Chapter 10
Syla hadn’t meant to fall into a deep sleep after her second joining with Vorik, but she’d already been drained from healing people earlier, and also hadn’t fully recovered from the exhaustion induced by the weapons platform.
Their multiple encounters that night had been exhausting as well, though in a delightful way.
When she woke, she felt relaxed after their wonderful time together and longed to stay in his arms, even though daylight brightened the sky beyond her porthole.
Vorik lay on his side behind her, her back snuggled into his chest, his arm draped around her.
Freed of his shackles, he could have slipped away and escaped, especially if Wreylith had also chosen to doze during the night, but Vorik appeared to be sleeping.
Relaxed and comfortable. Something neither of them should have been.
Igliana approaches, Wreylith stated. She sounded like she was a few miles away on the island instead of on the ship above—she’d probably gone to hunt for breakfast. Your Island of Bogs is under attack.
Bogberry Island? Syla stiffened, memories of Wreylith’s warning from the night before flooding her mind.
They were prepared for another incursion, the dragon had said.
Was Bogberry Island what had brought General Jhiton and his squadrons of dragons? With the shield up, winged predators couldn’t have reached its shores.
What happened? Syla asked.
Stormer-allied dragons attacked two warships that were leaving the protection of its shield.
Syla closed her eyes, grimacing. She’d sent word, requesting aid from the Royal Fleet stationed on other islands. Had those two ships left their safe harbor because of her request? They must have.
Further, Wreylith continued, humans must have sneaked onto the island because numerous fires burn in its capital city at the mouth of the river. Many buildings have been damaged. Also, a large fire is burning in the walled compound of what Igliana believes is the dwelling of its island chief.
Island lord, Syla thought but didn’t correct the dragon. The Kingdom terminology hardly mattered now.
Distressed, Syla sat up in bed. She had to get the fleet over there to help. Are there a lot of stormer dragons still by the volcano on the other end of Harvest Island, Wreylith?
There are.
At Syla’s movement, Vorik opened his eyes and glanced toward the porthole. “Everything all right?”
“No.” She struggled to keep her tone calm, but she wanted to rail at him—and at herself. If she’d drugged him and questioned him, she might have learned of the attack before it had happened. She might have headed toward Bogberry Island with the fleet and kept it from happening. “Damn it, Vorik.”
“Was my performance that poor? Women don’t usually curse me in the aftermath.” He smiled at her, but his eyes were serious—or were they wary?—as he studied her face.
“Your people are attacking Bogberry Island.” Syla rolled out of bed and snatched her dress up from the floor.
“Ah.” He didn’t look surprised, and that lack of reaction was like a spear to her heart, a piercing confirmation that she’d made the wrong choice.
“You knew.”
Vorik sat up. “I didn’t know they would attack last night when we were having sex, no, but I knew Jhiton had plans to obtain Bogberry Island.”
“Are you sure you didn’t know it would be last night?
” Syla demanded as she yanked on her dress.
“And distract me on purpose? To deliberately keep the fleet—the weapons platform—here and out of the way for your people’s incursion?
Your brother can communicate with you from afar, right?
Did he order you to do this?” She flung her hand at the bed, at their tousled blankets and Vorik’s naked form among them.
“No. I just wanted…” He spread a hand toward her. “You. I always want you.”
“Damn it, Vorik,” she said again, though she was more angry and frustrated with herself. She knew he was her enemy—and loyal to his people. He might care for her, but that didn’t change that he was a stormer dragon rider through and through.
After dressing, Syla ran to the door and flung it open, finding a Royal Protector standing nearby in the corridor. Fel must have finally succumbed to his weariness and allowed a replacement to stand in for him.
“Tell the fleet commander—” She caught herself and stopped, aware of Vorik in the cabin.
He’d climbed out of bed and was bent over, peering about. Looking for his underwear? Even if he was distracted, she had no doubt he would hear her every word. Even if he wasn’t in direct contact with his brother, he would be with Agrevlari, and the dragon could relay messages. Relay intelligence.
“I’ll tell him.” Syla didn’t even know if the commander was back on board. “Take Vorik back to his cell.”
“Ah, yes, Your Majesty.” The Royal Protector peered into her cabin. “Where are his shackles?”
