“Huh, you’re right.”
Eventually, as people finished, they broke off into small groups and took advantage of the larger space, walking the perimeter or playing a game at a small table in one corner. Cara remained at the dinner table until she’d cleaned her bowl and made sure the girl had done the same. Then she turned to her brother, expression grim.
“Get us out of here, Cam. I can’t live like this and none of the others deserve to either.”
Cam slid his bowl over to the girl wordlessly. He’d eat at the castle where the food was plentiful. “I don’t know how,” he whispered, leaning close to Cara and always keeping an eye on the guards. “But trust me when I say I’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 21
They met aboard the Cannon in the admiral’s day cabin, every captain and those essential for planning the rescue occupying the expansive compartment.
Joaidane and James stood side by side over a map stretched across the war table, while the four Mordenian captains—all noblemen with decorated military coats and glossy black shoes of high-quality leather—clustered together near the curtained windows overlooking the sea. Two sorcerers participated as Samahara’s magical contribution, and three shapeshifters lurked in a corner, looking feral and out of their element by comparison. James had taught all three of them to sail under his command. In all, they had a formidable armada of fourteen vessels.
“Bloody gorgeous ship it is, Prince Joren,” one of the noblemen muttered, admiring an oil painting nearby. He parted a curtain and glanced outside at the sunset glittering over the sea. “When I heard Queen Rapunzel planned to commission such a marvel of functional elegance, I hadn’t thought it possible.”
“Thank you, Captain Penley. Now then, are we all ready to begin?”
“Ready and at your command,” said Ilithyia, captain of the Scarlet Brigade. She tossed her red hair back over her shoulder and stood with her arms crossed over her chest. “We’ll make the bastards pay for what they’ve done here.”
James reached over and laid a hand on her tense shoulder. “They will.”
“But how? We know so little about their kingdom. We don’t know the defense capabilities of their ports,” Penley objected.
“Ah, but we do.”
Everyone turned toward Joaidane. The Grand Enchanter gestured to the doorway, indicating a plain-looking woman who Joren might have overlooked in a crowd. She didn’t have the usual coloring of the Samaharan people, her brown hair streaked blonde and her skin fairer than most desert dwellers.
“This is Moira, my chief spy. She has brought news of the Ridaeron Dynasty and how they operate.”
“This girl is a spy?” Captain Ellis from Creag Morden looked unconvinced.
“She is. I’ve had her embedded in Ridaeron for over a year.”
“Then why were we not warned about the attack?” Ilithyia demanded. “If we’d known they planned to target Neverland, Amerys and I would have sailed these waters. This tragedy was entirely preventable.”
“The Ridaerons have more than one port and they do not share their plans with servants,” Moira countered in a placid tone. “I had to fight and barter and scrape for every ounce of information I’ve brought here today.”
“Then what do you know?”
Moira turned her attention to the map spread out over Joren’s desk. “All slaves are brought to this island here off the port of Kaskadehavn. It is well fortified and well guarded. Once they are certain they aren’t bringing sickness into their land, they set up auctions here, here, or here.” She tapped her finger against three points. “These auctions are held once every two moon cycles and they rotate locations. Last time it was the northern market. This time it will be here in the south.”
“How long?” James asked.
“A fortnight.”
“Plenty of time for us to sail there and attack before they move their captives.”
Joren studied the map and considered the information Moira shared, while the others around him began to plan. He tuned them out. If her news was correct, then it was too late for his crew. They would have been sold already, or at least some of them. But the islanders…the islanders he could still save. They could be rescued and returned to their loved ones.
“Attacking the island is foolhardy. We’d do better to sack the market after they’ve moved everyone.”
“No,” Joren said. “We need to attack both if we want any chance of rescuing the bulk of our people. A three-pronged attack guarantees we’ll retrieve Neverlanders, much of my crew, and anyone else in their possession.”
“Cause mayhem all along their coast.” Ilithyia cracked a smile. “It’s a pirate tactic. I like it.”
“We have the ships and the numbers are in our favor,” James agreed. “If we keep them guessing as to our true purpose, they won’t be able to mount a significant defense.”
“It might just work.” Joiadane rubbed his chin and turned his gaze to the windows. “Will the Sea Witch truly help us, Prince Joren?”
“So she says.”
“She struck a deal, and Caecilia always honors her deals,” James assured them, startling Joren since the former pirate had nothing but ugly things to say about her the previous night.
“We go in under the cover of night, sweep through before they know what’s happening.”
Captain Ellis frowned. “Attacking a city means casualties, possibly innocents.”
“No one there is innocent,” Moira said, her voice clipped. “The entire city is built on slavery. It deserves to be razed to the ground.”
Joren thought back to Caecilia and her similar sentiments. After years of playing cat and mouse with the Ridaeron Navy, he was ready to strike a major blow. Not just for his country, but for the whole of every kingdom participating in the Compact.
“Then we have our mission, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll divide into four groups. Ellis and Penley, you’ll remain here with the Twilight Witch and the Fire Lily. Let nothing through that isn’t part of the Compact.”
Both Mordenian men nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness,” Ellis replied, while Penley looked absolutely relieved.
