Skies of Steel: The Ether Chronicles by Zoe Archer Read Free Book Online

important study of rogue airships?”
    Her gaze dropped, but her expression was taut. “I have to do something to occupy my mind during the journey. Thinking about my parents being held captive …” She clenched her hands, the knuckles whitening. “Tribal leaders in that area pride themselves on their hospitality, even to their hostages. Al-Rahim must treat my parents with respect. But with the world gone so chaotic, I don’t know if there’s anything that can be relied upon. Including a warlord’s sense of honor.”
    Whether her parents were well treated—or even alive—shouldn’t matter to him. She was only a woman offering him gold in exchange for passage to Medinat al-Kadib. Yet the pain in her voice seemed to puncture the metal covering his heart.
    “Your parents are fine,” he found himself saying. “Things may have gone to hell in Arabia, but tribal custom won’t change just because some ferengi are fighting over telumium.”
    She took a breath. Her gaze became resolute. “You’re right. Despite the changes in the region, al-Rahim won’t risk his reputation just for my mother and father. He won’t abuse or mistreat them. Especially not with the promise of a ransom.”
    Unease slid coldly down his neck. He shouldn’t like seeing how she searched for—and found—courage and comfort from his words. No one relied on him for anything beyond his services as a mercenary. He’d proven a disappointment to far too many. Including himself.
    Better to focus on his most accomplished, reliable skill: greed.
    “Tell me about this ransom.”
    Her lips tightened. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “That’s between al-Rahim and myself.”
    He couldn’t blame her for being cagey. At least she didn’t simply blurt her secrets like some soft-brained innocent. One could be intelligent without being shrewd. Clearly, Daphne Carlisle was both.
    Respectable, that.
    “As you like.” He turned away. Dozens of things commanded his attention, and yet he stood here on the foredeck with her, as if this was a damned pleasure flight. They were speeding closer and closer to dangerous skies. Talking with her had made him forget that.
    Before he took more than two steps, her voice stopped him. “Captain Denisov?”
    He didn’t face her. “What?”
    “I’d read that you were a decorated member of the Russian Navy.”
    He’d once thought about throwing all his medals over the side of his ship, had pictured it many times: a ribboned and glittering tumble, and all those decorations lying at the bottom of the Black Sea. Had he done it, they’d be rusted or eaten away by now, lodged permanently in the belly of some fish. But something had compelled him to keep them, still pinned to their silk sash.
    She continued, “Yet I couldn’t find any records as to why you went rogue.”
    “Mother Russia doesn’t send out telegrams announcing her failures,” he said over his shoulder.
    “So, you won’t tell me, either,” she answered.
    “Nothing and no one on this ship goes into any essay or study.”
    “It’s not for a study.”
    Her footsteps were light as she approached him from behind. Still, he wouldn’t turn to look at her so she could see his face. He’d never made a good card player. A fact they’d teased him about in the naval academy.
    “I’m just …” She hesitated. “Interested in you. In who you are.”
    Something hard and edged lodged itself in his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had an interest in him beyond what he could do for them, as a sailor, a Man O’ War, or a mercenary. Untrue. He did remember someone who had once been as close as a brother. Yet it wasn’t brotherhood that man had finally offered. Only betrayal.
    “Just a machine,” he answered. “A machine that runs solely on profit.”
    He left her before either of them could say any more.
    D APHNE SAT ON the cot in her cabin, a tray balanced across her knees. A bowl of stew, a wedge of fine-crumbed bread, and a mug of what