Lark threw back the net. “My bed should fit two if you don’t hog all the space. Skye, you remember meeting my grandmother, Inez?”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Sutter.” Skye let her pack slide off her shoulder to the floor and took Inez’s hand. “Lark’s stories were no exaggeration.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s made a steadfast friend like you.” Gramma rose and took hold of the cane propped by her chair. “I’ll say goodnight and let you young’uns get your beauty rest. Cornbread, eggs, and sausage when you wake.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Sutter,” Skye bade.
“Night, Gramma.” Lark was asleep before Skye crawled into bed.
The team spent two days relaxing and enjoying the community of Saltmarsh Reach, while Lieutenant Griffith and the troop trucks set out in search of more Iron Navy sailors who might have washed ashore. Lark went fishing with Leif and caught up with some other friends. Milena remained conspicuously absent—a relief. At least Lark didn’t have to suffer under more of her wrath. However, she and Leif engaged in several heated arguments when he kept insisting he should enlist. “You’re needed more here, Leif,” Lark declared. “And you’re too young for the army.”
“Six months,” he’d snapped. “Then I can go to New Charleston and attend training.”
“I hope the war’s over by then.” Lark meant it, though she doubted it.
Gramma’s cooking helped Lark regain strength while Skye continued caring for her wounds. The VERT lieutenant’s verdict: Lark would live.
They said their goodbyes and loaded into the jeep, refilling the tank from ethanol cans they’d brought. Luke and Harlan revved their motorbikes, and they were off, winding along cracked roads, traveling from village to village.
Their first day in Saltmarsh Reach, Skye had sent a pigeon to the capital reporting the town hadn’t been attacked. Three stops later, she sent another. It appeared the Iron Navy had ignored the backwater coastal hamlets and had headed straight for Verdancia’s Atlantic port.
The landscape changed when they arrived at Fort Jasper. The team stopped on a distant hilltop overlooking the riverfront stronghold, not far from the sandy beaches of the Gulf. Harlan adjusted his binoculars. “Damn.” He lowered them, a grave look on a face that had grown scruffy without a proper shave in days.
“What is it?” Diego asked, reaching for the binoculars.
Luke grabbed them first. “We’ll have to send word immediately. The red-and-black Republic flag flies over the fort, and a couple of their ships are anchored in the river.”
The distinctivekeowsquawk of gulls sounded as the birds squabbled overhead. A breeze rustled the leaves around them, carrying the scents of salt and honeysuckle. Lark’s heart sank. New Charleston wasn’t a one-off. The war just became real.
Chapter eight
All That’s Worth Saving
Nelanta, three days ago
Azaleen slipped quietly through the back door of her home. They’d waited for the storm to pass before conveying her back to the capital in a caravan replete with armed guards. General Stark and business of state would have to wait. She needed to see her boys.
Magnolia Dawes’ brown face brightened, but Azaleen pressed a finger to her lips. “Thank you for holding down the fort,” she whispered. The cook and caretaker of the house hugged her tight.
“We were afraid,” she murmured, deducing Azaleen’s wishes. “When we heard about the attack on New Charleston.”
“Yes, but I’m fine, as you can see.” Azaleen stepped back and brushed a stray lock of Maggie’s dark hair. She listened, captivated by the music coming from the baby grand piano in another room, flowing down the hall to her delight.
“Eldrin and Caelen have a recital coming up,” Maggie said. “Should I go get them?”
“No.” Azaleen met her servant’s eyes. “How’s Mama?”
Maggie’s shoulders sagged. “You know. She’s got good days and bad ones, but she’s been worse while you were away—even forgetting her grandsons.”
Resigned to the way of things, Azaleen gave a sad nod. “I want to surprise Caelen and Eldrin. Just keep doing what you were, and I’ll be back in a bit.” The housekeeper nodded. “And Maggie? I appreciate you and everything you do for us. I can’t promise this house won’t lie in ashes before all is said and done, but I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”
Meeting her gaze, Magnolia declared, “And I’d give my life to safeguard your sons.”
Azaleen smiled, hoping fire wouldn’t rain down on her home, while resigning herself to the possibility it could.
She followed the mournful, dulcet sounds of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8Pathétique,first movement, pausing to linger in the music room doorway. Eldrin bore a look of intense concentration as his fingers floated over the keys, stumbling only once. Caelen perched on the edge of his seat, anxiously rolling sheet music in his hands, waiting his turn. Azaleen was moved by the haunting beauty of the piece and the astonishing skill with which her son brought it to life. Love and appreciation welled up from deep inside her, lurching to burst through her wall of reserve.
Perhaps sensing a presence, Caelen glanced her way. “Mom!” Dropping the roll of music, he flew across the room and flung his arms around her. “You’re home!”