THE HALLWAY SHIFTS AGAIN, RIGHTING ITSELF. Except this time there’s something else with it. A shudder in the thin layer of atmosphere.
I choke and grab Rasha’s arm in case she’ll screech, just as the wretch pushes a tiny cabin door open in front of us to reveal himself—Myles, Lord Protectorate and Blasted Oaf. Standing three feet away. Sporting a handsome face that’s looking a bit nauseous behind a smooth grin.
The odd, enclosed lighting glimmers off that one silver tooth among a row of white, perfectly straight ones. He steps forward, props his arm against the wall, and grins at me. “Rough evening, love? Need a hug?”
I leap at him faster than he can brace himself and clamp my bandaged hand around the cravat at his throat while my gimpy hand reaches for my knife.
“Ah-ah, careful with the clothing.”
I tighten my grip on his frilly bow and jerk him toward me, then slip the blade near his gut. “I should kill you.”
“Ooh, let’s torture him first,” Rasha whispers. “But maybe in the room because Eogan’s men are right outside the hall.”
Myles sneers at her before peeling my hand away even as I continue to hold the blade inches from his stomach. “Seeing as you have just been found sneaking aboard an enemy airship after refusing to report that Eogan has been taken over by Draewulf—not to mention the fact that the little Elemental lost her powers—it seems to me neither of you are in the position for threatsss.” He straightens his cravat to match his impeccable suit and smooths his shiny black hair.
I frown. How does he—?
“Or did you forget that knowing things is my specialty, dear? Because I can assure you, having spent a portion of thisss week in treaty chambers with Eogan and King Sedric, I’m quite aware Eogan’s not the man I know and despise. And the tragic messss in your bedroom tonight gave the rest away—not to mention that if you still had your powers, we’d all be suffering your thunderousss wrath right now.” He reaches out to stroke my arm.
I slap him away. “Treaty chambers? What are you talking about?”
“Nym,” Rasha murmurs. “Ask him once we’re in the room.”
The floor beneath us tilts to the side as the airship suddenly lists and bobs and voices rise from beyond the door. Rasha presses her hand to the wall, and I plant my leg against the baseboard. And watch Myles’s pasty face turn a nauseous color of green. After a moment of what appears to be him repeatedly swallowing, the airship balances out, and I shove my knife again toward his stomach, forcing him to retreat through the doorway he emerged from.
Rasha follows us into the room, which is little bigger than a water closet and boasts a single cot, a covered window, and a mirror. “This is where you’ll stay and my maid will bunk with me,” she whispers in my ear.
I nod. And keep my knife pointed at Myles. “What are you doing here? What have you done?”
“I’m here because I’m part of the Bron delegation, of course. Thank you, by the way, for not outing me to King Sedric. Would’ve been horridly inconvenient for my plansss. And as lord protectorate, I did exactly what needed to be done the last few days. Sssimply ensured we all made it through without you causing trouble.”
He lifts his shaky hand, as if to study his manicured fingernails, and in doing so reveals the bruising on his knuckles. Combined with the thin, healing scar across his jaw, they appear to be the only signs of injury from our tussle a week ago. “Couldn’t have you ruining anything before we made it out of Faelen, could I?”
“We?”
“I assumed you’d get aboard somehow, and I was right.” He runs his gaze down my tattooed arms.
I glance at Rasha.
“I didn’t tell him,” she says.
“Let’s just say in this case I wasss . . . amusing myself to see if I was correct as well as ensuring your conscience didn’t kick in and send you running tail between those lovely legs to tattle on Draewulf to my pathetic cousin, King Sedric.”
Rasha snorts.
“You’re despicable,” I say.
“Yesss, and your insults were much more attractive when you had actual powers to back them up.”
My blade is back at his gut, but my retort is lost as more voices drift beyond the hallway. “Did you know Myles was in council chambers this week?” I mutter to Rasha.
“No. I’ve been kept to the political sidelines as much as you while Faelen worked out its treaty with Bron.”
“Not that it would’ve mattered.” Myles steps back and tips my knife blade away before moving over to settle against the wall opposite us. “She wants Draewulf alive as much as I do. Or should I say her dear queen mum will once the message isss delivered.”
Rasha shoots him a withering look. “You are a sad little roach and you know nothing.”
“We should report him,” I say.
“If we do, he’ll tell King Sedric about Eogan.” Rasha’s eyes spark red. She sits stiffly on the single cot beside me.