Flintlock (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  “Many would argue pirates are not human.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?” She stared at him, almost demanding.

  “I suppose it’s never mattered what I believed,” he said. He cleared his throat and stood. “But the news at sea won’t affect your plans, will it?”

  “Mine?” she was confused.

  “The wedding,” said Cove. “Ben’s campaign centers on piracy. I can’t imagine how he will balance the two—a new wife and his obsession.”

  She seemed surprised. “It’s not like you to be so cynical.”

  They stared at one another, and then Cove laughed. “You’ll forgive me, I did not intend to insult your beloved.”

  “Don’t,” she shuddered and took a breath. “Don’t apologize.”

  Cove had a feeling that’s not what the shudder was for.

  “We digress,” he took the moment to turn the conversation in a different direction and smiled politely at her. “What had you hoped to discuss in secrecy?”

  She cleared her throat and stood, smoothing out the folds of her dress and pulling down on the sleeves of her coat again.

  “I…,” she began, taking a breath, but she hesitated, twisting her fingers together. It was strange to see her like this, so changed. Had her engagement made her a different person? Or had Ben?

  “Sara,” Cove watched her as she spoke, and her eyes seemed to grow wider. “You can tell me anything.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but looked away. “I just...I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back.”

  Cove raised a brow and stared. “Oh,” and there was silence.

  She curtsied. “I must go,” she said, and turned quickly to leave the study. Cove followed closely behind her.

  She reached the door when he called out, “Sara!” She turned around to face him, and suddenly he wasn’t sure what he had wanted to say. There was nothing he could say that would bring her back to him and nothing that could undo the decision she’d already made.

  “You will invite me to the wedding?”

  “Cove,” her voice was a whisper, and her eyes glazed with fresh tears. It might have disarmed him, but he had worked for a very long time to maintain the composure he had now. He reached behind her and opened the front door.

  “Have a good day, Sara.” His words were just above a whisper, and they urged her out the door. She turned and hurried to her waiting carriage. Cove watched it rattle off until he could see it no longer. When he closed the door and turned, he found Barren watching him from atop the stairs.

  ***

  “So, that girl you said you could stand to be friends with?” he asked. “Is that her? ‘Cause I think you lied.”

  Cove opened his mouth to speak, but instead left the foyer, returning to his study. Barren hurried down the stairs to follow quickly behind him.

  “You should be more careful,” Cove chided. “What if Sara saw you?”

  “She didn’t. I’m pretty sure she couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

  Barren had to admit he was enjoying this more than he should. For the last couple of months, he’d been the end of these types of jokes. Dealing them was far more fun than receiving them, but sensing Cove’s mood, Barren’s humor faltered and he cleared his throat.

  “What I really came down here to ask you was, have you heard anything from Dr. Newell?”

  “Not as of this morning,” said Cove.

  His answer was short, and Barren watched him as he moved behind his desk, picking up random pieces of paper and moving them about absentmindedly; his mind was scattered.

  “Did he seem to know what had caused the injuries?” Barren prodded.

  “He didn’t give any indication,” the ambassador replied.

  “And you haven’t followed up?”

  “Not in the last six hours, no, I haven’t,” Cove snapped, then seeming to realize what he’d done, he quickly composed himself, running his hand over his smoothed hair. He sighed. “I apologize, Barren. These last few weeks have not been easy. Dr. Newell wasn’t as forthcoming with information as I would have liked, and he wasn’t as eager to begin an autopsy as I’d hoped.”

  “Why did you think to bring the bodies to him in the first place? He’s a mortal doctor. It isn’t likely he’s seen anything like this anyway.”

  “It’s not a question of whether he’s seen it before,” said Cove. “I’d advise you to get comfortable. It isn’t likely we’ll have an answer before the ball tonight.”

  There was silence and Barren finished Cove’s unspoken words. “Which you already knew.”

  Cove did not respond.

