Chapter 5

The wind on an airship was nothing like the sort on the ground. Despite the heat of Seventh Month, the higher altitudes were cold, and Soren was glad for the fur-lined leather flight jacket he'd been given for the journey. It had necessitated leaving his gear in the small cabin assigned to him on the Ashion airship, but it meant he was warm as the airship flew through a cloudless blue sky.

The small glass dome that encompassed the lounge provided a clear view of the surrounding flight deck, the sky beyond, and the balloon above. Certain windows were able to be winched open, but none were at the moment.

The whistling of the passing wind outside was a white noise that helped drown out his thoughts as Oeiras drew ever closer. Their route had taken them south first, away from the fighting to reach Solaria. They'd first touched down in Karnak to bring Caris' diplomatic corps on board, who'd traveled there from Calhames.

They'd been notified the Imperial emperor held court these days in Oeiras while the new Imperial palace was being built. It meant a longer flight, crossing the width of the southern portion of the continent to that eastern city. It was still quicker than if they'd taken a steam train, and Soren couldn't decide which travel option he would have preferred. Either way, Vanya would be waiting for him at the end of the trip, and that knowledge was enough to make Soren's stomach roil uneasily. He couldn't even blame it on the turbulence they'd experienced off and on, though he wished he could.

"You look tired," Lore said in the trade tongue as she sat at his table. Her accent wasn't the best, but it couldn't be helped. Lore's linguistic skills had focused on E'ridian, though she was picking up Solarian out of necessity. They still couldn't have a conversation in that language, but the rest of the diplomatic corps were fluent in it.

"I slept enough," Soren replied.

A crew member approached with a tea set on a silver tray, nimbly serving them the drink. The tables and some viewing benches were bolted to the floor, but the cushioned seats were not. Soren eyed the delicate teacup and the dark tea inside it, wishing for some chai or the spiced red tea he'd come to love over the years. He had to make do with thick cream and honey rather than sugar to make it palatable.

There was a lot of Ashion culture that Soren didn't care for, wasn't comfortable with yet, and didn't know if he ever would be. He'd promised Caris he would be her heir, but he'd give the spot away the moment she claimed the starfire throne and married Nathaniel. They could have as many children as they wanted, and Soren would gladly cede any right to their heritage.

What he wanted couldn't be found in Cosian or Amari or any city in Ashion.

"Lord Dariush, in his capacity as our ambassador, believes your vow will be a miracle," Lore said.

Soren resisted the urge to reach up and touch the shape of the vow beneath his shirt. "I'm not doing this for a miracle."

Lore sipped her tea, watching him with keen hazel eyes. "You seem to think the Imperial emperor will give you anything just because you saved his life. Most rulers wouldn't offer up something like that with no restrictions."

"Vanya didn't know my past."

"Most people don't use a ruler's name with such familiarity."

"I'm a warden. We don't care about titles."

"You're a prince. Perhaps you should remember that before we land."

Soren decided the tea wasn't worth the interrogation. "Perhaps you should let me do the talking when we land. Solarian politics aren't yours."

Even the crash course Lord Dariush had been giving everyone in Solarian politics wasn't enough for Lore and the others to understand the nuances of the Houses and how they orbited the Imperial throne, vying for power.

Soren stood and left the table, heading for the exit. Belowdecks was accessible to the lounge without needing to go out onto the flight deck. Soren chose to spend the last hour of their flight west by himself, in the small cabin, staring at the vow and praying he wasn't making a terrible mistake.

What Soren assumed was the call for landing came through the small speaker bolted above the door sometime later, the words garbled to his ears. Still, he could feel the change of altitude in his ears as the airship descended toward the airfield outside Oeiras. Soren's room didn't have a port window, so he couldn't see the ground, but he felt it when the airship juddered into place in its berth.

