Chapter 13

“Ardis,” Wendel said.

She didn’t know what he wanted. But Nasir shared her indecision and glanced at her. Wendel elbowed Nasir’s face, kneed him between the legs, and kicked him to the ground. Nasir curled with a choked moan. Before Nasir could inhale, Wendel crushed his fingers beneath his boot and forced him to drop the dagger.

Breathing hard, Wendel took back Amarant.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Wendel said.

Nasir slumped on the cobblestones. Blood darkened his shirt.

“Why?” the assassin said.

“I know who you are,” Wendel said. “I know this isn’t you.”

Nasir stared at him. “You’re a fool.”

“Perhaps.”

With glacial eyes, Wendel walked from the courtyard.

“Wendel,” Nasir said. “Wendel!”

But the necromancer never looked back.

Ardis loped from the courtyard and caught up with Wendel on the street. Still breathing hard, Wendel wiped Amarant on his sleeve. He rotated his arm to look at the slash. Blood dripped on the cobblestones.

“Are you all right?” Ardis said.

“Yes,” Wendel said. “Keep walking.”

“Do you think Nasir was alone?”

“I don’t know.”

They walked until they left the courtyard at least five blocks behind. They stopped by a fountain, where Wendel washed away the blood in the icy water. A little boy stared at them until his mother dragged him away.

“How the hell did you know him?” Ardis said.

Wendel shook water from his hands. “Constantinople.”

“That doesn’t explain anything,” she said.

Wendel blushed, which was rare enough to explain everything.

“You slept with him,” she said. “And then you left him.”

“No!” His shoulders stiffened. “No, I…”

Ardis glared at him. “Are you saying Nasir pined after you like poor Konstantin, and you broke his heart?” She laughed scathingly. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you left a trail of heartbroken assassins behind.”

Wendel bowed his head. “Nasir was the one who left.”

Guilt and jealousy needled Ardis. She didn’t want to imagine it, but she wanted to know.

“Why?” she said.

Wendel’s eyebrows angled in a frown. He concentrated on tying a handkerchief around his arm, though he was doing a poor job of it. Ardis watched him for a moment, gritting her teeth, until she couldn’t watch anymore.

“Stop,” Ardis said. “Let me.”

Silently, Wendel held out his arm. She knotted the handkerchief around the wound.

“You might need stitches,” Ardis said.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. You don’t need any more scars.”

Wendel kept his head down. His eyebrows angled in a frown.

“Nasir doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was a mistake. It was over in a week.”

Ardis glowered at his wound. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

“It wasn’t that easy.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

“God, no.” He grimaced. “But I don’t want my only solution to be death.”

“That’s surprisingly merciful of you.”

“Thank you,” Wendel muttered.

“If he touches you again,” Ardis said, “I’ll kill him myself.”

Wendel’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“Your ferocity is touching.” But his smile faltered. “I can’t believe he found me. I can’t believe the Grandmaster knows I’m alive.”

“Did you expect to stay dead forever?” Ardis said lightly.

Wendel arched his eyebrows. “An unmarked grave was nice while it lasted.”

~

The silver skin of the USS Jupiter gleamed in the noonday sun. Ardis and Wendel strode across Aspern Airfield, the frosty grass crunching beneath their boots. They stopped beneath the mammoth shadow of the airship.

Konstantin waved to them. “Ardis! Wendel!”

He had a wild glint in his eyes, his hair already windblown, and Ardis suspected he had been too busy to sleep while tinkering with the clockwork wasp last night. She wouldn’t be surprised if he were running on coffee.

“This is it,” Konstantin said. “Our ticket to Königsberg.”

Ardis nodded at Himmel and Ursula, the doctor from the Wanderfalke. Konstantin beckoned everyone and bounded onto the mooring mast. Ursula marched upstairs next, her sensible heels clicking, her doctor’s bag swinging in her hand. Himmel climbed more sluggishly, his right arm still cradled in a sling. Ardis nudged Wendel with a hand between his shoulders, and he dug his heels into the grass.

“Up you go,” Ardis said.

“Forgive me,” Wendel said, “if I’m not thrilled to fly to Prussia on an airship. I don’t like flying. Or airships. Or Prussia.”

“Tough luck.”

Wendel hauled himself up the mooring mast. He gripped the railings with white knuckles. As Ardis climbed after him, she saw a raven riding the wind. Krampus circled the tower, fanned his wings, and landed on the stairs.

Directly in front of Wendel.

Wendel stared down at the raven. “Excuse me.”

Krampus cocked his head. His black feathers glistened violet in the sun.

“You brat,” Wendel said. “I know you want to be a stowaway.”

“Grok.”

