He flushed a deep red. “You still owe me a new knife.”
She laughed at his petulance, unable to stop herself even though she knew it was the wrong thing to do. He was immediately furious, but stood his ground, insistent. “You find this funny, do you, little Highland girl?”
That was when she felt the coin break in her pocket.
She bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue, reached into her pocket, and extracted the pieces of the coin to make certain she was not mistaken. “We have to stop this,” she said at once.
Austrum, mistaking the reason for her demand, threw up his hands. “You just said you wanted to continue! You really don’t know your own mind do you, chilchun?”
In Rover slang, that name was the worst insult possible. So bad, in fact, that she almost hit him. Edras was upset enough that he grabbed Austrum by the shoulders and pulled him around threateningly.
“No, stop,” Mirai said quickly, not wanting this to go any farther. “Let it be. He misunderstands, that’s all.” She faced Austrum. “The coin given me by the Ard Rhys has broken in two. Just now, in my pocket. That means she needs us to come to her. She’s in trouble.”
Austrum stared at her, caught off balance. He started to say something and stopped. Then he shook his head in disgust and walked off.
The Rovers already knew about the coin and the signal it would send if the Ard Rhys needed the Walker Boh to come to her aid. Mirai had discussed it with them after the others had departed for the first time, seeing no reason for them not to know and every reason for them to understand the urgency should the coin break. They were the lifeline for those on the ground who had gone into the Fangs, and it was their responsibility to come to the rescue of their companions if the need should arise.
Even so, they knew better than to respond recklessly and without consideration for the dangers involved. Foremost of these was the darkness that was fast closing around them. As much as Mirai wanted to leave at once in response to the coin’s signal, she would have to wait until morning. Any attempt to penetrate the heavy mists of the Fangs would involve avoiding the clusters of stone pillars that could tear apart the underside of the Walker Boh’s hull, and that would require as much daylight as possible. Going in at night was suicide.
Reluctantly, the group agreed to postpone any rescue until dawn, spending the interval between then and now making the ship and themselves ready for the following day. They put away their throwing knives and went to work coiling up lines and tightening down stays and fastenings, clearing off the decks, and talking over how they would attempt an entry, bringing the Trolls into the discussion so that they could prepare themselves, as well.
No one thought for a minute that this would be easy. It was one thing to sail an airship high enough to avoid the treacherous forest of stone spears clustered below; it was another to make a descent into their midst. But that was what would be required if they were to be of any use to the Ard Rhys and her little company.
They ate their dinner late and after glasses of ale rolled into their blankets, anticipating an early rising. The night was deep and clouded over, and there was little light from moon or stars. The air was windless and infused with a metallic smell, and no sounds penetrated the stillness save for the snores of the men sleeping.
Awake and unable to sleep, Mirai Leah rose and walked back to the aft railing to sit and think. She was worried about Redden and Railing, wondering if they were managing to keep their wits together, if they were all right. Because if the Ard Rhys was in danger, so were they. She felt protective of them even in the best of times and distraught in times like these when she wasn’t there to help them. The twins were too wild and reckless for their own good, and while she was the same age they were she was far more mature than both of them put together.
She thought a bit about their relationship, wondering if the brothers would ever see it in the same way she did, deciding almost immediately they would not. She could pretend otherwise, but that was the truth of things. Each wanted her to belong to him; each believed she favored him. Both were in love with her and visualized her as an important part of their future. She understood why they felt this way. The three of them had been close for a long time. They had spent hours together flying and exploring and sharing adventures. She had encouraged their attentions, a young girl anxious to know that boys found her attractive and desirable.
But she hadn’t needed or sought that sort of validation of late, sufficiently grown up to be comfortable in her own skin and satisfied with who she was. She had worked hard ever since not to give either one the wrong impression about how she felt while at the same time making sure they all stayed friends.
Even so, things hadn’t worked out quite as she wished. While they accepted her friendship they continued to believe strongly that eventually there would be something more. They were so eager and awkward and funny about it. Each tried to outdo the other. Each made a special effort to lift his profile above the other’s so that he would be seen differently in her eyes.
She gave a mental shake of her head. Hopeless. One day soon, she would have to do something about it.
A shadow moved in the darkness to one side and Austrum appeared, moving over to her. She was surprised and immediately irritated, but she resisted the urge to get up and leave. He sat down and for a moment said nothing.
“Why is it you dislike me so,” he asked finally.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t dislike you.”
“You work hard enough at making it seem like you do.”
She sighed wearily and faced him. “I just don’t like it that you taunt me all the time. I don’t need you trying to prove you’re better than I am at everything. And if you’re so worried about me not liking you, then don’t call me terrible names.”
He nodded, looking at her sideways for just a second. “I was wrong to call you that. I lost my temper. I thought you were trying to make me look foolish about the contest when you demanded we continue and then said we couldn’t. I reacted without thinking. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”
“But it hurt.”
He shifted slightly in the dark. It was difficult to see his face. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I’ll tell everyone I was wrong to do it this time. Will that help?”
“Just don’t do it again.”
“I said I wouldn’t.”
“Maybe you should just stay away from me for a while.”
The silence was longer this time. He seemed to be mulling over the idea, giving it weight. Finally, he locked his hands and pulled his knees up to his chest like a little boy caught out.
“I like you. I think you’re beautiful. You’re funny and smart. I feel good just being around you. I wanted you to notice me. So I teased you and did stupid things so that you would. I’m not very good at this courting business. I don’t really have any practice.” He finished abruptly and kept his eyes averted.
“You’re courting me?” she asked in amazement.
He nodded wordlessly.
She was stunned. “Why would you court me? You don’t even like me! Look how you behave around me!”
“I said I wasn’t very good at it.”
She stared at him. Big, strong, and handsome, he was someone she might be attracted to under different circumstances—although she couldn’t think what those circumstances would be. Maybe if she didn’t think him so hopelessly idiotic and dense. Maybe if they were in a different setting and not wandering the wilderness of the deep Westland. She was almost willing to concede that she had been wrong about his self-absorption, given the self-effacing way he had tried to explain his behavior, but she couldn’t think of any reason why telling him this or otherwise encouraging him would be a good idea.
“I’m not interested in being courted by you or anyone else, Austrum,” she said. “I just want you to leave me alone. I appreciate the apology. Now do what you said and don’t keep after me all the time.”