Unbound

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My beta-editors, as always, get my thanks: NotSoSaintly, Alienor, Stormi, and Alexandra. My thanks also to the editors and copy editors at Berkley. I write the story; they ensure it makes sense.

This romance is from the world of the Vulland Chronicles, steampunk short stories filled with magic and machinery. Check online at www.JeanJohnson.net for more information about these and other tales. May you enjoy this one as well.

CHAPTER ONE

The cabin was difficult to spot from the air. Vee knew she had the right valley; the hunter’s descriptions of the landmarks that were visible even in deep winter were near-perfect, but the actual location of the cabin was difficult to discern thanks to the avalanche that had tumbled down from higher up the slopes. It was the man clinging to her back who spotted the front of the stout stone chimney marking the mound of snow covering the structure.

“There! There it is,” Kiereseth asserted, freeing an arm to point at a shadowy cleft and a snow-mounted peak. Around them, tiny flakes drifted down, the tail end of the storms that had plagued this region for weeks. He couldn’t fly like Vee could, which meant she had to carry him. Kiers had done his best to be useful, spotting airships to dodge, people to avoid being seen by, and looking for likely places to rest at night in their haphazard travels. “That has to be it. Those straight lines aren’t the kind made by trees. That one there below it, that triangular bit could be the front of the roofline.”

Tensing her muscles, Vee angled their hovering bodies around the ridged mound of rumpled snow projecting out from the mountainside, giving both of them a good look. She then turned to view the jumbled mound of snow blocking everything down to the smallish mouth of the little valley. She shook her head slightly, bringing her body to a hovering stop at just enough of an angle that she could look around comfortably without forcing her piggyback passenger to clutch at her body for fear of falling off.

“Mister Horgen was right,” she stated, her light alto voice echoing slightly off the snow. “This is about as remote as you can get, and still be under the Vull.”

“Remote, except for the airships we’ve seen,” he reminded her, his baritone echoing as well. He glanced up, looking for signs of an airship. The clouds obscured most of the sky, but they were high up enough, the rippling, transparent gold membrane that separated the continent of Earthland from the Skylands could be seen through the thinner bits. “Thank the Light they don’t seem to have seen us.”

“That’s why I had you buy that gray overcoat, because you’ll look like a bit of cloud when paired with me . . . or in this case, a bit of snow,” Vee reminded him. “Air Couriers do know how to hide from our enemies, even if our ‘package’ is a person. But let’s figure out how to unbury this cabin before another airship comes by. We don’t know if any shipping routes fly past this exact valley.”

Leaning forward, Kiereseth pointed past her shoulder. He pointed the other way, and she obliged by turning them midair, following the thrust of his wool-shrouded, snowflake-dusted arm. She squinted along his arm as he spoke. “Getting in will be difficult. There’s been enough snow dusted over everything since the avalanche that any effort we make will be noticeable. Mister Horgen said the cabin’s a little over two stories high, and that the front of the roof extends out a bit. That means the snow must be a good twenty feet deep. We’ll have a difficult time getting in through that small gap in the front without leaving signs that are visible from the air.”

Frowning in thought, Vielle studied the hillside. Off to her right, to the left of the cabin, a thick cluster of trees had blocked some of the heavy snowfall. It had been awhile since she’d flown over lands covered in so much snow. Only a couple of years out of the Courier’s Academy, she strove to remember her training about deep winter maneuvers. “Maybe yes, and maybe no. If it’s really that deep, maybe we can tunnel in from those trees to the porch? If we use our thon? It’s just a twist on building snow-shelters.”

“My affinity for Fire thon can melt all that snow, yes, but I won’t be able to shape it, Miss Vielle,” the ex-prince groused. “I come from the southlands, remember? Where snow is only something someone with Air and Water affinities can conjure, because the weather is too warm. I don’t know how to make a shelter, as you propose. The drifts would probably collapse on top of us. Forming a stable tunnel requires more than a mere smidgen of Water, which is all I have.”

If they hadn’t needed a place to hide and rest while the guards looking for them searched fruitlessly down in the lowlands, Vee wouldn’t have admitted a single thing. The strength of her abilities was not something the Courier liked to discuss. But they were both exhausted from being on the run, they couldn’t stay long in any one town, and traveling in winter—flying in winter—left both of them aching and cold by midday, even with him sharing his thon to keep them warm.

It was now midafternoon, and she had been flying the pair of them low to the ground, which meant a lot of maneuvering up and down as they traversed the folds of the mountains. The cabin was only a few yards away, relatively speaking, but secrecy demanded a more convoluted, energy-draining approach. Her tone was therefore a little snappish. “Well, lucky for you, Mister Kiereseth, I have more than a smidgen. Of both Water and Fire. I’m pretty sure that I can do it.”

“You . . . what?” Kiereseth fumbled to grab her shoulders as she shifted from a low angle to a more vertical position, one better suited for slipping down between the evergreens. “No. Your main affinity is Air. The strongest I’ve ever seen, yes, but you’re from the Earthlands. It’s only the people in the Skylands who have really strong thon in more than one category,” he added, wincing as a few of the tree branches scraped against them, showering them in snow. “So what, are you also that strong in Earth? Are you some sort of . . . of mutant thonist, balanced in all four elements?”

“I’m not that balanced. Earth is my weakest affinity, Air my strongest . . . and I’m strong because I am strong, and that’s all there is to it. Only Light and Life know why,” she muttered, bringing herself upright as her feet touched the snow. Touched, and sank down, and down again, until both she and her passenger were mired up to their waists.

The upper layers of snowfall were a deep, soft, dry powder, with the more compressed layers at least three, maybe four feet deep. The biggest reason they sank so far was that he was still clinging to her, carried piggyback on her shoulders since he couldn’t tense his muscles and fly.

“Off. Please, Mister Kiers, off you go. I can’t do this with you clinging to me. I’m not that strong on the ground, and I can’t focus on flying when I’m trying to control two other thons on something I haven’t done since the Academy.”

“Of course, Miss Vielle.” Releasing the young woman, Kiereseth plopped down into the thick snow in a sort of reclined position as the powder supported his outstretched arms and legs. His disgruntled state gave way before the absurdity of it. Chuckling, he wiggled his limbs in a fruitless attempt to right himself, then muttered, “I feel like I’m in a Weather-be-damned hammock. Ice-cold, but a hammock. If it weren’t freezing out, I’d be comfortable.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Mister Kiers,” Vee muttered back, removing her goggles from her face. She tucked them into the backpack slung across her front. “I’m not sure how exhausted I’ll be by the end of this, so I’ll be counting on you and your Fire affinity to get that cabin warm.”

Arching her arms, she tensed her shoulders and upper arm muscles, gloved fingers clenching slowly into fists. She couldn’t bring her arms in close to her chest since she was wearing a backpack in a reversed position, covering her leather-clad breasts, but she didn’t need to for this particular thon-focusing trick.

With her body pointed at the cabin, arms arced like she was trying to give the air itself a hug, the snow in front of her gradually started to shift and move. She had to angle slightly uphill to avoid a couple of tree trunks, plus be mindful of where all that melting snow was flowing to beneath the drifts. Not to mention try to make it look like a natural dimple in the snow, rather than a man-made one.

Once she had a tunnel-sized divot formed for the entrance, she was free to send the melted water up in a webwork of curved arches, supporting the snowpack like a crystalline trellis. It wasn’t easy work. Without him clinging to her, keeping both of them warm with his Fire thon, the cold had begun to seep through her clothes, and the nearly full-day’s flight had exhausted her.

She could have spared a bit of Fire for her own warmth, but juggling the water was just that, a juggle to hold it in place in its webwork of supports while she pulled enough heat back out of the melted snow to freeze it in place, all without melting the layers above into a divot that would be noticeable from the air.

Struggling out of the snow in her wake, Kiers followed her step by step as she moved into the tunnel her quiet efforts made. If he hadn’t seen similar displays back home, he might’ve been astounded beyond words by her strength and control. As it was, he could admit in his head to being amazed.

All this strength and control, after a good six hours of flight just to reach this place . . . and none of it bolstered by a single bite of all that thonite she had bought and packed. Nor had she been born up in the Skylands like him. This much thon strength in an Earthland-bound woman was almost unheard of, back home.

A home he couldn’t go back to, thanks to the machinations of his sister.

Mindful of their descent, Kiers spent a few minutes melting some of the snow and dusting more of it over the impact of their landing. It was underneath the evergreen boughs, but he didn’t want to make it too obvious. When that was done, he realized she had made several yards of progress.

Following her into the tunnel, Kiers saw her shivering. Only then did he realize she was no longer enjoying the shared warmth of the slight amount of Fire thon he was expending to keep himself warm. Moving up behind her on the cold, grassy path she had made in the snowbank, he gently placed his gloved hands on her back, sharing that heat.

When the warmth finally penetrated her clothes, seeping into her stiff, trembling muscles, Vee had to stifle a moan. She hadn’t realized how cold she had grown. Step by step, she continued to craft the tunnel, arms held wide and curved, fingers slowly clenching and flexing. As good as his thon was at keeping them warm, she knew it wouldn’t last forever. They needed a real fire, one with wood for its fuel rather than the frailties of mind and body. A real fire, which would allow them to cook the food the hunter said he had stockpiled in the larder of his cabin.

The tunnel broke through to the porch right next to one of the stout tree trunks that had been used as columns to support the deep overhang of the roof, forcing her to swerve a bit. Satisfied with her aim, Vee cleared some of the snow from around the door, where it had piled at least as high as the handle.

The melted water was smaller in volume without the pockets of air trapped between the arms of each little snowflake. Rather than letting it drain through the wooden boards forming the front porch, she shifted it into an icy retaining wall meant to shore up the snowbank looming along the open side. It would be annoying to have to constantly re-clear the front door during their stay here if that snowbank collapsed inward.

“Go on in, Mister Kiers,” she urged him, taking a moment to lower and relax her aching arms. Shaping snow used a different, less familiar set of muscles than flying did. “There should be wood inside. Get a fire started in the hearth if you can, or at least find a lamp to light. Mister Horgen said the woodpiles were located just to either side of the house, but it looks like they’re completely buried in all this snow. I’ll have to dig them out, and give them more of these ice-arches for support.”

“You’ll have to free the snow from the chimney, first,” Kiers pointed out, removing his hands from her wool-covered shoulder blades. “Unless you want me to just blast heat up the flue and melt it off.”

“Mister Kiers, I am tired, hungry, and on my last dregs of excess energy. My temper is therefore running short. Since you’ve professed repeatedly that you cannot cook anything more complicated than heating a pot of water, I will have to spare my precious reserves of energy to ensure we don’t starve to death,” she retorted stiffly, feeling the cold closing in once more. “You may translate all of that however you like, but the short version is, I don’t care.”

Wisely, he sealed his lips against any possible retort, however tempting it might have been, and moved to open the cabin door. Wisely, she turned her attention toward the sides of the A-frame cabin, where it took her a bit more in the way of careful snow-shifting to determine the roofline sloped all the way to the ground. Once she did have enough of the snow cleared away, she explored as far as she could.

That exploration didn’t go far. Only a bit of light coming in through the gap high up in the porch roofline, but she could just make out the stacked segments of wood filling the outer eaves, with a narrow path up against the cabin walls on either side. The path was strewn with bits of frozen bark and scraps of wood, dirty and mostly weathered but still suitable for kindling if one didn’t have much in the way of Fire-attuned thon.

With the roof extending all the way to the ground on either side, there were no windows cut into the thick timbers forming the side of the cabin. Picking her way back to the porch, Vee wondered how much the ex-prince exploring the interior could see. The sun was still over an hour from setting, but they were surrounded by cloud-covered mountains, and that meant the lighting outside was already growing dim. When the sun did set, it would be as if someone had blown out a lamp, and that meant they needed light now.

Reaching the wooden deck, Vee glanced at the shuttered windows fronting the cabin. A golden glow gleamed faintly through the cracks. Relieved he had found some source of illumination, she opened the door, only to find herself in a dark, modest entry room. It wasn’t big, just enough to have a bench on either side with coat hooks above and room for spare boots, snowshoes, and the like beneath the benches, and a pair of steps up to the inner door.

