Page 10

CHAPTER 10

T he common room belowdecks was more pleasant than Laena would have anticipated, had she given it much thought before first descending to play cards with the soldiers. Cramped, certainly, but pleasant nonetheless. Triple bunks lined the walls, packed together so tightly that it was difficult to imagine how the soldiers on the bottom and the middle could possibly squeeze between the mattresses.

There was a long wooden table bolted to the floorboards in the center of the room, with bench seating on each side and a pair of lanterns overhead. A ladder led to the deck above, and a narrow passage at the end of the room led out to a hall lined with the officers’ cabins, including the one the ship’s captain had given up for Laena’s use.

Callum Farrow had not seen fit to grace them with his presence at the nightly card game. She wondered where he might be laying his head at night. In one of the other private cabins, she assumed, though it was just as possible that he snuck into the common room after her departure each night to take up an unused bunk. It was difficult to picture how a man his size would be able to breathe, wedged into one of those tight spaces .

It was just as well that she saw him only in passing. She did not wish to spend more time with him, to warm to his smiles and forget the danger of spending too much time in his presence.

She spent her days on the deck with Brin, her evenings playing cards with the soldiers. She had the distinct impression that they’d been keeping up a certain level of tidiness for her benefit. No stockings strewn about, all their belongings stored neatly in the bins beneath the bunks. Mages, the place even smelled fresh, as if they propped open the trap door during the day to let the breeze flow through, dispelling any lingering hint of sweat.

It was strange to feel that someone wanted her company enough to do such a thing. In fact, her brain kept trying to protest, insisting that anyone smart enough to think of airing out the room would have done so for their own benefit, not simply because of her presence.

But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

After three nights of games, the place felt comfortable and familiar. She could admit, if only privately, that part of her wished this would not be the final night. That she could stay on the ship, in the known territory, with people who actually seemed to be enjoying her company.

Though perhaps the tidiness might not last much longer.

Now, she was seated at the large table, a fan of cards spread across her palms. They’d taught her their snakes and roses game, plus a dozen more, though some she’d known by other names—they referred to capture the queen as king’s forfeit, for example—but there was no doubt they were the more practiced players. She had yet to win a single hand of any game.

Until now. Laena could barely suppress her grin as she laid her hand out on the table. “I would say the ransom is mine, gentlemen,” she said. “Wouldn’t you?”

The men gasped, Edmun letting out a groan of disappointment. “ Well done, Princess,” he said. “I did not anticipate that move.”

Laena narrowed her eyes. The soldier beside her, Huck, swallowed hard. And on her other side, young Godfrey looked up from the letter he’d been writing, just a little too wide-eyed to be believed.

“You let me win,” she said, offended.

The men burst out laughing, Edmun slapping the table while Huck flailed his hands in protest. “It’s our final night on the ship, Princess,” he said. “You had to leave one game in triumph.”

“I see. So it was your scheme.”

The men roared with laughter, drowning out Huck’s protests. Laena smacked him on the shoulder, then tossed her cards across the table at Edmun. “I expect you to renew the game at the campfire each night between the sea and Vunmore,” she said. “I will best you honestly, or not at all.”

The old soldier inclined his head. “As you say, Princess Laena. Accept my apologies.”

Huck leaned one elbow on the table. “Are you still working on that letter, Godfrey? I’d have thought you could have written twenty letters in the time you’ve spent on that one.”

“He has,” Archer put in from the far end of the table. “He keeps crumpling them and tossing them out to sea.”

Godfrey twitched his fingers back and forth on the table, pushing the letter about with quiet shushing noises. “The ship’s captain says he will deliver it to her when he next returns to Etra. But I cannot decide what I should say.”

“Tell her of her beauty,” Huck said immediately. “Women love that. Her eyes. Her complexion. Her taste in dresses.”

Edmun shook his head, laughing, as the men all tried to speak at once.

“No,” Archer said, his voice rising above the others. “Tell of your undying love. My husband loves that.”

“None of that. ”

Laena looked up to see Callum Farrow standing at the entrance to the officers’ corridor, his shoulder propped against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. It must be the only way he could stand upright in the tight quarters without ducking.

He brought with him the strong scent of whiskey. How long had he been drinking? He didn’t appear unsteady on his feet, though it was difficult to tell with him braced against the doorframe.

Laena met his blue eyes. “What would you tell her then, Captain Farrow?”

“Tell her what you wish to say.” The captain’s words were clear and unslurred, but there was an undercurrent to them, a feeling of something barely contained. “Not what you think she wants to hear.”

Laena raised an eyebrow. “And what, Captain Farrow, would you tell her?”

