Page 8 of Death’s Kiss (The Order of the Tide Raiders #1)
T he next afternoon I speak with Preceptor Darood before water combat training, and he agrees to allow me to cut out of class early.
This was of course under the premise that I do, in fact, need to look presentable for the arrival of the other cardinals. We were all officially informed this morning that they’ll be joining us in time for tonight's grand welcome dinner. Just as Raider Oneiros predicted.
I head to our cabin and strip off the sweat-soaked training uniform that’s been clinging to my skin since our afternoon shoreline run.
It’s then that I find a letter has been left for me upon the small table between the two armchairs facing our green marble hearth.
One look at the wax seal portraying a star constellation in the form of a small bear, tells me it’s from Regent Beldham.
I know what it contains before even ripping open the message; all three cardinals will dock today at sundown in the wharf of Giant's Crook.
The letter details the expectation that the northern captains and their crews will be part of the receiving party.
Formal wear is expected. And a meeting concerning the trials will directly follow this evening's feast .
Next I bathe and change into the midnight-blue dress regalia reserved for special occasions such as this.
My white hair is then carefully braided into a long, uniform plait that ends at my waist. The golden hairpin I’ve begun to treasure above all other possessions cuts through the braid menacingly, just at the nape of my neck.
I’m adjusting my dark navy captain’s cape and securing the ornate bronze clasp across my collarbone when the others finally arrive, dripping with salt water.
“Dress regalia tonight, ladies,” I announce, my smile grim, to which they all moan loudly in complaint.
The cool breeze slipping past my cheek promises autumn is right around the corner, and with it, the rainy season.
I wait before a stone balcony perched just outside our bunk room while the others rush to get ready.
The sun has begun to droop lower and lower, and it won’t be long now before we need to start heading for Giant’s Crook.
My elbows move to rest atop the stone-carved terrace as I lean into the nippy air, letting its chilly caress soothe the ragged edges of my nerves. The water far down below—a beautiful arctic shade this evening—clashes nervously into the giant, black, teeth-like rocks.
Three black spots mar the fading horizon.
My insides twist with the knowledge of what and who they carry.
“Oof, looks like you’re screwed. ”
Turning back sharply to face the intruder, I find Greer, my fourth in command, behind me. Her wild red hair has been wrangled into a sleek twist, and her midnight-blue uniform is in perfect adjustment. The bronze chains across her jacket gleam gold in the approaching light of dusk.
“I’m what?” I ask, my voice a touch cold.
Greer inclines her head to the edge of my captain’s cape, and I look down to discover it’s twisted around a stray nail that juts out from a crease in the stone. “You’re screwed,” she repeats with a small chuckle. “Here, let me help.”
I’m motionless while my fourth carefully untwists the edge of the fabric from around the bit of metal and successfully liberates it without a single thread snaring. “Thanks,” I murmur, my tone turning unusually soft.
Greer gives me a rare smile. Not a grin or a smirk, or any number of false expressions she paints across her freckled face daily. A rare and true smile, one that lights up the olive color of her eyes.
“No problem, Captain,” Greer responds before moving to stand beside me against the terrace edge. She too begins studying the three ominous spots, becoming more real with every passing minute.
It’s silent between us for a few beats before she asks, “Do you remember back in level four, that day that Preceptor Bealu was instructing us on the difference between Vek and Brek affinities?”
My eyes linger on the anxious waves. “I do.”
“And do you remember the demonstrations he had us perform? The ones meant to show us all just what made a power Vek or Brek?” Greer prods, still watching the approaching ships.
I glance sideways at her, now beginning to wonder where this line of questioning is heading. I very much do remember that day. It’s one that’s extremely difficult to forget.
Preceptor Bealu instructed us in a course that is now mercifully complete.
His methods were… dark , to put it lightly.
We never knew exactly what he would show us or expect from us in turn.
The day Greer is referring to specifically in level-four was just an introduction to what we would deal with later on in levels five and six.
“Yes,” I answer, swallowing tightly.
Greer laughs, but the sound of it doesn’t hold an ounce of humor.
“I’ll never forget that day," she tells me, her olive-colored gaze appearing somewhere far away.
