by Ben White
"THAT WAS NEVER GONNA HIT US! HAH! YOU LOSE, LOSERS!"
Miya laughed hard and loud at the chicken, then turned her head, narrowing her eyes as she ran to the opposite railing. Rabbit was too far away to hit them with anything now—they still tried, a final broadside falling embarrassingly short, but then they were free of both ships and through, wounded but alive.
"They won't catch us now."
Sola turned away from looking up at the damaged sails to look at Miya. She was standing, watching the two ships they'd just outsailed, her hair a mess—at some point her bandanna had come off, and in several places her hair was singed from fighting the fires in the rigging. She had numerous scrapes and small cuts over her arms and on her face, and her clothes and skin were blackened and dirty. Her shirt was white no longer, bloodied and blackened and ripped, missing one sleeve entirely, and the previously clean bandage around her shoulder was beginning to come undone. As Miya absently raised a hand to touch a burn on her cheek, Sola noticed that her hands were red and burnt from beating at flames.
Miya turned to look at Sola, shrugged one shoulder with a helpless little smile, then she turned to pull herself back up into the rigging. Sola took the wheel once more, watching his sister carefully as she trimmed what remained of the sails—her actions were stiff and slightly awkward, in stark contrast to the usual grace and ease with which she enthusiastically leapt around the rigging.
After she'd finished tying down the loose sail, and had made sure everything was as good as it was going to get, Miya dropped down onto the deck, walked to the bow of the ship, and looked back up at the damaged mast. She stood there for a long moment, her expression blank, then she collapsed to her knees, face buried in her hands, sobbing her heart out.
*
The pursuing ships had quickly broken off the chase, most likely after realising that even with only half her sails the Black Swan could easily outsail them. Miya sat at the bow, legs dangling over the edge, one on each side of the bowsprit, staring out ahead, two clean lines down her blackened face the only sign that she'd been crying.
"We need to get the sails repaired," she said flatly, as Sola tentatively approached her.
"Do you have the supplies on board?"
"No."
"Then we should consult the chart, find an island nearby where we can get them."
Miya sighed, long and shuddering and heartfelt.
"No need," she said, not sounding happy. "I already know where we can go."
Sola looked at her. "Where?"
"A terrible place. Maybe the worst island in the Necessary Ocean."
Sola thought of Biscuit Island and the dirty, dangerous port there.
"Is it really so bad?"
"It's really so bad."
"Why?"
Miya sighed again, a small, defeated sigh. Then she said, with all the distaste and contempt a fourteen year-old girl could force into her voice:
"It has balls."
9
Not Just A Pirate
The sun was a finger above the horizon, Sola was at the wheel, what sails they had left were trimmed as well as they could be, and Miya was sulking, this time with her legs dangling over the stern of the ship, looking back at the setting sun.
"Is this Embassy Island really so bad?" Sola asked. "It could not be worse than Biscuit Cove, or that blockade we just escaped. Nobody here will be trying to kidnap or kill you, correct?"
"It's not the same," said Miya, sulkily. She chewed her lip for a moment, then turned, looking back at Sola.
"You know how you felt, like around people on Clover Island? People you didn't know?"
Sola nodded.
"Even though you knew they weren't, y'know, bad people, that they'd probably be friendly and that?"
Sola nodded again.
"Imagine feeling like that except knowing that the people hate you, or treat you like a silly little toy, or at best think nothing of you—I mean don't even really recognise that you exist, just think that you're completely worthless and totally insignificant. That they'll take every opportunity to talk you down, to show how damned superior they are to you, and they're smiling the whole blasted time."
Sola considered this for several seconds.
"Ah," he said.
"Yeah, 'ah'."
"But you're a princess. Surely—"
"Not to them. To them I'm just some, I don't know, a dirty little sea rat from some island nobody cares about."
Sola was silent a moment. "I don't quite understand," he said.