Perhaps it was unwise to push him when he had clearly been drinking. But she found that she very much wanted to hear his answer.

“If I were writing to a woman? I would not waste time on her beauty, of which I would assume she was already well aware. Nor my feelings for her, which words would not properly convey in any case.”

Laena rolled her eyes. “We can spend all night discussing what you would not write. What would you write?”

Callum didn’t move, but his eyes flared. Suddenly, it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. No soldiers to overhear and no table separating them. “I would tell her how much I wanted her,” he said, holding her gaze. “I would explain the many ways our bodies would fit together. Where I would put my hands when we next met. How I would relieve her of her clothing. And exactly how my tongue would?—”

Edmun cleared his throat, shooting an exasperated look at his captain. Farrow’s mouth hooked into a half-smile. “Perhaps it would be best not to continue along that subject.”

Laena found she wanted the infernal man to continue. She wanted to know where he would put his hands. And what he would do with his tongue. Her throat went dry and she swallowed, trying to still her thrumming heart. Trying not to imagine his hands roving her body.

“Godfrey’s known the girl a bare few hours, Captain,” Edmun said. “Perhaps a gentler tack would be preferable.”

Callum shrugged. As if it were no great matter to him, one way or the other. “As you say, I’m sure. I’m no great romantic.”

But he was drunk out of his mind. That much was obvious. “Clearly,” Laena said, wrenching her eyes away from the awful man and placing a hand over Godfrey’s. “What is your lady’s name?”

Godfrey let out a long sigh that might have been tortured, or happy, or perhaps both at once. He did not seem to have noticed his commander’s outburst. “Naomi. She is a beautiful maid who works in the palace at Riles. We laughed and talked all night. But our rapid departure wrested me too quickly from her arms.”

Huck snorted a laugh, and Laena elbowed him in the ribs, making him cough. Young love was young love, and Godfrey was clearly prone to poetics. Nothing wrong with that. “She sounds lovely,” Laena said. “I’m sorry I do not recognize her name.”

Godfrey straightened. “You wouldn’t, Princess Laena.” He sounded almost apologetic. “She and her mother came to Riles after the palace staff quit.”

Laena stared at him.

Godfrey licked his lips, nervous. “She said… well, she told me they walked out in protest after you went away from Riles. The entire palace was in an uproar for weeks, with no trained servants. Only a few stayed, saying that when you returned you’d need a friendly face. ”

Tears prickled Laena’s eyes, and she blinked them away. She wished Callum Farrow were not here to watch. The crook of his smile had disappeared into a frown that looked all too much like pity. “The cook?” she asked, remembering the chocolate cookies.

Godfrey nodded. “The cook, yes. A few of the footmen, I think.”

It was not often that Laena found herself speechless. She had trained in diplomacy and knew how to handle the twists and turns of a conversation. Oh, she might be rusty—her encounter with Katrina had proved that—but Laena still had something to say.

At this news, she could barely summon any words. Any response. That the palace staff would have walked away from safe, secure employment because of Laena’s exile… it was too much to bear. She would have lectured them to do no such thing, had she known of it in advance.

When she got back to Etra, she would ensure they all found employment. A full five years? She hoped they had, that Katrina had not made it impossible for them to secure new positions.

Though… if the servants felt so strongly, and if the woman in the carriage had also felt strongly, perhaps… It was possible, wasn’t it, that some of the courtiers and merchants and rich business owners would have felt the same? Perhaps they would have made sure to care for the servants in Laena’s absence.

Besides, if this trip went as planned, she would have no reason to investigate anything upon her return to Etra. She held no sway; she could not even provide a reliable reference.

No, when she returned to Etra, she would go home to Sunflower Cottage. She would rebuild her garden. And she would forget she’d ever been anything else.

“Please, Princess,” Godfrey said, practically wringing his hands and clearly mistaking her silence for displeasure, “do not judge Naomi and her mother. They needed the work when dear Naomi’s father passed from an infection, and?—”

Laena patted his hand. “I would never judge anyone for needing employment.”

She couldn’t believe the palace staff would have done such a thing. She could not see how she would ever make it up to them.

Godfrey’s shoulders sagged in relief. “So, what should I write?”

The next day bloomed bright and sunny, the sea sparkling out in every direction like a promise as the Aglyean ship cut a sharp path through the waves. The passage was notoriously rough, more so as it neared the coast; it surged between the continent and Etra’s island nation, the iridescent surface belying the violent currents that roiled beneath. Laena had spent her life beside the sea, and though she knew better than to underestimate it, she did not overly fear it, either. Especially with the sky so clear and bright.

