It was a trap set up to fill slots on an airship. Unless he missed his guess, the barkeep and his cohorts would be gone by midnight. He couldn’t dismiss the possibility that he wasn’t going to be lucky enough to end up on the same vessel as Sophia. It gnawed on his insides as he tapped his toe in time with the offbeat piano.
But a bad plan was better than no plan.
***
Her belly growled low and long, the sound clear in the silent room. The man guarding her kept his eyes on the tray sitting on the table. The tea was long cold as was the soup, but it still looked delicious.
Missing a meal won’t hurt you. Sophia turned her back on the table, trying to listen to her own advice. There was only one reason why the guard would be so interested in making sure she ate. The food or the tea had to be laced with something designed to steal her senses. But it was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated, ignoring her hunger—and her fear.
She worried the edge of her jacket as she contemplated the closed draperies covering the window. Thick, heavy velvet with tassel trim, they kept even a tiny sliver of sunlight from entering the room. They also made sure no one caught a glimpse of her from the outside.
Where was she? How far away from the Solitary Chamber? From Bion?
She was suddenly endowed with a new appreciation for the man’s vigilance. In fact, she missed it horribly at the moment. Her belly rumbled again, and there was a soft sound from the man behind her. He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a small key. He fit it into the lock on the door and left.
Her relief was short-lived because he returned only a few moments later. She felt her mouth go dry as he set a dark bottle on a small table and gathered up a length of cloth in his hand. He kept his head back as he tipped the bottle into the cloth, then set it aside. The look in his eyes when he shifted his attention to her chilled her blood.
But she lifted her arms and curled her fingers into tight fists. She wouldn’t be any lamb waiting for the slaughter. Her skills in Asian fighting might be weak, but she was going to put them to the test.
By every drop of Irish blood she had, she would not go down without a fight.
***
“How much did you give him?”
Bion moved away from a kick delivered to his belly. He had to squelch the urge to roll all the way over and gain his feet.
“A fair amount,” Peter groused. “Look at him. He’s a big one, and I didn’t want to risk losing him. He claimed he knew how to navigate and that’s what you told me you wanted. So pay up or I’ll sell him to the dockyard.”
Bion cracked open an eye. He got a glimpse of worn boots before he looked up further to see five men looking down at him. They were all watching him, so he flashed them a bright smile.
“Where’d the pretty one go?” He sat up, remembering to let his head wobble just a little. “Nothing personal and all… but where’s the honey gone?”
“I heard you can navigate.”
Bion struggled to his feet, making a good show of being intoxicated. In truth, he only had a pounding headache. Who might have thought he’d ever find himself grateful for butter?
“I’ve been learning about it,” he declared as he swayed. “Me last captain put me to work on the bridge… he did.”
“How much did you learn?” The man asking the question was obviously the leader. The men near him kept a sharp eye on him and one hand beneath the open edges of their vests, where their pistols were hidden from the local constables, no doubt. The man in the middle peered into Bion’s eyes.
“Well now, I’m not a Navigator myself but I’ve been training them that have the gift. Just getting those amber streaks in the eyes doesn’t mean you know how to use the skill. It takes a man like me to guide ’em.” Bion slurred his speech and added a hiccup. “Now where’d the lady go?”
“She left you in my keeping.”
Bion swayed again. “ Why would she do
But a bad plan was better than no plan.
***
Her belly growled low and long, the sound clear in the silent room. The man guarding her kept his eyes on the tray sitting on the table. The tea was long cold as was the soup, but it still looked delicious.
Missing a meal won’t hurt you. Sophia turned her back on the table, trying to listen to her own advice. There was only one reason why the guard would be so interested in making sure she ate. The food or the tea had to be laced with something designed to steal her senses. But it was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated, ignoring her hunger—and her fear.
She worried the edge of her jacket as she contemplated the closed draperies covering the window. Thick, heavy velvet with tassel trim, they kept even a tiny sliver of sunlight from entering the room. They also made sure no one caught a glimpse of her from the outside.
Where was she? How far away from the Solitary Chamber? From Bion?
She was suddenly endowed with a new appreciation for the man’s vigilance. In fact, she missed it horribly at the moment. Her belly rumbled again, and there was a soft sound from the man behind her. He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a small key. He fit it into the lock on the door and left.
Her relief was short-lived because he returned only a few moments later. She felt her mouth go dry as he set a dark bottle on a small table and gathered up a length of cloth in his hand. He kept his head back as he tipped the bottle into the cloth, then set it aside. The look in his eyes when he shifted his attention to her chilled her blood.
But she lifted her arms and curled her fingers into tight fists. She wouldn’t be any lamb waiting for the slaughter. Her skills in Asian fighting might be weak, but she was going to put them to the test.
By every drop of Irish blood she had, she would not go down without a fight.
***
“How much did you give him?”
Bion moved away from a kick delivered to his belly. He had to squelch the urge to roll all the way over and gain his feet.
“A fair amount,” Peter groused. “Look at him. He’s a big one, and I didn’t want to risk losing him. He claimed he knew how to navigate and that’s what you told me you wanted. So pay up or I’ll sell him to the dockyard.”
Bion cracked open an eye. He got a glimpse of worn boots before he looked up further to see five men looking down at him. They were all watching him, so he flashed them a bright smile.
“Where’d the pretty one go?” He sat up, remembering to let his head wobble just a little. “Nothing personal and all… but where’s the honey gone?”
“I heard you can navigate.”
Bion struggled to his feet, making a good show of being intoxicated. In truth, he only had a pounding headache. Who might have thought he’d ever find himself grateful for butter?
“I’ve been learning about it,” he declared as he swayed. “Me last captain put me to work on the bridge… he did.”
“How much did you learn?” The man asking the question was obviously the leader. The men near him kept a sharp eye on him and one hand beneath the open edges of their vests, where their pistols were hidden from the local constables, no doubt. The man in the middle peered into Bion’s eyes.
“Well now, I’m not a Navigator myself but I’ve been training them that have the gift. Just getting those amber streaks in the eyes doesn’t mean you know how to use the skill. It takes a man like me to guide ’em.” Bion slurred his speech and added a hiccup. “Now where’d the lady go?”
“She left you in my keeping.”
Bion swayed again. “ Why would she do
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