To his surprise, Cas raced across the lab. She spread her arms and engulfed him in an embrace, a surprisingly strong one given her slender arms. This was more than a hug of affection. Something had happened. Something bad.
“What’s wrong?” His certainty of a problem didn’t keep him from returning the embrace. He pulled her close, lowering his face to the soft, short hair on the top of her head. His own long ropes of hair fell about her face, creating a curtain of privacy, not that they needed it. This late in the day, there had been few lanterns on in the other labs as he had walked through the building. Still, he liked this sense that he had her here, alone and to himself.
“The Cofah want you dead,” Cas said, her voice muffled, her face pressed to his chest.
“That’s not a revelation.” Tolemek waited for a further explanation.
“I went to see my father.”
Tolemek took a deep breath. That wasn’t exactly a revelation, either. She hadn’t told him she was going, but she’d made a few offhand comments about how she might as well be working for him now that she had cold-heartedly killed a good man. He had tried listening, arguing, and sympathizing with her self-recriminations, but nothing had seemed to be what she needed. He’d known she wouldn’t be happy as an assassin, but had kept the words to himself, thinking she was just talking, that nothing would come of it.
“He had a job offer on his desk,” Cas said, tilting her head back to look up at his face. “From someone with the authority to sign on behalf of your emperor.”
“He’s not my emperor. He hasn’t been for a long time.” As he had recently promised to King Angulus.
“That’s good, because he wants you dead. He’s offering my father a lot of money to be the one to kill you.”
Tolemek looked toward the cabinet door that was still ajar. Was it possible that Ahnsung had been the one to come snooping in his absence? His shoulder blades itched at the idea of someone with Cas’s sniping skills—along with a host of other life-stealing talents—hunting him. “And he took it?”
“I can’t know for certain from the letter, but I know…” She bit her lip, her hesitancy rare. She didn’t usually mince words. “He doesn’t like you. For me. I know he’s never even talked to you, but that came out in a conversation he had with General Zirkander.” Her mouth twisted. Yes, apparently, her father had an easier time talking to her C.O.—her former C.O.—than his daughter.
“Would he like anyone for you?”
“Probably not, but he never accepted assassination assignments for the others.”
Cas had never spoken much of “others,” and he’d had the impression that there hadn’t been many. He didn’t particularly want details on them now, so all he said was, “Perhaps they had more savory reputations than I have.”
“Not really. More savory hair, perhaps.” She wriggled an arm free and pushed a few clumps behind his shoulder.
Her humor had been so rare of late that he didn’t know how to respond to her teasing. He almost forgot to respond at all since her touch sent a shiver through him, making him aware of how close they were. Teasing wasn’t the only thing she—they—hadn’t done since Apex’s death. Would news of his impending assassination kindle passionate thoughts within her? This probably wasn’t the time to ask, but he lifted a hand to her face, wondering if she would respond to his touch as she once had.
“You said you liked my hair long the last time we were horizontal together.” He rested his hand on the side of her head and brushed her cheek with his thumb. Her hair was slightly damp, and she smelled good, of flowers and spring rain. Thoughts of times they had spent together—too damned few—came to mind.
“I said it tickled,” Cas said dryly.
“And that you liked it.” He lowered his gaze briefly to her chest, reminding her of where it had tickled.
An appealing rosy flush warmed her cheeks. The temptation to kiss her swelled inside of him. He leaned down, his gaze snagged on her lips.
Cas drew back, releasing him. “We should be serious.”
“Aren’t we serious most of the time, already?” Reluctantly, he lowered his arms to let her go. He would have liked an excuse to be playful for a while.
“My father is a dangerous man.” She turned sideways, frowning toward a dark window. “He hasn’t failed many missions. I came to tell you—Tolemek, maybe you should go.”
“Go?”
“Leave the city. If anybody else was after you, I would volunteer to help you hunt the bastard down, but—” Cas turned back toward him, a rare helpless expression softening her eyes, “—how am I supposed to do that when the bastard is my own father?”