“Probably with his underwear,” she muttered and jogged toward the ship’s ladder at the end of the corridor.
She felt bad leaving the Royal Protector to round up men and deal with moving Vorik, who might well escape now that he’d suitably delayed her.
Maybe that would be for the best. Since she apparently couldn’t stand to interrogate him.
As she climbed the steps, she regretted not delegating that duty to someone else. If they’d used the hydra-scale powder, they wouldn’t have needed to physically torture him, and she would have received warning about Bogberry Island.
Maybe. Vorik might have told the truth when he’d said he hadn’t known about the attack.
But what of the shielder components? She hadn’t learned where they were yet either. All he’d admitted was that they were being taken to his people’s next camp.
“I should have let him kidnap me,” she said, then stumbled, the thought making her miss a step. Was that… “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”
If he took her to the camp, she would be in the same place as the components. If she could figure out how not to be tied up and interrogated herself—or have her moon-mark used against her people—then she could escape and slip away with them…
But how? The stormers wouldn’t let Wreylith get close, and Syla would be surrounded by powerful riders and dragons if she was in their camp. Escaping would be next to impossible unless she thought of something clever.
Suborning Vorik? Suborning someone else in his camp?
By healing them, perhaps? The stormers had been in battle.
Some would surely be injured. But healing people didn’t always leave them kindly inclined toward her.
Assuming she could suborn any of the stormers would be foolish.
She hadn’t even gotten Vorik to choose her over them.
No, intentionally being kidnapped wouldn’t work.
Not unless she could think of something brilliant to ensure she could achieve what she wanted.
Even if she could… since she was, so far, the only person capable of firing the weapons platform, she needed to stay with it, not let a stormer steal her away.
“Your Majesty?” A fleet officer near the door was looking curiously at her. “Are you all right?”
After coming out on deck, Syla had halted mid-step. The officer wasn’t the only person looking curiously at her. Many men were out, working on repairs from the battle, and Aunt Tibby sat with her books on the weapons platform, though she hadn’t yet noticed Syla.
Beyond the railing, the city of Hazel Harbor stood, most of the buildings still intact, though a few blocks had been destroyed since the last time she’d visited—before the stormer invasion.
And here and there, other buildings had been flattened without devastating those around them.
Of those still standing, many showed signs of fire damage.
How many inhabitants—Kingdom subjects—had died to stormers and their dragons?
“I’m fine,” Syla said, though she wasn’t. She was letting her feelings get in the way of her duty. “Is the fleet commander here?”
She spotted two dinghies full of men, women, and children being rowed toward one of the warships.
Refugees. Another dinghy headed toward the Stormslicer, and she frowned when she recognized a stern-faced white-haired man standing while crewmen rowed and other refugees sat.
Lord Ravoran. He would have cross words for her when he arrived. And she would deserve them.
“He’s on the Spry Shark, Your Majesty. Major Hixun is in charge at the moment.” The officer pointed her toward the wheelhouse.
“Thank you.” Syla strode toward the door, wanting to get underway as soon as possible. Maybe she could put off dealing with Ravoran if he knew other fires burned in the Kingdom and needed to be dealt with first.
“Syla.” Aunt Tibby had spotted her and beckoned.
“Just a moment.”
“It’s important.” Book in hand, finger marking a page, Tibby scooted off the platform.
Syla held up a finger of her own, opened the wheelhouse door, and leaned in. “Our Freeborn Faction dragon allies have been relaying information,” she told the major and the helmsmen when they faced her. “Bogberry Island is under attack.”
Hixun’s eyebrows flew up. “Did the shield drop?”
“No. At least not yet.” Syla winced, suspecting the stormers had a plan for finding the shielder and sabotaging it. “Men sneaked in via ships and attacked the capital city.”
Hixun cursed. “You’re sure? How reliable are the allies that reported to you?”
“They helped us yesterday against greater numbers.”
“It was hard to tell what exactly was going on yesterday with all those dragons and riders.” Hixun waved toward the weapons platform, probably indicating the confusion of Lesva and Vorik fighting in the middle of the deck.
Seeing the spot reminded Syla that Vorik had risked his life and probably the hatred of his people to help her. It wasn’t his fault that she had been too polite to drug and question him. But if Jhiton was still talking to him, Vorik couldn’t be too hated.