I shake my head. “She doesn’t know what they know, not like we need.” I’m not even sure what that means. Weariness and guilt have made a mess of my head.
“She knows enough to say how the winds are blowing. And if she likes you as well as it seems, enough to reveal a thing like murder, then it wouldn’t take much on your part to encourage her to share more.” He nods with approval. “You’ve done better than I hoped.”
No choice now. Have to finish the act. “I want Sinora brought down,” I say, as if it’s as simple as that. It used to be.
“Then we can’t let this opportunity go to waste. I promised the Princess an air demonstration at the end of summer, but until then—”
“I said I’d write.”
“You did?”
“I had to keep my foot in the door somehow. I spoke with her governess before I left. I talked her into it.”
Again, he appears pleased. “I think I’ve underestimated you. Though there’s still the chance of Sinora laying eyes on the letters. You can’t write down anything that might be useful to her.”
“Never. And imagining her face when she discovers them is entirely worth the trouble.”
Father laughs. A real laugh. “I’ll give you rein to do what you think best.” He pauses. “But stay out of that girl’s bed.” Then he stands before I can remind him that’s impossible, since I’ll be thousands of miles away. “With this new revolt in Beraya, I’m advancing my schedule for the region. Arrin and Windom return tonight, and they’ll brief us on the situation. You leave for Thurn tomorrow. Your reward sails with you, Lieutenant.”
The suddenness of war startles me. Then again, maybe it’s better this way. No time to think.
“Twin cannons for Hajari?” I ask, like I’m not afraid.
He nods. “The fastest planes in the sky. For both of you.”
I manage a smile. Cyar safe, for now. But what about her?
* * *
By morning, the Impressive paces like a wolf in the waters near Norvenne. She arrived in the night, a silent ghost churning up the harbour, red banners colourful against grey iron. She easily puts the Landorian flagships to shame. Everyone on shore gapes, overwhelmed by her sheer size and strength. Kalt tells me not even Gawain’s most lethal ship, the Northern Star, can match her for speed or weaponry, and nothing but a shot from God to the magazine could ever destroy her beauty.
It’s the most excited I think I’ve ever seen him.
Shadowing the Impressive are three Safire battle cruisers, two destroyers, and a large transport. The beginnings of our sea cavalry, chomping at the bit to head south across the Black.
We’re given a briefing along with the other squadron pilots being deployed, and General Windom tells us this new rebellion in Beraya, near the Resyan border, has put the entire western region in flames. The victories of the Nahir are luring more to their cause, rallying greater numbers.
“Nahir power has never stretched this far,” Windom explains. He’s a burly fellow, balding, more like a bear in his pristine blue uniform. He glances at Arrin more than Father. “But with Landore and Savient united, we’ll bring them to their knees. Our army extracted their secrets in Beraya. We have the upper hand, I assure you.”
“Taught them a damn good lesson, too,” Arrin mutters beside me.
I mutter back, “What the hell does that mean?” But he looks the other way.
Father speaks next, giving directives for his squadrons. Nightfox—led by Admiral Malek’s son, the captain I’d be flying under if there was any sense of fairness in the world—is headed for Beraya to patrol army supply routes. Lightstorm gets the prize, Hady, and will be waiting on the forefront of strikes to reclaim it. As for Garrick and his Moonstrike pilots … we get Havenspur. The seaside capital isolated from the recent violence. It’s out of consideration for us, the rookies. A place to break us in that’s not about to explode. But there’s no glory for Garrick there, and I can see the frustration in him. For once I understand it. I wouldn’t want to babysit Cyar and me either. Not when Father saves all his praise for Lightstorm and Nightfox, bound for the frontlines.
Garrick gets nothing but an order.
At noon, Cyar and I stand on the wooden docks, bags in hand, controlled chaos everywhere. Supplies are loaded—trucks and ammunition and fighter planes. Voices ring across the water. Smells of salt and seaweed and that rancid fish scent that hangs over every wharf. We’ll be on the Pursuit, a destroyer, smaller than the battleships but still fearsome. It’s also the vessel Kalt serves on, and I’m a bit suspicious that Father arranged it this way.
Kalt’s overseeing activity from the deck above. Garrick’s younger brother, Folco, leans on the rail beside him, equally red-haired but infinitely more likable. He and Kalt have been friends for many years. Both wear the formal overcoats of the Safire Navy, striped with maroon on the shoulders and made for thick sea winds.
I’m admiring the colourful barnacles on the hull when a crushing arm wraps itself around my shoulder.
“Ready to sail, littlest brother?” Arrin asks, pushing me along. “I know you can’t handle the waves and it’s been rotten weather lately.”
I halt us. “Sounds like clear sailing from the reports.”
He shrugs. “That can change in a moment. Just like the South. You sure you’re ready for this?”
Cyar slinks to the farthest end of the dock, well-trained about when to give my family space, and I remove myself from Arrin’s grip. “What did you mean this morning in the briefing room? When you said they were taught a damn good lesson in Beraya?”
He frowns. He’s tanned from his days in the sun, faded red along his forehead. “I meant they won’t be trying another stunt like that again.”
“The Nahir, you mean?”
“I meant what I said and let’s just leave it at that.”
He turns with a shake of his head, and something dark kicks inside me, something I wish I could ignore. “Sinora’s son accused us of crimes in Karkev,” I say at his back. “He said Father accepted the surrender of a town, then strafed it. I told him they were lies.”
Arrin stops.
“Tell me they were lies, Arrin.”
He spins and strides back. “Listen to me, Athan, I don’t know what world your noble little brain lives in, but you’re going to learn very quickly that those who seem like the enemy might not be, and those who don’t seem to be very much are. Garrick told me what you did in Etania—playing with Sinora’s daughter like she’s any other girl to be had, even after I told you not to trust them.”
“What did we do in Karkev?” He won’t divert me out of this.
“We won a war.”
“How?”
“Goddamn you,” he says.
“I defended us, Arrin! I swore they were lies, and I deserve to know the truth.”
“You’ve done nothing to deserve anything. You flirted with a pretty girl and ate fancy food for twelve days. Ask me again when you’ve lived under barrage for an entire night.”
“I have,” I say. That was my entire childhood.
Arrin sticks his face right in mine, breath stinking of tobacco. “All right. Fine. But first, do you want to know what those lovely rebels in Karkev did to us? To our soldiers? They tied them to trees and threw grenades at their heads for fun. They dug holes in the snow and dropped them in naked, to die slow or let the wolves do it. When men fight like that, I don’t give a damn how we win. And I won’t apologize for anything.”
I take a step back, realization dawning. “Father didn’t strafe that town. You did.”
“So you’re brilliant, after all.”
I lower my voice, unable to hide my sudden desperation. “What are you planning for Etania?”