“Maybe we should go talk to him and convince him not to accept the assignment.” Tolemek had no idea how he would do that, unless he could make a better offer. How much had the emperor agreed to pay? Tolemek wasn’t swimming in riches, but he had made money quickly before when he’d needed it. A number of his formulas had commercial value. Still, the notion of outbidding an emperor’s coffers was daunting.
Judging by the face Cas made, she didn’t think much of the idea.
“Wouldn’t he just follow me if I left town?” He didn’t want to leave anyway. He had a fabulous lab here. And he’d started to make friends, of a sort. Sardelle, anyway. And some of the other researchers working in the building had stopped skittering away at his approach. And then there was Cas… if she would allow herself to remain a part of his life. “He went all the way to Owanu Owanus to find Tylie’s dragon.”
“That is true.” Cas pushed a hand through her hair, ruffling it.
He wanted to smooth it, to touch her in any way that she would allow. He snorted to himself. And here he’d thought he had been convincing himself to stop caring so much in preparation for the inevitable breakup. All she had to do was hug him, and he couldn’t stop thinking bedroom thoughts.
“Cas. I—”
She lifted a hand and spun toward the door. An instant later, he heard the footsteps too. Heavy footsteps, at least two sets of them. Tolemek didn’t know who it was, but it wouldn’t be Ahnsung, not with that noisy tread.
Cas slipped a throwing knife out of a thigh sheath that held two more—he hadn’t noticed she was carrying the weapons, only that she hadn’t been carrying around her sniper rifle lately. Tolemek didn’t have any of his own chemical weapons at hand, but he grabbed a bottle of acid from a shelf and stepped up beside her.
The footsteps stopped outside of his lab, and a man cleared his throat. A hand snaked around the jamb to knock on the already open door.
“Sergeant Arnost on the king’s business,” the owner said.
“The king’s business?” Cas mouthed to Tolemek.
He shrugged, but since he’d just returned from some of the king’s business, he wasn’t that surprised. Had he forgotten to do something before leaving the dirigible? He hadn’t thought that he needed to report back to the castle, since he had only been along to help. He hadn’t been in charge of the mission.
“Come in,” Tolemek said.
The two soldiers were wearing the black of the king’s staff, men who guarded the castle. They were big, strong, and intimidating, until they crept uncertainly into the lab, glancing in all directions, as if they were heading into a witch’s cave and some mutant guard creature might leap out and eat them.
“The king needs something from me tonight?” Tolemek asked.
“Ah.” The one who had introduced himself as Sergeant Arnost tore his gaze from a shelf of organs in formaldehyde. “Yes. I mean, no. We’re here to get Lieuten—I mean, Ms. Caslin Ahn.”
“Me?” Cas glanced at Tolemek, as if he would have a clue what this was about.
He could only shrug again.
“Yes, ma’am.” The sergeant looked at her throwing knife—she hadn’t slid it back into its sheath yet. “Will you come willingly? We’re authorized to use force, but we’d rather not.”
“Because you know she’ll shave the hair off your balls if you try
?” Tolemek asked. Cas wasn’t truly a master at unarmed combat, but he’d seen her fight often enough to know she could often find a way out of the grasps of bigger opponents, even when she didn’t have a firearm at hand.
The sergeant’s lips flattened. “Because she’s Raptor from Wolf Squadron. She’s a hero.”
Tolemek nudged Cas with his elbow. “Notice that wasn’t a denial.”
She put away her knife, not noticeably charmed by his humor. Her mouth had tightened at the word hero. He chose to believe she was irked at the reminder of her past, not at him.
“Mind if I come along?” he asked.
“No,” Cas said at the same time as the sergeant said, “Yes.”
“Then it’s settled,” Tolemek said, walking toward the door with her. He hadn’t ever tried to receive preferential treatment based on Cas’s position on the legendary squadron—he hadn’t even thought it might be possible to do so—but maybe it would work.
