“Holy shit,” Tanith cursed, wide-eyed at what waited for her.
“Language,” the queen added, though even she couldn’t hide the fact that she too was mesmerized by the legend. “We need to prepare. Every moment is precious until it disappears.”
Nodding, she let her mother pull her away from the window, wondering if and when she’d ever see her bedroom or glance out her window ever again.
+
The time for goodbyes had come, but Tanith refused to match her sister’s tears. Meelah walked alongside her, hand in hand as they found their places on the beach. There was already a crowd, the entire stretch filled with onlookers who’d come to see off the firstborns.
It was the royal parents who found their way to the docks, facing the people as their children hid among them, waiting to be introduced. Tanith saw Kent a couple of feet away. He nodded to her, flashing a nervous smile, but he didn’t approach, respecting her last minutes with Meelah.
She wore fitted green pants that day and a white tunic, a black armored corset around her middle with small knives and daggers laid against the boning, just in case. It was her intention to tie her hair up that day, but Meelah offered to braid back one side, leaving the rest to fall in loose waves and to cover her face should she need to blend with the shadows come nightfall.
“You could still see me off before my internship if you return by week’s end,” the younger princess noted. Her curly brown hair was a mess in the wind, her tawny skin glowing beneath the eager sun. It shone bright that morning, smiling in wait for the show as if it too had become curious to know whether or not Tanith would return.
That was the tricky part: knowing when to leave if she couldn’t capture the Sight. She’d need to be clever with her timing if she had any intention of escaping before the island disappeared again.
“Something tells me it might take me more than three days.”
The boat was loaded and there were four paddleboats, two on each side as if they knew for certain that not all six firstborns would return. Still, she was hoping they’d make history in more than one way. It was hopeful, or foolish perhaps. Tanith couldn’t decide.
The onlookers were shifty as the kings and queens took their places, everyone muttering one thing or another to the person next to them as though the send-off was taking too long. For Tanith, it was all happening far too quickly.
“I brought you something,” Meelah said, wiping her nose with her handkerchief before pulling something from her pocket. It was a golden chain that dangled from her fingers, a thumb-sized oval locket at the end.
Tanith took it, slipping her nail between the pieces and prying it open. On the left, was a colorless, detailed drawing of their father. Tanith looked more like him than anyone with her brown skin and dark hair, but she looked a little like the man on the right too. His face was defined, less square and younger than her father had been, but with the same strong brow and cheekbones. “Is this…”
Meelah nodded. “Javaid. Our many-greats grandfather. The last firstborn child of Ellesmere to venture onto the island two hundred years ago. I thought maybe his image would bring you some luck.”
With a smile, Tanith hugged her sister. “Thank you,” she whispered in her ear, pulling away only to slip on the piece and tuck it into her shirt.
The younger royal returned the grin, though it was a sad one before facing forward. “They’re starting.”
It was Queen Avret who took her place on the dock, using it as though it were a dais to address them. “We won’t waste precious moments with formalities. You all know how dire these times are. You know why it is so essential that we obtain the Sight and run the Crish out of our kingdoms. Without the opportunity that the Invisible Island offers us, we will continue to crumble and fall, so we turn our eyes to the royal firstborns. For Ellesmere, on behalf of the Estiellon family, my daughter, Tanith, will play in this game of fate.”
Stepping forward, Tanith released Meelah’s hand and revealed herself in the crowd, joining her mother on the dock as King Mairon took center stage. “For Xeres, on behalf of the Ichenburn family, we look to my only son, Ward.”
The crowd parted for the dark-haired man. He was twenty-four, and Tanith was almost sure his hair had been cut in the days since she’d last seen him. Whereas it had once hung in his almond-shaped eyes, the dark strands now merely brushed his thick brows and he was quick to wink at her as he approached. He was dressed in a deep maroon shade, camouflage enough with a nod to his kingdom’s traditional red. His tattoos were more visible without his jacket, the green, black, and red ink creeping up his neck and along his forearms.
