Chapter 1 #2
She’d probably know, had she paid more attention in history class.
A buzzing in her ear prompted her to look up just in time to see a couple of windskiffs—small aircrafts with a single sail that carried one or two people—zip by.
The sight made her smile. Windskiffs were becoming more common as developing technology continued to hasten the pace of life and relentlessly demand more.
“I’ve never been on one of those, either,” Amaya said. She looked at Camden. “Have you?”
“Once,” he said, grinning. “I’ll take you sometime.”
Amaya’s smile widened. “You promise?”
“Promise. We won’t tell your father. Or your boyfriend.”
Right. Because Victor was Lord Sinclair’s personal yes-man until he’d secured Amaya’s hand. And Camden was no longer supposed to take up as much of her time as he did, lest Victor get the wrong idea.
Let him.
The song cut off before it finished, aggravating Amaya’s ear. Frowning, she twisted the knob to the right as if that would fix the problem. But instead of music, a masculine voice blasted through the speakers at full volume.
“WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAMMING FOR AN URGENT—”
“Amaya!” Camden complained, swatting her hand away to reduce the volume.
“Sorry, sorry . . .” Amaya turned it back up until it reached an acceptable level.
“—all citizens,” the radio announcer continued. “The Lord Mayor has advised civilians to practice extreme caution navigating the city on account of an unauthorized pirate airship sighting near Lake Anna. The ship in question allegedly belongs to Alastor Graven’s fleet. Should anyone have—”
“Alastor Graven? The Sky Lord?” Camden asked.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Grace said.
Amaya had to agree with Grace. Sky Lords hadn’t dared raid Sorrento in decades—not since the Royal Fleet’s presence became strong enough to deter them.
A nagging voice in the back of her mind insisted that her father wouldn’t send out a public alert if it wasn’t true, but she stubbornly silenced it. The rest of Veridian was another story, but they were safe here. They’d always been safe here.
“I should take you home,” Camden said. “They’ll probably cancel classes.”
“What? No. I want to go,” Amaya said.
“Amaya—”
“There’s only a few weeks left of class, and it’s just a sighting. It’s not like there’s a raid,” Amaya insisted. “I want to go.”
More importantly, she didn’t want to go home.
Cam sighed. “Fine.”
Amaya’s songwriting class wasn’t canceled, but it was smaller than usual due to the Lord Mayor’s advisory. Professor Franklin proclaimed it a workday as a result, so Amaya retreated to a private practice room to work on her composition for an upcoming showcase.
She tapped out rhythms on the piano and hummed along, the ivory keys underneath her fingertips familiar and soothing. The melody floated through her mind and manifested on the keyboard, jazzy chords inspired by the song on the radio finding their way onto the page.
Notes appeared in her composition notebook as she played, without the need to write them down—an expensive relic from her father.
The ability to study songwriting and composition at the university level was a privilege. Amaya did not need a degree, as Victor reminded her at every opportunity. And he was right. Her future was all but set in stone, and finding a profession was not part of it.
As an only child, she would someday inherit the whole of Goldridge Estate—the massive property currently inhabited by only her father, herself, and the staff.
Assuming she silenced the unsavory rumors of impropriety surrounding her reputation by marrying Victor Westbrook, the affluence she’d been born into would continue to fall into her lap.
She would have a family, attend charity and military balls, manage the household, and fuss over tea parties and a rose garden that nobody else cared about.
Amaya didn’t study music hoping to get somewhere in life.
She had no need for ambition, and she wasn’t talented enough, anyway.
Instead, she studied music because she loved it.
Music took her to entirely new worlds beyond her predictable routine.
It gave her an outlet for the irrational fears she never voiced aloud, and the freedom to express them in a language only she understood.
The only problem was that every song came to an end, and then she was right back where she started.
“Franklin said you’d be in here,” a male voice said.
“Hm?” Amaya looked over her shoulder and stifled a groan. It was Victor, standing tall, dark, and distinguished in his Royal Fleet uniform. She pursed her lips, unable to conceal her annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take you home, at your father’s request.”
Amaya rolled her eyes. “What illicit activities does he think I’m conducting this time?”
“None. The city is on edge, and it’s out of an abundance of caution.”
“Is this about the pirate thing?”
Victor extended his hand. “Come along. I haven’t got all day.”