The sergeant opened his mouth, but took in the grim expression on Cas’s face, then shrugged and told his comrade, “The king’s secretary will kick him out if he doesn’t want to see him.”
“You’re in charge, Sergeant.”
“Lucky me.”
• • • • •
General Ort was waiting inside the castle courtyard when Ridge walked in, accompanied by Sardelle and Tylie. The guards had waved the three of them through without question, as if they had been expected. General Ort’s presence reminded him—uncomfortably—of the times his C.O. had accompanied him to the castle to make sure Ridge didn’t do something inappropriate in the presence of the king.
He didn’t stop you from climbing up that frozen vine, Jaxi said into his mind. She’d been keeping up a running commentary on his thoughts for most of the trip to the castle. If he didn’t know better, he would assume she had been missing him.
I miss monitoring your unpredictable antics. It’s a touch boring out in the woods with so few people around. Tylie’s so innocent, I barely know what to say to her.
Does she not appreciate it when you inform her that the neighbors are looking vigorously at pictures of nudes?
She gives me blank looks. She’s led a very sheltered life. I can’t imagine what Phelistoth finds to discuss with her.
Ridge couldn’t imagine, either, so he merely nodded. Jaxi seemed pleased by his agreement.
“General,” Ridge greeted Ort with a thump to the shoulder, hoping to distract him from looking down and making disparaging comments about the state of his boots. It wasn’t his fault it had rained on the way over here, or that a steam wagon driver with an appalling lack of respect for a military uniform had charged through a puddle, spattering mud on his trousers. “Before you say anything, it wasn’t my fault.”
He expected a lecture—Ort was so good at them, he could spit them out without thought. Instead, Ort nodded gravely at Ridge and gripped his shoulder.
“I was sorry to hear the news,” he said solemnly.
Ridge stared at him, his stomach sinking. What had happened? A loss of one of his men? Some accident he hadn’t heard about yet?
“News?” Ridge glanced at Sardelle, wondering if she knew anything.
Surprisingly, a faint smirk curved her lips.
“I heard about the couch,” Ort said.
“What? How? I just heard about it.” And was that truly what Ort was offering condolences about? A piece of furniture?
“We’ve all been looking forward to seeing that beastly green couch replaced.” Ort lowered his hand and nodded toward the double doors leading to the castle interior. “You know you can call me Vilhem now, right, Ridge?”
“Yes, sir, but General Ort is what comes out. And what do you mean all? Who’s all?”
“I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I heard you were letting Sardelle pick out the new one.” Ort shook his head sadly. “I heard it was handsome—and all one color—an appealing color. I’m sad I never got a chance to see it.”
“If I thought you had a sense of humor, I’d laugh, but I’m afraid you’re deadly serious.”
Sardelle, walking behind Ort in their little procession, gave Ridge a slight nod.
“We’re all hoping Sardelle will be a good influence on you, Ridge.” Ort nodded to the guards and walked in. Once again, nobody questioned their group. “It’s time for you to grow up.”
“Of that, I have no doubt, but I didn’t realize sofas were a reflection of one’s maturity level.”
“They can be.” Ort headed up the stairs toward the king’s office. “Angulus is waiting for us.”
“He was expecting us?” Ridge glanced at Sardelle again—she hadn’t been communicating with him, had she? Or maybe Jaxi had. She’d spoken to Angulus at the end of that last mission, he recalled.
“A dragon almost burned down your house, which is located less than two miles from the city walls, Ridge,” Ort said. “What we’ve been trying to figure out is why it took you so long to come here to report it.”
“I just learned about it.”
“No excuses.” Ort propelled Ridge up the stairs with a push. “The king’s waiting.”
“He’s grumpy,” came a whisper from behind them. Tylie.
Ridge started to smile, but Sardelle responded with, “I’ve noticed that many of Ridge’s superiors are when they deal with him.”
Ridge paused at the top of the stairs to shoot her a dirty look. She smiled innocently at him.