Even as she looked around, the inner panel opened, letting through a large spill of warm lamplight. Kiers poked his dark head into the boot room, grinning down at her. Some of that light danced and crackled behind him, bringing with it the sounds and the scents of a firmly caught hearth fire. Some of it gleamed through his black locks, cut finger-length short in an effort to change his appearance so that the men chasing them wouldn’t immediately recognize him without the long braid of a member of the Jade Mountain royal family. Vielle thought the shorter strands looked good on him, balancing the square planes of his jaw with their subtle curls.

“Smart fellow, our host,” Kiers praised, dragging her attention back to their surroundings. “It seems he left the house well-prepared for his return. A lamp on the bench down there, and wood already laid in the hearth up here. No alchemical twigs or even a tinderbox in sight, so I suspect our absent host has a fair bit of Fire in him.”

Hopping down the distance of the two steps, he worked on unbuttoning his pale gray woolen coat, his gloves already stripped off. Beneath the coat lay a darker gray waistcoat and matching trousers, with two layers of bleached shirt beneath. Shrugging out of the wool overcoat, he hung it on one of the hooks, added his plebeian-knitted wool cap, then moved to help Vee out of her own outer garments.

She was already struggling with the backpack, holding it in place, moving stiffly from hours of holding her muscles tense, channeling her thon so she could fly. He helped set it on the bench, then unbuckled the leather cap on her head while she worked on the buttons of her leather jacket. Pulling it away exposed the coronet of her braided, ash gold hair. Some of the pins came loose as he did so, forcing him to stoop and catch them before they could vanish between the floorboard cracks. That brought him down by her white, trouser-clad legs, and the scuffed white leather boots she wore.

“He also laid out slippers, so off with your boots, too, Miss Vielle,” the ex-prince told her, feeling like a valet. “Or do you need help with them?”

“No, I can get them, thank you,” Vee replied, pleased that he had offered. Now that she had the chance to rest, her brief bout of temper was fading again. “Sorry for snapping at you. And thank you for helping. And for the slippers.”

The reduction in his circumstances had angered him at first, but now it was merely an annoyance at best. Not to mention Miss Vielle expected him to haul his own weight, even if she literally hauled his whenever they flew. Now that he knew her better, he admired her common sense and practicality. He valued her good opinion of him. Claiming the other bench, he worked on removing his own boots.

“You’re quite welcome. Apparently, Mister Horgen has a thing for keeping his boots downstairs and wearing lambswool-lined slippers inside the cabin proper. He left three or four pairs lined up just past the door. You should be able to shuffle around in the ankle boots, I think. They’ll be a bit big on you, since they looked like they’ll fit me without a problem, but they’ll be toasty-warm and dry, unlike our boots.”

“Then we’ll do our best to comply with his wishes, spoken or not.” Sitting down across from him, Vee tried not to shiver; the upper level might be receiving some of the heat radiating from that fire, but not down here. Unlacing her boots, she left them with her coat, scarf, cap, and gloves on the bench across from his. Before she could pick up her pack, she found it lifted by one of his hands. The other, he offered to her to assist her to her feet.

“For the record, I’ve set a pot of water to boil. Also for the record . . . if you’ll tell me what to do, I’m willing to learn how to cook, Miss Vielle,” Kiers teased her. “Now that we actually have the facilities and the supplies to do so. I took a quick tour while the fire caught; the larder goes back into a cave set in the mountainside. From the looks of it, Mister Horgen has this place very well stocked. Enough for an entire year, I should think. Though I should think it’d only take us a week or two for the men from Jade Mountain to give up on us and move on, thinking that we’ve moved on as well.”

“We’ll have to remember to leave a bit more in payment for our host, then,” she murmured, accepting the hand. Sitting down in the cold entryway had allowed her sore muscles to stiffen. “Plus set fresh wood in the hearth and return the lamp to the entryway bench, and leave the place as good or better than we’ve found it. But as to whether or not they’ll give up . . . we’ll have to fire up the portable aetherometer and try to find the frequency they’re using to communicate again. Assuming we can get a signal through these mountains, of course.”

“Assuming that, yes,” he agreed, leading her into the cabin proper. “They might see that the cabin is occupied, but it’ll look like it’s been occupied since before the avalanche fell. With no visible tracks leading to or from it, that should discourage them from visiting—and if nothing else, we’ll at least know it if they get close. They’ve been sending out their reports at dawn and dusk. You’ll probably want to crank it up soon—do you need a bite of thonite after all that hard work?”

“No, thank you,” Vee dismissed. A part of her was pleased he had asked. She found the ankle boots when he pointed at them, and slipped her stocking-clad feet into them one at a time while he toed his way into a pair of lambswool slippers. “I’m not completely depleted yet, and if we’re going to be resting here for a good week or so, then I’ll have my reserves topped up naturally by the end of it.”

“Like we did back in Triskelle as a guest of His Majesty’s?” he asked. “The only reason why they found us there is because it was the logical place for us to go next on your little gizmo quest.”

“Rest is always better than eating part of a cube. We also don’t know when we’ll be able to buy thonite again,” she pointed out. “As for the next logical place, we haven’t had a chance to think about all the legends we pored over, going through the Trionan king’s somewhat confusing, contradictory archives, so we don’t know where we’re going next.”

“Copious and confusing,” Kiers agreed. “I’m the one who’s been carrying most of the notes, remember?” Stopping her near the hearth, a blue gray stone construct set with a wire mesh screen in front, he gestured at it. “As for our current sheltering spot, this, Miss Vielle, is the single smartest piece of survival equipment Mister Horgen owns. A genuine soapstone fireplace.”

She gave him a curious look. Not because she didn’t know what it was, but because he seemed so proud to know it. He took that as encouragement to continue.

“Even when the hearth fire dies down at night, the properties of this particular stone will keep this place warm for hours—I only know about it because I chatted with one of the palace servants in Triskelle while he was stoking the fires in the reading hall.” Kiers wrinkled his nose as he said it, grinning at her. “There’s some strange mix of Earth and Fire affinities in the stone itself; it absorbs heat and holds it inside, never quite getting too hot, and then it slowly releases all that kept heat over time. That’s a very good thing to know, because we won’t have to worry so much about having to get up in the middle of the night to stoke the fire.

“I had to ask the footman what kind of stone it was, since I hadn’t seen the like before . . . which is true of a lot of things down here on the ground, under the Vull. I only got to see new things up in the sky when they were painstakingly imported up there, or when I was on a diplomatic trip. Since my exile, I’ve needed to know these things a lot more than I’ve needed to avoid looking like an ignorant, pompous fool.”

That self-deprecating quip at the end made her smile. He wasn’t much of a fussy, status-conscious prince anymore—he still insisted on some formality between them, but he wasn’t nearly as arrogant as before. She wouldn’t have wished on him the pain of having his own sister frame him for treason if it could have been prevented, but Vee could admit the hardships he’d endured and his efforts to blend in with the common sort were making him a better man.

His comment about needing to know things made her look around, examining their new, temporary home. The front room had two deep bays. One held a sort of crafts nook, with tools scattered over a workbench lining the alcove, and a stool with a clever padded seat that looked like it could rotate so the sitter could face any of the three sides. The windows were also glazed with expensive sheets of glass, she realized. Doubly so, because the hunter would have had to carry them into the mountains by hand, hopefully without breaking any. But if the shutters were open, the window over the bench would have let in a great deal of natural light.

The other alcove, framing the boxed-in space of the entry room, held a padded bench on one side, a paper-strewn table across from it, and bookshelves overhead crammed with tomes, scrolls, and stacks of writing supplies. Some of which were maps, she realized, moving a little closer. Some of the wood on the hearth snapped, and she shook herself out of her curiosity. Turning around, she surveyed the rest of the room.

The hearth of course was central, but above it sat a balcony with banisters and railings made from thick, peeled tree limbs. The A-frame was crossed by antler – and horn-decorated rafters high up, and stout logs served as columns and posts, giving the interior enough structural support to withstand all that snow piled over the roof. But beyond what lay directly overhead, she couldn’t yet say because she couldn’t see much more. There weren’t any lamps up there to illuminate what lay on the floor above. Disappointed, but knowing she would soon find out, Vee lowered her gaze again.

To either side of the hearth, short sections of slender logs had been laid almost to within touching distance of the hearth, dividing the front room from the back by forming two little walls between the stout pillars supporting the upper floor. Flanking them were doorless openings on either side.

Picking the left one, she stepped beyond the wall and found herself in a kitchen. One with a fire crackling away cheerfully . . . in the same hearth, Vee realized belatedly. It had two openings, one to the front parlour, such as it was, and the other to the largish kitchen in the back of the cabin. It also had more of those soapstone blocks, this time forming a sort of soot-stained table over the hearth. An actual cooking stone. She’d heard of such things, but hadn’t seen one until now. Most people used sensible iron cookstoves these days.

Behind the cooking stone, Kiers had hung an iron pot filled with water with a bit of stout chain, since this side of the hearth mouth was bigger than the other side. The support stones for the cooking surface looked to be granite stapled in place with iron bolts, and more granite had been used to form another flat stretch to one side, no doubt meant as a good spot to transfer hot cooking pots to a cooler surface. From the hints of burn marks in the large table occupying the center of the kitchen, she guessed the owner of the cabin hadn’t always remembered to do so.

The work-scarred surface of that table held two more lit oil lamps, adding to the light from the open hearth. At the back of the kitchen area lay a stairwell leading to the next floor, and along the right-hand wall, a sink. A real sink, with a built-in metal pump and a set of shelves, one broad enough to serve as a counter.

Odds were, the pump had been frozen before he’d gotten it to work, since it was still cold enough in the cabin for her to see her breath frosting. Still, the sight of that pump, the cauldron of water, and the various washtubs tucked under the stairs reassured her that they would be able to do things like bathe and scrub their clothing while they were here. Kiers, she knew, liked to be clean and tidy whenever possible. So did she, so a bath would be most welcome.

At the foot of the stairs, in the back left corner, was a stout, fitted door. The cabin’s owner had taken the trouble to cover it with a narrow strip of polished metal; as far as mirrors went, it was a little blurry compared to a glass mirror, but she could see Kiers in his gray waistcoat and trousers, and herself in her white Courier’s leathers, with the black-stitched outline of a winged scroll of parchment on the shoulders. She didn’t look very feminine, but she thought he looked rather manly in his shirtsleeves. Like he belonged, rather than like he was trying to hold himself aloof.

He had come far in his exile. She approved.

Kiereseth, watching her look around, nodded at the door when she glanced that way. “That leads to a corridor cut into the mountainside. A little ways inside on the left is another door leading to a small privy room, and at the back is another door leading to Mister Horgen’s larder. I’ve already had a look at both.

“Either Mister Horgen or his predecessor had a fair touch with Earth, since it all has the clean-cut look you’d get from someone used to manipulating stone via thon,” the ex-prince added. “Even the shelves in the pantry section were formed out of stone, and the privy hole looks like it goes down a long ways, given there’s almost no smell, so be careful you don’t drop anything important down there. I doubt we’d be able to get it back up, since I don’t know if it ends in a pit, or if it’s a sluice that opens up somewhere outside.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I think I can see why he was so upset he couldn’t get back here through the avalanche,” Vielle said, impressed. “I’d be quite content to stay here all winter, too, if I had such a nice home. And I haven’t even seen any bedrooms, yet.”

“I suspect they’re upstairs. I hadn’t had time to do more than look around the ground floor when I heard you come in,” he said. “You cleared away all that snow rather quickly. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Vee dismissed, once again feeling awkward about admitting the strength of her abilities. It still didn’t feel like a long time had passed since she had been bullied and picked upon for being stronger than the other students. She shook her head. “The roof actually goes all the way to the ground on either side. I just had to clear a bit of snow from the eaves’ entrances. But not all of it, of course. If any of those Jade Mountain guards come flying this way in their airship, this place should still look thoroughly snowbound, with no one having entered or left in weeks.”

“Yes, but it will look occupied,” Kiers warned her. “We won’t be able to stop the chimney from smoking or dropping soot on the snow if we keep burning wood for heat.”

Vee nodded. “I know. But we need to do it. One of my friends, her father used to say to us kids that a man was warmed once by wood if he burned it, twice if he also chopped it himself, and thrice if he used his thon to keep himself warm . . . because he’d burn through his thon faster than he could burn through a stack of firewood in a single day, and would still have to chop wood and burn it before that day was through. At least, with the average level of Fire-based thon.”

