Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(60)

General Montpensier.

“Lord General,” an officer said, hurrying toward him, “we passed the mirror gate at Salize. Our bearings are true. We’ve crossed over into the Dahomeyjan waters.” They spoke a foreign tongue, but Cettie could understand their language through the magic enfolding her.

“Good, very good,” General Montpensier replied with a curt nod. “I want all in readiness for the night attack. We must reach Lockhaven before their dawn.”

“Sir, but how will we reach the flying city from the sea?”

The general’s smile was cunning. “I will not tell you, Commander. But trust me, we will shatter it. Have everyone ready.”

“What about the rest of our surface fleet stationed at Leoneyis?” the commander said, perplexed. “Admiral Grant will find them today for certain.”

“It’s no matter. The fleet is lost. But they are a diversion, nothing more. They keep his eyes fixed away from us while we destroy the seat of their government.” He rubbed his mouth, and Cettie could see the nervousness in his eyes. He projected confidence, but his mannerisms showed he was fatigued and desperate. He knew his maneuver risked all.

The commander looked at Montpensier in disbelief. His general had just forsaken a great number of his brothers-and sisters-in-arms.

“Go,” the general ordered with a snarl, and the commander left.

After he was gone, another man approached the general. He, too, wore a military uniform, but Cettie could sense the kystrel nestled beneath his jacket.

“What is it?” Montpensier said in a low voice.

“We lost one of ours,” said the man grimly.

Montpensier scowled. “Who?”

“Russell.”

“Killed?”

The man shook his head no. “Captured.”

“By the Fountain!” Montpensier cursed. “Why didn’t he commit suicide?”

“We don’t know. He lost consciousness. When he revived, we saw he was in an interrogation cell.”

“Disaster,” Montpensier snarled. “Evacuate the poisoner school in Genevar. Get the prince out of the dungeon immediately. Or kill him. I don’t care. Her plans are unraveling faster than a seaman’s first rigging knot.”

“Lady Corinne still has the empress,” the man said, his voice revealing a throb of anger.

“If I held Her Beloved Majesty, the empress, I’d wrap chains and a cannonball to her ankles and drop her into the sea. The other traitoress, well, she should never should have escaped to begin with! Reckless! Evacuate the school. Send word at once.”

“Yes, my lord,” said the man deferentially. But Cettie saw the distaste in his gaze, the contempt for the man he served.

Someone jostled Cettie’s shoulder, rousing her from the vision. She gasped as the vision melted away. There was a young officer standing before her, a look of unease on his face. The pistol in his other hand was pointed at her. Three more officers stood guard, weapons at the ready.

Cettie rubbed her face with her hands as the world came back into focus. She cast a look around the room. It was a small waiting room, with dark wainscoting and a few padded benches to sit on. There were no windows to reveal the time of day, but it had been well past midnight when the tempest arrived at Lockhaven. The moment they disembarked, she’d been arrested by the Ministry of War. They’d wished to lock her in irons, but Stephen had intervened and sworn on his honor that she was trustworthy. She’d saved many lives from perishing at Gimmerton Sough, but the looks on her custodians’ faces, and the gun pointed at her, showed they all feared her.

“Miss, the prime minister is ready to see you,” the young officer said. “You dozed off.”

“Thank you,” Cettie said, her mind still rushing from the vision she’d seen. She got to her feet, and the dragoons encircled her. Her poisoner bag had already been confiscated.

After a brief journey through a series of short corridors and doorways, she entered the prime minister’s chambers through a secret door. She could hear Stephen’s and Durrant’s voices as she approached.

But she was shocked to find Adam Creigh in the room as well.

Her astonishment was so complete, her mouth went dry. He looked fatigued and concerned, and more careworn than she’d ever seen him. But he’d also never looked so handsome. She longed to reach out and touch him, to beg his forgiveness—but that impulse was rivaled by an even stronger instinct to flee, to run far away. All her memories of him flooded back, brought to crystalline vividness in her mind. Her heart was afire in her chest.

When he saw her, he didn’t seem to recognize her at first. But then his eyes widened, his fists clenched, and the muscles at the corners of his jaws went taut. No, he’d not been expecting her arrival. Her cheeks burned under his gaze.

“Ah, there she is,” said Durrant, who looked more tired than all of them. “Welcome, Miss Cettie. We meet under rather perplexing circumstances. Lord Stephen has vouchsafed for your conduct. Gentlemen, put the pistols down,” he added, gesturing to the soldiers escorting her.

“I’m sorry, Prime Minister,” one of them said. “But our orders come from Admiral Grant himself. You’re not to be left unprotected.”

“I can hardly walk ten feet without stepping on one of your boots,” Durrant complained. “Your protection is highly inconvenient. But do as you’ve been ordered.”