later, they might have reason. But even if Mara and Cooper flew over Krakentown and immediately turned around, they couldn’t possibly return to Nippon before midday. Zenobia was determined to put fear aside and write until then.
now
it was. Later, they might have reason. But even if Mara and Cooper flew over Krakentown and immediately turned around, they couldn’t possibly return to Nippon before midday. Zenobia was determined to put fear aside and write until then.
But she found herself staring blankly at her typesetting machine, and before long, she found herself standing on the western terrace and searching the skies for a sign of them.
Also foolish. How would she recognize their hired airship among so many others? Yet she couldn’t force herself to go back inside, and every time an airship flew near the quarantine her heart thudded . . . then fell with disappointment when the vessels docked on other levels.
So she remained on the terrace, standing in the shade of a potted palm and sketching the scene that lay before her. It was work, of a sort. Her current story wasn’t set in Nippon, but maybe someday she would write one that was—and the imperial city was not all impressive coral towers. Fields and clusters of homes lay to the southwest. Near the beach, houses were more densely packed and docks crowded the shoreline, as if a fishing village had been plunked into the midst of the city. Each day, from the balcony in her chambers, she’d spotted boats leaving early in the morning and returning late in the afternoon, tiny dots floating atop turquoise swells.
As in the Red City, the larger residences with their walled gardens and expansive courtyards had been built farther away from the water. But as grand as some were, none compared to the imperial palace.
Another small city within a city, but it could never be mistaken for a fishing village. Sprawled atop a hill in a collection of courtyards and watchtowers and residences, the palace overlooked both the coral towers and the Red Wall.
The empress sees all,
everyone said.
The empress sees all,
everyone said.
From that perspective, perhaps she truly did.
Another airship approached the quarantine tower. It couldn’t be Mara and Cooper’s. It was only midmorning and the ship was a small hired cab, not a cruiser built for travel, but still Zenobia’s heart slammed into her ribs as it neared the docking platform.
Then she spotted a masked Helene at the rail and was flooded with dismay. Oh, blast it all. She hadn’t expected her friend today, and Zenobia knew herself too well. She wouldn’t be good company. Too much worry and frustration boiled beneath her skin, and though she knew Helene would try to ease both, Zenobia didn’t want to be placated. The Coopers were worth worrying about.
But perhaps it was for the best. If the mercenaries didn’t return by this evening, then she and Ariq would surely leave for Krakentown by tomorrow morning—yet she had other obligations here. If Helene hadn’t yet told her husband about the baby, her friend’s situation was still uncertain. Zenobia needed to make sure Helene would be safe before flying off to the other side of the continent. At least now Zenobia would have the opportunity to ask her.
On the terrace, Helene removed her mask, revealing a sickly smile, but waved away Zenobia’s suggestion that they go inside.
“The fresh air will do me good. And I don’t wish to interrupt your work,” she added with a glance at Zenobia’s notebook.
That was kind. Though now Zenobia wasn’t working as much as she was trying to think of a delicate way to broach the subject of Helene’s pregnancy. They stood quietly in the shade, Zenobia sketching and Helene gazing off into the distance.
“The airship pilot said that rains were coming,” Helene suddenly said. “And when it does, the wind howls through the towers.”
“I believe it,” Zenobia said softly. Now and again, even a small breeze in the right direction resonated through the courtyard like a dreadful moan. “Though I’m not so certain about the rains.”
Only white clouds dotted the sky now. White clouds and airships that weren’t Mara and Cooper’s.
“You’ll forgive me if I trust the aeromancy of a pilot who has flown in this area for decades over your oh-so-analytical forecast,” her friend said dryly.
“I’ll forgive you.” Especially since Zenobia liked it when Helene was as prickly as she was.
Helene smiled a little before looking at Zenobia’s sketch. “The palace grounds are undeniably beautiful, but they simply can’t compare to the towers. They’re so impressive. I don’t understand why the empress doesn’t reside in one.”
