She let her fingertips comb his fur.
Another time …
Kanthe tried to do the same with his fingers, but Aamon snarled, baring a fang on that side. The prince pulled back his hand. Still, he gazed longingly at the pair.
“Such handsome beasts,” he mumbled.
The group continued up the spiral stairs and into a long hall that divided a dozen cabins, six to a side. She spotted a door at the end of the hall to the right, guessing it led into the stern quarterdeck.
Darant headed the other direction, toward a matching door that closed off the other end. “If you want to watch this little hawk lift to the skies, you’re all welcome to join us.”
Frell hurried to close the distance with the pirate. “Fascinating. I’ve never been inside a swyftship’s wheelhouse.”
Kanthe continued with a shrug, but his pace quickened nevertheless.
Jace glanced back at Nyx, excitement dancing in his eyes.
She felt none of their thrill. She pictured the Sparrowhawk rising and never stopping, vanishing into the void. Or worse, climbing only to plunge back down into a splintering crash.
Yet, she knew if she didn’t go that Jace would stay at her side. She hated for him to lose this opportunity. Still, she might have balked, except that Graylin remained in the hall, looking her way. She had no intention of remaining alone with the man, and she didn’t know which cabin was hers.
So, she waved Jace ahead and fell into step behind him.
Graylin followed but kept his distance.
Darant opened the door into the forward quarterdeck and ushered them all past him. As Nyx ducked across the threshold, she realized the entire forecastle was one large chamber. Directly ahead, two long, narrow windows looked out across the fields below. Between them stood a tall wooden wheel.
The pirate crossed toward it. He waved to the two other crewmembers posted along the flanks to either side. They were the same pair who had accompanied the prince. The two women stood before a banked row of tiny screw-like wheels with little handles.
“That’s Glace.” Darant pointed to the white-haired beauty, then swung his arm the other direction. “And that’s Brayl. My two daughters by different mothers. And let me tell you, no one knows how to tame this hawk like those two.”
A horn echoed outside, signaling the ropes had been loosed.
Darant turned back to the wheel. He rubbed his palms, pressed them to his forehead, and wished for the gods’ good graces. “May the winds welcome us with gentle breezes and spirit us safely to port.”
He set his hands atop the wheel.
Nyx braced for some violence, expecting a sudden thrust upward. Instead, she did not even know they were moving until the fields below started dropping away. The ship sailed upward without any jolt. There was only the slightest swaying of the boat under its balloon.
Nyx took a step forward with a flicker of curiosity.
This is not so bad.
To either side, Glace and Brayl cranked various wheels, reaching to them blindly, their gazes fixed either to the forward windows or out the tiny round holes above their stations. Faint bursts of flames sounded to the right and left, likely rising from the port and starboard draft-iron rudders.
The ship continued to sweep upward, ascending ever faster. Outside, the misty fringes of the forest rolled past. Layers of gold-leafed branches seemed to wave at their departure. Then in a breath, the balloon dragged the boat into the clouds, erasing the world outside.
Nyx retreated from the ghostly view. It was as if they had been flung into a realm of spirits. Without anything to focus upon, she felt every sway, every nudge and roll. Her stomach churned queasily. She backed up into Jace and reached blindly for his arm.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
It wasn’t Jace.
“We’ll be through it in a moment,” Graylin assured her.
She jerked out of the man’s grip. Anger burned away her trepidation. She turned to glare at him—when the world burst into brightness as they cleared the clouds. The sunlight revealed every line of pain etched in the knight’s face: the despair in the turn of his lip, the grief in his eyes, and more than anything, the haunted look across all his features.
She had to turn from him, but it was not bitterness that drove her away. That pain was too hard to face, especially with it mirroring the same pang in her own heart.
She kept her back to him. She faced the brilliant expanse of bright clouds that extended to the horizon. Sunlight glared and ached the eye. But she did not even squint. She drew that radiance inside her, trying to use it to dispel the darkness.
They continued to climb higher, and the view stretched longer. Far off, the cloud layer spilled over an edge, like a waterfall tumbling down a cliff. Past there, a distant glint of blue shone, marking the sea.
The Bay of Promise.
Then a dark sun rose from over there, climbing from the lands below. It was massive, its blackness absorbing the sun’s brightness.
“A warship,” Graylin grumbled behind her.
She now recognized the shape to be a swelling balloon of incomprehensible size. Flags snapped along its top.
“Hálendiian.” Kanthe stepped forward. “From my father’s fleet.”
The huge balloon rose higher, drawing a giant boat into view. Maneuvering flames spat along its flanks. The ship angled more to the north, toward a break in the clouds that shone green with the reflection of the poisonous waters of Eitur.
“I don’t think it’s spotted us,” Darant called back. “Still, best we find the clouds again before we draw its attention.”
His daughters heard him and set about spinning their wheels. The Sparrowhawk sighed and began to lower, drifting down toward the white sea. Darant turned his wheel hard, angling them southward, away from the massive craft.
“Look!” Jace said, pointing as a second black sun rose to replace the first.
Another warship …
This second sun rose faster, more aggressively.
“Get us into the clouds,” Darant whispered, as if fearing to be heard.
The Sparrowhawk dove steeply—but it was to no avail. Like a mousekin dodging a cat, their frantic movement only succeeded in catching their hunter’s attention. The warship swung toward them with smoky bursts of flames. Its armored prow aimed straight at them, looming larger and larger.
Then the immensity of the sight vanished as the Sparrowhawk plummeted into the white sea. The world outside dissolved into swirling mists.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
* * *
FROM THE POPPING in his ears, Kanthe sensed the swyftship continuing to descend. But he knew the craft could only drop so far. A soft scraping of treetops along the boat’s keel revealed as much.
“That’s as far as we can go,” Darant whispered back to them.
Glace and Brayl fought their wheels, bringing the ship higher again until the scratching faded from the hull.
“No one speak.” Darant turned to them. “Whisper if you must. Warships have ears, great drums that can pick up a sparrow’s fart.”
As if heeding this, his daughters spun other wheels until even the rush from flashburn forges fell silent. The pair stepped back from their stations, their faces grim.
The Sparrowhawk continued to drift through the mists.
Kanthe clenched his jaws, his ears straining, knowing what would come next. Despite being a Prince in the Cupboard, he’d had some battle strategy instilled in him, especially with the school of Kepenhill so near to the Legionary.