  “You’ll need me to carry off the bodies when the doctor has finished his autopsy,” said Barren. He was putting the pieces together. Cove had something else up his sleeve. “It was a sure way to get me here, now what? Why did you want me here?”

  A strange, slow smile spread over Cove’s face, but it wasn’t one of humor or happiness.

  “You aren’t going to like me.”

  “I’m not so sure you care at this point.”

  He gave a look that confirmed he didn’t. “There are reports that an attempt will be made on Tetherion’s life at the ball tonight.”

  Barren just stared. “So you wanted me here to do what? Watch?”

  “No,” Cove said slowly, though his eyes remained steady and a little fierce.

  “I don’t owe him his life! He’s responsible for the death of my mother and father! Not to mention he’s a traitor.”

  “Believe it or not, keeping Tetherion alive is definitely not for his benefit,” Cove said evenly. “It’s for mine. If they kill him tonight in my house, do you know what will happen to me?”

  Barren didn’t say anything, but he could only imagine. Cove’s life here in Arcarum was all about his reputation. A murder in his home would be scandalous.

  “And you think this has been organized by who? The Commonwealth?”

  Cove seemed surprised. “Who told you about them?”

  “Three guesses,” Barren said mildly.

  “I see,” Cove said grimly. “I had planned to tell you, but Hollow was not in agreement with my plan to have you at the ball. I understand his reasoning.”

  “But you disagree.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Hollow and the others will be busy entertaining guests, gathering support. They’ll be distracted. I need you and your crew to keep watch.”

  “Doesn’t Tetherion have guards for this? If someone’s going to attack him, let them save him.”

  “We don’t know if his guards support him. What if they are members of the Commonwealth, too?”

  Barren raised a brow. While he’d have liked to brush this off, he knew Cove was right.

  “I can only trust you,” Cove added, and Barren felt his heart pull. The ambassador really knew how to persuade him.

  “I think you forget who I am,” Barren said. “I won’t blend in easily at a ball.”

  Cove smirked, and this time he was truly humored. “Luckily, the Autumn Ball is a masquerade.”

  “Has it always been a masquerade?” Barren asked, the pitch of his voice rising. He wasn’t going to know what to think if Cove said no.

  “Yes,” he smiled. “Tradition.”

  “You don’t think Ben Willow has organized this assassination, do you?” Barren asked. He watched the ambassador. He expected him to look surprised at the mention of the name, but his features were neutral.

  “It is a possibility,” he replied. “I believe that Ben Willow would do anything to discredit me. Tetherion’s death in my home would kill two birds with one stone.”

  “What’s his vendetta?”

  “I am Albatross. I carry all the knowledge that makes you strong,” he said, and Barren felt a shiver go down his spine. Taking Cove down was a strategic move, a smart move. He was powerful in a way Tetherion and his sons weren’t. His strength was garnered by a bloodline, but also by his ability to be everywhere at once.

  “
That name wasn’t given to you recklessly. The story goes that killing an albatross is a bad omen. Your enemies would do well to heed that warning.”

  Cove seemed amused and added quietly. “It is too bad my enemies do not know that I am Albatross, then.”

  Behind Cove’s joke, there was real worry. There was also real sadness. Larkin had been right when she’d said his smile no longer touched his eyes. He was very much a different Cove. Perhaps the burden of Albatross was taking its toll.

  ***

  Larkin spent most of the evening with Camille after Barren had informed them they would attend the Autumn Ball. She’d bathed, scrubbing her skin and scalp until it burned. Now she sat in front of the mirrored vanity. Her long hair spilled over one shoulder, and she brushed the strands absently. She thought of how strange it would be to stand among people she’d once called friends. How strange it would be to hear her name thrown around in conversation, how strange it would be to hear what people truly thought of her.

