least, as much of it as she possibly could.
“No need to apologize,” she said. “But there’s something you should know. That night I told you about my da’s accident, I didn’t quite explain everything.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, Artemis Sharp really was my da, just like I said.” Deryn took a slow breath. “But everyone in the Air Service thinks he was my uncle.”
She could see from Alek’s expression that it made no sense at all, and without her even trying, lies began to spin from her tongue.
“When I signed up, my older brother Jaspert was already in the Service. So we couldn’t say we were brothers.”
That was blether, of course. The real reason was that Jaspert had already told his crewmates about his only sibling,a younger sister. A brother popping out of thin air might have been a squick confusing.
“We pretended to be cousins. You see?”
Alek frowned. “Brothers don’t serve together in your military?”
“Not when their father’s dead. You see, we’re his only children. And so if we both . . .” She shrugged, hoping he’d believe it.
“Ah, to keep the family name alive. Very sensible. And that’s why your mother didn’t want you signing up?”
Deryn nodded glumly, wondering how her lies always got so barking complicated. “I didn’t mean to mix you up in a deception. But that night I thought you were leaving the ship for good. So I told you the truth, instead of what I tell everyone else.”
“The truth,” Bovril repeated. “
Mr.
Sharp.”
Alek reached up and touched his jacket pocket. Deryn knew that was where he kept his letter from the pope, the one that could make him emperor one day. “Don’t worry, Dylan. I’ll keep all your secrets, as you’ve kept mine.”
Deryn groaned. She hated it when Alek said that. Because he
couldn’t
keep all her secrets, could he? He didn’t know the biggest of them.
All of sudden she didn’t want to lie anymore. Not
this
much, anyway.
“Wait,” she said. “I just told you a load of yackum. Brothers can serve together. It’s something else.”
“Yackum,” Bovril repeated. Alek just stood there, concern on his face.
“But I can’t tell you the real reason,” Deryn said.
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” she was a commoner, and he was a prince. Because he’d run a mile if he knew. “You’d think less of me.”
He stared at Deryn a moment, then reached out and took her shoulder. “You’re the best soldier I’ve ever met, Dylan. The boy I’d have wanted to be, if I hadn’t wound up such a useless prince. I could never think badly of you.”
She groaned, turning away and wishing an alert would sound, an attack of zeppelins or a lightning storm. Anything to extract her from this conversation.
“Listen,” Alek said, dropping his hand. “Even if your family has some deep, dark secret, who am I to judge? My granduncle conspired with the men who killed my parents, for heaven’s sake!”
Deryn had no idea what to say to that. Alek had got it all wrong, of course. It wasn’t some musty family secret; it was hers alone. He would always get it all wrong, until she told him the truth.
And that, she could never do.
“Please, Alek. I can’t. And . . . I’ve got a fencing lesson.”
Alek smiled, the perfect picture of a patient friend. “Anytime you want to tell me, Dylan. Until then, I won’t ask again.”
She nodded silently, and walked ahead of him the whole way back.
“Rather late with my breakfast, aren’t you?”
“Sorry about that, your countship,” Deryn said, plunking the tray down on Count Volger’s desk. A splash of coffee sloshed out of the pot and onto the toast. “But here it is.”
The wildcount raised an eyebrow.
“And your newspapers as well,” she said, pulling them from beneath her arm. “Dr. Barlow saved them especially for you. Though I don’t know why she bothers.”
Volger took the papers, then picked up the soggy piece of toast and shook it. “You seem to be in