Skies of Fire Read Online Free PDF

hills to the north. “The splinter faction has an enclave up there. If the soldiers from the village head toward their position, the whole mission is sunk.”
    “What is the damned mission?”
    “We can talk ourselves hoarse. Later. I’m not discussing covert intelligence at the top of a spruce.”
    Gripping the tree with one hand, she tugged her goggles up onto her forehead. She reached into one of the many pockets sewn into her skirts, then found the object she sought.
    The brass spyglass snapped open, and she held it to her eye, gazing toward the hills. “I need to see if the enemy advances on the enclave. If they do, I’ll need to warn the splinter faction so they can disperse.”
    From her high position, she saw the edge of the village and the road that the soldiers would take if they marched toward the hills. Thus far, the road remained clear.
    She offered the spyglass to Christopher.
    “Don’t need it.”
    Here was more proof he had changed. She stared at him for a moment as he looked toward the village. Same face, same memories. But a very different man. One who could see half a mile away without the assistance of binoculars or a spyglass.
    She brought the spyglass back up to her eye. As she continued to watch the road out of the village, Christopher exhaled.
    “Enemy airship’s turning away. We’re in the clear.”
    “Not quite.” She wouldn’t let herself feel relief until she was certain the splinter group was safe. Continuing her surveillance, she looked toward the other end of the village, where the road continued, leading away from the hills.
    The bedraggled remnants of the soldiers assembled there. They hauled the remains of the heavy guns behind them.
    “Appears as though we’ve scared them off,” she said. “They’ll be heading back toward the nearest cantonment, which is about ten miles south.”
    Lowering the small telescope, she discovered him watching her. Her heart kicked.
    It was peaceful up here. Deceptively so, with the wide green canopy spreading around them, and the wind rustling through the boughs. One could almost pretend there wasn’t a war happening, and danger lurking behind every cloud. With Christopher so close, close enough for her to see the reddish gold of his incipient beard and the curve of his lower lip, she was inundated by a rush of hungry yearning she had no business feeling. Not the way she’d left things between them.
    He opened his mouth as if to speak. Then shut it.
    “The Demeter will be coming for us,” he finally said. Without another word, he began to climb down the tree.
    She pocketed the collapsed spyglass and followed. Anything she felt for Christopher had to be ruthlessly shoved aside—including the way in which his unrelenting coldness made her chest ache.
    He was already sitting at the tiller by the time she reached the waiting jolly boat, and watched with detached reserve as she clambered back into the vessel. At the least, he waited until she fastened her harness and put her goggles in place before guiding the boat out of the trees.
    They moved toward a rocky outcropping. An airship’s prow and figurehead emerged from behind the crag. She tensed, until more of the ship emerged. The top-mounted ether tank proclaimed her to be British.
    They approached the airship. Though she was no stranger to the vessels, the sight of these flying ships never failed to stir her. The Demeter , as the name upon the hull proclaimed her to be, was a sterling example of the Her Majesty’s Aerial Navy. The ship followed the standard British design, with a large ether tank mounted on a central support beam, just beneath the curved wooden dorsal fin running from prow to stern. Smaller ether tanks were also mounted on the fin. A pilot house stood in front of the ship’s secondary battery, situated in the aft, and this connected to a massive turbine. All Man O’ War ships carried full compliments of weapons, and the Demeter had guns both topside and poking through gun