Ashby shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I like my head where it is.” If she hadn’t been concentrating on being fierce, Azaleen might have cracked a smile.
“Thank you. That will be all.” Having dismissed him, the queen turned her full attention to Sean. Ashby stomped out, grumbling under his breath. Azaleenmoved around a short table and regally glided into the cushioned armchair across from the lieutenant, assuming a relaxed posture.
“I—I don’t know anything,” he stammered, dropping his gaze.
“Now, you see, Sean,” Azaleen responded conversationally. “I don’t believe that. But I’ll tell you what I do believe.”
The queen sat forward, inspecting him like a principal would a boy who’d been caught breaking the rules. “You have more to lose than the others—a wife, a family, a life back in the Red River Republic. You’re wondering if you’ll ever see them again and how they’ll make it without your salary.”
Sean wiped a shaky hand across his mouth, letting it linger there a beat.
“Do you think President Irons cares what happens to you or your family?”
“I serve in the Republic Navy,” he said. “Military careers are lauded back home, and we get extra rations.”
There it was. Everything this man knew was about to become Queen Azaleen Frost’s intellectual property.
Chapter six
Return to Saltmarsh Reach
Same day
Lark, in the jeep’s back seat, guarding a crate crammed with homing pigeons, mopped sweat from her neck with a bandana. The air clung to her lungs, heavy as damp cloth. At least the road south was sheltered by sprawling live oaks, cypress, and river birch.And mosquitoes.She slapped her arm, smashing one of the little buggers.Wish I had my bear grease.They swarmed in the shade as if the swamp resented their presence.
“What can we expect in your hometown?” asked Diego.
“Nothin’ but gators and slime in the swamp,” Wes quipped, winking at her. “Ain’t that right?” He flicked the butt of his homeroll, landing it in a puddle as they bumped along over the broken pavement. Wet earth and brackish water hung in the heat, unmistakable and inescapable.
Lark shot Wes a sardonic look before shifting her gaze to Diego. “Southern hospitality and the best-tasting food you ever put in your mouth.”
“Bugs and humidity,” Wes said.
“Netting for your beds and open windows for airflow,” Lark added in irritation. “Yes, it’s hot and damp and teeming with insects, but at least nobody will shoot at you.”
Without warning, Skye slammed on the brakes. Luke and Harlan’s motorbikes stopped as well.
“Help!” cried a man in a gunmetal-gray Iron Navy uniform. He held up a comrade with one arm, waving frantically with the other. Two more sailors, a man and a woman, stumbled along behind them. “We surrender!” All four wore terrified expressions.
Luke and Harlan approached them with caution while Diego shot up from his seat, aiming his automatic rifle over the roll bars.
“There’re monsters back there!” yelled the wide-eyed woman, her uniform sleeves in tatters, brown hair wet and tangled.
The other man, no older than Lark, tossed his gun on the ground at Luke’s feet and raised his hands. “A giant lizard ate Denny.” His voice rang with shock.
“And a hideous wolf-creature killed three others,” the first man added in despair. “Cursed land! Why would President Irons want it?” In apparent exhaustion, he lowered his injured fellow to the ground.
Lark had seen enough. This lot posed no danger. Leaping the railing, she jogged over to attend to the wounded enemy. Marines exited the troop truck and surrounded the surrendered personnel.
“I don’t know,” Luke answered. “He’s your president. That giant lizard is called an alligator. People who live here know to beware. The wargs—mutated wolves—roam the wilds but steer clear of populated areas. You were just in the wrong place.”
A Marine collected their weapons. “We’ll be sending you back to New Charleston to the POW facility with your countrymen,” said Griffith, the Marine lieutenant in charge. “Pray your President Irons is agreeable to prisoner exchanges.” He motioned for the others to take them to the truck.
Lark observed several ragged bite marks on the man. She knew New Charleston couldn’t spare antibiotics for POWs; they scarcely had enough for their soldiers and citizens. A Marine medic crouched beside her.
“I’ll take him,” he said.
Lark glanced up at him, a deep wrinkle across her forehead. “Let’s take him to my grandmother first. She knows traditional medicine. Perhaps he can be saved. Then you’ll have another prisoner to exchange for one of ours.”