Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [120]
“Good God,” Archimedes breathed, looking back.
Yasmeen didn’t dare look back again. Ceres hovered just outside the kasbah. Her eyes searched the dark for a gate, a tree, anything that would allow them over. The kasbah wall was too high, too smooth. Without a rope, Archimedes wouldn’t make it to the top. Yasmeen wasn’t certain she would make it.
“Can we signal them?” he asked.
She did not know with what. She and the crew of her lady had many signals, but she’d never established them with this crew.
“We might have to run through the crowd,” she whispered. “We need to find robes.”
Anything, anything to hide, anything to be safe—to make certain he made it to the airship.
“Find robes in there?” He looked to the palace again, eyes widening as the ground suddenly shook under an enormous impact. “Not in there. We’ll knock someone out, take their clothes.”
A dark figure in a robe swept past them, easily carrying a hooded man. “Come,” Nasrin said. “We knew that they might storm the palace, but now they have taken over the war machine. So come quickly.”
Hope lifted through Yasmeen again as they raced after her, until a shout from behind them gave away their presence. Nasrin reached the wall and leapt, flying halfway up. Her foot struck the smooth side and propelled her the remaining way to the top.
If anyone had doubts about who had been fleeing, they would not now.
“Nasrin!” Yasmeen shouted.
She turned, flicked her hand down to them. Yasmeen grasped the smooth mechanical flesh, held on to Archimedes. Nasrin wound them up with dizzying speed, and Yasmeen might have laughed if the mob were not closing in.
Atop they wall, they looked to Ceres. “She is too far away for me,” Nasrin said.
People were in the streets below, but not rioting. Still cheering, many of them, others confused by the commotion inside the kasbah . She and Archimedes would be safe, for now, if they escaped here.
A rock whizzed past Yasmeen’s head—thrown by a mechanical arm, altered and strengthened by the Horde.
Nasrin jumped from the wall, landed easily, then looked up at them.
“Jesus,” Archimedes said. “I think she intends to catch—”
A rock slammed into the wall just below their feet, breaking apart in a shower of shards.
“You go first,” he said.
Yasmeen laughed, turned to jump. The whizzing sound warned her, and she ducked. Pain shot through her brain, and everything went dark as she fell, instead.
“Yasmeen!”
Archimedes leapt for her, missed. Overbalanced, he toppled over, barely gripped the edge of the wall. He hung over the side, desperately watching as Nasrin caught her.
But, God—how badly had she been struck?
He flung himself away from the wall the moment Nasrin put her down. He crashed into her, and he felt her mechanical body warp beneath her robe, cushioning the impact. Still, it slammed the breath from him, and his chest was a molten hole as he scrambled for Yasmeen. Blood flowed heavily from her scalp, over her ear.
“She’s alive,” Nasrin said. “Pick her up. Let us go, go!”
He gathered her up, trying to let her breath and her heartbeat ease his fear. Behind them came shouts, the crash and huffing of the war machine. He ran, carrying his life, as he’d never run before.
They reached Ceres. Nasrin’s hand shot upward, her arm wrapped around his waist. They were carried up, onto the deck, where the crew waited, eyes wide as they looked over the kasbah. The war machine had begun rolling toward them.
The crew looked to Yasmeen, then to him. And holding her, God please let her forgive him, Archimedes took command of her ship.
Chapter Sixteen
When Yasmeen awoke, the morning sun was shining through the portholes. Bandages wrapped her head—so that was why it pounded so badly. She couldn’t remember drinking that much.
Archimedes sat in a chair next to the bed, eyes closed, jaw rough, head in his hands. He looked exhausted.
“Idiot,” she said. Her mouth felt parched, her tongue huge. She hadn