King Harlowe stepped forward after Ward took his place by Tanith’s side. “Isn’t this spectacular?” the prince asked under his breath. “Almost like a beauty pageant. Obviously, you’d win, though.”
Tanith almost rolled her eyes. “Doubtful. We all know you’re the prettiest. All those hours in front of the mirror couldn’t possibly be in vain.”
“For the Kingdom of Menne, on behalf of the Vichinoff family, we look to my son, Hisrele.”
He was scarier than he’d been when they were children, the once small boy having grown into a mass of muscle. He was twenty-six and nearly seven feet tall with dark skin and long dreads tied down his back. Hisrele hadn’t even bothered to wear a shirt, showing the scars across his arms and chest—ones he’d probably earned serving in his father’s army. By his hips hung two blades no longer than Tanith’s forearm, and she wondered how many men he’d killed with them.
Queen Neri stepped up then. “For the Kingdom of Larune, on behalf of the Neach family, we look to my eldest daughter, Ardeen.”
She was only a year older than Tanith with black skin, a halo of dark curls, and bright blue eyes. She was thinner too, and a few inches shorter. She’d dressed light in a white shirt and brown pants, not making eye contact with anyone as she joined the lineup.
Queen Rory stepped forward when her husband wouldn’t, his face grim. “For the Kingdom of Ograboden, on behalf of the Ravenmark family, we call upon our son, Ekko.”
He was a thinner fellow with brown and white patterned skin, his coiled hair dark, save for the single white chunk at the front of his hairline. He was twenty-two and camouflaged in a lifeless beige color, a variety of small knives attached to his belt.
Tanith had to bite her tongue when King Bristowe spoke. “For the Kingdom of Shadow Hunt, on behalf of the Shaw family, I call upon my son, Kent.”
She watched her friend slip through the crowd, approaching the dock before he stopped, or rather, before someone stopped him.
Kent glanced at the gloved hand on his shoulder when a figure stepped past, and Tanith lifted her chin in recognition. The man in black from days before treaded through the sand, Kent close on his tail with his brows drawn in confusion.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Bristowe rumbled in his no-nonsense tone. There was no time for them to be stalled. No time for strangers to say their piece, but Tanith was curious, and she couldn’t help but step forward.
Kent and the masked figure stood side by side, the Prince of Shadow Hunt visibly nervous, but eager to get their mission over with. “I’m ready,” he said simply, standing up a bit straighter.
It was then that Tanith realized he was waiting for his father’s permission to join the line of firstborns. He never received it, because everyone’s attention was on the masked man. He met Tanith’s eyes as Bristowe cleared his throat, staring her down before returning his burning gaze to the king.
“And who might you be?”
The man lifted his gloved hand and pulled the cloth on his face down, revealing his nose and mouth. Chiseled was one way to describe it, his nose straight and strong, a scar reaching across his chin and jaw. “Don’t you recognize me?” he asked, tucking the cloth into his pocket and reaching for his black hood. He knocked it down with the flick of a finger, sending Kent stumbling back a few steps and rendering gasps from the other witnesses.
/>
It was impossible, and Tanith didn’t move in the following seconds, but she felt Ward shift to her left. He knew too. They all knew. Anyone in the kingdom would have been able to point out the stranger. It was no wonder he wore the hood and covered himself.
“A father ought to recognize his own son,” the stranger added simply. He had the audacity to smirk.
Like his brother, his hair was red, but it wasn’t the strawberry blond that Kent boasted. His was darker and shoulder-length. Raging. Hot. It was molten metal in the sunlight, an image of blood and death against his dark cloak.
Tanith had played with him when they were children. She’d seen the paintings of him in the castle of Shadow Hunt. She’d heard the epic tale of an eager son who’d been kidnapped by an unnamed enemy. Who refused to betray his people, withstanding torture for months until he was eventually delivered home in pieces.