"I wish that I didn't." Miya sighed. "Mum's from the Highland originally. She was the princess of Brightburn. It's not a big kingdom but it's kind of important for some reason, I don't really get the politics of it all. Maybe because it's one of the older ones? Anyway, Mum was a perfect princess, EVERYONE loved her. She did everything right and was kind and generous and said all the perfect princess things to say and could wear dresses without looking like a little boy playing dress-up—"
Miya glanced at Sola then scowled just a little, embarrassed.
"Um, anyway, she was set to marry some prince—that's how they do things over there, everything's all organised, you don't get to choose anything if you're a princess, except maybe sometimes what clothes you'll wear, if it's not a special occasion. I don't know which prince, but I think he was probably from one of the big important kingdoms, Feldspar maybe, or Silverdale. Anyway, that's when Dad came into the picture." Miya grinned. "She'd NEVER met anyone like him. I don't know the details but basically he just swept her off her feet, showed her a world she'd only ever read about in books before, except so much more exciting—actually, Mum told me once that even the books she read were censored, some of them had whole pages ripped out, can you imagine?"
Sola's face darkened.
"I cannot," he said.
"Right? Anyway, they fell in love, he stole her away, I'm sure it was VERY exciting and romantic. So they ran away and had heaps of adventures together, I'm pretty sure they fought in the Great Pirate War even though neither of them ever talk about it, and then eventually they settled down and founded Clover Island as an independent kingdom. And they—we—WOULD have lived happily ever after if it wasn't for stupid old Badger Pete. And our lives would be a lot easier and more fun if it wasn't for the Highland being all petty and stupid about stuff."
There was silence for a moment. Miya stood up and walked past Sola, looking out at the ocean ahead, gleaming gold in the light of the setting sun.
"Why does the Highland hate Clover Island?" Sola asked. Miya looked back at him. "Because of its independence?"
"Mostly because of Mum, I think. I don't know why but the Highland HATES losing a princess. Maybe they don't have enough of them? Maybe it mucks up all their, like, prince and princess marrying plans. Take one out and BAM! The whole thing collapses. I dunno, just guessing. But personally I think the main reason they hate us so much is because the Highland is run by a bunch of horrible snobby people who hate seeing anyone being happy or having fun."
"They want to take your mother back?"
"Hah, no. She doesn't exist to them any more. As soon as she left with Dad they cancelled her royalty. Neither of them can ever step foot in her kingdom again."
Sola was silent a moment. "She must miss her family."
"I ... I guess so," said Miya, frowning. "She once said something about never seeing her mother—we'd had a big argument and she told me how lucky I was that we could even talk to each other. And I accidentally heard Dad say once that her father was a real ... well, I don't want to repeat the word he used, but it's not a word he uses often at all, so he must have meant it."
"Your mother gave up a lot to run away with your father," said Sola, after a moment. "I understand better now, why he does so much to make her comfortable."
"I guess he does, doesn't he? She never really gave up being a princess, and Dad didn't want her to ... so he made her a kingdom. Well, I guess she did actually give up being a princess in the end,
because she became a queen. And she's such a great queen," said Miya, tears suddenly in her eyes. "And Dad's really, he tries so hard and he's, you know, really such a cool king ... and our little island is a great kingdom, a GREAT kingdom, better'n all the stupid arrogant Highland kingdoms put together. But the people on that island—on THAT island," said Miya, pointing it out, a speck on the horizon, "they treat them, treat us, like we're some kind of joke. But they HAVE to recognise us—I mean, at least officially, because Clover Island IS a kingdom, it's all done properly and officially, and that's what annoys the Highland the most, that they have to recognise us ... but that's what makes them hate us, too ... that's what Dad says."
Miya sniffed and wiped her eyes, then straightened her back and lifted her head, standing proud. Sola stood beside her, looking out with her at the distant island.
"What is Embassy Island, then?" he asked. "Is it not part of the archipelago?"
"No. Well, technically it is. It's ... it's like a meeting place, some kind of neutral ground? Because Clover Island and Triangle Island, and Outlook Island and a couple of other places represent the Rainbow Archipelago ... so they need somewhere to ... meet with us? I don't know. Whatever it's MEANT for, what it's USED for is a place for rich snobby diplomats to have holidays and hold stupid ol' balls. Dad says it's just a place for them to spend their people's money."