He stripped out of his flight jacket and removed his altitude mask from his belt, tossing both on the bed. With practiced ease, he pulled on his pauldron and sheathed poison short sword, his nerves settling a little as he dressed the part of a warden rather than that of a prince. Everyone had protested when he'd refused the trunk of splendid clothes that would be fine for the Ashion nobles but would get them laughed out of the Imperial court. Soren would step foot in Solaria as himself, even if he wasn't sure who that was these days.

A firm knock on his door had him shaking away such thoughts as someone called out in stilted trade tongue, "Your Royal Highness? We're ready to disembark."

Soren picked up his rucksack with the field supplies he never went without and opened the door, finding a military officer waiting for him in the hallway. "I'm ready."

The officer gestured at the rucksack hanging off his shoulder. "The porters can take that for you. We're to be housed in the diplomatic estate, and all the travel trunks will be transported there."

"No, I'll carry it."

Soren slipped into the hallway and headed for the stairwell, taking the steps abovedeck. Heat greeted him, the thick humidity of the coastal vasilyet something he remembered from his time spent in Oeiras before.

Lore and the others milled about nearby, clearly waiting for him. Lord Dariush gave him a pleasant enough smile. "The Imperial estate sent an envoy to greet us. I've been told they're led by the Chief Minister."

Caelum had survived the attack on the palace and had never once steered Vanya wrong politically. Soren's interaction with the man over the years had been polite enough, though he doubted that ease would be present today. "Does he know I'm coming?"

"He knows the queen sent a close emissary with a new request and that I am to help facilitate talks. We did not indicate you were on board, but the manifest will. Is there something we should be concerned about?"

"No."

It tasted like a lie on his tongue, but none of the people on the flight deck could tell. Truthfully, Soren didn't know how everyone would react to his appearance in Solaria as a prince rather than a warden, but there was only one way to find out.

He led the delegation off the Ashionen airship, attention on the group of officials in their summer robes waiting for them on the dock. He saw the moment Caelum recognized him, the way the Chief Minister's eyes got fractionally wider once Soren stepped off the gangplank. The older man's blue eyes flicked up and down Soren's body, taking in his attire. But he was ever the politician and saw through the fa?ade Soren was clinging to.

"Prince Alasandair Rourke," Caelum said after a moment, dipping into a shallow bow. "This is a surprise."

"I didn't want it to be," Soren said. "And that's still not a name I go by."

"It's the one used in broadsheets coming out of Ashion."

"I never claimed it."

"Yet you travel with the Ashionen delegation, here on behalf of a supposed queen who claims kinship with you."

"There's a war going on, and I'm here to speak with Vanya about it."

Caelum smiled politely, expression still that neutral mask Soren had seen the other man wear countless times before when dealing with strangers. "His Imperial Majesty has already advised the ambassador with you that Solaria has no intention of allying itself with the war efforts on either side in the countries north of us."

"I still want to speak with Vanya."

"The Ashionen delegation is welcome to the embassy set aside for their country, but His Imperial Majesty is unavailable for the business you seek."

Soren hooked his thumb beneath his collar and snagged the gold chain, dragging the flat medallion from beneath his shirt. The vow glinted in the hot summer sun, the House of Sa'Liandel's crest of a roaring lion in profile stamped clear in gold. "He'll be available for me."

Caelum's gaze locked on the medallion, too good of a politician to lose his neutral mask, but Soren saw the way he went just a shade paler beneath the hot summer sun. "I will make His Imperial Majesty aware of your request. You and your delegation will accompany me to the Imperial estate."

Soren let go of the vow, the medallion thumping against his chest. "Lead the way."

The group of mismatched people started down the pier. Somehow, Lore ended up next to Soren as they walked, keeping pace with him.

"Do you still think the Imperial emperor will accept your vow?" she asked in a low voice, the trade tongue an outlier in the voices speaking Solarian around them in the airfield.

Soren stared straight ahead, eyes on the high wall surrounding Oeiras, tension starting a slow throb of a headache behind his eyes. "He will."

What he wanted more than that was for Vanya to accept him.

To keep him the way Soren knew Vanya would keep his promise.