“He sounds like a smart fellow, then,” Kiers admitted. He looked around the cabin, then shrugged. “Well. Since I’ve only hunted for sport, not for a living as a furrier as our host does, and as there’s only so much sleeping or eating or poring over notes we’ll be able to do, I suspect we’ll be trading lots of childhood memories like that over the next few days. But before we do that, I believe you’d agreed to teach me how to cook, yes?”

Vee snorted. “I hadn’t agreed . . . but I’ll teach you what I can. I’m not the world’s best, though I’ve managed to make do so far.” She started to say more, only to blink at one of the shelves over the sink. “Is that a stack of cookbooks? And jars of herbs? Oh, we definitely did not pay Mister Horgen enough to stay here. I could actually cook something with flavor to it, rather than all that crude campfire cooking.”

It was his turn to scoff. “We paid that man enough money to leave him in a sated stupor of liquor, steaks, and wh . . . er, women to chat with for an entire month plus,” he quickly amended, blushing. “I’m quite sure we’re getting our money’s worth already.”

That made her roll her eyes. Vee picked up one of the oil lamps, aiming for the stairs. “Oh, just call them whores and be done with it, Mister Kiers. I’m not a fragile flower who knows nothing of how the world works. Not to mention that night we escaped, you and I fooled those guards into thinking I was one, and that you were just some random client of mine, so that they would overlook us. It was the only way to make them disbelieve that drunken, randy lout you portrayed could not possibly be the stuffy, formal Prince of Jade Mountain.

“I greatly appreciate the fact that you’re a gentleman by nature,” she added, leaning over the railing for a moment. “But you needn’t wrap both of us in wool. Now, let’s go see what lies up these stairs.”

“I’m almost afraid to,” the ex-prince muttered, following her as she continued up the steps. Then winced as the somewhat short woman turned to look back at him, her free hand on her hip and one ash blond brow quirked upward. Clad in two layers of bleached linen shirts and her white leather flight pants, she definitely didn’t look like a delicate flower of a lady. She looked strong, competent, and skeptical. She also had a tart tongue at times.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Mister Kiers?” Vee asked him.

Kiers cleared his throat and gestured at the cabin around them. “It’s quite clear Mister Horgen lives here on his own, Miss Vielle. That means a high probability that there is only one bed upstairs.”

CHAPTER TWO

Oh.” Vee felt her cheeks warming in a blush. “Well,” she managed, clearing her own throat. “It’s not as if we haven’t slept together before. We’ll, ah, just keep wearing our clothes.”

“This isn’t an inn with only one room left to let,” he reminded her, moving a little closer. “We’ve nowhere to go while we hide here for the next week . . . and . . .” His own face flushed. Clearing his throat again, Kiereseth admitted quietly, “And I find you highly attractive, Miss Vielle. I have since I first saw you remove your Courier’s cap and jacket, back in Father’s reception room. I still do.

“You are smart, beautiful, witty, and wise,” he told her, giving her the unvarnished truth. “Your knowledge of how to move across the face of Earthland has saved both our hides several times by now, and our conversations have ranged all over the place without tedium. I even enjoy the way you smell, which is a good thing since you’ve been flying us both across half the continent so far. I . . . fancy you as more than a mere traveling companion, tossed together by circumstances, but I am trying to be respectful about just how much I do find you desirable, Miss Vee.”

His repeated use of the honorific showed he was indeed trying. His blunt compliments made her blush and want to respond. Vee let him continue without interrupting, however.

“A single, passing night in a crowded inn is one thing, but this is an entire week of hiding in one place, with only one bed,” he reminded her, his gaze drifting down over her flight leathers before they returned to her blue eyes. “I’d like to remain a gentleman, because I have come to respect you deeply.

“With that in mind, I hope there are a lot of blankets upstairs, because I may have to sleep on the floor down here, to ensure I remain one around you,” he finished quietly. “Because I don’t think wearing clothing will mean a damn thing to me by day five of our stay, if I get to hold you in my arms every night.”

For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. Didn’t even know what to say, really. But as he lowered those blue eyes in growing discomfort, Vielle knew she had to give him credit for such open honesty. Taking a deep breath, she gave him some honesty of her own, unconsciously tensing her muscles as she did so.

“Well. For my part, Mister Kiereseth,” she returned, using his full name instead of his nickname since it seemed the best way to retain some of her dignity in the next few sentences, “I have found you quite attractive from our first meeting as well. On many levels. And . . . that interlude in the alleyway was not in the least repellent.

“I have deeply appreciated you being a gentleman, particularly that night at the inn when we were forced to be pragmatic, but . . .” Blushing, she steadied herself with another breath and finished her sentence. “But I don’t think you’ll, ah, need to sleep on the floor. Tonight. Or any other night. While we’re here.”

He stared at her, tanned cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes widening in realization. Then he blinked and frowned slightly, eyeing her from head to toe. “. . . Are you floating, Miss Vielle?”

“What? Oh!” Forcing her muscles to relax, she dropped the few inches she had risen, landing with a soft thump on her feet. One of her borrowed house boots had almost dangled free, forcing her to squirm her toes and heel back into proper place. “Um, yes. I sort of tensed up from nervousness, and I’m so used to tensing up when I want to fly, I guess I just subconsciously . . . I’m babbling, aren’t I?” she added, arresting herself. “Let’s just, um . . . go upstairs and get this over with—I mean, let’s go and check what we’ll have to deal with in the way of bedding and the like, that’s what I meant.”

“I know what you meant,” he reassured her. He felt a little too tense himself to chuckle freely, though he did smile. He defused some of the tension by pressing his palm to his stomach with a rueful look. “I’m far more starved for food right now, so you’ve nothing to fear from me at the moment. Unless you suddenly turned into a ration of bacon, of course.”

“Hardly,” she snorted, relieved the moment hadn’t been ruined.

Lamp in hand, she walked—not floated—up the last of the stairs. The glow from the broad wick wasn’t overly bright, but it did light up a pair of wardrobe cupboards, a couple of chests, some shelving built into the half-high walls to either side, and the broad bed centered on the balcony. The very large bed.

She stopped on the next-to-top step just so she could stare at it. “Light and Life, that thing’s almost big enough for four people to sleep in it, never mind our host!”

The opening to the stairwell had been boxed in by solid planks, which meant he couldn’t see what she meant just yet. Nudging her forward by a pat on her rump—which made her squeak—Kiers mounted the last few steps in her wake and studied it for himself.

She was right. It was broad and long, mounded high with what looked like a feather-stuffed quilt patched together in colorful blocks of fabric, with a veritable hill of fat feather pillows piled against the headboard. Even if the bedsheets looked to be plain bleached muslin and the quilting material mere scraps of fabric salvaged from here and there, Kiers suspected it was the most decadent thing he would ever see outside of a genuine palace.

“Light and Life indeed,” he agreed, studying it in awe. “That is a huge bed. I think you could hold an entire . . . Er, never mind,” he stated quickly, slamming down on the chain of thoughts that included a mental image of bodies sprawled before him, naked and entwined, using every available inch of that sybaritic bed. He very carefully blocked that thought out, because he was supposed to remain hungry for food right now, not that. He was a prince and a gentleman, and he had to remain that way.

Thankfully, Vee only gave him a mildly curious look, followed by a faint blush. She didn’t ask for a clarification on his halted thought. He turned away, seeking a distraction.

What little warmth there was from the fire had already started to gather up here, though the difference was slight, and palpably different over the distance between his head and his slipper-clad feet. Shivering a little, he turned to face the other way, and spotted a door. Moving over to it gave him something to focus on other than the bed, which his erstwhile partner was still studying. Opening it up, he discovered it was nothing more than a large storage room, lined with shelves of rolled-up hides, sticks of sinew, antlers, horns, bones, and yet more tricks and tools of their host’s trade.

“I think I’ve found where he stores the nonfood bits he gets from his kills,” Kiers stated, closing the door again. “I don’t think we’ll need anything from in there, so we’ll just leave that alone. It does look like the room goes all the way back against the mountain, though.”

“The eaves do, too. It’s a good design if you think about it,” Vee agreed, dragging her gaze away from the bed. Looking at him didn’t help, though, since both views only reminded her of the offer she’d delicately made, downstairs. Needing something to do—like cook them a meal with her limited skills—she headed for the stairs. “Extend the roof all the way back to the mountain, and just as we’ve seen, an avalanche at this point on the mountainside flows right over this place without dislodging it. I knew the Gullwing Mountains got a fair bit of snow in the winter, particularly up in the northern arc, but I’d never seen an actual avalanche, just heard of them. It looks like he’s used to this kind of threat.”

Grateful for the distraction, Kiers followed her downstairs. Not that he had much choice, since it was either stay up here in the near-dark, or follow the woman carrying the nearest lamp. “Indeed. Which means the avalanche must have been nigh-impossible to cross on foot, if a man used to wintering up here found it too difficult to navigate.”

“It did look rather rumpled from the air,” she agreed, reaching the ground floor. “I don’t know much about such things, but the other slope of the valley mouth didn’t look too stable, either. He might’ve been afraid of triggering a slide from that side as well . . . and if it can bury a cabin so that it’s difficult to recognize from the air, then it could bury a man alive, and no one would ever know.” Hearing her stomach grumble, Vee blushed. “Let’s have you check on that cauldron of water while I see what I can scrounge out of our host’s larder, yes?”

“I shall pray fervently that you’ll find enough bacon rations for yourself as well, because I’ve already claimed the first share,” Kiers dared to tease her. “I’ll join you in the larder as soon as I’ve stoked the fire a bit more.”

Supper was an awkward affair. The meal itself wasn’t too special, consisting of a fry-up of diced venison, root vegetables, a bit of bacon for greasing the skillet, and some herbs from the jars which Vee sniffed at and pronounced vaguely suitable. Plus they had a bit of pan-fried flatbread, which Kiers didn’t burn too badly after the first undercooked try. It was the conversation that was awful.

Or rather, the lack of it. First Kiers attempted to discuss the thonite gizmo, which was the main reason they were on the run, but Vee bounced up from the swiveling stool he had dragged in from the workbench nook to the kitchen and grabbed the portable aetherometer. She insisted on cranking it up so they could listen for any possible pursuit, since it was now near sunset. That only produced static, which was reassuring to a degree, but rather monotonous as a background noise.

Then she tried to discuss the legends of antiquity they had researched during their week at the Trionan king’s palace, but that only made him bound up and fetch his backpack, where the sheafs of papers had been hastily stuffed in their sudden need to flee. The resulting mess had to be sorted, which left them with the realization a good seven pages of his notes and five of hers were missing, and not all of them from the same chunk. Having to flee in a hurry while His Majesty delayed the guards from Jade Mountain hadn’t allowed them the luxury of making sure they had snatched everything.

All throughout the awkward meal, both preparing and eating it, their eyes occasionally met. When they did, both of them blushed a little. Each knew that supper would eventually end, leaving them with just the washing up, and then however long it might take the two of them to decide they were tired . . . which meant each of those little shared glances added an extra layer of tension to the intimacy of sharing the cabin.

The quiet hiss and spit of static from the aetherometer started to die down when they were nearly done scrubbing the dishes. It wasn’t until Kiers handed her the last of the scrubbed dishes for drying that Vee realized the noises it made were now fading. The boxy device sat on the kitchen table, no bigger than one of their heads, with the tuning dial still set to the previous frequency they had overheard the guards from Jade Mountain using to coordinate their search efforts.

Wiping the cookpot, she set it on the granite shelf next to the hearth to dry in the heat now radiating comfortably from the bluish gray soapstone, and crossed to the table. A scrub of her hands got them dry enough to shut off the device. The ex-prince—who had briefly wrinkled his nose at the thought of scrubbing dishes like a servant, but otherwise hadn’t protested—glanced over his shoulder in time to see her tossing the drying cloth over one shoulder and stooping over the table.

“Did you hear something on the aether?” he asked her, fishing out the silverware they had used from the bottom of the scrubbing bucket.

“More like nothing,” she said, opening the little fuel hatch and peering into the square compartment. “It still has plenty of thonite left in the cube. I guess we just didn’t crank it enough.” Closing the hatch, she gripped the little handle on the side and started spinning it. Then cracked a yawn, belatedly smothering it behind her hand before returning it to her work. “Pardon me. Warm and full and safe, my body is finally beginning to relax, though my brain is still racing . . .”

“I know the feeling. We took so many precautions, walking out of that last town in a completely different direction, hugging the tree line, detouring around anything that looked like it might be a house or a person, hiding from any airship that looked like it might be theirs . . . But I feel safe now. For now,” he amended. “It’s been a long day, and a long week. We can’t stay here forever, but we can stay here for now. And that’s a relief.”