Sola patted Miya on the shoulder.
"Perhaps it will be quiet there," he said. "It's late, after all."
Miya's stern expression didn't change.
"They love late."
*
The sun had already dipped behind the horizon as they cruised into the Embassy Island harbour, the Black Swan dwarfed by the big, flashy, expensive ships already docked there. Miya's face darkened as she looked at them.
"There seem to be a lot of ships here," said Sola.
"Hopefully just a lot of families wasting their kingdom's money," Miya said. "And not anything more than that."
There were two dock workers waiting for them as they came to a stop at a pier, both of them neatly dressed and smiling widely, apparently overjoyed to see them.
"Princess Miya Black of Clover Island," said the one in front, who looked far too clean and presentable to be a real dock worker. "Welcome to Embassy Island."
"Thank you," said Miya. "Could you please secure my ship for me?"
"Of course. Are you here for the ball?"
Miya froze. Sola was amazed at how quickly her face lost all colour.
"Ball?" she said.
"Yes, I believe it's a party for—"
"Excuse me just a moment," Miya said, forcing a smile at the dock worker before turning, grabbing Sola by the arm, and dragging him back to her cabin.
"There's a ball!" she hissed. "Tonight! Of all nights! Why tonight? Why?"
"Do you want to leave?" Sola asked. Miya shook her head miserably.
"We need to get my ship repaired, and they have what we need here."
"Could we ask the dock workers to help?"
"No, they're only good for remembering people's names and securing ships," Miya said. "I mean, I don't blame them, it must be tough memorising all those names, it wouldn't leave much time for learning useful stuff like how to fix ships. But there are carpenters here, and good ones too, and all the supplies we'd need ... but we have to get permission to use them."
"How do we get permission?"
"We ask the caretaker, Mr Pearson. He'll help us, he's okay, he and Dad get on well. I've met him a couple of times and I'm pretty sure he gets just as irritated by all the 'special' people as I do."
"So there is no problem?"
"There IS a problem," said Miya. She sighed. "Look, the whole island ... you saw that big building up above the docks? That's the ballroom. It's right at the front of everything else, it's built right across the width of the island, it's huge. There's no way to get to the useful parts of the building without going through it. If there's a ball on we'll have to get through a whole roomful of people before we can see Mr Pearson."
"Is there really no other way?"
"Not unless you feel like climbing up a forty foot cliff."
Sola shook his head as Miya looked down at her clothes.
"What am I wearing?" she said. "They'd ... well, who cares, actually? This is what they think I am anyway, a ragged little sea rat, so who cares what ..." Miya trailed off. "Mum would care," she said quietly. "If I ... wait a second. Sola, you have some of the clothes Mum gave you, right?"
"I do."
"Go and get changed, try to be as neat as you can, okay? Black or white for preference. I know you don't like shirts and shoes and stuff but—"
"I understand. What about you?"
"I ... I'll be okay," Miya said. "Maybe. Come on, get a move on. The sooner we do this the sooner it'll be over."
Sola nodded and left Miya alone in her cabin. She gave a short, resigned little sigh, then her expression hardened, resolve showing clear and strong on her face. She walked to the little cupboard in the corner of her cabin, opened it, and took a flat box out from inside.
"Well, Mum," she murmured, "I guess you kind of get your wish."
*
Sola stood on the deck of the Black Swan, in a slightly stiff black shirt and trousers. He had on sandals, also—he'd tried the leather boots Lily had given him but kept stumbling, and so had compromised as best he could. As he stood waiting he occasionally shuffled his feet a little, looking down, the sensation of not being able to properly feel what was beneath his feet new and unfamiliar.
