The Kraken King, Part 8 by Meljean Brook

Author:Meljean Brook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-two

So much needed to be done. Just after dawn, Lady Nergüi’s crew returned to the airship and they flew into town. Almost all of the townspeople were already hard at work carrying valuables from their homes to the shelter of the kraken shells.

The anxiety in Zenobia’s heart deepened and twisted. She knew Ariq hoped to resolve this without any blood being shed. But if these people were storing their belongings, then he must believe they might be firebombed.

Ariq was nowhere in sight. Archimedes met her at the airship’s ladder while his wife consulted with her crew. Along with Mara, Cooper, and her brother, Zenobia spent the rest of the day carrying and packing supplies. Most of Ariq’s soldiers were gone—preparing the machine, she assumed—but it wasn’t until the afternoon that Zenobia realized that some of the men helping were from Ghazan Bator’s ironship. Only a day earlier, they’d been occupying this town.

By this time, it probably shouldn’t have surprised her that Ariq was a man who could make an ally out of a former enemy, yet it did. But she didn’t think he would have as much luck with the fleet.

The ships and airships were never far from her thoughts. They couldn’t be, not when she labored so hard to protect Ariq’s town from them. And not when she only had to look to the west, and the heavy vessels commanded every view of the water and the sky.

It was dark when Mara finally pulled her away and to the baths, where Zenobia quickly washed and rinsed away the dirt and sweat. A long soak would have done her sore muscles well, but was impossible; the cramping that had plagued her stomach the past few days had not just been from anxiety. At least Mara had been able to procure a new tunic and trousers for her. As Zenobia dressed, it struck her that she had brought nothing at all from the tower—and she didn’t possess a single item that she’d brought with her from her home in Fladstrand. No gold. No clothes. Not even a hairpin.

But she still had Mara and Cooper. She still had her brother and his wife. She still had her life—and her good sense.

That sense fled when she emerged from the bathing house. Ariq was waiting for her, his hair wet and his eyes dark. “Good evening, wife.”

“Good evening.” Though Zenobia wanted to throw herself against him, she stopped at arm’s length. She didn’t know if word of their marriage had spread, and even if it had, whether touching him was out of place.

It must have been. Though his gaze devoured her, he only turned to the side, inviting her to walk with him. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes. All day we’ve had food shoved into our hands. Everyone we helped gave us something, and the last woman made us sit for a full meal.” A forceful old woman named Aisha, whom Mara told her later had once been a pirate queen. Her lively eyes had followed Zenobia’s every move.

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