She wanted to see the Aglyean coast the moment it appeared on the horizon. Any moment now, the soldiers promised, though even after that it would be many hours until they made landfall.

What would it be like to spy a foreign land for the first time? Probably it would be like watching Etra disappear behind her for the first time, all the while wondering if she was making an enormous mistake. But Etra was rocky, known for its hills, while Aglye’s coast was made up of sand and forests. It should look different, especially as they drew nearer.

She’d excused herself shortly after the conversation with Godfrey, needing to be alone after that outburst from Callum. He’d disappeared ahead of her, no doubt with a plan to drown what was left of his sanity in more whiskey.

Even after she retired to her bed, she lay awake remembering his words. The roughness of his voice, the smell of whiskey and woodsmoke he brought with him. She hadn’t been able to keep from imagining the feel of his hands on her, the way he would peel her clothes from her body. No matter how much she reminded herself that she needed to keep her distance—that her magic made him a danger to her—she had imagined it. She had felt it.

And she had not slept particularly well.

Now, as she sat upon one of the long benches that ran alongside the rail, she breathed in the fresh air, begging the cold spray to dispel all ridiculous notions from her head. No matter how handsome he was, no matter how much his presence made her skin ache for his touch, she needed to take care.

To remind herself of the need, Laena withdrew the crystal from the traveling pouch she kept upon her person. She’d found it beneath the overturned settee after the attack in Kat’s sitting room, and though she’d pocketed it without secrecy, no one objected.

The sight was enough to sober her. To pull her thoughts away from ice-blue eyes and half-smiles.

Brin scurried from her shoulder to her hair, objecting to the sight of the poisonous icicle. But Laena needed to examine it. To understand it, if she could. Unwrapping the crystal from its handkerchief, she held it in her lap, turning it over in her hand as best she could while preventing it from touching her skin.

And carefully, very carefully, she called for the knot of magic that lived in her core.

If she could have given the magic a physical location, she would have pinpointed it in the space just below her ribcage. At first, she’d feared that the battle with the wraith might have burned it away for good. But with rest, she’d begun to feel it stirring again. A comforting band of cold, like fingers of frost on the window after a long, dry summer.

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened.

Laena called on the knot of magic, willing it into her fingertips, then funneling it into the crystal.

Dangerous? Perhaps. But necessary. Her power had affected the crystal before. Perhaps she could feel it more deeply. She needed to better understand.

She hoped it wouldn’t produce a wraith this time.

“Are you well, my lady?”

Laena jumped, squinting into the sun as Callum Farrow appeared before her. “Of course,” she said airily, stuffing the magic back into her core. Once tapped, it did not wish to retreat. But it did so anyway. “Should I not be?”

The corner of his mouth quirked into that almost-smile. It wasn’t so wicked this morning; instead, she detected a hint of embarrassment. “I believe someone made a few rather… inappropriate comments in your presence last night.”

Inappropriate comments that had left her aching, wanting. Half convinced she ought to rise from her bed to knock on his door.

“Someone did,” she agreed, her voice sounding breathless to her own ears. She tried to sharpen it into disapproval. “Most inappropriate.”

If he noticed her struggle, he didn’t let on. He gestured to the bench beside her. “May I?”

“Can I stop you?”

“Indeed, you can. But the remainder of the journey will be easier to endure if you allow me to apologize.”

Easier to endure. As if her very existence were a burden. But she didn’t think he meant it that way, not truly. She studied him for any sign of jest, but there was no laughter in his eyes. And she did believe in second chances. She nodded. “All right.”

He positioned himself on the edge of the bench and kept a respectful distance. “I allowed myself to get drawn into the soldiers’ talk last night,” he said, angling his body toward her and meeting her eyes. “I apologize for the uncouth words that left my mouth.”

“Your soldiers were being most respectful.”

He looked at his hands. “They are good men.”

“And you are not?”

He let out a quiet laugh and sat back on the bench, still looking at his hands. His brow was furrowed, cutting deep lines across his forehead, and she had the distinct impression that it was a default expression for the man. He still smelled faintly of whiskey, but it was mixed with woodsmoke, and an undertone of sweet tobacco. There was a nick beside the corner of his mouth, a small red slice interrupting his otherwise smooth skin. A cut from shaving, perhaps.

Which she would not have seen, had she not been staring at his lips. She jerked her gaze up to meet his, but he didn’t seem to have noticed.

“No, my lady,” he said. “I am not a good man.”

She could accept that. Probably should accept that, and end the conversation. Go back to her magic delving, back to watching for the coast.