He turned at the sound of a door opening, and smiled as Miya stepped out. She was wearing a long, deep purple dress, which shimmered in the torchlight of the docks. Although Miya was short and had narrow shoulders and normally looked very young, the dress somehow countered this, made her look taller and more grown-up than she really was. She'd washed up as best she could, and wore a clean new bandanna, in her kingdom's colours of black and green. It seemed somehow appropriate. The heavy leather boots Miya wore on her feet, however, were anything but.
"It was either these or sandals," she said, after following Sola's gaze down. "Um. Do I look okay?"
"You don't quite look like you," said Sola, carefully.
"Gee, thanks," said Miya.
Now that Sola looked at Miya more carefully, he could see other 'out of place' things, besides the boots; the burn marks on her hands, the scrapes and cuts on her face, the slightly singed parts of her hair that the bandanna didn't cover. He searched for the right words.
"You look like Princess Miya Black," he said, finally. Miya made a not-entirely-displeased face and smiled.
"I feel really weird without my sword. You look okay, though," she said. "Definitely acceptable." Miya frowned suddenly as she looked Sola over. "Hey, how come you haven't gotten hurt yet? I'm all burnt up and cut up and scraped up, you haven't got a scratch on you."
"Possibly because you have leapt in before me in every situation and not given me the chance to become injured," said Sola, smiling.
"Huh. Well ... I guess we should get going, anyway," said Miya, not even trying to disguise the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. "Oh, wait, actually, I have this for you. Here."
She held out a green and black bandanna to Sola, identical to the one she wore. He took it from her and looked at it.
"I thought maybe you could wear it around your neck or something. You know ... so people will know where you come from."
"I come from Tonfa-Tonfa," said Sola, quietly.
"Oh, I know! I, um, meant that you're also ... that you're part of our family, too. I know you haven't had the chance to, I don't know, to get comfortable, or spend time with Mum and Dad and see how ... how great they are, and things were busy and stressful and everything when we were back ... back home. But you're still family. Right? And one day I'll go with you to your home and meet your family and hopefully be just as welcome there."
Sola smiled. "You will be."
"Anyway, if you w
ear that bandanna then at least we'll be kind of 'linked'. People will know we're there together. It'll ... it'll make things a tiny bit better than if you weren't wearing it."
Miya bit her lip, wincing as she accidentally worried the cut she'd sustained during her duel with Captain Badtooth.
"What is our plan tonight?" asked Sola, as he tied the bandanna around his neck. Miya smiled at him, as brightly as she could.
"We go in, we avoid the people inside as best we can, we keep WELL away from the dance floor, and we make for one of the doors in the back. With any luck, people won't bother us much and we'll get through the ordeal with only minor injuries."
Sola nodded, and they stepped off the ship together, onto the docks. From here they could see the lights in the building above, and hear the sounds of the ball. Miya grimaced, just for a moment, then she looked up at Sola and nodded.
"Let's get this over with," she said.
As they walked up the steps leading to the main building, Sola laughed quietly.
"What?" asked Miya, looking at him.
"I was thinking, climbing a forty foot cliff now seems quite appealing."
Miya patted Sola's arm.
"I know exactly what you mean," she said.
The outside ball area was reasonably empty, groups of men and women standing around, drinking tiny drinks and eating tiny food and talking amongst themselves, the occasional hoot of laughter making Miya's teeth grit involuntarily.
They were almost near the entrance when Miya heard something like 'little nothing island in that backward archipelago'. She clenched her fists a moment, then forced her hands to open and her expression to clear.
"I'm okay," she said, as Sola looked at her with a worried expression. "Just ignore them and keep moving like this, together."
Inside it was worse, the huge, sumptuous hall filled with people. The carpet was red and the walls and high ceiling white, gold-framed paintings and crystal chandeliers providing the decor. There were windows everywhere, in every wall, even in the ceiling. Most of the left-hand side of the room was taken up by the dance floor, on which a dozen or so couples were dancing to a fast waltz. In the part of the room Miya and Sola were in several tables almost sagged under a genuinely impressive array of food and drink, and cigar smoke hung thick in the air. Sola choked a little as he accidentally breathed it in.