Chapter 11

Bren was deep into the arcane workings of Claudia infusion measurements when he noticed that Sophia had returned. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her, that short braid of hers swinging in time with her hips as she walked toward him and the Warlock. By the time he could see her face, he could read the amusement in her expression. She was laughing at him.

He admitted to himself that he did tend to get carried away when it came to vanships. The Warlock had been his first big investment. The first ship that had been truly his. Perhaps if it had been a veloship or a barge he might be extolling the virtues of those types of ships even now.

"Okay, so how can you tell the difference between spent Claudia and a mix that's too low?" Banks took another pull of his beer, staring at the gently bubbling blue-green liquid that pumped out of the engine and into the rest of the ship. There was a crate of beer bottles at his side, half of them empty. Bren looked down at the bottle in his own hand and fought the urge to put it behind his back so that she wouldn't see it.

He should have known better, even from what little time he'd known the woman. Her eyes missed nothing. She looked at him, then at Banks and Naylor, then at the engine. Then she grinned and reached into the crate to grab a beer for herself. She gave him a mocking little salute with the bottle and sat down on a riser next to Naylor.

"For a man who's only fixing my ship because he wants me off his, you do seem to be taking your time, Captain."

He gave her what he hoped was a withering look. "For a woman who's ship is as airworthy as a rock, you do seem to want to push me, Princess. And don't scratch that." He added as she raked her fingers over the stitches once again.

"It itches." She turned to Naylor, who'd been trying valiantly to keep up with Bren's lecture on Claudia infusions, "Does he mother everyone on the Silvana like this?"

Naylor grinned, "I'm not saying anything in front of him. Ask me later. In private."

Bren was about to say something sharp to Naylor, but Sophia shook her head at the mechanic. "Too easy. If you're going to try for a date, you'll have to work harder than that."

"Ouch. So you heard me that time." Naylor winced and went back to his beer. Bren relaxed a little. If Sophia was interested in Naylor, it wasn't apparent. Either she was playing it very cool, or she wasn't interested at all.

"Shouldn't you be drinking, I don't know, something expensive from one of those little pinkie glasses?" Banks seemed to be taken aback by the way Sophia had made herself comfortable and was even now drinking her own beer with every evidence of pleasure.

Bren settled himself against the side of the Warlock, feeling strangely like he had come home while Sophia teased his mechanics.

"Lure of the forbidden." She said succinctly, swinging the bottle from her fingertips as emphasis, "If you've been drinking something expensive from little pinkie glasses — they're called tasting glasses, by the way — since you first learned to walk, the first thing you're going to want when you're free is a beer."

Banks thought about that for a long moment. "Yeah, I can see that."

Bren didn't say anything, but he'd focused on her words. Free? Carolina had used that word too. She'd been kept on a short leash as the future Queen of Anatoray, and the time she was flying was the first time in her life she'd been free of the watchful eyes of her guards and guardians. It had been only one more reason for her to fly.

He thought that King Sikandar must have gone easier on Sophia. She was second in line to the title — third, before Carolina had died — and she was here, on the Silvana. That alone had made him assume that her upbringing had been more lenient. But she'd used the same word that her sister had. And although she was nowhere near as flamboyant as Carolina, she had the same pleasure in small, forgettable rituals of daily life. Of freedom.

"Do you love to fly?" He found himself asking her. She looked up in surprise at the sudden change of topic.

"Of course. It's in the blood. Although I'm perfectly content spending an afternoon fixing up an old ship. Or a week, given the time." Her eyes went to the ship behind him, and her mouth curved in a slight smile.

Banks wasn't impressed, "So you aren't an expert at either."

"I didn't blow up your flight deck, so I must be pretty good." She shot back at him, although it was obvious that she was only teasing the head mechanic.

"You didn't kill yourself doing it, so you must be damn lucky." Bren interjected coolly, and Sophia winced and nodded once in his direction.

"Point made, Captain. I suppose that means the break is over." She drained the last of her beer and put the empty bottle in its slot in the crate. "I'll go inspect the wiring for backup life support and look for any obvious problems before we try to bring it online. See you later, gentlemen." She headed for the cabin, and Bren was immediately sorry he had put an end to her enjoyment.

He shook his head. Sophia was definitely getting to him. "She's right. Class is over. We'll pick this up tomorrow, if you're still interested." He directed the last sentence toward Naylor pointedly, but the man was unrepentant.

"I'll be here. I figure it's my best chance at a date. My bottle of Disith brandy certainly isn't going to do it." He gave Bren a cocky grin and sauntered back to his own work.