“Mm, I quite agree,” she murmured.

Turning the washbucket of dirty water over, Kiers rinsed the forks in the tub holding the clean, still-steaming water, then turned and moved up behind her. Sliding the towel from her shoulder, he absentmindedly dried the forks while watching her body sway with the effort of charging the device. He made up his mind as she pushed the button, restarting the thing with a fresh crackle of static . . . and smothered another yawn.

Reaching past her hip, he placed the two forks on the tabletop with little clicks of metal on wood, then straightened and stepped deliberately close enough to brush his thighs against her rump. She gasped and straightened up. “Mister Kiers?”

“Yes, Miss Vielle?” he asked. He touched her back with both hands, then slid them around her ribs. The hitch in her breath as he did so made him smile. As she was nearly a foot shorter than him, it was far easier for him to cup the undersides of her linen-clad breasts than it was to wrap his arms around her waist.

“Mister Kiereseth!” she tried to snap, using his full first name. It came out a bit too breathy to be forceful, though. The illicit touch made Vee’s head spin, banishing the exhaustion from her body. Still, she tried; the habits of courtly behavior, the ways of polite society, had been drummed too thoroughly into her back in the Courier’s Academy. And, ex- or not, he was a prince. She didn’t want him to think she was taking her earlier offer with the lightness of a professional whore. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, now?”

Stooping, he murmured in her ear, “Well, if you’re tired, then the gentlemanly thing to do would be to carry you up to bed, now wouldn’t it?” Gently kneading her modest breasts, he added, “These looked rather heavy, so I thought I’d carry them up first.”

The sheer audacity of his preposterous claim, coupled with his bold, ticklish touch, made her burst into laughter. He hugged her for it, cradling her slender form against his body, then leaned forward just enough to turn the aetherometer off. Sagging against him as he straightened, Vee covered her nose and mouth, trying not to snort as she wound down into amused giggles. Only to squeak and tense as he scooped her off her feet, one arm behind her back, the other under her knees.

Kiers hefted her against his chest, then paused and quirked a brow. “Miss Vielle, are you tensing up because you’re afraid of my intentions, or are you tensing because you’re trying to lighten your negligible mass on my behalf? You don’t need to. I am strong.”

Cradled against his warmth, she considered his question for a moment, then relaxed. Half of her mass had indeed been negated by her reflexive tensing. It now settled firmly into his arms. She peeked up at him, once again feeling that same stomach-warming tension that had lurked all throughout their meal. “Well, I’m not really afraid of your intentions, per se. I’m just . . . inexperienced. And I don’t take such things lightly.”

He nodded. “That’s understandable. And I am treating this moment very seriously. I hate being kicked out of my kingdom, but I don’t regret coming to know you. Although I hope I do not shock you by admitting I have a fair bit of experience. Father and Mother both agreed that their children—male and female—should know plenty about lovemaking, in case anyone should think to sway our minds via seduction.

“It’s easier to keep a clear head when you know what to expect. Grab the lamps, will you?” he added, turning so that she could grasp the two lit oil lamps illuminating the kitchen. “It’s always best to see what you’re doing in a bed, rather than fumbling around in the dark.”

“I, er, suppose that makes sense.” Face warm at the implications of what they were about to do, she plucked first one lamp, then the other from the table while he carefully stepped around it. Balancing them carefully in her grasp, Vee enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation of being carried upstairs. He had to do so sideways to clear her legs, but once at the top directed her in murmurs to set one lamp on one of the wardrobe cupboards, and the other on the bedside table. Once that was done, he set her gently on her feet at the side of the monstrous, down-quilted bed.

The upper floor of the cabin was by now much warmer than the bottom level, and the temperature difference made the layers of her clothing feel restrictive. She knew enough about lovemaking to know that garments were superfluous in such matters. That prompted her to lift her fingers to the buttons of her outer blouse. A moment later, Kiers covered her hands with his own.

“May I?” he asked, stilling her fingers.

Blushing, Vee nodded. She started to lower her hands, but he drew them up to the buttons of his own layered shirts. The grin he gave her made her smile shyly back in return. Arms interlacing, they pushed the little wooden circles through their holes. He unfastened the waistband button of his trousers, giving her enough slack to start tugging his shirttails free, and she did the same for him.

“So many layers,” Vee muttered after helping him out of the first shirt, only to be confronted with the next. “It’s a wonder humans even bother with lovemaking in winter.”

“Well, I may come from a balmy southern climate,” Kiers returned wryly, “but even I’ve heard that lovemaking is an excellent way to stay warm in winter . . . and while parts of me protest at having to work hard like a common laborer . . . I don’t mind playing lady’s maid to you.”

“We’re not that far north, you know. Triona borders the midlands. It’s actually just above Heartland, if off to the east a bit, and we’re on the southern edge,” she pointed out, meaning to be fair, but also trying to distract herself so her fingers wouldn’t fumble too much from nervousness. “And I’ve never played valet to anyone other than myself. If ladies can play the part of a valet.”

“I have come to believe through our adventures, Miss Vielle, that you can do anything you like. As for our latitude, midlands or not, we are stuck in the mountains,” he said, opening her second shirt. The act bared her chemise-covered breasts. Smirking, Kiers cupped them once again in his hands. “Cold little mountains with pointy little peaks . . .”

“Mister Kiers!” Vee spluttered, blushing brightly. Her chemise wasn’t all that thick, and his hands were disturbingly warm. Almost hot, in fact. The ticklish thrill of his fingers sliding over her modest curves made her feel like she was going to swoon. Air Couriers did not swoon. She was sure it was in the handbook somewhere.

“Yes, Miss Vielle?” He didn’t stop caressing her, and he didn’t stop smiling, either. He did, however, lift a brow at her. “Doesn’t this feel good?”

“Well . . . I . . . Yes, but . . .” She knew he had a point, and that this was the purpose for which they had come upstairs, but such a bold touch flustered her. Unable to think of anything better to do, Vee lifted her hands to his chest, popped free the last two buttons of his inner shirt, and pressed her palms to his chest. He hadn’t needed to wear an undershirt, so her hands met warm, bare flesh. “Well . . . take that, then! Anything you do to me, I shall do right back to you.”

She barely refrained from adding a childish, “So there!” to the end of that statement. She did raise her chin with a touch of defensiveness, though he didn’t notice. His eyes had closed at the first press of her skin against his flesh, and his head had dropped back. Even as she looked up at him, she felt his chest swell with a slow, deep breath, his expression lost in a level of sensuality he hadn’t displayed before now.

The subtle movement of that breath pressed his firm muscles against her hands. Instinct made her breathe deep, too, until she realized that pressed her breasts into his palms. Unnerving though it was, Vee decided she liked the little thrill that rippled through her body at that thought, so she did it again. Breathed deep, and let her breath escape on a sigh.

That soft, breathy sound undid him. Dipping his head down to hers, Kiers slid one arm behind her back, supporting her as he claimed her mouth in a kiss. His other hand continued to stroke her flesh through her chemise, cupping and kneading with more urgency. Neither of them had eaten a dessert, but she tasted sweet to him all the same. Her soft gasps, her untutored nips, the way she parted her lips, matching him as he deepened their kiss, enflamed his senses. Stronger than a bite of thonite, she went straight to his blood.

Vee did not know how they got onto the bed. One moment she was more or less on her feet, arched over his arm and kissing him back. The next, she was on her back in a mound of softness, struggling for pleasure-laden air as he kissed his way down to the lace-edged neckline of her chemise, tugging at the many tiny buttons sealing the placket.

Belatedly, she realized her fingers were clutching his shirt, trying to pull him closer. That wasn’t the right direction. Even she knew his shirt had to come off if they were to get any further. However, he wasn’t exactly cooperating; she could only push it down to his elbows at most. “Off . . . off!”

The demand cut through his haze of desire like snow down the back of one’s collar. Shuddering with the effort to restrain himself, Kiers shifted back from her. He gave her a confused look. “You don’t want . . . ?”

Vielle tugged on his shirt lapels. “Off!” she ordered, flapping the fabric in her hands. “Shirt off, now!”

“Oh! Yes. Of course. Right away,” he agreed. Squirming off the bed, he stood and stripped off his shirt, grinning. Standing made him aware of his feet, encased in the wool-lined slippers, and her feet in her borrowed woolly boots. Toeing out of the slippers and pulling off his socks, he unfastened his trousers, eager to get the impediments out of his way.

Pushing up on her elbows, Vee admired his chest, until he pulled off her footwear. Realizing his intent, she struggled off the soft-mounded bed and started stripping off layers as well. She got all the way down to her chemise and knee-length knickers before realizing he was now completely naked before her.

She’d seen drawings of naked bodies, the kind covertly passed around the girls’ dormitory, but the real thing was something else. For one, this was in full three-dimensional color, not a sketch in someone’s slightly tattered notebook. For another, she wasn’t just going to look at his manhood and maybe touch herself under the covers afterward; she was actually going to do things with it.

Vee wasn’t quite sure what all could be done with one of them, but the other girls in the dormitory had said that there was kissing and stroking as well as copulating. The possibilities intrigued her.

“See something interesting?” Kiereseth asked as she stared at his erection, her cheeks pink with excitement and an intrigued look gleaming in her blue gray eyes.

Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. “Why, yes. Yes, I do.” Swirling a finger in the direction of his genitals, she asked, “What . . . erm . . . what are the names for all of that?”

The question made him choke on a laugh. “The names for all of it?”

“Yes, the names,” Vee said. “Look, the girls passed around . . . pictures . . . in the Courier dorms, but we never actually knew the right names for things. We just made up stuff. So unless you want me to call it your ‘Winky Willy’, then I’d like to—oh, do stop laughing!”

He couldn’t help it. Great, gut-clenching guffaws escaped him, to the point where he had to sag onto the bed, then flop onto his back, he was so helpless from sheer laughter. In fact, he didn’t stop laughing until he felt her muslin-clad thighs straddle his naked ones and her cool fingers wrap around his hot shaft. That made him choke and gasp, panting for breath against the sharp spike of pleasure from her touch.

Merely wanting to get his attention, Vielle blinked at the sudden cessation of his mirth. The wide-eyed look he gave the peaked ceiling was dazed with wonder, and his tanned cheeks had flushed. The thing—obviously not called a Winky Willy, given his reaction—twitched in her grasp. She blinked, surprised, and squeezed it experimentally.

Kiers groaned. His hands flew down to his groin, wrapping gently around her fingers. Pressing them to his aching flesh, he guided her hand up and down, coaxing her into stroking him. “Y-Yessss,” he stammered. She squeezed a little as she stroked, dragging a groan out of him. “Light and Life! Oh Light, Vee. Oh, yesss . . .”

Amused, Vee realized this was the first time he hadn’t addressed her as Miss Vielle. Definitely not a formal moment, then, she decided, squeezing a third time. Finally, she had found a way to get past all that stuffy courtesy he practiced. And from the way he gasped and shuddered, fingers pressing in around hers, he wanted more of that on his . . . thing. She tried again, squeezing and stroking, feeling rather powerful at being able to reduce such a confident man to such a trembling state.

“So what is it called, then?” She flexed her grip in emphasis.

“Ah . . . manhood,” Kiers managed, thinking his way past the pleasure. “Or shaft, and rod, and . . . oh Light . . . When one is being crude, one calls it a prick,” he added quickly, breathlessly, as she rippled her fingers again. “Oh please don’t stop . . . please don’t . . .”

Vielle didn’t even consider it. She was too fascinated by his various reactions to such a simple-seeming thing as her hand on his . . . well, his rod. The word rod she could understand since it was shaped like one, and manhood was self-evident, but the other one? Stroking his flesh, she eyed it, then him as she worked. “Kiers . . . why is it called a prick?”

He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. She would demand that he think at a time like this. “. . . I don’t know! Probably because when a man th-thrusts into a woman, it’s like . . . like being pricked by a needle.”

Bemused, she shook her head. Her thumb stroked over the tip of his manhood, where a bead of thick, clear fluid had formed. “This doesn’t seem all that sharp to m . . . wait, it’s leaking. Is it supposed to leak?”

“Yessss . . .” Hissing the word, he caught her hand, pulling it gently from his flesh. “Enough, woman,” Kiers growled, tugging her down beside him. “Or I’ll spill all over your fingers before you even have a clue what you’re doing to me. That liquid is a warning sign I’m getting close to the crux of my pleasure, and you’re not ready for that.”

