Venom

by Bex Hogan

  ‘But it’s yours by right.’

  ‘Is that enough, though? Shouldn’t it be earned?’

  Jax rubs his face in his hands. ‘As if things weren’t already complicated enough.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter,’ he says. ‘Come on, we should catch up with the others.’

  But I’m not going to let him off that easily, not after everything I’ve just shared, and I grab his arm to keep him from walking away.

  ‘If you want me to come any further, you need to tell me what’s going on.’

  He looks at Mordecai, as if he’s willing his companion to come to his rescue. But Mordecai doesn’t turn round and Jax sighs.

  ‘We need you to fight for the throne. We need you to want it.’

  ‘Why? You’ve done without a king or queen for centuries. Why’s it so important for me to claim it now?’

  Jax lowers his voice. ‘Because the other Guardians got tired of waiting.’ He glances around, making certain no one else can hear him, and I feel a worm of apprehension uncoil in my gut.

  ‘They found someone else, Marianne. Someone else is going to take the throne.’

  The night is still and gloriously black. A light spray is blowing across the deck and as it caresses my face I breathe in the salt air, realising how much I’ve missed the sea.

  Mordecai’s ship is a solid but small sloop, and she is wonderfully fast. When we first boarded, Mordecai was keen to show Olwyn and Rayvn how everything worked, and I couldn’t resist joining in. For so long I’ve been their student, learning the ways of the mountain, but I grew up on a ship. Here, I am the teacher.

  Intended to be sailed by one person, the sea-sloop is sleek and streamlined. She dances easily to the ocean’s music, but is perfectly balanced, so with every lift and dip she never tilts dangerously. Below deck there are only two berths, so the rest of us will have to sleep under the stars, but though it’s cosy, it’s not cramped. My cousins are drinking in every bit of knowledge – from the sails to the rigging – with extreme enthusiasm. Even now they’re practising tying knots under Jax’s watchful gaze.

  Mordecai is supposedly sleeping, but I doubt he’s having any more luck than I am.

  I’m sitting beside the rudder, forfeiting my rest time to steer this nippy little vessel. There’s no point even trying to sleep when my mind is this busy, and with the wind strong behind us someone needs to keep adjusting the heading. I’m more than happy for it to be me – being on the water again is soothing my troubled spirits.

  The rest of the journey from the mountain to the harbour was filled with intense conversation and I’m still not sure what I think of all I’ve been told. That the majority of the Guardians had decided the search for the direct line of descendants had gone on too long with no success, and decided to put their contingency plan into action. For while their main quest had been to protect and guard my family, they had also been watching offshoots from the line. Five generations after the slaughter, my great-great-great-great grandfather had a younger sister. Her descendants had also been monitored and now the youngest of that line is being prepared for the throne.

  His name is Rafe. He will be King.

  And it bothers me.

  Though I’ve never wanted to be Queen, I’m surprisingly riled at the thought of someone else taking what’s not theirs to take.

  I look down at the dark waters and remember how I summoned water raptors from them before. Are they still there? Are they biding their time, waiting for my call once more? Would they return for this other king? Would the snow mares let him ride them? For the first time I wonder how much the islands choose their ruler, and feel a tremor of both terror and delight that they might choose me.

  I miss the power I felt that day I called the raptors. Ever since I have been fighting and failing, losing control over every part of my life. I long to feel that sense of invincibility again, to see my enemies cower and tremble in fear. And yet … didn’t I tell Jax I had no desire for power and control? Why does magical power entice me so much more than the power of ruling?

  My fingers reach towards the waves, the temptation to speak to the raptors almost irresistible, and I’m imagining them breaking through the surface, drenching the deck with spray, their cries piercing the air …

  Mordecai sits beside me, shattering the illusion.

  ‘Can’t sleep either?’ he says.

  ‘Evidently.’

  He responds with his most charming smile. ‘I feel like we’ve got off to a bad start,’ he says. ‘Which is a shame, given I’ve devoted my whole life to finding and protecting you.’