It was Vaere Shaw, the true firstborn of Shadow Hunt, but he was far from dead.
“Vaere,” King Bristowe breathed. Tanith couldn’t see his face, but she wished she could have. To see him stupefied… It would be worth stepping out of line.
“It’s just Shaw now,” the prince answered. Tanith wasn’t even sure if he was still qualified for the title. “I have a duty to uphold,” he went on. “A mission meant for me since birth. I’m here to see it through.” He glanced at Kent; his frozen sibling who hadn’t blinked once since his brother revealed himself. “Let Kent go home. I’ll take it from here.”
That was enough to make the younger prince regain his speech. “No!” Kent argued. He glanced at Tanith. “I’ve been preparing for years. This is my fight.”
“It’s mine,” Shaw argued. He reached out to clutch his brother’s shoulder again, but Kent reeled back as though believing the touch was from an imposter. “I’m sorry you ever thought you’d have to sacrifice yourself, but this is my responsibility. It always has been.”
“Then where have you been this whole time?”
Shaw clenched his jaw closed in frustration, shaking his head. They were all curious to know the answer. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”
“Well, I’m going,” Kent stated stubbornly.
“I’m going,” Shaw corrected.
It was Ardeen who braved the tension to speak. “Why don’t you both come? Maybe what’s separated the previous generations from catching the Sight is the fact that they needed more help.”
“Absolutely not,” King Bristowe interrupted. “I won’t send off both of my sons.”
Tanith tried not to laugh. He didn’t care for either of them. He was a wretched man, unworthy of wearing a crown, let alone of leading a family.
Kent shared a short look with Shaw. “Both of us, or neither. Take your pick.”
She had never seen him stand up to his father, not even an inch, let alone dare to give him an ultimatum, but she recognized the reason for his sudden will. With his brother by his side, he was more confident. In front of the crowd, all eyes were carefully on them, and his father could either accept defeat or shame their kingdom by sending neither of his children to the island.
“Both then,” Shaw declared when his father refused to answer, unwilling to accept that neither choice was in his favor. He didn’t stop either of them from joining the lineup, and Tanith’s mother was slow to resume her position.
“Here we have our… our designated royals,” she decided upon. They weren’t firstborns anymore. Not with Kent’s brother being reborn in the eyes of the people. “May the Ghods be with them and guide them towards the Sight. May they free us all of the demented Crish and save our children from the horrors they create and the destruction they bring. Onward, to the island where our answer is waiting!”
“To the island!” the crowd chanted.
In the chaos, Meelah was lost among the sea of people vying for a better look at the not-so-dead Shaw brother, and Tanith didn’t get the chance to wave goodbye before she was herded further along the dock, her mother blowing a single kiss as the others eagerly led the way to the boat.
There was cheering behind her as she treaded along the creaking rows of wood, her eyes trained on the head of dark auburn hair in front of her. Kent was staring too, studying his brother out of the corner of his eye. No one dared speak as they crossed the plank of wood onto the boat.
It was Hisrele who’d taken charge, ordering Ekko and Ward to adjust the sails while he took charge of the wheel. Ardeen lifted the anchor and Tanith was barely present as she untied the boat from the dock, hardly noticing the fact that they were off, cutting through the water until she saw waving arms in the distance, her sister running down the dock with her hand in the air.
She was yelling something, but everyone was, and Tanith couldn’t make out her voice, so she merely waved back as distance was put between them, a silent promise that she would try to return. That her sister would not inherit Ellesmere alone.
“Are you going to explain yourself or do I have to fucking ask?” Kent blurted out.
Tanith whipped around in shock, the events on the shoreline forgotten as the brothers faced off, or rather, as Kent began his interrogation. It would be a half-hour before they reached the island, plenty of time for a lengthy run-through on what exactly was happening.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Shaw countered, removing his dark gloves and shoving them into his pocket. The middle finger on his left hand was noticeably crooked, a symbol, a diamond with extended lines at the top branded on the inside of his otherwise pale wrist. “Especially not when we have bigger things to worry about.”