Vee eyed him. “Why should we stop? Why can’t I see this crux of yours? I’ve never seen one in person before, just heard rumors about them, so I’d think I’m ready to know by now.”

He shook his head slightly in disbelief. “You’re going to be the death of me . . .” Releasing her hands, he cupped her hip, then stroked his palm over her belly, thinking. Finally, he nodded, making up his mind. “Right. Tomorrow, a nice hot bath for each of us, and tomorrow evening, full-on intercourse. But for tonight, we’ll use just our hands, and maybe our lips. I don’t even know if you’ve had a crux of your own yet . . . so we’ll just start with the basics and work our way up from there, yes?”

That made sense, so she nodded. “Right. And since you’re close to your, erm, crux . . .” Vee frowned. “I thought that was called a climax, or an orgrism? Is that the same thing as a crux?”

Kiers choked, coughed, and tried not to grin. From the chiding look she gave him, he hadn’t succeeded in covering up his mirth. “Orgasm, not orgrism. They’re all the same thing. You can also call it the peak of pleasure. There are plenty of ways to discuss it, just as there are plenty of ways to go about it, because people have been doing it since time began. Even the ancients had a term for it.”

“Oh? What did they call it?” she asked, curious.

“The little death,” he told her, smirking.

She blinked, thinking back to just a few days ago. “Ohhh . . . So when that one archaic treatise was talking about a machine of the ancients that could inspire a little death in women, it wasn’t talking about actual death.”

“No, but rather of giving a climax to a woman, yes,” he agreed, grinning.

Embarrassment warred with amusement. The giggles won. Covering her mouth, Vee chortled. “No wonder you kept blushing every time I wondered aloud why anyone would want to build a machine that could kill a woman and bring her back to life again and again!”

He leaned forward, removed her fingers from her mouth, and kissed her. He couldn’t help it; she was just too appealing in her mirth. The eager way she returned his kiss made his body ache for more. Their limbs entwined, soft-worn cotton sliding against skin, until both were clutching and breathing heavily between each nip and lick.

Dragging his mind back up from the ache in his loins, Kiers broke their kisses. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, stroking back the fine wisps of her ash blond hair, then asked, “Choose. Which do you want to experiment with first? Your crux, or mine?”

CHAPTER THREE

Vee bit her lip. All this kissing and touching and twining had awakened a hunger within her. As much as she wanted to know what sating it would feel like, she was still very curious about his reactions. “Yours,” she finally said, sliding her hand from the small of his back. She gently worked it between their bellies, seeking his hardened rod. “I want to see yours.”

Light and Life, she’ll be the death of me . . . the little death, he thought, amused. Still, a gentleman didn’t argue with a lady’s requests when it came to pleasure, and he wasn’t inclined to start. Scooting fully onto the bed, Kiers lay back somewhere near the middle with his head and shoulders on the pile of pillows, and nodded at his torso. “Begin by caressing me, then. All over. Have fun looking for my erogenous spots.”

“Oh, is it supposed to be a treasure hunt, then?” Pushing up onto her elbow, Vielle eyed his muscular body.

“Absolutely,” he agreed, tucking his hands behind his head. “Search away.”

Mischief prompted her to do it. Without any warning other than a flash of a grin, she tickled his armpits. He yelped and jumped, elbows clamping down against his sides. Delighted in his reaction, Vee giggled and trailed her fingers down over his stomach. His muscles tightened under her touch, but he didn’t squirm again until her fingernails ever so lightly scraped the crease between his hip and his thigh.

Not only did he squirm and bat at her hands, his shaft bobbed and twitched, turning a deeper shade of pink at the tip. As curious as she was about it, Vee merely noted the reaction and moved on down his legs. His inner thighs provoked a choked laugh out of the man, and the backs of his knees made him twitch his legs up and out of her grasp. But it was his feet that drew the most interesting responses.

Instead of laughing when she stroked them lightly with her fingertips, he moaned. She did it again, glancing up the length of his frame. His shaft twitched and bobbed as he moaned again, looking thicker and taller where it jutted up from his hips. And when she did it a third time, tickling both feet simultaneously, he groaned loudly, head and shoulders pressing back into the feather-stuffed pillows.

A bead of moisture welled up at the tip of his manhood, clinging to the little slit that had produced it. Experimentally, she stroked both feet again. Kiereseth grabbed a pillow and smacked it over his face, muffling what sounded like a tortured string of curses, but he didn’t ask her to stop. Nor did she. Swirling, tickling, even letting her nails lightly scrape, all of it seemed to bring him great pleasure. That bead became a trickle, a pulsing trail of liquid, visible pleasure.

Scooting up on the bed, Vee tried to reach for his shaft and his feet at the same time. The position wasn’t going to be easy. Debating a moment, she pushed on his right thigh, bending his knee outward and pulling his ankle up high, then did the same with his left leg, making him look sort of like a belly-up frog. That allowed her to kneel at his side and grasp his shaft, stroking it with one hand and the soles and toes of his feet with the other.

Face buried in the pillow, Kiers complied with the bending of his limbs. Even when it made him tense and groan and feel like he should scream if she didn’t stop, it was that arousing, he complied. At least, until he couldn’t get enough air. Shoving the pillow aside, he panted heavily, struggling to get enough wind to speak.

“You . . . stop the feet,” he gasped, and gestured vaguely with one hand. “That only arouses . . . to madness. Stroke me to . . . to completion . . . please.”

He did look a bit tortured. Taking pity on him, Vee switched her attention fully to his shaft and the sac at the base. Courier self-defense classes had taught her that the spheres inside were vulnerable to being handled roughly or given harsh blows, but that was information meant for an attacker, not a lover. Instead, she touched them lightly. That made him groan and clutch at the patchwork quilt.

His hips moved, pushing his flesh up against her exploring fingers. That smeared the liquid against them. Vee wasn’t an engineer, but she had heard explanations about pistons and cogs and gears from acquaintances who were, and how all those moving parts needed lubrication. The slick feel of it was her clue to its purpose. Swirling her fingers and palm through the sticky liquid, she coated his manhood and continued to stroke.

The pillow flopped back over his face, muffling several more ungentlemanly curses. Where she got that brilliant idea, the ex-prince didn’t know, but Kiers did know if she stopped, he’d shoot himself. Somehow. Surely there was a rifle or a pistol in a hunter’s cabin? Oh Light and Life spare me, she’s doing it again . . .

He couldn’t breathe for long under the pillow. Pushing it aside, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, watching the rise and fall of his hips as they pistoned his shaft through the clasp of those delicious, rippling digits.

A glance from her showed the tip of her pink tongue moistening her lips. That move alone did him in. Feeling the drawing tightness in his loins, Kiers gasped out a warning. “I’m . . . coming! Crux is coming—!”

His hips snapped up in several hard, fast thrusts against her fingers. Guessing he wanted more of that sort of stimulation, Vee stroked faster, doing her best to clasp his shaft, though her fingers and thumb didn’t quite meet all the way around. He kept thrusting, hissing her nickname twice—then stiffened, back arched and hips lifted up from the bedding.

With an atavistic thrill, she watched the clear, seeping liquid turn into jets of creamy white. He collapsed for a second, then kept thrusting from the hips, one hand flying down to cover hers, coaxing her into continuing her swift, firm strokes as more and more spurted out. It spattered on his belly and hips, poured over their conjoined fingers, and finally turned back into a seeping dribble.

Patting her hand as his body stilled, Kiers coaxed her into gentling her touch. “Easy . . . be gentle at the end . . . that’s it, yes. Light and Life, you are very good at that.”

She smiled at the praise. “Always was a quick study. And I do love a treasure hunt.” Releasing his now softening manhood with a little pat, she wrinkled her nose at the liquid coating her hand. “Er . . . a question, Mister Kiers. Is it always this messy?”

Kiers managed a nod. His breath was almost back to normal, but the sated feeling in his body translated as a bit of post-bliss lethargy. “Usually. If you do it right. And you don’t have to call me ‘Mister’ since I think we’ve blown right past that point.”

She chuckled weakly. “I’d say so. And I insist you call me just Vee. I’d better go get a washrag, I think. I’ll be right back,” she promised, scooting off the bed with the help of her clean hand. “You just lie there while I fetch everything.”

“I’ll be waiting . . . Just Vee,” he teased. That earned him a mock-dirty look and a mock-swipe at his ribs. “Vee! Vee!” he promised, holding up his hands in defense.

Padding downstairs, she scrubbed her hands at the sink, then eyed the fire. It was starting to die down. Soapstone hearth or no, she didn’t think the fire had been burning long enough. Stacking a few more logs so that they would form a decent bed of coals, she dipped some of the steaming water out of the chain-hung cauldron into a bowl, then refilled the iron pot so that there would be a fresh supply of hot liquid to wash with later.

“Do you need help, Miss . . . Do you need help, Vee?” Kiers called down to her, waiting as patiently as he could for the second half of the night.

“No, thank you, Kiers! I was just stoking the fire. I’ll be up as soon as I’ve used the powder room,” she called back up the stairwell as she moved that way.

Her detour didn’t take long. Washing her hands again at the kitchen basin to make sure they were clean, she carried the bowl and a scrap of cloth upstairs. The moment she cleared the boards blocking in the stairwell shaft, she could see him stretched out on his side, right knee up, left palm propping up his cheek. The sight of her, showing up in her chemise and knickers, made his shaft twitch visibly.

Blushing, Vee carried the bowl over to the nightstand and dipped the rag in it. Wringing most of the hot water from it, she bent over the bed, intending to scrub his stomach. At the first hard back-and-forth rub, he winced and grinned, catching her wrist.

“Easy, woman. I’m not built like a set of floorboards,” he teased her. Fingers guiding hers, he helped her bathe away all the streaks she could still see, and all the ones he could feel on his skin. Their mutual touch slowed as the intimacy of the moment grew.

Finally, Vee turned to set the rag on the table. Kiers caught her free hand as soon as she did so, drawing her onto the bed beside him. Without a word, just a long, heated look, he lifted her fingers to his lips and showed her with just a few nibbling, slow kisses that toes weren’t the only erogenous extremities in the room. It didn’t take much for him to set her heart thumping in her chest, her blood rushing through her veins.

From there, he moved to her wrists, then to her inner elbows. Vee squirmed at that, giggling a little. He smiled, but didn’t tickle her armpits; instead, he pressed soft kisses to the bits of shoulder exposed by the broad, lace-edged straps of her chemise. Murmuring compliments, he kissed his way along her neckline to the shallow valley between her breasts.

She knew she wasn’t overly endowed; in fact, Vee didn’t even need a busk or any staves to support the cups of her chemise. Unlike the sort of woman she had tried to portray that night in the alley, there wasn’t all that much for his palm to cup. But the modest curves she did have were sensitive, provoking a soft moan from her lips when he cupped and caressed the left one.

“Ohhh, that feels good,” she sighed. Instinct drove her to dip her head and kiss the top of her lover’s head. A thought which gave her pause. My lover. That sounds so . . . thrilling.

Yes. My lover. Illicit and exciting, and . . . Vee stroked her fingers through his short dark hair, not at all bothered by it when he started slipping the buttons of her chemise through their tight little holes. It just felt right. The right moment, the right person, even the right place.

She sucked in a breath at the feel of his lips closing on the tip of her left breast. Shivered when he circled her areola with the tip of his tongue. Moaned at the sweet ache he inspired when he suckled firmly. “Oh, Kiers . . .”

“Mmm, Vee . . . so delicious,” he murmured, nipping lightly at her flesh. His hand shifted to each of her shoulders, drawing the straps of her chemise down and away, one at a time. Palm gliding up and down her arms, he caressed her skin even as he sucked again, making her head swim. Shaking her hands free of the fabric, she sank back on the bedding, uncaring that her chemise was trapped beneath her.

Left arm bracing his weight as he leaned over her, Kiers was free to knead her breast, to caress her ribs with his right hand. While his mouth worshipped her breast, he skimmed his fingertips down along the waistband of her knickers, then plucked at the ties holding her last garment in place. He smiled when she lifted her hips, but didn’t draw them down her legs.

Catching the curiosity in her eyes, he smiled and slipped his fingers inside the loosened material. Vee caught her breath, watching him with wide eyes. The sensation of his fingers brushing over the tender skin of her abdomen both tickled and unnerved her, stimulating her in unexpected ways.

