30. Brave the storm.
Brave the storm.
JAYCE
Seventeen months later.
“ H ow is it going?” I ask.
Harlow has his back to my chest, his gloved hands holding the spyglass to his eye as the snowstorm rages around us. “Athos—that’s the male—is flying above the peak. I think he’s tiring. But I lost sight of Ulvok,” he shouts to be heard over the wind.
We’ve been braving the Spine in the dead of winter for six days now, chasing after a dragon who crossed two females’ territories in search of a new lair. He escaped the wrath of the first one wounded, but the second one might very well spell his doom—she’s rather big.
With some luck—for us—Athos will perish in the next hour, before I freeze my balls off.
The snow is whipping our faces, turning Harlow’s nose and cheeks an adorable shade of pink, if only we didn’t worry about frostbite.
The Blunder isn’t built for such low temperatures, and we survived the coldest nights of our lives in the last six days thanks to Wilbur’s portable liquid-fire heaters.
We’re not the only ones out here in the Spine, enduring the storm. We sighted two other airships last night, following the same dragon as us. Since we vanquished the Dragons’ Bane in the Scorched Land, new fire scrounger crews constantly join the race to the carcasses.
Luckily for us, we have more experience, some of the best inventions, and the finest dragoner on our side.
Harlow offers me back my spyglass, eyes twinkling behind his foggy glasses. “She’s going for the kill. Time to go.”
I kiss the tip of his frozen nose before pulling away from him and roaring, “Cast off! We have a dragon to scavenge.”
Alara and Freddy are ready. They release the sails, which whip violently in the wind, threatening to tear. Kuroki—protected from the harsh cold in his little control room—fires up the liquid-fire burner, and the balloon swells rapidly, taking us away from the shelter of the mountainside.
The higher we rise, the more vicious the snowstorm gets. The visibility is poor, but we can still make out another airship following us from the forest below. They reach altitude faster than we do, eager to get to the prize before us.
Except there’s no prize yet, only two dragons fighting to the death.
Ulvok, the female, falls on Athos from the storm clouds overhead.
Even through the howling wind, we can hear the impact of their scaled bodies as they come in contact.
She’s twice his size, and her claws rip through his back and spinal cord.
Athos stops resisting—stops living, entirely—and falls like a rock over the mountain, his giant wing tearing the other airship’s hot-air balloon on its way down.
Our new friends lose control of their vessel and disappear into the forest below.
I hold on to the bulwark, Harlow tucked safely in my arms, as the dead dragon plummets to the mountainside and finishes his drop in the snow. Kuroki releases hot air from the balloon, and we descend.
We’re the first to arrive to the carcass, and the harvest is ours.
Moments later, as we anchor the Blunder to the trees as best as we can to lower the rope ladders, the second airship makes an appearance over the white peak domineering us.
Kuroki comes out of the control room, wearing only his tunic, sweat freezing on his skin in a matter of seconds.
With one smooth motion of his wrist, he switches his hand for a short-cannon gun usually tucked inside the prosthetic attached to his lower arm.
Wilbur spent months perfecting it for him while creating a work of art to replace his missing hand.
He hand-carved every part before molding them in the strongest alloy and decorating them with actual gold filigree.
“Who do I need to shoot?” my cousin asks, brandishing his gun. He’s been eager to try it in action for weeks.
I chuckle. “No one. They’re already leaving.” I gesture toward the airship maneuvering away from the mountain.
Kuroki groans loudly. “I miss the old days when they didn’t respect us as much. It was more fun.”
I share a glance with Alara just as she says over the wind, “Don’t worry, kiddo. We stay on top too long, and the list of our enemies is sure to grow.”
“Sweet,” Kuroki says, switching back to his metal hand.
I swat him over the head on his way back to the control room. “Get inside before you catch death.”
In the days after Myrval’s attack on Dragonest, the tale of our exploits traveled far and wide all over Hargos and beyond.
Many witnesses saw the Blunder face the dragon in the sky as the city burned, followed by Myrval’s sudden departure.
As soon as we arrived at the Devils’ Cove for repairs, our reputation preceded us.