“Vaere—”
“Shaw,” he corrected. “It’s just Shaw.”
Kent scoffed, crossing his arms. “You haven’t been a part of our family for eight years. What makes you think you’re fit to go by our name?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Shaw argued darkly, taking one intimidating step closer to his younger sibling. Tanith only just realized how different they really were. With the extra six inches Shaw had on his brother, there was more muscle packed onto his frame. He tried to hide his build beneath his cloak, but it was undeniable, and if Kent wasn’t careful, this stranger they’d once known could very well lash out.
“Maybe we should separate. Half of us on this side of the boat, the others over there,” Tanith suggested.
Ardeen leaned against the center mast. “Speak for yourself. I’m enjoying the show.”
“Get to work, will you?” Hisrele grunted, his dark hands clutching the knobs of the wheel. “There’s a telescope in that chest. See if you can give us a heads up on what’s waiting for us at the island.”
Muttering in displeasure, she got to work, Ekko following as though to avoid what he knew would be an explosive argument.
“You were taken,” Kent reminded his brother. “You were captured off the coast of Ograboden. They killed you. I saw your head.”
“You saw someone’s head,” Shaw corrected. “It wasn’t mine. That thing was already decomposing when it was sent. I can’t imagine what it looked like when it finally landed on your doorstep.”
Kent couldn’t restrain his disgust. “You’ve been fine this whole time, then? You let us think you were gone.”
There was a tense silence before Shaw stepped back as though to remove himself from the rising emotions. “No. It’s complicated, and like I said, there are other things to consider right now.”
“Like how to prevent ourselves from dying,” Ward called. He was watching the fish in the water as though he wished he were one of them, able to swim away.
“You’re not getting off this boat until I have some goddamn answers,” Kent barked.
“Who’s stopping me?” Shaw tried.
The younger prince reached his breaking point, reaching out to shove his brother back. If they hadn’t been on a boat, already swaying, Tanith didn’t think Shaw would have moved at all, but he did, and it was her cue to intervene.
She slipped between them
easily, narrowing in on Kent. “I know this is messing with your head, but I need you to keep your eyes on the prize. We have a mission, and you can’t be distracted.”
“But he—”
“Screw him,” she ordered.
Shaw chuckled behind her. “Name a time and a place, sweetheart.”
“Are you kidding me?” Kent asked in disbelief, stepping forward before Tanith blocked his path again.
“He is the least of our worries,” she told him. “Your answers can wait, but for now, let’s just be glad he got out of Shadow Hunt.”
Kent stilled at the reminder. She knew they were both victim to the callous king—both damaged at their fathers’ hand. No matter where Shaw had ended up, at least he was away from Bristowe. That was a small mercy, even if he was tortured by the enemy like they thought. No matter what they had done or what occurred in his time away, it was always more painful to be hurt by someone you knew. Someone you trusted.
Her words finally sunk in; Kent’s shoulders having relaxed slightly as though he agreed with the statement. For a minute, there was peace, the smell of sea air, and a strong breeze that rippled through Tanith’s hair, subjecting her shirt to the wind. It felt like it was hugging her, embracing her short journey as the saltwater kissed the pores of her skin. If she didn’t know any better, she could have fooled herself into thinking she was going on vacation, but Shaw quickly reminded her that the day would be no picnic.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked from behind her.
Tanith’s eyes immediately found the others, Hisrele, Ward, Ekko, and Ardeen caught up in other matters, but she had no doubt they were listening in. She shook her head, not answering.
“What does she mean by that?” Shaw tried again, asking his brother in a sterner manner.
Kent’s blue eyes turned icy as the mention of Bristowe’s actions always made him clam up. Tanith was used to it, but Shaw seemed intent on getting his answers.
Tanith & Shaw (The Fealty of Firstborns Series Book 1) Page 4