Chapter 40
When we emerged two hours later, my adrenaline beat back the sting of the air as we stepped once more onto the snowy grounds.
Rounds of questions. Rounds of rebuttals. Rounds of refining the plan. Finally, we’d settled on something that might work—had to work. We had until dawn.
“How’d you find out about the train?” I asked Prescott as we headed toward the lair. Our window for leaving the school was slim, and we had no time to lose. Inside, I hadn’t had a chance to hash through the details of the past few weeks, and I was bursting to know how it had all come together.
“A few trains never make their way onto the official schedule,” Prescott said with a wink.
He’d fallen into step beside Vanya rather comfortably.
“If a track is set as empty, but there are no other trains scheduled to run on that track, then there’s likely an unofficial transport taking place.
Like tonight, on the track from one of his father’s warehouses up to the junction at Millford, between the hours of nine p.m. and midnight.
A track usually busy with transports from Treston to the cities in the Nevrons. ”
“But every night this week and last, there has also been the same empty track,” Rush added. “My father assumed someone could figure out what he was doing, so he built in several decoy options. If it hadn’t been for your friend, Bev, we’d never have narrowed it down.” He offered me a firm nod.
Prescott clapped and let out a loud laugh. “That was pure genius, Miro—Mireaux—whatever your name is.” He chuckled again, but Vanya whacked him with the back of her hand.
“Ari,” I said, smiling at him.
He wrapped an arm around Vanya and tipped her against his side.
My face lit up. This felt like it would work, even though it was also half-mad to attempt to steal my dragon back from the most powerful man in the country. I turned to Clarence, who hadn’t said much all evening. “And how’d you get Logan’s permission to mix more wintercress salve?”
He looked at his feet. “I’ve been mixing more all year, with Logan’s permission. My mother is ill, you see.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said, tucking my coat closer against my body. I was dressed as a newsboy again, considering if this went south, I needed to be able to slip away into the city, undetected, hopefully. None of us wore our riding uniform tonight, not wanting to look like we were heading out.
“Not many people do. Father doesn’t speak of it. And she looks well enough when she comes to functions here. It’s inside her, you see. It’s…well, the wintercress takes away the pain.”
Rush grabbed Clarence’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. She is going to try a few more things. Newer treatments. There’s still hope,” he said with a shrug that made my heart collapse.
Rush and I exchanged a knowing glance. If Clarence’s mother had access to the magical remedy Rush had used on our wounds, she might be able to get well. My teeth ground against each other at the thought that the duke was hoarding that kind of thing all to himself and his special club of criminals.
As we approached the lair, Prescott checked a watch in his pocket. “We don’t have long.”
Myth couldn’t fit in a stock car easily, which meant they would have to drug him and force him in, a thought that twisted my stomach.
Inside the lair, the dragons danced about as we saddled them, clearly feeling our combined nerves and sensing the danger ahead. I physically ached to see Myth again, to fly with him.
Soon, I reminded myself.
When we had all four dragons saddled and ready, a moment passed as we stood there, in the semidarkness, like racers waiting at a starting line.
“Ready?” asked Rush, turning to look at each of us.
“In the twelve years I’ve known you, this is by far the craziest thing we’ve done,” Prescott said, grinning from ear to ear as he slapped Rush on the back.
We all gave our assent and climbed in the saddles. This time, when my arms wrapped around Rush, it felt right.
“I told you,” he said over his shoulder.
“Told me what?”
“You’d get comfortable back there.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Covington. Not all women fall for you.” I smiled and pressed my face against his back.
“I’m not worried about all women, Miss Mireaux.”
My breath faltered. “Is that right? The papers say you’re quite the man about town.” He could probably feel my heartbeat through his coat.
He swiveled in the saddle to peek back at me. “Believe everything you read, do you?” His lips twitched, and I couldn’t stop staring at them. “Then let me give you a lesson you must have missed in your infinite studies.”
“You’re a teacher now? How intriguing.”
He took my hand and laced his fingers into mine, pulling it up to his mouth. His lips grazed the back of my hand, and suddenly, it felt like we were already flying.
Prescott whistled at us. “If you two don’t quit, we’ll miss our chance.”
Rush grinned over his shoulder, and I craved that smile like a gambler craved the next big race.
“Let’s go,” he said, shifting around in the saddle. I sagged against him, hating that we had no privacy or time right now. “Don’t worry, Mireaux. I offer private tutoring if you’re interested in continuing your studies.”
He couldn’t see my smile as we took off into the night, but he could feel my fingers as they curled against his chest.
We flew through bitter wind and chimney smoke, over the northern edge of Treston and the endless evergreens that crowded against the city, until we saw the pale walls of the Covington estate, illuminated by faint moonlight.