Captain Vandry only grinned. “I’d hoped to rain fire on their shores alongside you, but there’s no greater honor than protecting our friends here.”
“Thank you, Amerys,” he replied to the one-eyed witch, disappointed he wouldn’t see her in action, yet confident she would defend Neverland with her own life.
“And the rest of us?” asked Ilithyia.
“You’ll sail with the Desert Rose. Joaidane will be your magical security.”
As Joren gave the remaining assignments, a sense of peace fell over him. In less than a week, he would become the High King and High Queen of the Ridaeron Dynasty’s worst nightmare.
He passed an enchanted, handheld communication mirror to each of the thirteen captains in attendance. “Prepare your ships. We sail at dawn.”
* * *
Joren leaned over the starboard rail and peered down at the ripples trailing their stern. Caecilia hadn’t surfaced in hours, and he’d begun to wonder if it must be lonely for her, accompanying their armada without being in their company. Present and expected to help but ignored.
“Sea Witch!” he called, hoping she could hear him.
She didn’t answer, which he’d come to expect of her.
“Blast,” he muttered. He stepped back from the rail and scrubbed one hand down his face.
Maybe she liked the solitude. There was always that to consider. Shaking his head, Joren turned his back on the rail and walked away, only to hear a wet slap reverberate through the air. He glanced over a shoulder to see Caecilia on the rail, long tail coiled over the polished wood like a snake.
“What is it, Princeling?”
He bit his tongue, growing accustomed to her mocking tone. “I wanted to ask if you’d eaten.”
She cocked one thin brow. “I am swimming through the sea, surrounded by food.”
“That doesn
’t necessarily mean you’ve taken the time to eat any of it,” he pointed out.
“It doesn’t,” she agreed. “I am not hungry.”
“You must be, swimming for an entire day and a night. Have you rested?”
“No.”
Stubborn woman. “Then, unless you are some manner of creature that doesn’t require sleep for good health, it would be prudent if you rested aboard my vessel this night.”
Both brows raised this time.
“There’s space for you on the main deck. I thought—” He halted, wondering if she’d suffer without constant contact with water. “Would it cause you undue harm to remain out of the water?”
The corner of her mouth ticked up. “You care for my well-being that much?”
“You haven’t given me a reason not to care,” he said stiffly. “And you’re one of us.”
Caecilia laughed, cackling so hard her cheeks flushed ruddy and red. It wasn’t the fetching blush of a young maid or damsel, but splotchy patches from her upper chest to her ears.
But it suited her. He imagined in her youth, she was quite a pretty creature, though something about her poise led him to believe she wasn’t as old as she appeared.
Maybe she wasn’t old at all, and what he saw was what she was and how her kind appeared. Who were they to call her ugly?
“One of you?” Her laughter renewed, and she swayed with it, tossing back her head. “I’m not one of you.”
Heat surged to Joren’s face that time. “Is it so awful being accepted among others, Caecilia?”
“I’m not one of you, and I never can be.”
“Why not?”
“If you haven’t noticed, your people see me as a monster.”
“My people can learn to see better.”
She snorted and turned, poised to return to the water.
“Don’t. Please. I’m asking you to remain on deck with me. I’d invite you to the cabin to eat at a proper table if I thought you could navigate the ship without harming yourself. Your tail is quite large.”
Caecilia cocked her head, studying him.
“Well?” he finally asked.
“I don’t want to be stared at.”
“No one will stare.” He offered his hand and held his breath.
Moist digits closed around his fingers. “All right. I’ll eat this mortal-made dinner if it means you’ll no longer whine for me from the deck.”
Joren grinned. “That’s all I ask. And now that I’ve learned your hidden weakness, rest assured my whining will reach new heights of irritability. Perhaps I’ll whine for you at breakfast as well.”
“Prince—”
“We have the best smoked rock salmon, and one of the finest cooks in the Eisland Navy is in my galley. How do you like your eggs?”
She stared at him, sighed in resignation, and rolled her eyes toward the sky. “Scrambled.”
“Excellent.” He offered her a hand. “Care to board my vessel?”
He watched indecision flicker across her face. He followed her gaze to a few sailors spread throughout the main deck as they completed evening duties. Though they were all working, the occasional gaze darted toward Joren and Caecilia.
“You’re worried that you’ll be watched, aren’t you?”
She didn’t reply.
“If it will make any difference, we can take the meal in my cabin. A few brawny sailors and I can help you down the hatch—”
Magic shimmered around Caecilia’s eel-like lower half as it unwound from the rail and lowered to the deck. It rippled and changed, shrinking and undergoing a fascinating metamorphosis before his eyes. In the end, the Sea Witch stood on two scrawny legs with knobby, turned-in knees. There was nothing shapely or pretty about them, and the thin shreds of cloth wrapped around her hips barely provided any modesty. A matching rag covered her breasts.
“There’s no need to carry me.”
“I didn’t realize you have legs.”
“I’m surprised James didn’t tell you.”
Now the sailors were ogling Caecilia, in awe of her magic and the spectacular feat rather than any sexual sort of way. Still, Joren couldn’t help himself. He removed his coat and stepped close to wrap it around her shoulders and conceal her from their prying gazes. “Come on. You must be starved and exhausted.”