Wendel let out a long-suffering sigh. He held out his arm. The raven flew to his wrist, then hopped to his shoulder.

“How could you ever abandon Krampus?” Ardis teased.

Wendel scoffed. “Easily.”

But he bit back a smile as the raven nibbled his hair.

When they boarded the USS Jupiter, they were greeted by Yeoman Kay, the American woman with the fiery hair.

“Welcome back aboard,” Kay said. “Our estimated flight time is six hours.”

On the observation deck, Ardis watched as the airship cast off from the mooring mast. They soared above Vienna and floated over clouds like whipped cream. She settled in a comfortable chair, closed her eyes, and indulged herself in the luxury of relaxation. The airship’s engines droned in her ears.

At the sound of footsteps, Ardis opened her eyes and saw Wendel by the windows. Krampus hopped behind him.

“Were you sleeping?” he said.

Ardis blinked. Sunset painted the clouds pink.

“What time is it?” she said.

“Six o’clock.”

“Already?” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Where are we?”

Wendel walked to the window and tapped his finger on the glass.

“East Prussia,” he said.

Ardis climbed to her feet. The Jupiter flew over a vast stretch of steely water. Ice frosted the coast and fragmented into shards farther from shore. The temperature in the airship had fallen by several degrees. Krampus croaked, and she glanced at him. The raven shivered and puffed his feathers to twice his normal size.

“The Baltic Sea?” Ardis said.

“No,” Wendel said. “The Frisches Haff. A freshwater lagoon.” He pointed across a thin spit of sand. “There’s the Baltic.”

She nodded, though she had never been to Prussia before.

“Look,” he said. “You can see the castle in Königsberg.”

Ardis peered down the lagoon. At the opposite shore, if she squinted, she could make out the reddish stone towers of a castle.

Her heartbeat did a strange little skip. “Your castle?”

“It was never mine.” Wendel rested his hand on the glass. “Though I have entertained the thought of liberating my inheritance.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t steal a castle.”

A smile curled his mouth. “But you can conquer it.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t. I’m not that evil.”

“Thank goodness,” Ardis deadpanned.

She straightened the collar of his shirt. Judging by his eyebrows, Wendel was bemused by her efforts to tidy his clothes.

“Are you ready for this?” she said.

Wendel looked at her with a bastard’s smirk, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

“Prussia?” he said. “I doubt they are ready for me.”

On its final descent, the USS Jupiter glided low over the lagoon. It hovered over a pebbled beach and silenced its engines. Landing lines dropped, and men on the ground walked the airship into an immense shed.

Ardis and Wendel disembarked from the airship together. Krampus perched on Wendel’s shoulder. The raven gurgled like a pigeon, the feathers at his throat bristling. Konstantin halted them at the bottom of the stairs.

“Your minion stays outside,” Konstantin said.

Wendel managed to look worthy of a halo. “Who? Krampus?”

Konstantin scowled and jabbed his finger at the raven, but Tesla strode down the stairs on his lanky legs.

“Mr. Tesla!” Konstantin said. “Ready for the tour?”

Tesla smiled. “Quite.”

When they stepped from the airship shed, a bitter wind whipped their hair and stung their eyes. Ardis squinted and lowered her head. Krampus leapt into the air and sliced sideways through the wind. The raven vanished in the trees. They hurried across a gloomy field to a shipyard on the lagoon. A giant industrial building dominated the scene. As they walked closer, Ardis realized it had to be a roofed drydock.

Two guards bundled in furs saluted them at the doors.

“Archmage,” one of the guards said. “Welcome back.”

Konstantin squared his shoulders. “Mr. Tesla will be touring the facilities.”

The guards hauled open the door with the groan of heavy steel. Tesla glanced at Ardis and waved her onward like a gentleman. She stepped into the drydock, but she didn’t make it far before she stumbled to a halt.

A gargantuan Eisenkrieger dominated the space.

It towered over thirty feet tall, its massive metal feet planted on the concrete, its hollow head nearly bumping the rafters. A sputtering of sparks glittered from the Eisenkrieger’s face as an engineer welded steel in the cockpit. It looked like a brutally effective work of engineering, still all raw wires and rough steel.

Tesla stroked his mustache. “Remarkable!”

“Isn’t it?” Konstantin said.

The archmage ran across the floor, his coat flying behind him, and patted the Eisenkrieger’s foot like an adoring father.

“Our latest Eisenkrieger prototype,” Konstantin said.

Wendel sneered at the Eisenkrieger with obligatory disdain, though the widening of his eyes betrayed his wariness. Ardis judged Wendel to be six feet tall, but his head had no hope of reaching the Eisenkrieger’s knee.