"When he ordered you to freeze off my fingers and nose to demonstrate the uselessness of my ability to transfer energy elsewhere. To show everyone in our level that it was Vek. That I was Vek.”
I too will never forget it. I can practically feel that jolt of shock that ran through me in response to his unprecedented order.
Shock that quickly transformed into untethered rage.
I’d never forget the panic in Greer Abaft’s painfully young face as she realized just exactly what Bealu was demanding of me.
What he intended to demonstrate to the class.
My fourth laughs again, but this time it’s real. She laughs so hard that her shoulders begin to shake with her rippling amusement. The sudden change in tone nearly gives me whiplash.
“And then—” Greer struggles to get out the words in between breaths.
“Bealu’s face—” she manages before another round of laughter, “—when you told him he could go fuck himself into next year—right after you spat on him.” She dissolves into a fit of fresh mirth, leaning against the terrace to keep herself upright.
Her laughter is infectious, and possibly it’s the tight ball of nerves inside of me or the recent lack of sleep, but I begin laughing too, until we're both in near hysterics. It was one of the best and worst days in my years within the Cardinal North.
“I got him pretty good,” I admit through a winded gulp of air.
“You hit him in the eye with a glob of ice-spit. Lessons for the upper levels had to be held off for an entire week while he was down with the leeches,” Greer wheezes, one hand holding onto her abdomen.
It’s an effort to rein in my deviant grin. Preceptor Bealu’s look of sheer disbelief, that swiftly evolved into pure loathing as the ice wad began to spread—quite painfully, I might add—is honestly one of my fondest memories.
“Then you spent a week down in the hole because of it,” my fourth remembers, her voice softer.
The wave of amusement between us has begun to fizzle, and there’s a pause of sound. We both take a moment to catch our breath and look again toward the approaching ships.
“We weren’t even allies,” my fourth all but whispers, breaking our brief respite. “I don't think I’d spoken more than ten words to you in all four of the years we’d been here together at that point.” Her fiery head drops low, feigning observation of the ocean beneath us.
My throat becomes uncomfortably tight, but I lift a shoulder casually. “To be fair, most everyone had spoken less than five words to me at that point. So ten words is actually pretty good.”
Greer doesn’t laugh at my attempt for levity. She shakes her head slowly, not looking my way.
“You don’t realize just how terrifying you are sometimes, Merena.
I’ve never seen anything like it. Not here, and certainly not during my life in the sunken isles.
How very strong you are. How Brek. Not just your affinity— you .
” Her voice rises with each word. “You do not bend. You do not break. No matter what they’ve thrown at you year after year, you always manage to endure it. ”
My fourth takes a breath and straightens, now turning to face me head-on. Light shines on the edges of her olive irises and illuminates the smattering of copper freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“I did learn that day the difference between Vek and Brek, but not because of Bealu. Because of you. It's one of the many reasons why I was so proud to be chosen as one of your crew members. It’s why I know that you will be unbending in these trials, no matter what they throw at you.”
I swallow again, not trusting myself to speak .
Greer’s hand comes to rest lightly on my shoulder. “No matter what other assholes are on those ships, just remember that we know—your crew knows—you are unbreakable. You are Brek .”
Captain Larceon and I stand side by side in identical stances, hands clasped behind our backs.
We watch in practiced reserve as the first of the three cardinal ships is docked. The air teems with the sounds of Giant’s Crook longshoremen—mostly low-level criminals from the various landmasses whose debts were sold to the raiders for labor hands—as they rush to secure the massive vessel.
This first ship stands several stories high, making the mountain-covered wharf of Giant’s Crook look small.
Its hull is crafted of iron-bound, beautifully carved, dark-stained wood that feeds out to matching grand polished decks.
The vessel itself is large and sturdy, made to take on any number of natural disasters or monstrous creatures lurking beneath the waves.
Its staggering masts reveal flags of deep emerald, and the emblem of a great hound in the form of a constellation can be found rippling in the stale saltwater breeze.
There’s more clamoring as the ship's gangway is pulled out and down to the dockside, where Grand Preceptor Skelm awaits.
Regent Beldham and the remaining preceptors are all lined up along the dock behind him.