When those same fingers stroked through the curls sheltering her mound, she whimpered faintly. Not from fear, but from unexpected pleasure. This wasn’t her own touch, familiar and safe. This was Kiers’ hand, where she couldn’t anticipate where or when he would touch. The unknown possibilities lurked in her mind, making her ache from head to toes.

It was a simple touch, a light rubbing along the outside of her folds, yet it stroked free a huge reaction. Bucking against his fingers, she shuddered, thighs parting with instinctive need. Her hands, however, reacted to her inner uncertainties, clutching at his shoulders.

“Shhh, shh,” Kiers soothed her, hiding his wince as her strong fingers pinched and dug into his mucles. “You know me well enough by now. You know I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to give you pleasure.”

Part of her was annoyed that he’d think that she’d even entertain that thought. “I’m not thinking that! I’m just . . .” Vee blushed. “No one’s touched me there but me, for as long as I can remember. It’s . . . it’s just unfamiliar. I need to get used to it.”

He stroked her seam again, grinning wickedly. “Then it would be my pleasure to get you very used to my touch, my dear Vielle. After all, familiarity only comes with plenty of practice.”

She wanted to laugh at his jest, but couldn’t. Not while distracted by his touch. Two of his fingers deftly parted her folds. The third dipped through the slick wetness between them, sliding it up to coat the pearl of flesh those nether-lips guarded. She choked, stiffening. Her hands pushed at his shoulders, but only because she needed the leverage to lift her hips up into his touch.

“Oh Light! What you’re doing—! I swear, Your Highness,” she growled between shudders as he did it again, “if you stop and don’t follow through, I will hunt you down. You’ll wish those guards had—oh Light and Life!”

He cut off her tirade with a rub of his thumb and a gentle probe of his middle finger, teasing her entrance. “I assure you, I have no intention of stopping. At least, until you beg me to,” he added, smirking. His hand stroked faster, probed a little deeper. “It is said that women have a great capacity for pleasure. In order to prove this theory, I intend to explore your capacity until we find your limits while we stay here . . . and then see if we can expand them.”

It was her turn to grab a pillow, thwap it over her face, and curse into its sound-muffling depths. Chuckling, Kiers dipped his head back to her breasts. The combination of lips, tongue, and fingertips sent her over the edge. Wailing into the pillow, Vee tensed in the biggest crux of her life to date. Every little twitch of his fingers on her nethers just added to it, keeping the pleasure rolling through her nerves like little aftershocks from an earthquake.

Only when she dragged the plump, feather-stuffed pad from her face in the struggle for more air did he finally still his efforts. Lifting his lips from her nipple, he grinned. “Enjoyed that, did you?”

A very unladylike retort nearly escaped her. Except the words she would have used would have encouraged more of the same. Settling on a scowling pout, she muttered, “Oh, give me a chance to rest, already! I need to catch my breath.”

Fingers still gently cupping her mound under the fabric of her knickers, he shifted up close enough to kiss her mouth. “Let me know when you’d like another go, then. Or if you’d rather be tucked under the covers for a good night’s sleep, first.”

As much as parts of her body ached with the need for more of that bliss, just his mentioning the word sleep was enough to make her yawn. She pouted again when her mouth finally shut. “Don’t want to . . .”

Kiers thought she looked utterly cute like that, still flushed and a little sweaty from her pleasure, clad only in her underdrawers with his hand tucked down inside, cradling the wet warmth of her flesh. He could see in her eyes that she didn’t want to go to sleep, but that she also needed it. “Right then,” he sighed, gently withdrawing his hand. “Sleep first. That way we’ll have energy for more, tomorrow.”

Vee lifted a brow at his autocratic decision, but the softness of the bed and the post-crux lethargy in her limbs argued that he was right. They’d both feel better after a good night’s sleep. She did, however, question the sight of his re-hardened shaft. “What about that?” she asked, pushing up onto her elbows so she could nod at his groin. “Don’t you want to take care of that?”

He shook his head. “It’ll go away—keep your knickers on,” he added, shifting off the bed and casting around for his own undertrousers. “I’d rather be fully awake for our next encounter, rather than play with you in my sleep. Or let you play with me, unawares.”

“Mister Kiers, I am hardly likely to . . . to ravish you without fair warning!” Vee argued, climbing off the bed as well so they could draw the covers down. Her jaw cracked in a hastily smothered yawn before she could continue. “I mean, Kiers. I am an honorable woman, you know. All Couriers have to be.”

“I never once doubted that, Mi—Vielle,” he promised her, fastening his undertrousers in place. Like her, he was having difficulty not using the honorifics of polite society. It was a change in their relationship that would take time to implement. “However, desire is so deep-rooted in our minds, it can manifest itself from the depths of our very dreams . . . and I know I’m going to dream about the feel and the scent and the taste of you, tonight.”

“Taste?” Vee asked, thinking of the way he had kissed and licked her breasts.

Lifting his right hand to his lips, he deliberately licked the remnants of her juices from his fingertips, blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of mirth and desire.

Blushing, she tugged on one of her shirts, then climbed back into the bed on the far side from him. “Get the lamps, will you? I stacked extra wood in the hearth to make a good pile of coals and made sure the grates were in place to guard against sparks.”

Nodding, he twisted his left hand in a snatching motion, looking at the lamp on the wardrobe, several feet beyond his reach. The flame instantly snuffed out under the power of his Fire-affinity, leaving only a curl of smoke to climb up the glass chimney. Joining her under the covers, he repeated his efforts with the bedside one, plunging them into a semidarkness lit only by the flickering, golden glow of the hearth fire down below.

For a long moment, neither moved, then Kiereseth sighed and shifted a little closer. With a wordless touch, he coaxed her into rolling up against him, sharing their body heat to warm up the bedding, as well as for a bit of emotional closeness.

Vee looked up at him. She couldn’t really see him in the dark, but she’d grown used to his presence these last few weeks. “Thank you for giving me pleasure, Kiers.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” he returned quietly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her braid-wrapped head. “Sleep well, Vee.”

Nodding, she snuggled into his warmth and closed her eyes, letting her post-bliss lethargy carry her into some very muchneeded sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kiers slouched in a very unprincely manner, propping his chin on his palm. His gaze switched back and forth between the slightly incomplete research notes spread over the kitchen table, and the odd, rounded, gun-like device sitting between him and his companion. Vielle had still been sleeping when he had woken, and the air in the cabin had been decidedly nippy. The ex-prince had busied himself with building up a fire, before attempting to re-create a breakfast version of last night’s supper. He did all of that while waiting for her to awaken, figuring she would at least approve of the effort, if not necessarily the result.

Vee had kindly refrained from commenting on his efforts when she finally descended after dressing, aside from pronouncing it, “. . . edible enough, I suppose,” though she did scrape the blackest bits off the tumble of pan-fried roots before eating the rest. And she had thanked him for joining her in scrubbing the breakfast things. Now, they sat on opposing stools, staring at the work ahead of them. By joint accord, they had decided to do some actual study post-breakfast.

Kiers, however, couldn’t focus on the notes he had taken. Not when he had the distraction of the very beautiful, passionate woman across from him, and the enigma of the thing between them. It was either ask her questions about it, or drag her back upstairs.

“So what is it, exactly?” he asked her, eyeing the silvery sphere with its crank handle, pistol grip, and three hatches. One hid the cone-shaped muzzle, the other hid the dials and buttons that activated its uses, and a third sat at the back, awaiting a fresh thonite cube. “Your gizmo-thing.”

“I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged expressively. “I honestly, truly do not know, Mister Kiers. Aside from what little I’ve observed, that is. Whatever purpose for which the Ancients made it, they didn’t exactly leave any instruction pamphlets lying around.”

“Well, I know it can dissolve the membrane of the Vull, and restore it,” he muttered, eyeing the strange machine. “I observed that much for myself when we escaped from the Skylands. And a good thing, too, since our pursuers haven’t hesitated to fire their pistols. But it has four sets of buttons and dials, and I think I saw you using the first two during our escape . . .”

“I don’t really know what the other two buttons do,” Vee told him. “Except that they all spew different colored mists. Greenish, we both know dissolves the membrane separating the continent from the hexisles lofted into the sky. And golden creates fresh Vull. But there are also a reddish and a purplish pair, and I have no idea what those two do.”

“Wait, back up,” Kiers interrupted, frowning in confusion. He pointed up at the ceiling of the kitchen . . . or rather at the thin, translucent gold barrier rippling somewhere over the tallest mountain peaks around them. “You said it creates fresh Vull membrane. All I saw was it repairing the Vull after the greenish mist dissolved a hole we could slip through.”

Picking up the gun-gizmo, Vee checked the fuel compartment, the hatch at the back. “Plenty of thonite left in the cube, so let me crank it up and show you what I know.”

She spun the side handle a good twenty or thirty times, then gripped the haft and aimed it at the floor beyond the end of the table. Using a small lever he hadn’t noticed before, she tightened the cone of the muzzle, then pushed the first button and twisted the dial. Pulling the trigger, she sprayed a stream of golden, mist-like sparks at the floor.

A ring formed on the floorboards, as broad as his leg was long. It rapidly squeezed up into a dome, then started to grow into a bulging bubble as she continued to feed the mist into the membrane. Cutting off the flow, she nodded at it.

“That’s the first button.” Fiddling with the controls, she depressed the second button and tightened the cone aperture. Greenish mist dissolved a hole in the miniature Vull when she briefly pulsed the trigger. “And that’s the second.”

As the ex-prince watched, the chest-sized hole started to close in on itself, shrinking the overall bubble back down toward its former, modest dome size. She pushed the first button and aimed the golden mist. Holding it steady, she repaired the hole and more, restoring the membrane to a bulging, rounded form.

“Astonishing,” he murmured, staring at it. “This . . . this solves so many questions I’ve always had about the Vull! We know that the aetherometer can be powered by thonite because it converts the crystallized gas back into an Air-attuned format, converting sound waves into invisible aether rays and back again. But the Vull is solid, like a . . . like a shield. It must attune itself to the Earth element somehow. Or perhaps somewhere between Earth and Water . . .

“Correction,” he amended himself wryly. “It also raises many more questions. What technology the Ancients must have had, to be able to build something like this!”

“I don’t think it’s an aspect of any one element, myself,” Vee stated. She stretched out her leg and nudged the bubble with her boot for several long seconds, then pulled her foot back again. The sphere tried to cling to her toe before popping free. It wobbled and rippled, not unlike the real one outside. “We know it allows pure thonite gas to escape, because the Skylands are rich with the stuff. And that people who fall onto it from an airship or a floating hexisle eventually sink through the membrane. So it’s not a complete barrier.

“But I honestly don’t know if it’s made of any one aspect of thon, or if it’s something new. There is a lot more surface area to that bubble than a mere portion of a single one-inch cube of thonite could account for.” Vee nudged it again with her boot, then shrugged. “I don’t know what it is.”

She had a point. Kiers shrugged. “Maybe it thickens the air? That could account for some of the reports of vast windstorms every turn of the century when the hexisles lift off and drift down. To be honest, if thonite gas can make an entire mountain float up into the sky, I wouldn’t at all doubt its capacity to thicken the air into a protective dome. In fact, if I were to design such a system, I’d pick a combination of thonite gas and natural air, because then it’d be self-healing. Which it does after the hexisles have pierced through on their way up or down.

“Maybe that’s why my sister was in a panic over the thought of someone being able to create a fresh membrane at will,” he suggested, thinking it through. “Maybe she was worried someone would encase Jade Mountain in one, leaving it cut off from the rest of civilization. Like the floating hexisles used to be, before the advent of airships—I mean, aside from those strong enough to fly themselves from hexisle to hexisle, which you’ll admit is pretty rare. Even you have to stop and rest once in a while.”

“I don’t think these little guns can seal up an entire hexisle,” she pointed out, wiggling the one in her hand with the muzzle opening pointed up. “Those are roughly a hundred miles across, on average. This thing can only make a couple bubbles the size of a house before I run out of thonite cube.”

“Well, all exaggeration aside, it’s the only reason I can think of for her panicking,” Kiereseth countered. “Even if all they can do is open a small hole, if you position it right, by logic that should help a hexisle pierce the Vull at the turnover points. And when the isles push through, if you could manufacture these on a large scale and reverse it with the golden spark stuff, they could be used to seal the rifts, cutting off the pressurization differentials and putting an end to the massive windstorms that happen while the world waits for the Vull to naturally but slowly repair itself. None of which should panic my sister. . . . unless she knows something about what the other two buttons do.

