26. A Desperate Plan
W hen Viola woke the next day, it was to the knowledge that the retrieval team had returned together with what they believed was all of the bodies.
“You aren’t sure?” Viola pushed.
“They weren’t exactly… complete,” the pale-faced knight explained.
The armour had been pulled off the bodies to be set aside for cleaning and polishing. Tradition dictated that knights be buried with their armour, but small pieces would be taken from each to distribute amongst family members or be reforged into something else—a gesture which Viola used to like but now felt empty. She moved through scorched breastplates and crumpled pauldrons, searching for something belonging to Freya. All pieces were marked on the inside for identification purposes.
There was nothing of Freya’s but a single gauntlet.
It’s not enough, she thought. Not enough to send back to her family.
Not enough for you to know that she’s dead.
Viola froze. It wasn’t enough. Every other fallen warrior had several pieces, but Freya had nothing but this. It didn’t even look particularly blemished. It could have fallen off. Freya could have discarded it—
Desperate hope flared inside her, but she didn’t dare give weight to it. If Freya was somehow still alive, and hadn’t managed to make contact, she was likely still stuck in dragon territory. There was no way the Captain would risk sending out another group on Viola’s hunch. And, despite the Captain’s assertions, Viola was well aware she couldn’t take on a dragon by herself. She might be able to convince others to go with her—Heindrich was sure to agree if there was even a chance Freya could still be alive—but she didn’t want to put him at risk, and, in any case, she could lose her position if she went against the Captain’s orders.
No, she needed to be smart about this. Smart and sneaky.
Refusing to let her emotions get the better of her, she first went to see the Captain, asking to read Flameborn’s statement. He was awake now, but Viola didn’t want to force him to retell the awful story. If he had seen Freya die, that would be the end of it.
“Please,” Viola begged. “I just need to see it.”
The Captain sighed and handed it over, hoping, no doubt, that it would give her some closure. Viola skimmed to the end of the passage—their attempts to flee the beast. Flameborn made it to the airship, already injured. He tried to turn the vessel around to go back for his comrades, but they were swallowed up by fire. He hadn’t seen anything after that.
He’d not seen her die. He couldn’t even be sure she was caught in the blast—there was no way he would have counted at the time.
Freya wasn’t dead. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be.
“Thank you, Captain,” Viola said, handing back the report. She took a moment to school her face into something she hoped looked grief-stricken. It wasn’t hard. “I was wondering if I could request a couple of days off? Between this and the hunt for the Shadowmancer—”
“Of course, Windbright. You’ve not had more than a day off in months. Take the time you need.”
“May I borrow one of the airships? I think… I’d really like to get away. ”
The Captain nodded solemnly. It was not an uncommon request, and Viola in particular frequently used to request the airships for her sojourns abroad. She was well overdue.
Drakesbane signed a letter of permission and handed it over without another word. Viola went back to her room and packed quickly, taking care not to leave holstered with weapons lest someone catch on to her plans. She concealed them at the bottom of her bags, along with her armour.
The airship was fashioned from sturdy oak, its hull reinforced with ornate brass fittings that gleamed in the sunlight. It bore the elegant lines and intricate carvings fashionable under the old king's rule (including a fancy mermaid figurehead) but had been branded with the new sigil on its side—the same intricate plant that matched the one on Viola's uniform. Crystal-powered engines rumbled below, aided by the levitation runes etched into the wood. Viola stepped aboard, her boots clanking softly against the polished wooden deck.
She made her way to the small room below deck adjacent to the engine. The room was cramped, with barely enough space for a dozen knights to sit uncomfortably on the hard wooden benches. Provisions were neatly stocked in compartments under them—blankets, medical supplies, a few morsels of dried food, and parcels of nuts, all securely fastened to prevent them from shifting during flight. Viola gave everything a quick check over, ensuring that all was in order for her journey.
Satisfied, she ascended to the top deck, her fingers trailing along the intricately carved railings. She hoisted the sails, the enchanted fabric unfurling smoothly and catching the breeze. With a practiced hand, she pulled the lever to activate the engine.
The ship hummed into life, a soft glow emanating from the crystal-powered core. Slowly, it lifted off the water, the levitation runes shimmering as they engaged. Viola felt the familiar thrill of ascent, the ground falling away beneath her as the vessel rose into the sky. She took a deep breath, the wind whipping through her hair, and set her course for the Feywood.
Once the ship was in full flight, she switched into autopilot, and brought out her twinned notebook. With a shaking hand, she wrote a single sentence to the only person that could help her.
Nicodemus met her at the temple shortly after she arrived, sliding down on his shadows and frowning when he saw the airship hovering outside. His frown dropped the second he laid eyes on her.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s Freya,” Viola rushed, aware that those two words made little sense on their own.
“If she’s hurt you again—”
“No. I’m not hurt. She… she went off to fight a dragon in the western mountains and…” Viola stopped, her throat feeling like she’d gagged on glass. “She hasn’t returned. They’re writing her off as dead. But she isn’t… she can’t be…” She gulped down the rising lump, refusing to give way to fear. She came here for a reason, and that reason didn’t involve just finding a shoulder to cry on. “I need your help. I will give you anything you want. I will do anything you want me to. Give you any secret, provide any intel, do whatever you bid only please, help me save her.”
Nicodemus remained silent for some time.
He’s going to refuse, she thought horribly. That, or he was going to ask her to do something she couldn’t do. People rarely meant it when they said anything. She wouldn’t harm an innocent, not even for Freya. She wouldn’t help him kill anyone who didn’t deserve to die. But she would spill the King’s secrets, divulge all manner of plans and ideas, help him get to anyone or anything if she thought that there was even a chance that it would bring Freya back.
“All right,” said Nicodemus.
