Wings of Fire (Godstone Saga 4)

Caelan reached out and covered Rayne’s fist with his own hand, forcing a smile while his soul screamed. “I know we will. Let me have a little more time. We have plenty on our plates with the Goddess of Fire and Drayce. This can keep for a bit longer.”

Rayne didn’t lose his frown, but he nodded in agreement. His advisor was not letting this go so easily. It went against Rayne’s dogged nature, but Caelan was happy to let him stew on this in between all their other issues for now. He was hoping to wait until after he’d spoken with the Goddess of Fire to mention to his friends what had happened in the cave of Mount Langbo. There had been something in Nyx’s tone when he’d spoken of the goddess that gave Calean hope that she might be more helpful than the God of Time had been so far.

It was on the tip of his tongue to acquiesce to his advisor’s request to return to his quarters below deck when a loud siren blared. Caelan flinched, instantly hunching lower while looking about. Both Rayne and Adrian closed ranks, their hands clamping on his arms as they prepared to hurry him anywhere but where he was currently located.

“What—” he started to ask, but Adrian was already shouting out an answer.

“Enemy vessel spotted.”

“Yellow Alert. All hands to battle stations,” a loud voice over the PA system barked. Around them, seamen were running to their stations and preparing the battleship for a fight.

Caelan pulled free of Rayne and grabbed his elbow to shove him toward the doors. “Get below deck. Make sure all our gear is prepared and stowed in the amphibious launch. I’m heading to the bridge to meet with the admiral.”

Rayne nodded and pointed at Caelan. “Stay on the ship. No flying off with Kaes.”

A smirk twisted his lips, and he lifted his brows. “I don’t think you’re allowed to give orders to the king.”

His advisor and friend directed a brief but blistering glare at him, then ran off as directed. Caelan’s heart pounded in his throat as he and Adrian followed a step behind but turned off at the first intersection to head to the bridge. The warning claxon shut off, but the heavy stomp of footsteps on the metal stairs and deck still rang in his ears.

They’d known there was a good chance of encountering a New Rosanthe ship of some sort, but Caelan had been hoping that the shortness of the trip would enable them to slip in and out of Erya waters quickly and without notice.

“How worried should I be about this flying thing, Your Majesty?” Adrian called out.

Caelan had no idea how to answer that one. He could explain that he’d used his gift from the God of Storms to conjure up a wind to lift him into the air, but the likelihood of Caelan setting off on his own? Yeah, he wasn’t quite sure about that yet. He hoped to leave the fighting in the hands of the admiral and his sailors.

“We’ll revisit that question,” Caelan muttered over his shoulder. “I’m hoping to avoid it, but I’m not about to let our people die if I can do something to stop it.”

“I can’t follow you,” Adrian pointed out.

Grabbing the handle for the door leading to the bridge, Caelan paused and grinned at his new bodyguard. “True, but I’m fucking hard to kill when Kaes and I are pushed too far.”

Whoo! Let’s kill us some Empire scum! The God of Storms cackled and surged in Caelan’s chest, ready to take the fight straight to the New Rosanthe ship.

Soon, Caelan promised. He needed to get a better handle on the situation first. If they could avoid a fight altogether, that was safer for all of his people.

He jerked open the door and rushed onto the bridge. Several men were working a large console, shouting information at the admiral as he stood in the center of the large windows, his gaze locked on the horizon. They were still many hours away from where they’d planned to drop off Caelan and his companions. Their party would be lowered to the water in a launch with an outboard motor, allowing them to zip the last couple of miles to the nearest beach.

Erya had no diplomatic standing with the Isle of Stone. If Caelan landed with the kind of numbers the admiral preferred to send with him, it would be seen as an invasion. As they’d done with Zastrad, this mission was more easily accomplished in small numbers that allowed them to move with stealth and speed.

“Admiral Christie,” Caelan said as he crossed through the controlled chaos.

The admiral turned toward him and nodded. “Your Majesty.”

Douglass Christie was the saltiest old sailor in Erya’s fleet. The story was that he’d lied about his age and crawled on his first ship as a baby, never to step off again. He knew more about naval warcraft than any other man and had been the first to volunteer to take Caelan to the Isle of Stone when the king announced his plans. Caelan couldn’t think of a better person to have at the helm of the battleship.