  Though I can tell he’s trying to make amends, everything about his statement irritates me. I never asked him to do either of those things, and I never would. Do they speak this way to their new prince? Does he regularly get told they’re there to protect him? Or do they feel that because I’m a woman I need protection? Should I be flattered by these supposed acts of devotion?

  ‘There was a time when I needed protecting, and you weren’t the Guardian who was there for me,’ I say. ‘Grace was the only Guardian I knew and trusted and she didn’t trust the rest of you. So forgive me if I don’t instantly fall for your honeyed words.’

  Mordecai remains silent for a moment, realising he’s on ground more dangerous than the mountainside. When he tries again, his voice is softer, less arrogant. ‘Grace was my cousin, did you know? I trained with her and Jax as children, and we only separated when Jax and I returned West and she did not.’

  I look out towards the sea, so he can’t see my rising tears. ‘You should never have left her.’

  ‘No, we shouldn’t have.’ And I hear grief in his words. ‘Grace always was the smart one. The best thinker, the best fighter. When she said we should look in the East, we should have listened.’

  Neither of us speak for a while and I know it’s time to move the conversation back to the present; I can’t keep dwelling on the past.

  ‘So, what’s wrong with this Rafe then?’

  Mordecai also seems relieved to move on from the painful topic of Grace. ‘I think you’ll find he goes by Prince Rafe, thank you very much. And who says there’s anything wrong with him?’

  I give Mordecai a small smile. ‘You’d hardly have come all this way to find me if you were happy with your new king.’

  He sighs. ‘I guess some of us weren’t ready to give up on our true calling. We still believed the real heir was out there to be found.’

  ‘And what did Prince Rafe think about you continuing to search for me?’ I emphasise the word ‘Prince’ with all the sarcasm it deserves. When Mordecai hesitates, I groan. ‘He doesn’t know, does he?’

  ‘The thing you need to understand about Rafe, is that he was taken in by the Guardians when he was only five years old. They’ve been grooming him to be the King his whole life.’

  ‘Why now? What made the Guardians decide to reclaim the throne after all these years?’

  ‘Gaius sensed the time had come.’

  ‘Gaius?’

  ‘The Mage we told you about. He’s been allied with the Guardians for many years now. He’s currently acting as an advisor to Rafe, though he knows about you, of course, as he was the one to feel your presence.’

  My heart flutters with excitement. ‘A Mage advising royalty?’

  Mordecai nods. ‘Just like the old days.’

  Excitement gives way to jealousy. It should be me working with their Mage. ‘Tell me about him. Gaius, I mean.’

  ‘Well, he’s old, had a hard life. Like you, he’s a descendant of one of the lucky survivors of that brutal annihilation, so he has a connection to the palace. It’s destiny that he should now stand alongside the next monarch.’

  ‘Apart from Gaius, who else knows about me?’

  ‘Only a few of the senior Guardians. We thought it best to find you before revealing your existence to too many.’

  The wind is changing direction now, and for a mome
nt I have to concentrate on zigzagging the sea-sloop through the choppy waters. The boom swings from port to starboard, nearly knocking Olwyn overboard before Rayvn pulls her out of the way. When I’ve steadied the boat, I realise Mordecai is watching me closely.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why are you here?’ His direct question takes me by surprise. ‘If you don’t want to be Queen, then why have you returned to the West? Your life looked pretty perfect when I left you in the East.’

  I chuckle humourlessly as I shake my head. ‘You have no idea, do you?’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  He’s right – if I want to work with them, I can’t keep holding them all at arm’s length.

  And so I sum up what is happening in the East. All the conflict, all the starvation. While I talk, I notice the other three are straining to listen, so I lift my voice to carry. It’s when I explain why I came West, what I was hoping to find, that I see the Guardians’ faces drop.

  ‘You came for help?’ Jax sounds disappointed.

  ‘She came for magic.’ Olwyn on the other hand sounds proud.

  ‘I came for both.’

