Goliath

Alek squinted into the wind and saw it—a white sheet rippling toward them down the slope of the spine.

“What on earth is that?”

“The water from the bowhead—all being blown back at once!” She wrapped her arms around him. “Take hold of the ratlines before it hits, in case your safety line snaps!”

As Alek dug his fingers into the ropes beneath them, another boom shook the airship. A vast ripple passed through the membrane, bucking Deryn and Alek half a meter into the air, but her arms held tight around him. Her body was a shadow of warmth inhe freezing wind.

“We’re still too low!” she cried. “A tall enough wave could hit the—”

The surge of rainwater struck at that moment, hardly knee height but moving fast. It swept across them where they lay, filling Alek’s nose and mouth. He clutched the ratlines with all his strength, and felt Deryn’s arms around him tighten. His safety line pulled taut as the torrent tried to carry them both down the sloping flank of the airbeast.

After a few long seconds the flood passed by, the water spilling away in both directions from the spine. Deryn let him go, and Alek sat up sputtering and coughing.

“We’re gaining altitude,” she said, looking down the flank. “Our speed has pushed a bit of water off.”

Alek huddled in his soaking flight suit, wondering if the world had gone mad. The wind was roaring with the fury of a hundred engines, a rain like cold gravel was tumbling from the sky, freezing rivers were pouring down the Leviathan’s length . . .

“SPINE SPOUT.”

And his friend Dylan was a girl.

“What’s wrong with everything?” he said, curling up against the cold and shutting his eyes. The world had broken the night his parents had died, and it just seemed to keep breaking.

Deryn shook him. “You’ve got a head wound, Alek. Don’t fall asleep!”

He opened one eye. “It’s a bit cold for a nap.”

“Aye, but don’t pass out!” She leaned closer, their heads almost touching. “Keep talking to me.”

Alek lay there shuddering, trying to think of what to say. The rumble of the engines seemed to be inside his head, tangling his thoughts.

“I forgot you were a girl, just for a moment.”

“Aye. That fall scrambled your attic, didn’t it?”

He nodded, her strange way with words setting off an old memory. “ ‘My attic’s been scrambled.’ You said that the first time we met. After you crashed in the Alps.”

“Aye, I was a bit loopy that night. But you sounded mad yourself, pretending to be a Swiss smuggler.”

“I didn’t know what I was pretending to be. That was the problem.”

She smiled. “You’re a hopeless liar, your princeliness. I’ll give you that.”

“Lack of practice.” Alek shivered, and they huddled closer, her face only centimeters from his. The hood of her flight suit was pulled up, her wet hair pasted to her forehead, baring the angles of her face.

She frowned. “Are you going daft again?”

Alek shook his head, but his eyelids were heavy. He felt his body stop shivering, giving up its struggle against the cold. His thoughts began to fade into the roar of the world around him.

“Stay awake!” Deryn cried. “Talk to me!”

He searched for words, but the rain seemed to strip away his thoughts before they could form. Staring at Deryn, Alek felt his mind switch back and forth, seeing her as a girl, then as a boy.

And he realized what he had to say.

“Promise you won’t ever lie to me again.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I mean it!” he shouted above the wind. “You have to swear it, or we can’t be friends.”

Deryn stared hard at him another moment, then nodded. “Aleksandar of Hohenberg, I promise never to lie to you again.”

“And you won’t keep any secrets from me either?”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Yes!”

“All right. I won’t hide anything from you again, for as long as I live.”

Alek smiled, and let his eyes finally drift closed. That was all he’d wanted, really, for his allies to trust him with the truth. Was it so much to ask?

Then a warmth pressed against his mouth, lips touching his. Soft at first, then harder, trembling with an intensity that lofted above the storm. A quiver went through him, like the shudder of a dream-fall pulling him from the edge of sleep. He opened his eyes and was staring into Deryn’s face.

She pulled away a little. “Wake up, you daft prince.”

He blinked. “Did you just . . .”

“Aye. I did. No secrets, remember?”

“I see,” Alek said, and another shiver went through him, not from the cold. His head was clear now, and the rain chattered in the silence between them. “You know I can’t . . .”

“You’re a prince, and I’m a commoner.” She shrugged. “But this is what no secrets means.”

He nodded slowly, wondering at the warmth of her secret still on his lips.

“Well, I’m certainly awake now.”

“So it works on sleeping princes, too?” Deryn asked, then her smile faded. “I need a promise from you also, Alek.”

He nodded. “Of course. I won’t keep secrets from you, I swear.”

“I know, but it’s not that.” Deryn turned away, staring off into the blackness, her arms still around him. “Promise that you’ll lie for me.”

“Lie for you?”

“Now that you know what I am, thereno way to escape it.”

Alek hesitated, thinking how strange it was to make an oath to lie. But the oath was to Deryn, and the lies would be to . . . anyone else.

“All right. I swear to lie for you, Deryn Sharp, whatever it takes to protect your secret.” Saying it aloud made Alek’s breath quicken, and the feeling bubbled up into a laugh. “But I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”

“You’ll probably be rubbish. But that’s the mess we’re in.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure at the moment exactly what kind of mess it was. She had kissed him, after all. He found himself wondering if she was going to kiss him again.

But Deryn was staring off into the storm. Her expression grew serious.

Alek could see nothing but darkness and rain. “What is it?”

“Rescue, your princeliness. Namely, the four biggest riggers in the crew, crawling straight into a sixty-mile- an-hour headwind on their hands and knees. Risking their barking lives to make sure you’re all right.” She turned back with a scowl. “Must be nice to be a prince.”

“Sometimes, yes,” he said, finally letting his eyes close. Another shudder passed through him, shaking every muscle.

Deryn held him tighter, lending him a sliver of her heat until the strong hands of the riggers picked him up and carried him somewhere warm and quiet.

“That will, I trust, be the last of your heroics.” Count Volger said this too softly to make Alek’s head hurt, but the words were brittle and precise.

“There weren’t any heroics. I was only there as a translator.”

“And yet here you are with bandages round your head. Rather tricky translations, I should think.”

“Rather tricky,” said Bovril with a chuckle.

Alek took a drink of water from the glass beside his bed. He was fuzzy on much of what had happened last