The Skyhound Master by Shauna E. Black

Author:Shauna E. Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-912775-16-3
Publisher: Aelurus Publishing

15

Relief for the Carpathia

Brayde had a crick in his neck from sleeping in a cave. After they’d managed to escape the Tyrian ships still circling Io’s former refuge, Sicarah had piloted the Potemkin to the coordinates of another cave where the insurgents had stockpiled emergency supplies. Io had agreed to share with the Carpathia if the weather held through the next morning, and now they were on their way back to the Carpathia’s crash site.

For the hundredth time, Brayde stood from his seat on the bench and paced the length of the cargo hold past wooden crates filled with tins of food, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Kali glared at him from the opposite bench. “Would you stop cracking your knuckles? It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry.” Brayde made a conscious effort to stretch his fingers, glancing over at the door leading to the bow. He wished he had something to do. This anxious waiting allowed his mind to wander through possibilities like a minefield.

Lorelei had said Avilene would be at Slaveek, the worst Andul prison camp in the Empire. He could only imagine what they might do to her there. His anger clashed with a rising frustration like the surf pounding rock. He should be there, to protect Avilene, if nothing else.

She would be the first to retort that she was tough as nails and could handle herself, but he knew her well enough now to understand the vulnerability behind that veil of bravado. Although her father had treated her with disdain, his death had torn Avilene apart inside. They’d spent many hours together, huddled on the deck of the Carpathia in each other’s arms, while Avilene’s quiet tears soaked Brayde’s shirt.

He closed his eyes against the memories. He missed her tears, the muffled pulse of her laughter, her shy caress, and dry wit. Brayde could only hope Xanthe was also at Slaveek to shield Avilene from the worst that place had to offer. As the compound of the most rebellious Andul, Slaveek was the obvious choice for incarcerating the infamous Phantom Nightingale.

Brayde sat on the bench, stood up again, and paced to the back of the cargo bay.

Kali huffed out a breath. “Are we there yet?”

“I’ll check again.”

Brayde retraced his steps to the door and opened it, traversing the hall to the pilot deck. Sicarah sat in the pilot’s chair, hands calm on the controls. The bruising on her face was beginning to fade, and her arm seemed better today.

“How much longer?” Brayde asked.

“Say that again, and I’ll string you from the gun hole by your thumbs.” Io sat in the commander’s chair. He wore a new outfit. The scratches on his left cheek had faded somewhat into his dark skin. His left arm was in a sling.

The smile tickling Sicarah’s lips smoothed back into a placid expression, as though she were afraid Io had noticed. “We’re almost there.”

She’d been unusually quiet ever since Io’s reprimands the day before. To Brayde’s surprise, he found he didn’t like it. He wanted Sicarah back in the pilot box of the Carpathia, slinging insults and caustic barbs like blow darts.

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