Of Silk and Steam
Page 85
“Where have you been?” the prince consort demanded.
Caine laughed a little under his breath. “Discussing the meaning of life with someone.”
Her heart wrenched. No. As if of its own accord, her hand found the hilt of her sword, her lip curling back in a snarl. “You bastard.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Consider, my dear, how wise such an action would be at this current moment.”
Time stretched out. Her head was a mess of pain, bleeding around the edges. Her chest pulsed, as if holding a scream inside. She knew that the moment she let herself breathe, it would steal out of her.
But Alexa… She had to save the queen, even as her eyes flooded with a heat she couldn’t seem to hold back. Only one thing left to fight for now; then she could scream and rail at the world. Then she could let in the enormous, crushing weight of grief.
“Why not?” The prince consort laughed. “A duel! It should give us much amusement in these final moments.”
“No, Your Highness—” The queen’s whisper.
The sound of a slap echoed in the enormous chambers, dulling even the crowd’s buzzing whispers to near-silence. Mina’s blood began to boil, her head jerking between the prince consort and Caine. Anger. That was what she could deal with right now.
Mina’s fingers curled tighter around her sword. Now…now she just had to get close enough to cut the prince consort down. It didn’t matter anymore if she survived it.
Caine abruptly sobered, staring at the prince consort as if the blud-wein had left a foul taste in his mouth. “I think not. I have more important matters to deal with than duels, and I’d rather not get my sword bloodied today.” A slow tilt of the head to her.
Despite herself, her gaze dropped. Caine’s sword was still sheathed. Black blood had dripped down his thigh from a healed wound, but there was no sign of any other blood on him. Nothing on his clothes suggested he’d fought and killed a person recently.
Her heart gave a little tick in her chest.
Mina’s lungs emptied. Was he telling her what she thought he was? Hope was a treacherous bitch, lighting her nerves on fire and threatening to consume her. Their eyes met again, something unreadable in his expression, and then he turned to the prince consort, one hand on his sword as if for balance as he strolled forward.
Where the hell was Leo? She turned to track Caine, licking at her dry lips as he passed her. That precious hope flickered a little. Surely Leo would have followed.
Unless…something had drawn him away. Did she dare hope?
“I do believe Lynch is almost at the last level of the tower,” Caine declared. “You’re running out of time.”
“We’re all running out of time.” The prince consort laughed, as if this were the greatest joke he’d ever heard.
Whispers started in the crowd. One of the blue bloods strode for the door, looking uneasy. A bullet ricocheted off the brass, close to his ear, and he jerked his fingers back from the handle.
“Nobody leaves,” the prince consort called, his voice becoming deadly serious. “Not until I damned well say so.” He gestured to his Falcons. “No more warnings.”
“Your Highness.” Even Balfour sounded nervous now. “We haven’t much time.”
The prince consort had somehow found another glass of blud-wein in the confusion. He sipped at it, waving away Balfour’s concerns. “I never planned on leaving.” Lowering the glass, he glared at his spymaster. “You think I’m going to run? You think…”—this as he stood—“that I’m going to let that filthy cur and the human rabble out there chase me from my throne?”
“What would you prefer?” Balfour demanded through gritted teeth. “Have them drag you off it when they come in here? I don’t have men enough…not to stop them.”
“I’m not stopping them,” the prince consort sneered. “Let them come, let them all come.” He drew a silver-handled revolver from his belt, waving it in the air. By its look, it had been heavily modified and was probably carrying firebolt bullets. “The more the merrier.”
Caine froze.
Of everything happening in the chambers, that alone drew her notice. Mina took a hasty step forward. The pistol. Caine was watching the pistol like it was a live scorpion. Why? Hardly a threat to him. Firebolts might be enough to rip him in half, if he was slow enough to be stung by one, but the duke’s capacity for healing was immeasurable now. Wasn’t it?
Or did the prince consort think to use it on the queen? This time she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Alexa. The queen was using the throne to drag herself to her feet as her husband took a step down the stairs of the dais. A heated handprint marred her cheek, her dark eyes wide and weary.
Hold on. Mina took a stealthy half step forward. I’m going to kill him for you.
For the first time, she had the means; she had power… Nobody here would care if she stabbed him through his black heart. He was one hairsbreadth away from being destroyed. Alexandra would never have to submit to his brutal touch again.
And Mina could finally let go of her thrice-cursed guilt.
She was almost at Caine’s side now. “Get to the queen,” he said almost soundlessly. “I’ll stop him from firing that bloody pistol.”
The queen? How did he—? Mina’s gaze sharpened, but Caine was taking bold strides toward the dais. She followed, keeping apace of him with a wary glance. Were they just idle words? Or did he know about the queen’s involvement in the revolution? The only way… Her breath caught. Proof that Leo was alive, if she dared believe it.
But why wasn’t he here?
Everything happened at once. Lynch and his men thundered through the doors, just as the prince consort waved a lazy hand and smiled.
“No!” Caine yelled, moving faster than she could see.
The pistol resounded with an enormous flash of light, shattering the nearby window. People gasped and threw themselves to the polished marble floor as light exploded outside like some Chinese firework, burning bright enough to sear the eyes, then sailing down to the ground far below like a dying comet.
And in that moment, flashing against the back of her eyelids every time she blinked, all Mina could see was the queen pulling a narrow dagger from her sleeve and driving it into her husband’s throat.
The room erupted. People screamed and ran for the exit, buffeting Lynch and his Nighthawks like flotsam in a current of fear. Mina stumbled aside as one blue blood raced past her, and staggered to her knees beside the dais.