“No more than usual.”
“Just the same, you’re now a guest aboard my ship.”
* * *
Every step sent pain shooting from her toes to her heels and the arches of her feet, flying up her calves and to her thighs. Cruel agony rattled in the core of her bones, unrelenting and renewed with each step.
But still, Caecilia walked.
It must have been desperation that fueled her.
Joren paused by the hatch leading to the upper gun deck. “Are you able to—”
Sweet waters, she’d die if he tried to carry her down the ladderway. Grunting, she stepped onto it herself and descended slow step by slow step. He must have thought her ancient.
The prince descended next and joined her in the passage, overtaking her slow stride and leading the way to his cabin. He opened the door, the very model of a gentleman when he held it for her to enter ahead of him.
Caecilia stepped into a cabin of luxurious splendor, hand-knotted Samaharan carpet beneath her tortured feet and Liangese silk tapestries on the walls.
“Are you in pain?” Joren asked, the sharp intrusion distracting her from a pretty oil painting.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’re grimacing.”
“I’m fine.”
On the contrary, Caecilia was not fine, and every step wrought agony on her. Joren didn’t need to know that, however.
“Sea Witch—”
“Just lead the way to your dining cabin if you’re going to feed me, or let me return to the sea.”
An elegant yet eclectic combination of styles from many kingdoms decorated the sitting parlor. The furniture all had the elegant lines of Eisland, but she recognized carvings from Cairn Ocland on the armrests. The blue crystal chandelier floating over their heads without a connecting fixture to the overhead beam could only have come from the Collegium of Arthras.
Joren gestured toward the round dining table. “Have a seat.”
Getting off her feet brought a modicum of relief, but she felt out of place in the lavish room. Everything shone beautifully, unlike her.
A young woman in a tight bodice and flared skirts poked her head into the cabin. “Dinner will be served shortly, Admiral. Will you and your…dinner guest require anything else?”
“No, Kendra, thank you.”
She waited until the girl left before turning back to look at him. “Even here you have servants?”
“It seems an inescapable aspect of being royalty.” He shrugged. “And an admiral. But in the case of Kendra, she is my secretary, not a servant. She’s pulling dual duties at the moment, as her husband was to be my valet and fell ill with the Red Flux prior to our departure.”
“Oh.” Husband. The little knot of envy loosened.
“In addition to Kendra, there are three clerks, each responsible for a different aspect of ship operations. We—I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?”
“No. Not at all.”
She rather liked the way his eyes lit with enthusiasm when he discussed his work. Ships made Joren come alive with happiness, accentuating features already handsome.
“So, while we await dinner, tell me a little more about you. Have you always lived in Wai Alei?”
“Why do you care?”
His brows knit, a deep furrow between them. “Why shouldn’t I? I know plenty about the many others sailing in this fleet. Grand Enchanter Joaidane may as well be the Sultan of Samahara. He’s certainly revered and beloved like a ruler. James married a grand fae, and he battled alongside us when Ridaeron joined forces with our kingdom’s wrongful ruler.”
A cold fist squeezed Caecilia’s heart. “Yes, he did.”
“And Ilithyia sailed from a desert country far on the other side of the globe. She was once a gladiator, she says. Overtook a ship at sea carrying her and a hundred other warriors for sale to a new master. She’s quite proud of it.”
“As she deserves to be. She escaped a barbaric practice.”
“You know where she comes from?”
“I know all the seas, not merely those you claim as your own.”
“Fascinating. And I’d never be so bold as to call any sea my own, though I’m curious which waters you call yours, which was the only purpose behind my earlier question.”
“You truly want to know more about me?”
He nodded. “Whatever you’re willing to share. There’s no pressure. May I call you Caecilia?”
“If you must.”
“Is there another name you prefer?”
Coral, she wanted to say, but the words refused to form. Instead, she glanced away and studied the fine surroundings. It reminded her of her room in Eisland, without the damnable cold. She’d enjoyed the comforts, if not the weather.
“Wai Alei has been my home for centuries. Before that I lived in Triton’s domain.”
“So you are a siren?”
Shit. She’d said more than intended.
“Do I look like a siren?” Not a lie.
The worry crease between his brows diminished. “Well, no, but they’re not exactly a common sighting. I assumed perhaps there were—are—different, ah…varieties of mer…women.”
“Ugly ones, you mean.”
“What? No! I’ve never said—”
“You don’t need to explain yourself. I know what I am.”
She moved to stand, certain this had to be a mistake, but Joren reached out and laid his hand over hers.
“Please, you are a guest, Caecilia. My guest.”
She froze and looked at their hands. He showed no disgust at her cool, damp skin, only concern.
“Please, stay and eat with me.”
“Very well.” She tugged her hand from beneath his just as Kendra stepped in bearing a silver platter. The woman remained silent while serving them, setting out plates covered with steamed fish, fluffy rice, and seasoned vegetables. Slices of smoked eel on toast accompanied their meal, alongside a selection of soft cheeses, berries, and crackers. Joren took the wine bottle Kendra set down and filled Caecilia’s glass himself.
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