  Stranger still that she would be in the same room as her father, but not as his daughter. Each time she thought of it, her stomach twisted into knots. She thought of how she and her father had parted. They had not spoken, and she’d tied her crimson scarf around his mouth to keep him silent upon his return to Maris. Her feelings for her father were confusing. When she’d been kidnapped, she’d just wanted his approval. Now, part of her wanted him to understand the price of his inattention.

  And then again, she wanted answers. She wanted to know more about her mother. She wanted to know why her father remained close to Tetherion—was he truly as malicious as he tried to appear? Or was he seeking revenge? She wanted to believe he was somehow noble, but admitting that aloud made her feel silly when there was little to suggest that anything her father did was honorable.

  The door opened and she looked up to see Barren’s reflection in the mirror. He wore a clean white shirt and pants. In his hands he carried a towel and his mother’s compass. His damp hair stuck to his face, and with the grime stripped from his skin, his scars were more visible. Despite this, he had lordly features—a strong jaw, sharp eyes, arched brows—and there was a grace about him granted by his Elvish heritage. He smiled at her and she flushed, her skin warming. She turned to face him, still sitting at the vanity.

  He approached her, running his fingers through his hair, and she held her breath.

  “Have you any instruction to give for my manners when interacting with nobles?” he asked.

  “Only one,” she said. “Don’t spill your wine.”

  He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. He pulled away too soon, but his lips lingered close to her skin, as if he was considering kissing her again. Larkin’s heart fell a little when he moved away, but she watched him for a moment as he slipped the compass around his neck and dried his hair with the towel. It was strange seeing him in this manner made him vulnerable, human. It reminded her that he wasn’t invincible. She turned back to the vanity.

  “I’m surprised you agreed to this,” she commented.

  “I must help Cove in any way I can,” he replied. “I’m indebted to him. Besides, though not ideal, this is the best way to learn more about the privateers who killed our brethren.”

  She did not respond immediately. She ran her brush through her hair, staring into the mirror without really seeing.

  “You know my father will be at the Autumn Ball,” she said.

  “Yes,” and though Barren did not say it immediately, she could hear the irritation in his voice. “He will look for you.”

  “Why? He will not know I am there.”

  “He’s your father,” he said. “He will always look for you, no matter where he is. I would look for you.”

  The only way Barren would ever stop looking for her is if he believed she did not want to be found. Her father had no such concern and took her choice to stay with Barren as a challenge.

  “Which is why you must be mindful of your interactions tonight,” Barren continued.

  “Do you believe I will be careless?” she asked, looking at him through the mirror. She tried to keep her irritation at bay, but she knew she hadn’t succeeded. Her tone was too sharp. It was the second time he had suggested she would betray him.

  He met her gaze.

  “I’m only advising you to be cautious. People who are familiar with you will recognize you with or without a mask,” he continued. “It would be in your best interest to avoid contact with your father or anyone you were familiar with from your past. It should be easy. You aren’t there to socialize.”

  “How do you expect to learn anything if you do not speak to anyone?” In her experience, gossip was probably the best way to gather information.

  “By listening,” said Barren. “And you can’t very well do that while you’re talking or dancing.”

  She stood and turned on him. “You obviously have little understanding of how a ball works.”

  “I know very well how this works for us, Larkin,” Barren said evenly. He paused, and took a breath. “I know you want answers from your father, but tonight is not the night to demand them.”

  She was surprised by his assumptions, and even more surprised that he thought she would compromise their lives so easily. Did he think she was naïve?

  “As hard as it might be for you, you must think of your father as the enemy. Once you start searching for his virtue, he has the advantage.”

  “Not everything is a battle, Barren.”

  He surprised her by smiling, and then he placed his hands on either side of her face. “But everything is a battle with you.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. Heat rushed to her face, and her stomach fluttered with feelings so contrary to the heaviness that suddenly filled her heart.

  He pulled away, retrieving his jacket from the bed and moving to the door.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, and left the room.

  After his discussion with Barren, the day progressed into a flurry of chaotic episodes, all centering around the ball, so when it finally arrived, Cove was ready for it all to be over.

