Niya’s gaze narrowed. “How thoughtful.”
“He’s a chivalrous prince like that.” Kintra winked. “Enjoy.”
Niya resisted throwing the biscuit over the railing as Kintra strode away.
No value in the dead.
Niya scoffed. Well, that shows how little he knows of the Fade. There were plenty of treasures to be found in the land of the dead, priceless knowledge to be collected. One only needed to be willing to give up a year of their life for a visit. Like she was apparently willing to do for her secret to be safe.
Niya scrubbed a hand over her face, shoulders drooping.
There was that annoying ache in her throat again that threatened tears, but just like before, she forced it away. The last thing she needed was to start blubbering.
As she stared into the distant horizon, empty of land or vessel or any living soul, Niya’s thoughts tumbled.
She had been quietly trying for years to escape the tangled mess she had put her and her family into. The irony wasn’t lost on her that the very man who’d placed her in this predicament was now offering her a way out.
Running her thumb over the band on her wrist, she replayed the possible consequences of her actions, which had haunted her daily.
If their Bassette identities were linked to the Mousai, everything their father had built in Jabari would be ruined. The Bassettes’ position of power in the city would be lost. And worse—they’d be exiled, hunted, and not only by Jabari’s citizens for lying about having magic but by any they had ever threatened, maimed, or hurt in the Thief Kingdom as the Mousai.
That left a long list of potential threats.
They could find refuge in the Thief Kingdom, of course, abandon their Jabari lives and permanently take up their position as the Thief King’s deadly servants. But what would that mean for Larkyra and her husband, Darius? Newly married, with his lands just returned to him. The duke would be forced to abandon them or Larkyra. And Arabessa . . . her issues were of an entirely different nature.
No! Niya dug her nails into the railing. It will never come to that.
Killing Alōs was the only solution Niya had found, but he was a cunning and powerful pirate, used to surviving all manner of dances with death. Over the years, she had paid three assassins, and each of their heads had been delivered to her in gift boxes left in her dressing room within the palace.
“Bastard,” grumbled Niya.
Alōs’s life had proved harder to snatch away than others, which Niya resolved was a good thing in the end, if his warning of having their secret hidden in other places in Aadilor was true. Plus, now he had the binding bet to protect him from her lethal blow.
The only reprieve lay in the fact that Alōs had no knowledge of her father’s true connection to the Thief King. By the stars and sea, let him never learn of that! Alōs would have a whole other deck of playing cards then.
Niya shivered, her gaze fixing back on the open sea.
They seemed completely alone, lost, and forgotten where they sailed. Time moved strangely here, Niya realized, on the endless water, where only the sun above might tell how far they’d gone.
What would a year feel like here? wondered Niya. A year serving under Alōs Ezra. Having to obey every one of his commands.
Her magic hissed at her thoughts. Nevvvvvver.
Never, agreed Niya.
These might have been the highest stakes she had ever bet against, but for her family she would risk anything. And her sisters would find her, and all this would soon be over. The risk would be a reward in the end.
As the sun slipped higher in the sky, the heat beating against her skin, her stomach gave a pleading growl. Niya stared at the disfigured biscuit beside her. She really didn’t want to touch it, didn’t want to take any more this ship offered. Any more he offered.
Tricks, thought Niya.
Everything in this world, his world, held tricks.
But after another sand fall of standing under the harsh sun, Niya’s throat growing more and more parched, she took up the animal-hide pouch with a curse and gulped heartily.
The water was warm as it ran down her throat, but it was water, and Niya was at least thankful for that. She knew ale and whiskey were a ship’s main drink. Fresh water was hard to come by in this line of work and even harder to keep clean.
Niya grabbed the biscuit next, and though she loathed every small bite, her hunger pangs waned, and she ate it to the last crumb.
It wouldn’t do to be famished when my sisters come, she reasoned.
Today, thought Niya, turning her gaze to the thin line where sky kissed sea. They will come today. Today. Today. Today.
But the lost gods appeared to have a different plan. For the only thing that appeared when the sun traded places with the moon was Niya’s growing fear that perhaps, once again, she had made a horrible mistake.
CHAPTER SIX
Alōs would never go as far as to say he was happy, but for the first time in many months, he felt at ease. Standing before the large latticed glass windows that filled the back wall of his captain’s quarters, he idly played with the ring on his pinkie. Though the red stone that sat inside was small, he could feel the pulse of tucked-away magic it held. Just as he could sense his powers prickling in contentment along his skin at being surrounded by open water. He could think better at sea, hearing the waves, tasting the salty air with each intake of breath. Water was a gift. Water was his home.
“You have history with this girl,” said Kintra from behind, where he knew she sat, ankle propped up on knee, half-drunk glass of whiskey in hand.
“I have history with many people in Aadilor,” said Alōs, turning from the orange glow cast by the setting sun to refill his own drink.
“Yes, but this seems . . . personal.”
Alōs raised a brow in Kintra’s direction. “I would think any kidnapping and ransom seemed personal. It would be rather odd to snatch up a creature I had no idea about.”
“You elude my meaning for a reason.”
“If I elude anything, let it be the death sentence on my head.” Alōs slid into his chair behind his large wooden desk.
“On our heads,” clarified Kintra, who remained slouched in the seat across from him.