On her second day here, Zenobia had wondered the same. Ariq’s answer was scribbled in her notebook, but she didn’t need to consult it. “The governor says it’s probably for two reasons: tradition, and because the fortress is less vulnerable to airship attacks.”
“Ah,” Helene said, but her eyebrows stitched together as she studied the tiered fortress on the palace grounds. The enormous stone structure dwarfed every other nearby building. “An airship can fly over it as easily as it can a tower.”
“But there aren’t as many access points—and the strongest part of the fortress is likely underground.”
Her friend still looked doubtful. “Your husband said that?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose he is right, then.”
So prickly. “Was there any news from Lieutenant Blanchett this morning?”
Zenobia hadn’t asked earlier, because she’d assumed that Helene would immediately volunteer the information if there had been anything to report. But her friend was in a quite a mood, so perhaps she wouldn’t have.
“No,” Helene replied, dashing Zenobia’s small hope. “Any news of Mara? My husband said they had flown to Krakentown to see if anything was amiss.”
“Not yet. But they aren’t due back until later this afternoon.” Zenobia couldn’t keep the tension from her voice.
“I’m certain they are well,” Helene said softly.
“Yes,” Zenobia agreed, though she wasn’t so certain, and the anxiety was twisting ever tighter in her chest. At least this gave her the opening she’d needed, however. “If they don’t come, I expect that Ariq and I will leave for Krakentown by tomorrow morning.”
“You are going, too?”
“Of course I’m going.” Her reply had an edge to it. The question shouldn’t have irritated her so much, but it did—probably because Helene had been so willing to leave Mara and Cooper to their own devices in the smugglers’ dens, as well, simply so that she could return to her husband . . .
Oh.
Well. She’d almost closed that opening very quickly, hadn’t she?
Well. She’d almost closed that opening very quickly, hadn’t she?
Carefully, Zenobia asked, “Unless you need me to stay?”
“Need you?” Her friend seemed surprised by the question, then amused. “I’ll be perfectly well without you. There’s plenty to entertain me. And I imagine that after this is all settled you will be living in Krakentown, anyway.”
“Well, yes, but . . . I wondered if—” Dear Lord, there really was no delicate way to put this. “Has the ambassador learned of your condition?”
“Oh.” As poised as ever, Helene folded her hands over her stomach. “Yes.”
“You told him?”
“He guessed. I was so ill when I returned home the last time—after our trip to the temple—and he asked me if I was with child. I could not lie to him. What good would that do? He would never believe that any child born in seven months was his. So I told him the truth of my condition.”
“And what did he say?”
“He intends to accept the child as his own.”
Zenobia gaped at her. “So easily?”
Lifting her shoulder in an elegant shrug, Helene said, “He is a man of extraordinary compassion.”
And a better person than Zenobia was. If Ariq ever did anything similar . . . oh, she couldn’t even bear to
imagine
him with another woman. The anxiety in her breast was nothing compared to the pain of a mere thought. She would kill him. Then cry until her heart burst. Then kill him again before leaving forever. She would never recover from such a betrayal of trust.
imagine
him with another woman. The anxiety in her breast was nothing compared to the pain of a mere thought. She would kill him. Then cry until her heart burst. Then kill him again before leaving forever. She would never recover from such a betrayal of trust.
Perhaps the ambassador and Helene had different expectations of love than she did, however—and Zenobia didn’t doubt that Helene loved him. Maybe that was enough for them both.
And now this was all very anticlimactic. Even if the ambassador hadn’t rejected her friend for infidelity, Zenobia had expected far more arguments and tears, followed by the long process of repairing their marriage. She’d expected to hold her friend’s hand through it all.
But apparently Helene would be perfectly fine without her.
Shaking her head in bemusement, Zenobia said, “He sounds very forgiving.”
Her friend gave a tinkle of a laugh. “Oh, he is not that.”
A chill raced up Zenobia’s spine. “Not forgiving?”
“No. Compassionate, yes. Forgiving, no.”
“But . . . is everything well between you?”
Helene frowned. “I have just said so.”
“You also just said he wasn’t a forgiving man. So I’m at a loss to understand how he so easily accepted all of this. Is he angry with you?”