  Jax and Mordecai are sharing a troubled look and my spirits sink.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  Jax exhales a deep sigh. ‘I’m not sure why you think anyone here would help you. Help the East? They destroyed us.’

  ‘I know.’ There’s a bite to my voice now. ‘Trust me, I understand all that’s been lost.’ I see Olwyn flinch slightly at my anger and force myself to calm down. ‘Aren’t you sick of it, though?’ I ask, more softly this time. ‘Of the separation? The bitterness? The turmoil? I know how these islands have suffered. Why not try to reunite East and West and seek peace again? Surely that’s in everyone’s interest.’

  Mordecai looks sceptical. ‘And you want to achieve that without being Queen?’

  I rub my face with my hands, too weary to keep arguing. ‘I don’t know. I’m just tired of all the misery. I want it to end.’

  ‘How bad are the other islands?’ Rayvn asks Mordecai. ‘We’ve been sheltered up in the mountains from the rest of the world.’ I hear her resentment seeping through even in that simple statement.

  ‘Bad,’ he replies. ‘Especially the Twelfth.’

  ‘Great,’ I say. Just what I want to head into.

  Jax rests his hand on my shoulder. ‘Look, we’ve taken an oath to serve you, whether you choose to be our queen or not. We’ll help you however we can, but I can’t speak for the rest of the Guardians. My advice is that we tread carefully when we arrive at the palace. Very carefully.’

  ‘Agreed,’ says Mordecai. ‘I think you’ll find many reluctant to acknowledge you at all.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ It’s Olwyn that asks, and it warms me to hear how defensive she sounds towards me.

  ‘Because now their plan is Rafe. Not Marianne.’

  ‘Fine. So we say I’m not there to challenge him, but to seek guidance from Gaius, the Mage.’ Which is actually the truth – from my point of view anyway.

  ‘All right,’ Mordecai says. ‘But please don’t rule out the throne altogether. Restoring peace to the West will be even harder than achieving it in your beloved East.’

  The most I can bring myself to do is nod. I don’t want to commit to anything I’m going to regret.

  ‘So how long until we reach the Twelfth Isle?’ Rayvn asks, her impatience obvious.

  ‘In this ship? Not too long,’ Mordecai says. ‘But we have to stop off on the way to get Astrid.’

  This is the first I’ve heard of a detour. ‘Who’s Astrid?’

  ‘One of us,’ Jax says. ‘Her father is sick and so we left her on the Ninth to visit him while we came to find you. We promised to pick her up on our return.’

  There’s something about the way he says ‘one of us’ that makes me realise he doesn’t just mean one of the Guardians – he means one of the like-minded Guardians. There is clearly huge division growing among them about the future of their duty and of how to fulfil their promise to protect the royalty. My sinking feeling deepens; I’ve just swapped one political mess for another.

  By the time dawn has broken the Ninth Isle comes into view. The sunrise seems to scorch the landscape in flame, but as we approach I realise it isn’t the light creating the colours; it’s the landscape itself: the cliffs are steep, exposed and rust red; clusters of bright yellow flowers burst like stars from the stone; and small orange birds flit in and out of nesting holes. And yet, for all its beauty, a strange sensation creeps over me, a feeling that I shouldn’t be going there. The nervous flutters only increase the closer we get, and as Jax steers us into a fairly empty-looking harbour, Mordecai takes me aside.

  ‘Can your cousins fight?’

  I’m surprised by the question, because what does he think the protectors of the snow mares do? ‘Of course. They’re not carrying those spears for fun.’

  ‘I just needed to check.’

  ‘Why, are you expecting trouble?’

  ‘On the Ninth Isle? Always.’

  ‘Let me stay with the boat.’ I say it almost impulsively and register his surprise.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought a little danger would scare you, Viper.’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ I say, trying to hide my irritation. ‘It’s just a feeling that’s all. That if I go on land, nothing good will happen.’

  ‘Is this one of your magical feelings?’ I can tell he’s only teasing, but it irritates me nonetheless.

  ‘Listening to my feelings has kept me alive this long.’