Harlow sent a detailed report to the dragoners’ guild, informing them of Lord Hunter Darrington and Clarence’s crimes and our role in their demise—but keeping the healing properties of eggs a secret.
We even received news of the king’s desire to see us, which we promptly ignored by getting lost in the Wilds for a few weeks.
Being the most famous crew of fire scroungers has its perks, such as the best spots in airdocks and auction houses when we have cargo to sell. But Alara is right; it’s only a matter of time before we make more enemies. And when that happens, we’ll be ready, as we always are.
I descend the rope ladder first and land in a three-foot deep snowdrift.
I wait patiently for Harlow to join me and grab him by the waist before he can disappear in the snow.
Seconds later, Freddy launches himself overboard and carves us a path with his massive body to the dragon’s smoking carcass.
The snowflakes melt before even touching the scaly skin.
Wilbur and Alara lower the crates with our tools from the Blunder , and we get to work with our frozen fingers—the proximity to the body of the deceased dragon is a disturbing relief, heat still emanating persistently from it.
In half an hour, we have harvested as much as we can from the cooling carcass, and we’re eager to escape the cold.
The water city of Nethermere is never more beautiful than it is at this time of the year, covered in snow. The nights are long in the dead of winter, and the canals are lit by hundreds of oil lamps. Smoke rises in the night sky from all the chimneys.
By the time we finish docking, the auction house has sent carts to retrieve our cargo, and word of your arrival has spread over the city like wildfire.
Once our harvest leaves in trusted hands, I turn to the crew, shivering on the upper deck. “I think we deserve to warm up a little.”
“Yes… please…” Gia says, her head barely poking out of a layer of scarves.
“The Tender Caress?” Alara asks hopefully.
I nod.
She high-fives her husband, and Kuroki does a little jig.
All of us but Gia are dating, but the pleasure house is still the most welcoming inn in the entire city.
Madam Claudia ensures we’re treated like royalty whenever we grace her establishment with our visits—and our supply of liquid-fire definitely helps.
I hail a boat, and we all sail through the network of canals. Wilbur keeps a close eye on Kuroki to ensure he doesn’t fall in the water. We all remember the time when we found him in the early morning, walking along the shore of the lake below.
The winter solstice is in a few days, and the streets are decorated for the occasion with garlands and colorful ribbons whipping in the wind. The people of Nethermere fight off the long nights with light and vivid colors.
In the cold, the journey feels like forever, until finally the familiar facade of the pleasure house with its red lights appears in the white evening. Harlow gives a little sigh of relief in my arms.
The Tender Caress, unsurprisingly, is busy as a hive in such weather, with the people of Nethermere and travelers looking for human warmth in the dead of winter.
The heat from the two fireplaces in the hall defrosts our cold-weary faces.
Two hostesses welcome us with open arms and steaming mugs of mulled wine as courtesans in all states of undress wave at us.
Just as the first time Harlow walked into the pleasure house over a year ago, he can’t seem to divert his eyes, and I laugh.
“What?” he says, frowning at me. “They’re all beautiful, and I can appreciate beauty.”
I chuckle and pull him to me. “I know, love.”
And his gaze fixes on me now, with such tenderness and longing, that I have no ground ever to be truly jealous—possessive, on the other hand…
“What will it be tonight?” the hostess asks us.
Gia is already climbing the marble stairs with one courtesan on each arm whom she picked among her favorites on the way in, and Alara and Freddy have disappeared somewhere to play their games—I’d rather not think about it—and drink.
“Your best private room, please,” I say.
“Of course. The Madam requested that separate rooms be prepared for all of you as soon as word of your arrival reached us.”
Kuroki grins, while Wilbur looks about to disappear through the floor as they follow the second hostess to their room. The inventor always did his best to avoid leaving the Blunder , but now he follows my cousin dutifully everywhere, including the pleasure house.
“We’ll visit the bathhouse first. I need to defrost this one,” I say, gesturing to Harlow, who looks dazed from the sudden warmth, red nose poking out between his scarf and hat.
“Of course,” says the hostess, accepting two vials of liquid-fire as payment. “Follow me, please.”