“I’m in the middle of something. And I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home.” Amaya spun around to place her fingertips back on the keys, but Victor reached for her wrist, latching on with a firm grip.
“Amaya, I am not offering. Come.”
Grumbling, Amaya packed her things, shrugged her jacket over her shoulders, and reluctantly slid her arm into Victor’s, allowing him to escort her to his car waiting outside the academic hall. The polished black vehicle gleamed in the sun and, unlike Camden’s, was spotless inside and out.
Ever the gentleman, Victor opened the passenger side door and offered his hand. But before she could step foot inside, a movement in the side mirror caught her eye.
Her pulse jolted. He was there again—the man who’d been watching her and Camden at the airship yard. He stood a few cars behind her and Victor now, cloaked in the shadows of the emerging sunset.
A mixture of fear and anger bubbled up in her chest.
Was he following her? Stalking her?
“Hey!” Amaya spun around. But just like before, he was gone by the time she turned. Vanished, as if into thin air.
“Everything okay?” Victor asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. His stormy gray eyes followed her line of sight.
Amaya blinked several times, thinking the man might reappear, perhaps even a few feet closer, like something out of a horror story, but he didn’t.
“ . . . Yeah,” she said. “I . . . thought I saw someone.”
The silence in the car was tense, the traffic horrendous. Amaya sighed and slumped in her seat, twisting dark curls around her finger and awaiting the usual comment from Victor about her posture. It didn’t come.
Instead, Victor’s knuckles flashed white from gripping the steering wheel too tight. His sharp jaw clenched, and steely eyes stared straight ahead as he tapped his toe on the floor.
She might regret commenting on it, but Amaya couldn’t help herself.
“You seem awfully worked up over this—”
“Pirates are no joke, Amaya,” Victor interjected. “Particularly Sky Lords.”
Yep, she regretted it.
“I just have a hard time believing a Sky Lord would come that close to the city,” she said, forging ahead anyway.
“One arrogant enough to think he could get away with it might. The relic trade in Sorrento has gone unchecked for a long time.”
“Yeah, because the city is fortified against pirates. That hasn’t changed. There’s no way they could—”
“The sightings are confirmed, Amaya. There are multiple witnesses, plus numerous reports of suspicious individuals in the city.”
Amaya raised her eyebrows. “So, the Royal Fleet isn’t doing its job?”
Red crept up Victor’s neck to color his cheeks. For a second, Amaya thought he might slam on the brakes and toss her out, but when he spoke, it was with icy control.
“We are taking every precaution to keep the city safe.”
Amaya fell silent. She picked at the skin around her nails, her thoughts trending dark. What kind of suspicious individuals did he mean? Like that man she’d seen today? Could he be a pirate?
No. That was crazy.
Sighing, Victor shifted his right hand off the wheel and onto her knee. While he meant to comfort her, the gesture only caused her body to tense.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said. “Several airships are already patrolling, and we arrested most suspects before the announcement. Your father just didn’t want you walking home today, so he asked me to pick you up. That’s all.”
Amaya thought better of pointing out that she could walk home faster than the current speed of traffic. There was nothing stopping a pirate from tearing open the door of the slow-moving vehicle and killing them both, if said pirate had a mind to.
“Okay. I’m sorry,” she said instead. Amaya paused before daring to ask, “Did they deploy the Empyrean?”
Deep lines creased Victor’s forehead, his brows pulling together. “How do you know about the Empyrean?”
Damn. Was she not supposed to know the name?
Amaya waved dismissively. “Oh, I don’t. What’s the Empyrean?”
“If Camden Hargreeves is sharing classified Fleet information with you, that’s—”
“He’s not. I snooped through his notes and saw the reference.”
“Amaya.”
“Victor.” Amaya employed her hardest stare, which was usually enough to shut him up. A long moment of silence passed before Victor folded and pinched the bridge of his nose, forfeiting the argument.
“A lady shouldn’t worry about these things,” he said. “Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong will get you both in trouble. All right?”
Amaya hated it when Victor had a point. But it was her desire to protect Camden that silenced her rather than her subscription to Victor’s definition of a lady.
“The sooner you distance yourself from Hargreeves, the better,” Victor added. “He’s a bad influence. Your association with him is unbecoming.”
Amaya resisted the urge to dig her nails into her palms, blood simmering. “Jealous?”
“Hardly.”
He should be. Amaya might not have been allowed to choose Cam as her partner, but Victor could never erase him from her life.