Behemoth

likes you?”

Deryn’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Alek said. “She’s liked you from the start. Did you think she had you working on the Spider for your mechanical skills?”

“But—but I thought that you and her …”

“Me? She thinks I’m a perfectly useless aristocrat.” Alek shook his head. “You really are a Dummkopf, aren’t you?”

“But she can’t like me,” Deryn said. “I’m a … barking airman!”

“Yes, she thinks that’s quite romantic as well. You do have a certain swagger about you, I suppose. And you’re not bad looking, to be sure.”

“Oh, leave off!”

“In fact, when I first met you, I thought, ‘Now, there’s the boy I want to be—or would, if I hadn’t been born such a hopeless prince.’”

Deryn glared at Alek, who was clearly enjoying himself now, his eyes glistening with laughter held in check. It made her want to punch him, and yet …

“Do you really think I’m handsome?” she asked.

“Most beguiling, I’m sure. And now that you’ve masterminded the revolution, Lilit’s affections are quite out of control.”

Deryn groaned, shaking her head. She had to put a stop to this, before it got too blistering tricky.

“But we should discuss your romantic life another time.” Alek held up the scroll case. “I need to tell you about this.”

Deryn stared dumbly, trying to force her mind to stop spinning. She could deal with Lilit. It was just a matter of… well, not of telling her the truth, certainly, but of saying something sensible.

After all, it was true that women liked an airman’s swagger—Mr. Rigby was always saying so. It was just part of being a soldier. Part of being a boy, really. She could make up a story of a girl back home …

“Right, then,” Deryn finally managed. “What’s so barking important about this scroll of yours?”

“Well, it’s like this.” Alek took a slow breath. “Along with our revolution here in Istanbul, I think this letter might end the war.”

THIRTY-FIVE

The boy just looked at him, speechless again.

Standing there in the dark, Alek could hear his own heart pounding. Getting those first words out had taken all the willpower he possessed.

But now that Volger was gone, bearing the secret alone was too much. And Dylan had proven himself loyal a dozen times over.

“It’s from the Holy Father,” Alek said, holding up the scroll case.

It took Dylan a moment, but then he said, “You mean, the pope?”

Alek nodded. “It changes the terms of my parents’ marriage, making me my father’s heir. I suppose I’ve been lying to you—I’m not just a prince.”

“Then you’re … an archduke?”

“I’m the archduke of Austria-Este, royal prince of Hungary and Bohemia. When my granduncle dies, it may be that I can stop this war.”

Dylan’s eyes slowly widened. “Because you’ll be the barking emperor!”

Alek sighed, crossing to the large chair with tasseled arms that had been his favorite. He fell into it, suddenly exhausted.

He’d rather missed this hotel room, with all its Levantine splendor. In the week of hiding here he’d felt … in command for the first time in his life, with no tutors or mentors to appease. But now he’d joined a committee of revolutionaries, and had to argue over every detail.

“It’s complicated. Franz Joseph has named another successor, but he chose my father first.” Alek looked at the crossed keys on the leather case, a sign of papal authority that no faithful Austrian could ignore. “This document might throw the succession into doubt, if the war is going badly and the people want change. My father used to say, ‘A country with two kings will always falter.’”

“Aye,” Dylan said, coming closer. “And if there’s been a revolution here, then Germany will be completely alone!”

Alek smiled. “Not such a Dummkopf after all, are you?”

Dylan perched on one arm of the chair, looking dizzy and astonished.

“Pardon me, your princeliness, but this is all a bit much. First you tell me about her …” The boy waved in the direction of Lilit’s room. “And now this!”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to lie to you, Dylan. But I learned about this letter the same night I met you. It’s still quite strange for me.”

“It’s pure dead strange for me, too!” Dylan said, standing up again and pacing across the room. “Ending a whole barking war with a bit of paper, even if it is a fancy scroll. Who would believe it’s real??”

Alek nodded. He’d felt the same way when Volger had shown him the letter. It seemed too small an object to change so much. But here in Istanbul, Alek had begun to understand what the scroll really meant. The Leviathan had been brought to that mountaintop, and then here. It was up to him, Aleksandar of Hohenberg, to end the war that his parents’ death had started.

“Volger says the pope himself will vouch for me, as long as I keep this letter secret until my granduncle passes away. The emperor turned eighty-four last week. He could die any day.”

“Blisters. No wonder the Germans want to catch you so badly!”

“True enough. It has made things dangerous.” Alek looked at the scroll case. “But that’s why we had to come back here. And why I’m willing to trade my father’s gold to make the Committee’s revolution work. What we do here can change everything.”

Dylan stopped pacing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched, as if struggling with some secret of his own.

“Thank you for trusting me, Alek.” The boy looked at the floor. “I haven’t always trusted you. Not with everything.”

Alek pulled himself up from the chair and walked closer, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You know you can, Dylan.”

“Aye, I suppose. And there’s something I should tell you. But you have to swear not to tell anyone else—not Lilit, not the Committee. No one.”

“I’ll always keep your secrets, Dylan.”

The boy nodded slowly. “This one’s a bit trickier than most.”

He fell silent again, the pause stretching out.

“It’s about your mission here, isn’t it?”

Dylan let out a slow sigh, a sound of relief and exhaustion. “Aye, I suppose it is. We were an advance party, sent to sabotage the kraken nets in the strait. It was all part of Dr. Barlow’s plan from the beginning.”

“But your men were captured.”

Dylan shook his head. “My men may have been caught, but we did our job. Right now those nets are being eaten away by wee beasties. And it’s happening so slowly that the Ottomans won’t realize until it’s too late.”

“So you British aren’t waiting for the sultan to join the war. You’ll strike the first blow.”