The Princess Strike by Cordelia K Castel

Author:Cordelia K Castel [Castel, Cordelia K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-19T04:00:00+00:00

It takes an hour for a van from Second Sealskin to arrive with a selection of wetsuits. In exchange for the garments, Cannon gives the company a segment on the Presidential Purge but bickers with them over expenses the moment the cameras stop.

Keris takes me to the back of the Sealskin van and helps me into a wetsuit. I can move my arms and legs well enough to walk, but I lack the finer motor skills that allow me to unfasten my boots, unbutton my jumpsuit, and secure the waterproof garment over my silk underclothes.

The wetsuit is made of a black polymer that’s nearly as thick as my hand, with power banks around the biceps and warming panels over the vital organs. A reinforced band wraps around the waist with four protruding hooks.

Once Keris secures the zips and clicks its fastenings, the material warms and melts to form a watertight seal. I would ask how I’m supposed to take it off, but the control I have over my tongue and vocal chords are limited.

I roll my shoulders, wondering why we would need such garments to walk around a fish farm, but Keris interrupts my thoughts and holds up a hood.

“Are you ready?”

My jaw clenches with the reminder of being attached to the stretcher, but I force out a grunt of affirmation and a nod.

After securing my hair into a tight bun, she pulls the hood over my head and hooks it onto the wetsuit shoulders. A ring of heat flares around my collar, indicating that these two pieces are fusing together to become a seamless whole.

As she adjusts the controls on the suit that allows sounds to reach my ear, she whispers, “I’ve sent your coordinates to Colonel von Mauser.”

I draw back, my brows pinching together.

“Why would I help you?” she whispers.

I nod.

She glances toward the door before saying, “General Heath hasn’t paid us for a week and keeps promising extra currency when he gets elected.”

My brows rise. I suspected that President Heath had cut off Cannon’s finances but surely his production company would provide him with the money needed to fund his show?

“Most of us signed up because he said he would promote you for presidency,” she says. “Now, we’re stuck with him until we can find something better.”

I give her shoulder a squeeze, trying to communicate both my gratitude and an assurance that I will help her the moment I get the chance.

A knock sounds on the van’s door. “Briar,” Cannon barks. “We’re losing the light.”

By the time I step out into the dock, even more snow has fallen, covering the boats in a thicker blanket of white. A blast of icy wind comes in from the sea, but only the exposed parts of my face feel the cold.

I sweep my gaze past the shivering crew to the horizon, where the last vestiges of sunlight colors the sky a warm orange. Inside the boat, however, the view is less impressive.

Our captain wasn’t exaggerating when he said it could only take three passengers.

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