Tesla stood with his hands on his hips and looked the Eisenkrieger up and down.

“Is this prototype operational?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Konstantin said. “Care for a demonstration?”

“Please.”

Konstantin sprang into action. He signaled for the engineer to stop welding in the cockpit, then flagged down another underling.

“Find Commander Volkova,” Konstantin said.

The underling saluted and scurried away.

“Pardon me,” Wendel said, “but isn’t Volkova a Russian name?”

Konstantin glared at the necromancer. “Natalya Volkova has worked for the archmages for years. Her loyalty is absolute. She would never sabotage the prototypes, not even to protest an army of mechanical men.”

Wendel coughed, since he had done exactly that.

“Wait,” Ardis said. “Natalya Volkova?”

She couldn’t say she actually wanted to find Natalya, not after fighting her in the cemetery. Or fighting her on that ship to London.

“Speak of the devil,” Wendel said.

Cursing her luck, Ardis gritted her teeth and turned around.

Natalya Volkova advanced on them. She had a tailored black uniform, a rapier, and a look colder than a glacier. Her blonde hair gleamed blue beneath the fluorescent. Her hand closed on the hilt of her rapier.

Ardis touched her cheek, remembering that blade’s paralyzing sting.

“Archmage.” Natalya saluted somewhat casually. “Reporting for duty, sir.”

Konstantin returned the salute. “Commander Volkova.”

“Why is she here?” Natalya challenged Ardis with a stare. “Are you lost, darling?”

Damn. This wasn’t going to be easy, was it?

“I’m here to work for you, Commander,” Ardis said. “Archmage Margareta assigned me to be an Eisenkrieger test pilot.”

Natalya flicked her eyebrows upward, then threw back her head and laughed.

“You?” she said. “Working for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Konstantin smoothed his hair. “We don’t want to keep Mr. Tesla waiting. Natalya, I want you to pilot the prototype.”

“Which one?” Natalya said.

“The Colossus.”

Natalya had a crooked smirk. “Yes, sir.”

Commander Volkova swaggered to the prototype, climbed a stairwell in the scaffolding, and crossed a gangway to the cockpit. Konstantin sat in a chair and wheeled himself over to a desk with a wireless telegraph.

Tesla clasped his hands behind his back and bent over the archmage’s shoulder.

“How do you control the Eisenkriegers?” he said.

“Technomancy.” Konstantin’s face reddened. “Though the control systems in the Eisenkriegers still have a slight issue with interference. As a consequence, we can’t operate more than one prototype at the same time.”

Tesla gazed at the Colossus. “And the power?”

“Hybrid,” Konstantin said. “Electricity and technomancy.”

With a rumble, the Colossus Eisenkrieger hummed to life. A light shone inside the barebones cockpit, illuminating Natalya’s face. Konstantin telegraphed a message and held the wireless receiver to his ear.

“Ready?” Konstantin said. “Everyone clear the way.”

Ardis hurried to stand by the archmage. Wendel lurked behind Tesla.

Pneumatics hissing and steel groaning in protest, the Eisenkrieger disengaged from the scaffold. Its first footfall boomed against the concrete. The Eisenkrieger crossed the room in three easy strides and towered over them. Ardis backed away out of instinct. The Eisenkrieger saluted, the naked gears whirring in its arm.

High in the cockpit, Natalya waved down at them.

“A most impressive demonstration,” Tesla said.

Konstantin’s face flamed. “Thank you,” he stammered. “It would be my pleasure to show you more of Project Lazarus.”

Tesla nodded. “I’m particularly interested in your control systems.”

Konstantin fished a pocket watch from his coat and clicked open the case.

“Perhaps we might talk more at the castle?” he said.

“Certainly,” Tesla said.

His eyes shadowed, Wendel stepped between the two of them.

“The castle?” he said. “Why?”

Konstantin picked at a thread on his sleeve. “We were invited to dinner.”

“We were?”

“Everyone, that is, except you.”

Hurt flashed across Wendel’s face.

“Your family still believes you to be dead,” Konstantin said. “You should be the one to inform them of the truth.”

Wendel stared at his boots and failed to find a sarcastic retort.

~

Night fell on Königsberg. Hail bounced off the cobblestones and rattled on the roof of their sleek black automobile. Ardis peered out the window at the brick buildings, wrought-iron lampposts, and townspeople shielding their heads with umbrellas or newspapers. It hardly looked like a city under threat of invasion.

Wendel sat with his eyes shut, his cheek resting against the leather of the seat.