Ort cleared his throat, and Ridge resumed his trek past priceless models of ancient ships and urns depicting flat-nosed dancing dragons. They might have been lizards. The artwork made it difficult to tell. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, this part of the castle had not been damaged by Kaika’s explosives. The art could certainly use updating. Even more so than his much-maligned couch.
The door stood open, and the guard—one of the king’s alert bodyguards this time—nodded them in. Angulus stood in front of his desk, his arms folded over his chest, and he scowled at Ridge.
Why do I have a feeling this meeting isn’t going to go well? He asked the question silently, not expecting an answer, but both Jaxi and Sardelle turned out to be monitoring his thoughts.
Because he looks even grumpier than Ort? Jaxi asked.
You’d think his dalliances with Kaika would have helped alleviate some of that, he thought.
Maybe she didn’t come for lunch today.
Sardelle snorted—not aloud but into his mind, and probably into Jaxi’s too. He’s upset about the dragon, not you. Even without prying, I can feel his emotions rolling off him. He feels responsible.
For the loss of my couch?
For the loss of lives this dragon has caused in the last couple of weeks.
Ah.
“Sire,” Ridge said respectfully, making his salute crisp and precise. This wasn’t the time to irk Angulus with irreverence. “I understand you’ve been waiting for us?”
Angulus opened his mouth, but Tylie padded in after Ort and Sardelle, and he hesitated. Ridge didn’t know if it was because he was surprised to see her or if her presence made him want to curb an outpouring of profanity. If the latter, Ridge would have to remember to bring her to future meetings with the king.
“I need a dragon-hunting team, Zirkander,” Angulus said. “You’re in charge of it.”
“Because I have a couch vendetta to pursue?”
Angulus scowled at him.
So much for holding back on that irreverence.
“Because dragons fly. And nobody’s done more crazy flying than you.”
That was possibly true. As long as the adjective crazy was attached.
“General Ort will be your co-commander on this mission. Also, I’m hoping Sardelle will agree to help.” Angulus’s tone was civil and his scowl much lighter for her. “And then anyone else you want, I’ll arrange it. This problem is my fault. I’d appreciate it if you fixed it.”
You should ask him to buy you a new couch if you succeed, Jaxi suggested
.
I’m trying to keep my irreverence to a minimum.
Jaxi made a skeptical noise in his mind.
I also don’t think I should ask for favors when he’s clearly cranky.
“How much of a problem has he become, Sire?” Sardelle asked, her face and tone concerned. She couldn’t have been inappropriately irreverent if she had tried.
Not to a king, no. Sardelle twitched an eyebrow in his direction. They taught us not to do that in my century.
Angulus turned toward his desk, reaching for a rolled-up map.
He’s just a man. You know the saying—he puts his hand-tailored, calfskin breeches on one leg at a time, the same as the rest of us. Though I’m expecting he spends less time in them now. While Angulus’s back was still turned, Ridge flashed her a wicked grin.
You’re tickled by that relationship, aren’t you?
I am. Angulus needs someone fun.
Ridge wondered what Angulus would think if he requested Captain Kaika for this dragon-hunting team. Would he feel protective toward her now and want to keep her safe? Ridge doubted Kaika would appreciate being kept safe. At least, he hoped not. She was the best demolitions person Ridge knew, and it was a forgone conclusion that pistols weren’t going to take out dragons.
“A lot of the attacks have been in the Ice Blades,” Angulus said, stepping aside so they could see the spread map. He had circled several towns and placed Xs next to others. They ranged throughout the foothills on the western side of the mountains, running about three hundred miles north and south along the bottom half of the range. “The Xs are sightings, and the circles are villages that he attacked. He swoops in and takes sheep and cows to eat, but he likes to burn buildings while he’s there, not worrying about whether anyone is inside. In Loon’s Lake, the villagers shot at him, and he killed them all.” Angulus clenched his teeth and stared hard at the map.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Kaika walked in. She wore her usual uniform, with weapons and a sack of gear slung over her shoulder, and she saluted professionally when Angulus looked up. Only her lips expressed anything suggestive, quirking at the corners when their eyes met.