I was shaking with cold by the time we descended, and I couldn’t imagine how cold Rush was, taking the brunt of the wind.
He let go of one of the handles and pressed his arm over mine.
“Hang on tight. This is the fun part.”
I cinched my grip tighter and leaned backward with him as we angled down. The train was already moving away from the estate, as expected. We spotted its steam chuffing into the night and banked northward.
We moved into the planned formation. Vanya and Prescott flew out front, ready to descend on the engine, relieve the engineer of his duties with a hefty dose of wintercress, and change our course.
Clarence flew beside us, lowering toward the only coach, where at least one guard would be stationed.
Bev hadn’t been able to discern how many men were on this train, only that it was the right one.
Rush and I angled toward the solitary livestock car, where my dragon waited.
I had begged Rush that we’d check on him first. He’d relented.
We coasted directly over the train for several minutes, then Rush directed Azeron as close as possible to the train. Up ahead, Prescott had lowered himself onto the train and was standing with an arm uplifted for Vanya as she descended from her saddle.
She made it look easy. But when it was my turn to climb down, all I could see was the countryside sailing by and the jostling train car’s rounded top. Rush stood with legs spread wide, knees slightly bent, and hand outstretched.
“I’ve got you,” he shouted, hair whipping in the breeze.
I swallowed and swung my leg over the saddle, finding the leather loop with my toes. My leg trembled violently the lower I went, but then Rush’s hand was around my ankle, steadying me.
“Take your foot out,” he called. “I’ll guide you down.” His other hand braced against my thigh.
I did as he said and held my weight in my arms, letting his hands guide my foot to the stock car’s roof. My arms gave out and I thunked onto the roof, less silently than we’d planned. I teetered, but he wrapped his arms around me and righted me.
“Thank you,” I said, clutching his jacket. The train beneath us rattled and shook.
“All right, we’ll check on Myth, then we need to—”
A pistol fired. I dropped to the roof of the train, slamming down so hard I lost my breath.
A second pistol fired, and I crammed my hands over my ears.
Rush was pointing his pistol at the lip of the roof.
He’d suspected a guard would ride in the car with Myth.
He’d been right. My noisy landing must have alerted him to our arrival.
“Is he…?” I shouted.
Rush knelt and shoved the gun over the side of the train, then he peered down. He fired another shot, and I screamed. He leaped up, then grabbed my arm, helping me up. “He’s fine,” he said, reading my terror.
“My dragon or the man you just shot?”
He jerked his head toward the edge of the stock car’s roof.
There were no handles, as Prescott had thought, but there were slats in the wood, and I used them like a ladder as I followed him over the edge.
He kicked at the already open door—whoever had shot at us had been foolish enough to unlock it—and slipped inside.
I dropped into the dark train car, grasping Rush for balance.
I yelped.
A man lay sprawled on top of Myth’s long tail, his arms splayed, pistol still in his grip. I couldn’t see any blood.
“You shot him.”
“He’ll live.” Rush knelt and pulled at Myth’s eyelid. It opened, but the dragon didn’t stir. “Heavy dose, looks like.”
“Will he…?”
“Your dragon or the man I just shot?” he said, standing.
“Both.”
“The man will wake up in the morning with a bruised rib, nothing more.” He kicked at the man’s chest. A dull thunk sounded. “Dragon scale armor. Oldest trick in the book. My father outfits his best men with it.”
Dragon scale armor was a thing of the past, from the days of knights and castles with keeps.
The stuff was inordinately expensive, considering it could only be made from the scales of dragons who died at over one hundred years old.
The scales of young dragons didn’t harden to the point of being able to withstand gunfire until at least a hundred moltings, and it was illegal to take the scales off a living dragon.
Only collectors bothered with it now, or so I’d thought.
I dropped down and stroked Myth. He was folded up like a coiled rope, his tail draped over his legs, his neck curled around uncomfortably.
“I’m so sorry, boy,” I muttered. I slipped a small emerald from my pocket and set it in front of him.
I couldn’t make him wake up, but when he did, he’d swallow the stone, which I hoped would give him the energy he needed to fly back to Treston.
“We need to move. Those shots alerted anyone else on board that trouble’s here.”
I let Rush lead me from Myth. Using our fingers and toes, we edged along the outside of the stock car once more, then stepped across the clanking coupler bolt to the thin balcony on the back of the coach.
No one had lunged out at us, which I found odd.
Clarence, who’d been waiting for us, dropped down from the car’s roof and joined us on the narrow walkway.
Rush lifted his pistol, nodded, and burst into the train car.
Opulent interior, smooth wooden bar, plush chairs.
And in one chair at the far end sat Lord Merlon Fairfax, with a gun pointed at Vanya’s head.