Ardis admired how handsome he looked in a black swallowtail coat and white waistcoat. They had both bought eveningwear suitable for tonight, though she was less fond of her gown. She smoothed the tangerine silk across her lap, then tugged her shawl around her shoulders. Gowns always felt too flimsy. She hadn’t bothered with gloves, jewelry, or heeled shoes, but she had brought her sword in its scabbard.

To hell with the latest fashion.

“How close are we to the castle?” Ardis said.

Wendel didn’t even look. “Close.”

“Don’t be sarcastic.”

Wendel’s jaw tightened, and he opened his eyes to give her a cool look.

“Go on without me,” he said.

Ardis snorted. “You know Konstantin won’t like that. And he won’t leave you alone with Project Lazarus. Not after last time.”

Wendel glared out the window. “You know why I did it.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Sabotaging the Eisenkriegers accomplished nothing. I was foolish to think it would slow the war.”

“With the Russians knocking,” she said, “now we need the Eisenkriegers.”

“Need?” He stared into her eyes. “Do we need to find new ways to die?”

She didn’t look away. “That’s bleak even for you. I prefer to think of ways to survive.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Breathe,” she said. “Tonight won’t kill you.”

Wendel worked his jaw like he was chewing on his words.

“I don’t want to go home,” he said. “It isn’t home anymore.”

She reached across and clasped his hand. “I know.”

The automobile rolled to a stop. They glanced out the window.

Königsberg Castle loomed over the city. Its towers disappeared in the underbelly of the clouds. Ardis almost expected lightning to flash. The driver opened the door of the auto, and they stepped into the wind and the hail.

Ardis tucked her sword into the sash of her gown and faced the weather.

“There’s Konstantin,” she said.

The archmage hurried toward the doors of the castle. Himmel and Tesla followed him.

“Pardon?” Wendel said by her ear.

He obviously hadn’t heard her over the weather. She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the castle’s doors. The closer they walked, the tighter his grip became. Finally, she twisted her fingers free and winced.

Wendel didn’t notice, his stare locked on the castle. He faltered by the door, then pressed his hand to the wood and pushed it open. He held the door for Ardis. She stepped into the castle, glancing at him as she passed.

She could see it in his eyes—the urge to run and not stop running.

“Wendel,” she said.

He blinked, lowered his head, and followed her into the castle. The door shut behind them with a resounding thud.

When Ardis looked around, she gasped.

She had been in one or two castles before, but none nearly so grand as Königsberg. The entrance hall stretched before them with darkly paneled walls and richly carpeted floors. Candles glowed like a constellation of stars. The air felt warm on her rain-chilled skin, scented with beeswax and an aroma like faded rose perfume.

“What a beautiful castle,” Ardis whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Wendel said. “This isn’t a church.”

He glanced around with supreme disinterest. But even with his scars and his ragged hair, she could see that he had belonged here once, long ago. It wasn’t hard to imagine him as a prince, wearing a prince’s regalia.

Wendel’s eyebrows descended. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ardis didn’t know how to tell him any of it without sounding hopelessly sad. He touched her arm with his fingertips.

“Are you all right?” he said.

His concern, and his complete disregard for his own feelings, made her smile.

“Don’t worry about me,” Ardis said. “We have to find the dining room.”

Wendel didn’t seem convinced, but he looked away.

“The castle has more than one dining room,” he said.

“I should have known.”

“We should go to the drawing room. Guests gather there before dinner.”

Wendel turned right and walked down a hallway guarded by suits of armor. Ardis traced her fingers over the engraved and gilded armor. It must have cost a king’s ransom only a few centuries ago. Wendel halted outside a closed door. Light slivered through the crack under the door and shone on the toes of his shoes.

Ardis tilted her head toward the murmur of conversation.

“I hear them,” she said.

Wendel’s hand closed on the doorknob. He stood that way for a silent moment, his eyes distant, and rubbed his thumb over the polished brass. Then he opened the door and stepped aside with a bow of his head.

“Ladies first,” Wendel said.

Ardis rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly a lady.”

She tugged her shawl straight and walked into the drawing room.

A chandelier shimmered like a cascade of crystal from a ceiling adorned with plasterwork angels. Tesla leaned against an ornate fireplace, his elbow on a dragon carved from granite. Konstantin and Himmel sat shoulder to shoulder on a gilded loveseat, talking with a raven-haired lady in a tiara—Juliana, Princess of Prussia. Wendel’s sister. Behind her stood Wolfram, Prince of Prussia. Wendel’s little brother.

Wendel lingered on the threshold. All but invisible to his family.

“Introduce yourself,” Ardis murmured.

Wendel sucked in a slow breath, then strode into the center of the drawing room and brought the conversation to a halt.

Perhaps that wasn’t such a good suggestion.

“Good evening, everyone,” Wendel said. “I’m back.”