“Of course not.”
Worry snagged at her heart. Was her friend simply saying that to ease Zenobia’s fears? Because she couldn’t understand
how
an unforgiving husband could so easily forgive Helene for lying with another man.
how
an unforgiving husband could so easily forgive Helene for lying with another man.
“Oh, do not look at me like that, Geraldine! That is the same face you wore when your father was home.” Helene clasped her hand. “You don’t have to fear for me.”
If she insisted it was so, then Zenobia must believe it, but she couldn’t shrug away the terrible heaviness that settled onto her shoulders. She looked out over the terrace rail, feeling Helene’s gaze on her profile.
After a long moment, her friend sighed. “You don’t need to forgive someone who didn’t have a choice.”
What?
Her gaze shot to Helene’s face, her stomach roiling with horror. She’d been forced?
Her gaze shot to Helene’s face, her stomach roiling with horror. She’d been forced?
Helene looked away. Shame? Oh, no. Speechless, Zenobia clung to Helene’s hand, squeezing her fingers in desperate sympathy. In all this time, she’d never even considered Helene might have been raped. She’d just assumed that her friend had been lonely and sought comfort with another man—or, knowing how Helene blossomed with flattery and attention, that she had been seduced by someone with a clever tongue.
Oh, she was a terrible friend. The very worst.
Heartsick, she whispered, “Oh, Helene—”
“Well, he
did
take advantage of me.” Helene jerked her hand from Zenobia’s. “He knew my husband was away, that Basile’s family all resented me, and that I was alone and out of sorts. He knew exactly which weaknesses to prey upon.”
did
take advantage of me.” Helene jerked her hand from Zenobia’s. “He knew my husband was away, that Basile’s family all resented me, and that I was alone and out of sorts. He knew exactly which weaknesses to prey upon.”
Zenobia stared at her. What was Helene saying now? What had Helene thought
she
had been about to say to provoke such a defensive reaction?
she
had been about to say to provoke such a defensive reaction?
Eyes swimming, her friend implored, “What should I have told Basile?”
She didn’t know. She still wasn’t absolutely certain what Helene was admitting to. “You lied to your husband about being forced?”
“What choice did I have? And I thought
you
of all people would understand, since the same thing happened to your mother when
she
was left alone and taken advantage of.”
you
of all people would understand, since the same thing happened to your mother when
she
was left alone and taken advantage of.”
Zenobia’s mother? “You think that was the same?”
“Isn’t it?”
The unapologetic set of Helene’s chin said that she believed it was—or she’d convinced herself it was. Zenobia had to look away from her, feeling as if molten lead had been poured down her throat, burning and heavy, but slowly hardening as it cooled. And toxic. Oh, so toxic. She didn’t answer, terrified of what would emerge if she spoke.
Oh, and she would be
glad
to go to Krakentown now, to put a continent between her and Helene. Not forever. Just a few months during which she would not hear Helene’s voice and remember how she’d insisted there was no difference between her situation and Zenobia’s mother’s.
glad
to go to Krakentown now, to put a continent between her and Helene. Not forever. Just a few months during which she would not hear Helene’s voice and remember how she’d insisted there was no difference between her situation and Zenobia’s mother’s.
Her friend sighed. “What could I have done, Geraldine? I would lose everything. Should I be punished so harshly for a mistake? I am not you. I have no wealth of my own. I have no brother to come to my rescue.”
“You have a friend who would do anything for you.”
“Yes,” Helene said, her voice suddenly thick. “And must I now choose between you and my husband? Don’t force me to.”
Zenobia wouldn’t. And now the anger was going, leaving her with a sick ache in her chest and the helpless need to cry. So she only nodded, because never would she ask Helene to make that decision.
But she would still be glad to go.
***
He’d done this before. Only two days ago, Ariq had flown back to the quarantine tower, knowing that he would soon be going again. There were differences. Now he returned in the afternoon instead of the evening. Cooper didn’t wait for him; this time Zenobia stood on the terrace, her face pale and her fingers twisting together in anxious tension.
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