Viola blinked, certain she’d misheard. “All right?”
“Yes. I will help you defeat a dragon and rescue your lady love, should she be yet living.”
“Freya’s not my—” She stopped herself. “Thank you.”
“I will want something in return.”
Viola froze, not wanting to hear the cost, yet at the same time knowing would be better to hear it now rather than later.
“Name it.”
“When you’re next sent to the Farm, I want you to take something with you.”
Viola frowned. “I won’t deliver a weapon—”
“No,” he said sharply. “I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”
“Then what is it—”
“A talisman with certain properties. I promise you—it won’t hurt anyone. Its effects will be limited to you. And I don’t have any intention of ever causing you harm. Not if I can avoid it.”
Viola almost shuddered under the weight of his words, not knowing whether to be comforted by his words or terrified. He doesn’t mean them, she told herself. He’s a liar.
She wanted rather than believed them to be true, but she didn’t have time to argue. In any case, it was months until she was next due out at the Farm.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Nicodemus nodded, but his lips were thin, as if he took no delight in the agreement. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll take the airship back to my castle and get some supplies. I daresay you don’t wish to wait long.”
Nicodemus readied himself with some urgency, aware that time was of the essence. He changed into a fire-retardant robe, forewent the feathers and sequins, and raided Cordelia’s potion supplies. Burn ointment was obvious, as was something for blood-replenishment, bruising, energy-boosters… covering all the basics. What might also be a good idea was a potion for instant sleep and one for memory loss. If they did find Freya, and she was alive, she was going to have far too many questions about why Viola was consorting with him and it was probably best she forgot he was ever there.
Cordelia appeared as he was rummaging through the cupboards.
“Ah, Bones—perfect timing. What’s the ratio of droplets to memory loss with this befuddlement potion? Three drops an hour?”
“Why do you need a memory loss potion?”
“I’m heading off with Windbright to go rescue her ex-girlfriend from a dragon. I’m thinking she’ll have a few questions I’d like to avoid.”
“ What?” Cordelia screeched.
“Well, you know, because I’m a wanted criminal and—”
“No, no I heard you the first time, I was just expressing shock. You’re going to fight a dragon ?”
“I know, sounds exciting, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds reckless and foolish and deadly. Have you ever fought a dragon before?”
Nicodemus finished throwing the potions into a basket and headed to the kitchen. He’d just made some rather nice currant buns that morning he was sure Viola would appreciate.
“No—have you?”
“Of course not, because I’m not an idiot. Who goes off looking to fight dragons ?”
“Supremely powerful shadowmancers capable of slicing through scales?”
“Supremely dumb shadowmancers who have some sort of death wish.”
“I won’t die, Lela.”
“You don’t know that!”
Her bottom lip trembled. She turned to race out of the room, but before she could, Viola appeared in the threshold. Cordelia halted. She glared up at Viola before kicking her in the shin .
“If he dies, I will track you down and break every one of the bones in your body,” she hissed at her. “And if you’re really, really unlucky… I’ll let you live.”
She raced off without another word.
Viola massaged her leg. “She kicks hard.”
“She does.”
Viola glanced at his basket. “Have you got everything?”
“I think so.”
Her brow crinkled. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“It’s flame-retardant.”
“It’s flashy. ”
“Well, I’m sorry, I don’t have any boring clothes.”
“Are you saying I do?”
Nicodemus did not want to admit he’d been paying attention to her clothes. No, they weren’t boring. She suited her puffed-sleeved doublets, and her ruffled shirts and slim tunics and trousers that had a terrible habit of highlighting every generous curve of her.
“I never give much thought to what you’re wearing, Windbright. You could be wearing a sack for all I care.”
Viola laughed at him, clearly not stung by the barb. Meanwhile, he was now imagining quite how good her shapely thighs would look in nothing but a sack…
How dare his insult turn around and taunt him.
They made their way to the courtyard, Viola walking briskly ahead of him. The airship hovered overhead, ladder extended. Viola looked up at it. “Will you be all right with—”
“I bring my own stairs.” He summoned a series of steps with a flick of his wrists, unrolling like carpet. “Don’t check out my arse as I ascend.”
Viola gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“You think it’s perfect.”
“I said nothing.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Windbright.”
Her scowl made him feel better that she wasn’t insulted about his sack comment, but all the same, he hoped she was checking him out as he ascended. He leapt onto the deck, which sent a jolt of pain up his thigh, but was definitely worth it for the dramatic effect. Viola had definitely seen him do it.
He watched her climb the ladder after him, offering a hand up which she ignored. She wound a winch at the side, pulling the ladder up, and took to the helm .
“Can you take down the mainsail?” she asked. “I don’t want a sudden breeze to blow us back into your chimneys.”
“I appreciate that.” He looked up at the sails. It had been a long, long time since he’d been on an airship. He couldn’t quite remember all the parts. “Which one’s the mainsail?”
She blinked at him. “You don’t know?”
“I mean, I imagine it’s the big one, but I’d like to be sure.”
“You don’t know how to fly an airship?”
“I actually lived on one briefly, a long time ago, but I was never allowed to fly it after a few disastrous attempts… Is that a problem? It’s a small vessel. I assumed that you—”
“Have we finally found something that you can’t do?”
“I can summon dragons, all right? I’ve never needed to know.”
Viola recoiled slightly. She abandoned the helm, and came towards where he was standing. “That’s a fair point,” she said. “Mainsail. Topmast. Foresail. Mizzen. Obviously, an airship doesn’t need them to move, but it does help. Less pressure on the engine.” She drew each sail down as she was explaining them. “Want to learn how to steer?”
Only if you take my hands in yours and place them against the wheel. “Sure.”
Viola flashed him a bright, brilliant smile.
“Let’s get up in the air, first.”