But he looked so lost, so completely forlorn, that she found herself wondering what could have happened to make him think so. She might fear his hatred of magic, but much of the world saw him as a hero. Could it be that he regretted the pain he had caused?

“Do you want to know what I think?” she asked.

“Is hearing it a condition of my forgiveness?”

“No. I do not set conditions upon forgiveness, beyond that the person be truly contrite.”

“And what if that person should betray you again?”

“Then they were not truly contrite.”

He studied her, as if looking for a trick behind her words. When he didn’t find one, he said, “All right, I will concede. What do you think, my lady?”

She thought that if he kept calling her ‘my lady,’ she was going to smack him across the face. She could not have said why it bothered her so, when his soldiers called her ‘princess’ and ‘your highness.’ Only that it did.

“I don’t know if you are a good man or not,” she said. “But I do believe it was the bottle speaking to me last night, through you.”

He swallowed, his throat constricting. “You may be right. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

Had he tried to deny that he’d been speaking directly to her, pretending that his words had been for Godfrey’s benefit or the men’s amusement, she would have stood and walked away. But he didn’t. He accepted her accusation, her correct assessment.

As it was, it would be hypocritical of her to refuse his apology when, after all, his words had set her on fire. Still, she felt that her nod was too prim, too proper. “Apology accepted.”

He smiled, a real smile this time—a full one, none of that half-smile nonsense—and for a moment she wondered if they might actually have a chance at being friends. Not real friends—she couldn’t risk that, with her abilities secreted away—but friendly companions, at least.

And then his gaze dropped to her lap, his eyes widening in shock. “What in the Miragelands are you doing with that ?”

Laena had forgotten she still held the icicle in her lap. A dangerous thing to forget. She shrugged. “This? I’m taking it to show King Hawk the poison that infiltrated my garden. It might be infiltrating the land.”

Callum sat back, propping the heels of his hands on his knees. “Oh? So I’m to understand that your sister wishes you to discuss the pest in your vegetable garden with the king?”

How quickly he went from contrite to judgmental. It was no mere vegetable garden, nor was her fear contained to what happened on her own property. He was a soldier, a guard sent to escort her safely to Aglye. What she discussed with King Hawk should be none of his concern.

Though, was it not his job to root out magic and dispose of its users? And here she had practically waved the magic from her garden in his face.

Warning bells sounded in her head, but she was too annoyed to heed them. “Does this look like a typical pest to you? It spat out a blasted wraith. If my sister does not want me to discuss it with Hawk, then perhaps she’s hoping it will invade Aglye.”

“Perhaps she’s sending it with you to do that very thing,” he shot back.

“Then I would hardly display it for you, would I? I would keep it secret.”

“I can always smell a heart-tithe.”

“It’s not a heart-tithe… At least I don’t think it is. It’s something else.”

But she did not know for sure, did she? It might be heart-tithed magic that some villager had planted in her garden.

Strong magic. The heart-tithe would have required a strong sacrifice indeed.

Callum drew in a breath, let it out slowly. She wondered if his head was hurting him after his indulgences last night, if his stomach was roiling. Or if he was so used to the ill effects of the whiskey that he hardly noticed them anymore.

“All right,” he said. “I wish you had told me. Could you not have planned to merely tell him of this… poison crystal?”

“Would you believe a mere story?”

Callum ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. She clutched the crystal tighter, afraid he would grab it and fling it into the sea. But he was not so foolish. He kept his hands on his knees. “I would believe the story if you told it,” he said finally, his words sending a spark of warmth through her chest. “But Hawk…” he trailed off, eyes distant. “Perhaps you were right to bring it.”

The ship dipped suddenly, and Laena pitched headfirst toward the rail, her knees knocking into the bench. She threw her arms out to catch herself, but it was Callum’s arms closing around her waist that kept her from tumbling overboard. Still annoyed with him, she shook him off. But a shout went up from the crow’s nest, and she looked up just in time to see a bolt of lightning crack out of the sky and strike the center mast, which split with a roaring crack. Callum wrenched Laena toward the bow as it cleaved the deck in half. Rain poured out of the bruised sky with the suddenness of an overturned watering can, drenching Laena’s garments in an instant.

She’d been squinting into the sun not five minutes ago. How could the blissful day have turned so quickly to a storm?

A second bolt of lightning came searing out of the sky, filling Laena’s nose with singed wood as it struck the deck. Smoke erupted from the fallen mast, the rain doing nothing to quell the flames. If anything, they seemed to lick up toward the drops, as if using them to gather power. The smell of burned hair and sulfur filled the air.

It was unnatural.

Callum was still holding on to her when the third bolt struck. Before the ship could split, he grabbed her hand and pulled her overboard into the sea.