Caine laughed a little under his breath. “Discussing the meaning of life with someone.”
Her heart wrenched. No. As if of its own accord, her hand found the hilt of her sword, her lip curling back in a snarl. “You bastard.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Consider, my dear, how wise such an action would be at this current moment.”
Time stretched out. Her head was a mess of pain, bleeding around the edges. Her chest pulsed, as if holding a scream inside. She knew that the moment she let herself breathe, it would steal out of her.
But Alexa… She had to save the queen, even as her eyes flooded with a heat she couldn’t seem to hold back. Only one thing left to fight for now; then she could scream and rail at the world. Then she could let in the enormous, crushing weight of grief.
“Why not?” The prince consort laughed. “A duel! It should give us much amusement in these final moments.”
“No, Your Highness—” The queen’s whisper.
The sound of a slap echoed in the enormous chambers, dulling even the crowd’s buzzing whispers to near-silence. Mina’s blood began to boil, her head jerking between the prince consort and Caine. Anger. That was what she could deal with right now.
Mina’s fingers curled tighter around her sword. Now…now she just had to get close enough to cut the prince consort down. It didn’t matter anymore if she survived it.
Caine abruptly sobered, staring at the prince consort as if the blud-wein had left a foul taste in his mouth. “I think not. I have more important matters to deal with than duels, and I’d rather not get my sword bloodied today.” A slow tilt of the head to her.
Despite herself, her gaze dropped. Caine’s sword was still sheathed. Black blood had dripped down his thigh from a healed wound, but there was no sign of any other blood on him. Nothing on his clothes suggested he’d fought and killed a person recently.
Her heart gave a little tick in her chest.
Mina’s lungs emptied. Was he telling her what she thought he was? Hope was a treacherous bitch, lighting her nerves on fire and threatening to consume her. Their eyes met again, something unreadable in his expression, and then he turned to the prince consort, one hand on his sword as if for balance as he strolled forward.
Where the hell was Leo? She turned to track Caine, licking at her dry lips as he passed her. That precious hope flickered a little. Surely Leo would have followed.
Unless…something had drawn him away. Did she dare hope?
“I do believe Lynch is almost at the last level of the tower,” Caine declared. “You’re running out of time.”
“We’re all running out of time.” The prince consort laughed, as if this were the greatest joke he’d ever heard.
Whispers started in the crowd. One of the blue bloods strode for the door, looking uneasy. A bullet ricocheted off the brass, close to his ear, and he jerked his fingers back from the handle.
“Nobody leaves,” the prince consort called, his voice becoming deadly serious. “Not until I damned well say so.” He gestured to his Falcons. “No more warnings.”
“Your Highness.” Even Balfour sounded nervous now. “We haven’t much time.”
The prince consort had somehow found another glass of blud-wein in the confusion. He sipped at it, waving away Balfour’s concerns. “I never planned on leaving.” Lowering the glass, he glared at his spymaster. “You think I’m going to run? You think…”—this as he stood—“that I’m going to let that filthy cur and the human rabble out there chase me from my throne?”
“What would you prefer?” Balfour demanded through gritted teeth. “Have them drag you off it when they come in here? I don’t have men enough…not to stop them.”
“I’m not stopping them,” the prince consort sneered. “Let them come, let them all come.” He drew a silver-handled revolver from his belt, waving it in the air. By its look, it had been heavily modified and was probably carrying firebolt bullets. “The more the merrier.”
Caine froze.
Of everything happening in the chambers, that alone drew her notice. Mina took a hasty step forward. The pistol. Caine was watching the pistol like it was a live scorpion. Why? Hardly a threat to him. Firebolts might be enough to rip him in half, if he was slow enough to be stung by one, but the duke’s capacity for healing was immeasurable now. Wasn’t it?
Or did the prince consort think to use it on the queen? This time she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Alexa. The queen was using the throne to drag herself to her feet as her husband took a step down the stairs of the dais. A heated handprint marred her cheek, her dark eyes wide and weary.
Hold on. Mina took a stealthy half step forward. I’m going to kill him for you.
For the first time, she had the means; she had power… Nobody here would care if she stabbed him through his black heart. He was one hairsbreadth away from being destroyed. Alexandra would never have to submit to his brutal touch again.
And Mina could finally let go of her thrice-cursed guilt.
She was almost at Caine’s side now. “Get to the queen,” he said almost soundlessly. “I’ll stop him from firing that bloody pistol.”
The queen? How did he—? Mina’s gaze sharpened, but Caine was taking bold strides toward the dais. She followed, keeping apace of him with a wary glance. Were they just idle words? Or did he know about the queen’s involvement in the revolution? The only way… Her breath caught. Proof that Leo was alive, if she dared believe it.
But why wasn’t he here?
Everything happened at once. Lynch and his men thundered through the doors, just as the prince consort waved a lazy hand and smiled.
“No!” Caine yelled, moving faster than she could see.
The pistol resounded with an enormous flash of light, shattering the nearby window. People gasped and threw themselves to the polished marble floor as light exploded outside like some Chinese firework, burning bright enough to sear the eyes, then sailing down to the ground far below like a dying comet.
And in that moment, flashing against the back of her eyelids every time she blinked, all Mina could see was the queen pulling a narrow dagger from her sleeve and driving it into her husband’s throat.
The room erupted. People screamed and ran for the exit, buffeting Lynch and his Nighthawks like flotsam in a current of fear. Mina stumbled aside as one blue blood raced past her, and staggered to her knees beside the dais.