  ‘All right,’ he says, stepping back slightly. ‘I didn’t mean to offend.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I’m being unfair to him. Maybe it’s something to do with how he reminds me of my wedding, of Torin and Bronn and all my uncertainty regarding their well-being.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘We’ll fetch Astrid, grab some supplies and be back before day’s end. You can stay here and stop anyone stealing my ship.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘Is that likely?’

  Mordecai laughs. ‘Oh yes.’

  When we pull up at port, I watch Mordecai press silver into the palm of the harbour master, and then stare with unexpected longing at their retreating backs as they follow the road up into the island. Perhaps I should have gone with them after all.

  Instead I regard the harbour with a wary gaze. There aren’t many people about; though, from the distant drone of noise, I suspect there are a fair few in the ramshackle tavern at the far end of the pier. I can’t see any signs of danger, but then it’s early in the morning. Perhaps everyone’s still sleeping off last night’s fighting and drinking.

  I turn away to look at what lies beyond the cove and something catches my eye. Though I can’t see properly with the rocks in the way, it appears as if the sand in the bay is pink. I lean as far against the rail as I can, stretching for a better view, and, sure enough, the ground is shimmering like a shoal of rosetails.

  But pink sand is not the only thing the improved view reveals. I can also see a group of men, crowded round something, their arms swinging back and forth, raining blows down on whatever lies among them. Narrowing my eyes, I manage to catch a glimpse of a body on the ground before it’s concealed once more.

  Cursing with frustration, I jump off the sloop on to the harbour. I’m sure the boat will be fine without me, and I have to put aside my own misgivings about landing on the island, because I can’t sit and do nothing while someone’s in trouble.

  Running towards the hidden cove, I scramble over rocks and drop down on to the sand.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ I shout at the men, who are still beating the life out of their victim.

  They look round at me in surprise but deem me so little threat that only one man breaks from the pack to stroll towards me, and he stinks of rum and piss. I easily dodge his slow attempt at a punch, and then grab his arm, twisting it hard until it snaps beneath my fingers, and hold it while he screams.

  That gets their atte
ntion.

  ‘Leave that man or I’ll kill you all,’ I say and this time they believe me. They run away from me, away from the beach, and I hurry towards the body lying on the ground.

  The man they were beating is old, frail and unconscious. I kneel beside him, but can tell in a moment there’s nothing I can do. Even as I try to staunch the bleeding coming from his head, he’s slipping towards death. They’ve robbed him of everything, and that includes his life.

  Stepping away, I sink into the sand, curling my fists into balls. Anger seeps out of me as I swear into the wind. Always I’m too late – for this stranger, for the islanders on the Sixth Isle. I cannot afford to keep being one step behind. Not when the lives of the people I love are at stake. So many promises I’ve made – to Torin, to Bronn, to Raoul and Lilah, to the islands themselves. If I’m to keep them, I have to do better.

  I wonder whether to go in search of my friends, but know I’ll probably end up lost. So I decide to stay with the dying man, to make sure no one disturbs him in his final moments. I run my fingers through the pinkish sand, softer than silk, wondering what could make it this colour. Pigment from shells crushed into minuscule pieces perhaps?

  There’s a movement further down the shoreline. Sitting up, I squint to get a better look and realise there are three people walking in my direction. I rise quickly to my feet and rest my hand where my knife sits in my belt, in case it’s the thieves returning to strip even the clothes from the old man’s back.

  But I can soon tell it’s not. Two men and a woman, all three dressed in rags and looking undernourished, are approaching me, confusion on their faces. There is a wild look about them that unsettles me and my hand twitches towards my dagger.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ It’s the woman who shouts over at me, her eyes piercing, her face leathery. The anger in her question throws me.

  When I don’t answer immediately, she continues. ‘Don’t you know where you are? Don’t you know what this place is? This is the Blood Isle. You shouldn’t have come.’

  Though I have no idea why I’m on the receiving end of her anger, her words don’t escape me. Blood Isle. I look at the pink tinge to the sand, remember the red cliffs, and feel my own blood run cold.