“So, what do they do?” he finished, gesturing at her and her gizmo.

“I told you, I don’t know. I do know they produce a reddish mist, and a purplish mist, both of which have no effect on the Vull bubble.” Aiming the gun, she pushed the appropriate buttons one after the other. Mist-sparks spat out, first in crimson, then in violet. Neither had any noticeable impact on the surface of the gently rippling bubble. “See? Absolutely nothing.”

Bracing his elbows on the table, Kiers rubbed his chin, trying to think of what it could mean. The rasp of his stubble-covered jaw made him remember he had promised both of them a bath today. Sighing, he stood and shook his head. “We’re going in circles. We need to take a break and let our minds cogitate. Help me pull out the largest washtub from the stack under the stairs, will you? If we fill it with water from the pump, I can heat it in a trice with my thon, and then we can each enjoy a nice hot bath, and maybe scrub our clothes.”

Vee nodded eagerly, rising from her stool as well. “That does sound heavenly. We can also pull out a second tub and set everything we have to soak. Even the woolens can be washed if the water’s tepid and we don’t scrub too hard. A bit of gentle Air work should dry it all in a trice, too.”

Kiers snapped his fingers, pointing at the aetherometer, still sitting on the table amid the papers and the gun-thing. “Ah, right. We should turn on that thing. It’s almost midmorning, and the Trionans have a daily broadcast from midmorning to midafternoon on their aetherometer sets. News from the capital and the borders, recitations of poetry, philosophical debates, even a bit of musical performances. I overheard it in one of the palace parlors, and asked about it.”

“Like you did the soapstone fireplaces?” Vee dared to tease, grinning at him as she started lifting the smaller buckets out of the tubs stacked under the stairs.

“Cheeky woman,” he retorted. He pointed at her. “You be nice to me, or I won’t help scrub your back.”

She blushed at that. “Er . . . that would imply you’d have to be in the same room with me while I was bathing, Mister Kiers.”

Kiers grinned, assisting her. “That it would, Miss Vielle. If you’ll remember, you agreed last night that we would become lovers, and lovers do bathe together. Even if these tubs aren’t quite big enough for that.”

She snorted but didn’t make a retort. Instead, she helped him heft the two largest tubs into the kitchen. One fit next to the sink, but the other had to be moved over to where her bubble sat. Grabbing her gizmo, she shot a stream of green at it, dissolving the membrane. Kiereseth helped her settle the tub into its place, then went back for the buckets.

It wasn’t until his arms were wrist deep in the tub, his back stooped and his heels and knees slowly flexing as if climbing flat stairs, coaxing his thon into warming the chilly water that something occurred to him. “Vielle?”

“Yes, Kiers?” Vee asked, brushing out what dried dirt she could from the next pair of wool trousers destined for the tub of lukewarm, soapy water.

“Would you get your gun thing and shoot me with the red and the purple mists, please?”

She looked up at that, her brows pinching together in confusion. “Shoot you with it?”

“Yes,” he said, and nodded at the bathing tub. “While I’m using my thon. If it uses thonite for an energy source, then it’s possible the Vull is thonite-based, and that means the beams it shoots are able to affect or manipulate thon. So maybe the other two beams affect the use of it?”

The sight of him sticking his hands back into the tub made her wince. “Kiers, if you’re going to play with your thon, fetch a bit of wood and light the far end of it afire. Do not stick your hands into water which may suddenly turn boiling hot if your theory proves correct on one of these settings.”

She had a point. He also realized that at times she had a tart way of speaking that the ex-prince just wasn’t used to hearing from anyone else. It was actually rather refreshing, and he liked it. He just wasn’t going to let her know it right away. Straightening, he lifted a brow at her. “You do realize that, were we still on Jade Mountain, you wouldn’t be able to get away with talking to me like that, Miss Vielle?”

“That would be because your father was my employer, Mister Kiereseth. In this venture, we are equals,” she reminded him, hands going to her skirt-clad hips, the one outfit she had that didn’t need immediate laundering. “Besides, I’ve been trying to treat you as I would any friend, which means not letting you get away with acts of stupidity. I’ve come to like you very much, and do not wish to see you get hurt.”

That thought was astonishing. She likes me . . . It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Miss Vielle really likes me! She wasn’t just putting up with him because they had been thrown together by circumstances. She actually, actively liked him. Kiers didn’t realize he was grinning at her until she blushed, smiled back, then rolled her eyes.

“Fetch a stick, you,” she directed, “and set it on fire. You can grin and make calf eyes at me later. We have a gun-thingy to test.”

He moved to the woodbox, which they had refilled while making breakfast. Selecting a log, he paused as a thought crossed his mind. A chuckle escaped him. “Anytime you wish me to light a fire for you, Miss Vielle, you need only ask. I like you very much, too.”

She blushed, catching the innuendo, and flipped her hand at him. Picking up the silvery gizmo, she checked the setting, adjusted the third dial to its lowest, and nodded. “Fire it up, Mister Kiers.”

Nodding, he tensed his calves and flexed his toes, focusing on the far end of the thumb-thick, arm-long splinter of wood he had selected. The end darkened and charred for a brief moment, sending up a curl of smoke, then flames snapped up and danced around the tip. They formed a golden-orange halo of moving heat and light, mesmerizing.

“Keep concentrating. Firing in three . . . two . . . one . . .” She aimed the stream of reddish mist at Kiers, not at the burning twig—and gasped in shock as the small, fist-sized flame roared upward, splaying across the underside of the balcony floorboards over their heads.

Kiers yelped and dropped the stick, hopping back. Not since he was a youth had his thon reacted so out of control. The movement disrupted his concentration, snuffing most of the flames. It was still burning when it hit the floor, so he extended his hand and tightened his forearm muscles, clenching his fingers. The flames snuffed out immediately. A glance up showed the boards overhead slightly darkened but thankfully not on fire.

“Well!” he exclaimed softly, turning his gaze to his wide-eyed partner. “I think that proves my theory.”

“Pick it up again and try a tiny bit of thon to make a tiny little flame,” Vee suggested, recovering her composure. “Without the gun. I’d like to see if the mist has any lasting effects on you.”

Nodding, he scooped up the unburned end of the kindling and curled his toes just a little. A head-sized gout of flame snapped up from the charred end, making him blink. “By the Light! Apparently, it does have an effect.” Clenching his fist, he extinguished the flames. Once more, they snuffed out instantly. “Indeed . . . if my sister knew anything about this weapon thing—if Father knew—then no wonder they wanted to keep it secret. Strongly enough to lay false claims of treason against you and me, in the effort to silence us. This gizmo will completely change the face of war!”

“Then we will simply have to decide what to do about it. The two of us, Kiers,” Vee clarified. “You and I. Since you and I alone know for sure what this thingy can do.”

He nodded. He didn’t like it, but he knew she was right. Lifting his chin at the gizmo, he asked, “So what does purple do?”

“Push versus pull, I’d presume. Light it up,” she told him, lifting her own chin at the kindling in his hand. He nodded and tensed, heels shifting a little. The end lit up in extra-long, hot flames again. Vee adjusted the dials, aimed, and pulled the trigger with the fourth button depressed. Violet mist-sparks struck his body—and the flame shrunk down to a mere flicker, one not even the length of a thumb.

“Enough—enough!” Kiers rasped, feeling dizzy. She shut the machine off, but he still swayed. Sagging against the edge of the kitchen table, he shook his head. “Light and Life, I could feel the energy draining out of me, as if I’d been using my thon for hours, but compressed into seconds.” He looked up at her, his face pale under its natural tan, his hands trembling. “This is a very dangerous weapon.”

Vee didn’t like what she had done to him. They had guessed at the weapon’s effects, but hadn’t known. Closing up all the levers and hatches, she set the sphere on the table and took the still burning scrap of wood from him. Tossing it into the hearth fire, she gave him a regret-filled look. “I’m sorry about that. Would you like some thonite? Would that make you feel better?”

He nodded. “I don’t need much, I’d think. Just a bite. Enough to level off the sudden dip in my blood.”

Nodding, she headed upstairs to fetch the lockbox from her backpack. There was a partly eaten cube in the box, so she brought that one back down. While he bit into the crumbly, gray, meaty-sweet mineral, chewing on it like it was a block of candy brittle, she took over the task of heating the bathwater. Her Fire affinity wasn’t as strong as his, but it could and did get the job done.

By the time the water was steaming visibly, Kiers felt much better. Setting the rest of the cube on the table, he asked her, “So, who’s first in the water. You or me?”

“You, I think.” Shaking the excess water from her hands, Vee reached for one of the toweling cloths they had found stored in a chest upstairs. “I’d like to take the portable aetherometer up to the ridgeline and see if I can pick up a signal up there. I think the mountains are blocking the aether rays. Earth and Air are opposites, after all. Besides, if you go first, I can have a fresh hot bath to warm up myself when I get back. Just let the woolens soak in tepid water for now. Don’t scrub them hard or heat the water, or they’ll start to shrink.”

That spoiled his plans for having her wash his back, but he had to admit her words held logic. “I’ll wait until you’ve bundled up and set out, then. Take the ice tunnel to the trees, to make sure no one spots you flying up from the cabin itself.”

Nodding, she headed for the front room, and the little entryway that held her coat and boots.

CHAPTER FIVE

By the time she came back, almost two hours had passed. Kiers had occupied himself with gingerly cleaning their clothes and hanging them to dry on a rack near the hearth, then dumping the used water down the basin drain and refilling the bathing tub with thon-heated water. When that was done, leaving him with nothing to do but wait, he perused their notes some more and borrowed some of the hunter’s paper to write down new speculations of his own, trying not to worry as her absence grew longer.

Finally, he saw movement through the cracks in the window shutters of Mister Horgen’s study nook. They had decided to keep those shutters closed so that no one could casually peer in at them. A bit of neck-craning and body-twisting allowed him to see a bit of gray skirt and scuffed white boot just before he heard the front door open. Relieved, he moved around to the entry door and poked his head through.

“Is everything alright?” Kiers asked her.

She shook her head. “Yes and no.” Her blue gray eyes were sober as she drew off her coat and cap, hanging them on the pegs above the bench at her side. “I sat up there for a while, searching on various frequencies on the aetherometer to be thorough, and picked up a sending from Najora. You know, the kingdom to the west?”

He nodded, worry drawing up several scenarios. “Have they somehow agreed to declare us fugitives there? Father didn’t have very many trade contacts in that land. Not this far north. We only traded with Triona’s king because of our librarian’s shared interest in ancient legends.”

She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I picked up two things, one following the other. The first one was the casting from Najora. The people of the hexisle just on the other side of these mountains, Provender township, are reporting earthquakes . . . and signs of cracks along its edges. Signs of an uplift beginning. We have maybe a year before the Vull is sundered in the turnover as hexisles everywhere start to rise and fall.”

Kiers absorbed that as she bent and unbuttoned her boots. “That’s . . . That is going to create a great deal of upheaval everywhere. The records from a century ago spoke of hysteria, of people rushing to try and claim land on the hexisles starting to lift, of the townships going to war to fight off the influx of too many refugees . . . Which makes me think of the guards after us. Did you hear anything from them? You said you heard two things.”

Vee nodded. Handing him the backpack, she mounted the steps into the cabin proper, slipping her stocking-clad feet into the wool-lined boots as she spoke. “The sending from Najora’s aetherometer operators was an ongoing report, one being cast far and wide since this is news that’ll affect the whole world. But I found news on the other frequency, the ones the guards had last used. I didn’t get the original message they sent down the line, but I did overhear the return message from Jade Mountain, a response to their query as to what to do about the coming uplifts. They’re being recalled.”

“Recalled?” Kiers repeated, astonished. He followed her as she headed for the kitchen and the promised hot bath. “But . . . after all the time and resources they’ve poured into finding us . . . I don’t get it.”

“Did your family ever speak of a ‘Project Skyloft’?” she asked, trying to unbutton her blouse with cold fingers. She tried three times before giving up. “Bother. My hands need to warm up, first. Ironic, as I’m trying to get warm in a bath.”