  He had attended these balls when he was younger, but he’d never had a care in the world for what they were actually meant to accomplish or how much trouble and time went into their arrangement. For him and so many others his age, balls were about the frivolity. It had been about the drinks, the glamour, the attention. Unlike others his age, however, he’d inherited responsibilities much sooner, and simple things like balls became crucial tools for maintaining and gathering alliances and smoothing over scandals.

  Cove turned to the mirror and buttoned his black jacket, ensuring his hair was slick and smart, bound at the nape of his neck. Oddly enough, the man who looked back at him was becoming more and more unfamiliar.

  “Are you ready for this?” Hollow asked from the door. Cove turned and faced his friend, smiling brightly.

  “If you mean am I ready to flaunt my grace and charm? Always.”

  Hollow rolled his eyes. He stepped away from the door as Cove exited and they headed downstairs. “Great. You know the only reason women ever pay attention to me is to figure out if you’re single.”

  Cove laughed. “Are you saying you actually want attention, Hollow? That is very unlike you.”

  “No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying many feign interest in me to get to you.”

  “Well, you can just tell them I’m unavailable.”

  “They know that,” Hollow said quietly. “I suppose they are hoping you’ll settle.”

  Cove ground his teeth. The reminders were everywhere. Sara Rosamund would never be his, but it was best that way and he’d always known it. If he were being honest with himself, it was his fault. He’d pushed her away, reeled her back in, only to push her away again. He was a coward, fearful that his life and the person he’d become wasn’t meant for the innocent Sara Rosamund.

  “At this point, Hollow, I don’t think any woman could tempt me to think twice of her,” Cove said, a
nd he pulled open his front door and stepped outside as the first of the carriages arrived. The air was mild, and a slight breeze carried the smell of roses. It was the perfect evening for a ball.

  Men and women dressed in velvet, lace and glitter suddenly converged upon his yard. The costumes were extravagant—big dresses, big masks—and people arrived dressed as all sorts of things: cats, jokers, swans. There were masks with feathers, masks with leaves, moon masks and sun masks. It was apparent that few in Arcarum were subtle, especially the nobility.

  Cove and Hollow stood opposite each other as they greeted everyone. Cove made sure to smile, shake hands as a respected servant of his people would, and of course flaunt all that grace and charm. Overly dressed, extravagant, and boisterous, these people were all quite oblivious. They lived their lives in finery. Cove was no exception and he knew it. He utilized his high status every day to gain an advantage, to manipulate, to gain power. Sometimes he believed he was no different than his father. Sometimes he feared he would make his father’s mistakes.

  “Cove, m’boy!” the voice boomed over the murmur of the crowd, rupturing the calm of the ambassador’s thoughts. A round man with a round face and red cheeks pushed his way between people and presented himself to Cove. No one protested the jump in line, however, for this man was the Governor of Arcarum, Matthew Dulcemer. He was a jolly man with no concern for others’ ears. Oh, would Leaf dislike him, Cove thought. Matthew embraced Cove, patting him on the back loudly.

  “Good to see you! You look well!”

  Cove smiled pleasantly. “Great to see you, Matthew, Denise,” he nodded to the Governor’s wife who stood at his side, dressed in a blue gown that made her look long and thin like an umbrella. She had pulled her mask up and it sat upon her head. A long black braid snaked over her shoulder.

  “You’ve not been by to dinner in some time! We sure miss your company!” It was always impossible to speak with Matt for very long as everything he said seemed to be a declaration. He very much liked company, especially Cove’s company, and demanded it nearly every week. Cove wasn’t as obliging as Matthew would like, but now and then the ambassador had to do the governor a favor and sit down with him. After all, he had been good friends with Canice Rowell, Cove’s father. After Canice Rowell’s death, Matthew had offered to help Cove in any way he could. It was the quietest Cove had ever heard him.