“Here, let me,” Kiers offered, nudging her hands out of the way. He unbuttoned her clothes as he had last night, adding little caressing touches as he helped her remove each layer. “As for the project . . . I vaguely remember a Project Skyloft from when I was young. Something about an experiment in mathematics to see how many airship lofts filled with thonite it would take to keep a hexisle afloat.

“If I remember correctly, my brother had discerned that it would be impossible because the number of lofts needed to lift an entire diamond of stone one hundred miles wide would require more airship lofts than could be safely tethered in place. The surface of the island would get no sunlight whatsoever from the sheer coverage of the balloons.”

He removed her knickers, the last impediment. Vee blushed, but the heat radiating from the fire and the thought of soaking in hot water overrode modesty. “Do you remember anything else?”

Helping her into the tub, he thought about it for a few moments. “My other sister said that since we know thonite gas, which permeates the black rock of the hexisle, is what causes it to float, then it had to be some sort of alchemical interaction between that specific type of rock and the thonite itself. In order to make the hexisle float, you’d have to pump the gas back into the hexisle at great pressure to force it through the matrix and cause the enhanced lofting effects. She’s always been interested in chemistry. In fact, there have already been some experiments conducted on the underside to try just that, though I’ve been told they were eventually abandoned because of costs.”

Vee nodded. She was a little embarrassed to be completely naked before him, but was too cold not to appreciate the assistance. Sinking into the water, she frowned a little. “It’s not very hot in here.”

Kneeling beside the tub, Kiers smirked. Rolling up his sleeves, he tensed his toes and dangled his fingers in the water. “I realized while I was waiting if I made it too hot to start off, your chilled tender bits might get hurt. So . . . let me know when things get too hot, hmm?”

The way he dropped his gaze to her breasts, barely covered by the water filling the short but deep tub, let her know he meant it in other ways, too. She blushed again, thinking of his promise regarding tonight, and forced herself to finish her news before she forgot.

“Anyway, the soldiers have all been recalled from our trail and sent off on ‘Project Skyloft’ instead. I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like they were being told to go and buy up all the reserves of thonite cubes they could find and afford. The signal was never very clear, compared to the one I was receiving from Najora. We know their aetherometer is much bigger and stronger than ours, since they have it mounted on that airship of theirs,” she added, “and they can send a signal all the way to the south—and the water is quite warm now, thank you.”

“I’d like to think they really are being called off our trail,” Kiers said. “But I don’t think it would be wise to leave our little hideaway just yet, based on that assumption. If they ran across us while they’re still in the area, they’d continue trying to capture us as a literal attack of opportunity.”

Smiling, she ducked her head a moment, then looked up at him. “I don’t think staying here will be a hardship, Mister Kiereseth. As soon as I’ve finished my bath, would you care to show me the rest of those pleasures you promised?”

“I am always at your disposal for such things, Miss Vielle,” he promised. “But first, I promised you a hot bath, so you could relax and get clean.” At the sight of her pout, slight but unmistakable, he grinned. “Of course, I suppose there’s no harm in combining the two.”

She lifted her brows as he stood . . . and sank deeper in the water with a blush, watching him strip off his clothing. Neatly folding and setting each garment in a stack next to hers on the cluttered table, he finally stepped carefully into the tub. Some of the water sloshed over when he settled between her feet, running across the floorboards before draining through the cracks between them.

“We should clean that up,” Vee murmured, distracted by the mess they were making.

Kiers shrugged. The movement slopped a little more over the sides of the tub. “We will. Eventually. But I think we’ll end up splashing quite a bit more before we’re done, so why not wait until it’s all over, yes? In the meantime, be prepared to be stroked from head to toe, my lovely Vielle. Because I am going to touch you everywhere until you beg for more.”

“Beg for more?” she asked, somewhat skeptical. “Aren’t I supposed to beg you to stop?”

He reached for the plate holding the bar of soap on the edge of the broad kitchen table, and flashed her a smirk. “Not if I do it right.”

He definitely did it right. She couldn’t walk.

She couldn’t have flown a straight path if her life depended on it, either. But Vee could—and did—cling to him as he carried her up the stairs. None too steadily himself, of course, given the way she kept trying to kiss his throat, his shoulder, his chin, anything within reach. She clung firmly, keeping her arms and legs wrapped around him like a spider trying to wrap up a juicy, delicious fly. Certainly, she wanted to devour him somehow.

Despite being peppered with kisses and thrown off balance by clinging legs and groping hands, Kiers made it to the bed. She had shown him how to refluff it that morning with careful shaking, turning, and prodding, and the fluffed-up mound looked like the perfect landing pad for her backside. Except she wouldn’t let go.

Dropping her onto the bed left him doubled over at the hips, his manhood sliding against the very wet folds he had stroked and fondled to a fever pitch during their bath. Her hands shifted from clutching to stroking, even scraping a little. Head swimming with pleasure, Kiers captured her mouth in slow, devouring kisses.

From the way she nipped and tugged at his bottom lip, the hungry lift of her hips, rubbing herself against his shaft, slow wasn’t what she wanted. She growled it, too.

“More!” Vee demanded, tugging on his hair. The ache he had stirred wasn’t going away. She needed relief even as she needed more pleasure. She just didn’t know how to say it. “Give me more—I need, Kiers! Give me more!”

“J-just a moment!” he panted, trying to focus through his own need.

Concentrating, he carefully tightened the right set of muscles in his groin, invoking his Earth affinities. Earth-based thon, on the Water side, could be used to affect living flesh. He wasn’t a fully trained healer by any means, but certain skills were important for a prince to know. With a grunt, he felt his thon activate, shutting off his fertility, then relaxed a little as he braced himself over her, panting.

“There . . . now you won’t get in trouble,” he promised her, breathing heavily. The effects dulled his pleasure somewhat, but not nearly enough to make him stop. Rocking against her, he continued to stroke his shaft against the folds of her femininity, until she tugged once more on his hair.

“Need! In!” she demanded breathlessly, bucking up into him.

Shifting his fingers between them, Kiers tested her with one, two, three fingers, pumping them slowly in and out. He had done this before, down in the bathtub. The moan his rubbing evoked pleased him, though he could have done without the hair-tugging.

“More! Put your thing in me!” Vee demanded, too hungry to blush very much.

He grinned, keeping to his task. “My thing? Come now, Vielle,” he purred, enjoying her high desire. “Surely you can name it better than that?” He curled his fingers up inside of her until she gasped, arching against him. “What is it called, hm? You won’t get it until you acknowledge it properly.”

“Gah! Either you put your prick in me, Kiers, or I’ll find someone who can!” she snapped, feisty even in her passion.

“Oh, you will, will you?” he challenged her, none too pleased with that thought. She was his companion, after all. She had chosen him for her first taste in partners. First and best.

“Yes, I will,” Vee repeated, though the more she thought about it, the less she liked the idea.

“No, you won’t,” Kiers decided, wiggling his fingers a little. “You’ve already picked me, and that’s that. You’re stuck with me through pain and pleasure, thick and thin. Lucky for you, I’m very good at the pleasure part.”

“Ohhh . . . you arrogant—! Put your damned manhood in already,” she mock-groused.

Chuckling, he gripped and positioned himself. Pressing the tip into her, he pushed slowly, taking his time. Each little advance forward parted more of her hot, slick flesh, making his head spin. “Ohhhh, Vielle . . . you have no idea how good you feel to me.”

She blushed, hearing her name sighed from his lips like that. The stretching hurt a bit, but no more than it had down in the bath with just his fingers. The look on his face, however, made her discard the ache as negligible. Rapt, that was the word for it. Caught in rapture, he strained over her with his eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed, and his mouth open not just to pant but to release a silent moan.

It was as if he couldn’t spare the attention or the energy to actually moan aloud, though part of him wanted to try. Vee found that look captivating, enough that she barely winced when he finally pushed fully inside. It hurt, of course, but she was too busy being distracted by the impassioned faces he made to care. Lifting her hand, she caressed his brow, his cheek. “You are so handsome . . .”

At her words, Kiers turned his head, pressing his lips to her palm. A nuzzle allowed him to capture one of her fingers. Sucking on it, he looked at her. Vee found herself captivated by the intensity in his stare. When he finally moved in slow, firm thrusts, that intensity shot straight into her groin. The ache was still there, but the passion was back in full force, curling low in her belly and reaching up into her arms, into her breasts.

It was her turn to part her lips in silent, breathless ecstasy. Head tipping back, Vee arched her spine. That put his slow thrusts at a slightly different angle, increasing that lightning-like pleasure.

“That’s it,” Kiers whispered in encouragement, rocking a little faster. “Feel that? Do you like that?”

She managed a nod. It was such an intimate, intense feeling she almost feared she would fly apart. Clinging to his shoulders, she kissed his sweat-dampened skin. He nuzzled her cheek, increasing his pace, rubbing her in all the right ways.

“Come for me, my sweet Vielle,” he whispered, lips nipping at the side of her throat. “Fly for me. I need to feel you flying beneath me . . . come!”

With a whimper, she tensed and shattered in pleasure. Kiers thrust harder, faster, pursuing his own moment of bliss. Coming down from the crux of it, Vielle found herself cooing soft endearments, stroking his skin in gentle caresses.

An accidental scrape of one nail made him shudder. Curious, she scratched again. He swore and thrust hard and deep. That felt surprisingly good, so she did it again, dragging her nails down his back. Choking, he pressed in hard and bucked. A strange, warm tickling deep inside her body accompanied the flushing of his cheeks. Vee realized belatedly he had reached his own crux. She blushed as well.

Pressed deep inside her, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her deeply over and over. Gradually, those kisses eased, until he was merely brushing his lips lightly against hers. “Beautiful, beautiful Vielle,” he finally sighed. Forehead resting against hers, he smiled slowly. “Beautiful, passionate Vee. I trust you liked all of that?”

“Most of it,” she agreed. “I’ll be happy to do without the achy bits when we get around to this again.”

“Mm, yes,” Kiers murmured, kissing her brow. He pushed up a little giving her more room to breathe. “Speaking of which, would you like to go again? Or wait until after luncheon?”

“Hmm . . . I am a bit peckish,” Vee admitted—and pulled him back down, peppering his cheeks and chin with kisses. Her attack provoked a laugh from him, which made her giggle in turn.

Pecking her back, Kiers grinned. “Naughty, you.”

A contented sigh escaped him. His feet were awkwardly braced on the floor and her legs dangled off the edge, now that they weren’t clasped around his hips, and he was feeling a bit hungry for food . . . but he also felt incredibly good.

“So. We stay here for the full week, just in case the broadcasted retreat of my father’s guards was a ruse, yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” Vee agreed, looping her arms around his neck. “To give them time to go away—for one reason or another—and give ourselves time to relax. Nobody but Mister Horgen knows that we’re here, after all.”

“Well, to relax, and experiment with that gun-gizmo thingy, and make love, and figure out the puzzling powers of the ancients, and . . . and get ready for the whole world to change,” Kiers murmured as one of their stomachs grumbled. He blushed, unsure if it was his or not, and met her smirk with a sheepish smile. “I think we’ve been overruled by fate itself on what comes next. But while we wait, care to teach me more of that mysterious, exotic skill known as cooking?”

She chuckled. “I think that could be arranged, yes. And after we’ve cleaned up ourselves and all that bathwater you made us spill, you could also teach me more of the mysterious skill known as lovemaking,” Vee added. “But we really should clean up first. It wouldn’t be polite to leave behind a set of warped floorboards in our kindly hunter’s cabin.”

“That, it would not,” he agreed. Rising, he offered her his hand, and kissed her fingers when she clasped it. “I sincerely hope this week will not be the sole extent of our liaisons, Miss Vielle.”

She considered that as he assisted her to her feet. “I think they could definitely continue. If you could bring yourself to call me Vee, instead of Miss Vielle.”

“Of course, Miss Vee,” he teased—and laughed as she mock-whapped him. “Vee! Vee! Just Vee!”

“Good man,” she praised, embracing him. “Thank you, Kiers.”

“You’re most welcome, Vee,” he murmured, hugging her back. Then he scooped her off her feet, making her squeak with surprise. “One more shared, hot bath, coming up!”

“Kiers!” she protested.

“Well, if we’re going to clean up a mess made from lovemaking, we might as well make it a thorough one, right?” he offered mischievously. “Those poor, wet floorboards won’t know what hit them, will they?”

“No, they won’t, the poor things,” she agreed, blushing. Looping her arms around his neck, she let him carry her downstairs. It made for a very nice change from her carrying him everywhere, whenever they flew.