Alōs waved an unconcerned hand as he sipped his whiskey, the burn a comfort down his throat. “It is me the king will want on a spike if this does not go as planned.”
“And will it not go as planned?”
Alōs met Kintra’s attentive brown eyes, a smile curling on his lips. “It will go above and beyond planned.”
This Alōs knew with his entire being, for he only made a move when he knew the calculated risk of the outcome, and betting against his precious secret of the Mousai was more than calculated—it was a sure win.
It wasn’t magic that had kept his ship hidden, for he knew magic was a fingerprint to any skilled tracker, especially one with as much power as the Thief King. No, this was something greater, made from Aadilor’s own splendor.
They were sailing in the Obasi Strait. A length of sea where the east and west currents crashed together, creating a blind spot for all location spells, portal doors, or other kinds of magic trying to penetrate in. It was rough to sail into, but once in the seam it was an easy ride, almost luxurious, for not even storms visited this stitch of air and water. No one knew the exact cause of the phenomenon, but any good pirate knew of the strait. It was the only real sanctuary for deplorable people like him and his crew. If you passed another vessel, you let them be, even if it held your greatest adversary. Honor wasn’t merely a law among the honorable. Though few, there did exist rules even the deadliest of pirates would not break. The sanctum of the Obasi Strait was one of them.
It was with this assurance that Alōs had lured Niya into his binding bet, for not even those who held all of Aadilor’s knowledge would be able to find them here within three days. It would be like searching for a particular grain in a sandglass.
“It’s a good thing
I’m on your side”—Kintra shook her head with an amused grin—“for on anyone else, I’d find such cockiness a real pain in my arse.”
“Which would be surprising, for cocks are usually never allowed anywhere near you, let alone your arse.”
Kintra flipped him a crude gesture, which Alōs returned with a raised glass before taking another sip.
He usually never allowed his crew to act so boldly with him, but he and Kintra shared a different sort of relationship, a longer history than any on board. Even longer than his and Niya’s. Though Kintra was smart enough never to act so brazenly in front of his pirates. Behind closed doors, however, she was the closest thing Alōs had to a friend. That was, if he were the sort of soul who needed such companionship. Which he was not.
“I still do not know why you want her to become a crew member,” said Kintra. “I may not have the lost gods’ gifts, but even I know she’s powerful. Dangerously so.”
“Precisely. Think how much quicker we can get what we need with someone like her at our disposal.”
“Alōs.” Kintra cut him a dry look. “A secured binding bet will not make her a compliant lamb.”
“No, but it will make her forced to serve this ship.”
Kintra seemed unconvinced. “I do not trust her.”
“As none aboard should.”
“She hasn’t acted like the others we have kidnapped for ransom.”
“And how does she act?”
“Calmer.”
“And this is a bad thing?” challenged Alōs.
“It’s . . . unnerving.”
Alōs laughed. “Well, well, the formidable Kintra admits to being unnerved by a woman half her size.”
“She stands by the bow all day,” said Kintra, ignoring his jab. “Just stands there, looking at the horizon.”
Alōs did know this. He had watched her there this very morning.
Niya’s red hair had whipped about her shoulders as she’d leaned against the railing, peering out at the second day’s light.
Alōs had imagined the emotions tumbling through her mind then: anger, disappointment, confusion, despair. That precious pride of hers slipping away like her hope to be free, only herself to blame.
He did not feel bad for putting her in such a predicament. Everyone had choices and was responsible for their outcomes. Alōs knew that better than most.
His gaze landed on the ornate silver sandglass on his desk. It was beautifully crafted, with delicately carved leaves winding up each column, but he drew no pleasure from it. He had detested the object the very day it had been given to him. The grains always seemed to fall much too fast.
But it reflected his choices. Choices he would overcome no matter the cost.
No one survived in this world by remaining pure of heart. There was a reason the worst of the worst sat on thrones, controlled cities and men—because they were the ones willing to do what others could not stomach. Niya herself was no pure soul. He knew the fire dancer did what needed to be done to keep her position within the Thief Kingdom. Alōs had watched her and her sisters, the terrifying Mousai, commit their fair share of sins, and all in the name of their king.
So while Niya might hold spite for what Alōs had done to her those four years ago and was having her pay for now, it was a hard-taught lesson she would have learned eventually. If it hadn’t been he who betrayed her, it would certainly have been another. And another after that.
In this world you had to be deadlier than the deadliest one in the room.
So just like then, when Alōs had seen an opportunity to take more from Niya, he had. Why let go of a rare beast when you had just acquired her? Someone as powerful as Niya was a useful asset. Especially when he wasn’t nearly done finding all he sought.
Alōs felt over the red stone in his pinkie ring, a growing habit these days. Yes, he silently mused, having her talents in my arsenal would certainly speed things along. It had to.
His eyes narrowed on the silver sandglass once more.
Time was no longer a luxury.
“I’m not sure how the crew will take to her becoming one of us. Usually there’s a vote.”
Kintra’s words brought his mind back to where they sat in his quarters, the setting sun behind him painting the room in an orange tint.
“Once our bounties are dropped,” began Alōs, glancing toward her, “and the crew are welcomed back into the Thief Kingdom to return to their debauchery and folly, they should not care who sails aboard our ship for a year.”
“Fair point,” admitted Kintra.
“I’m nothing if not fair.”
“I’m sure those you’ve sent to the Fade would beg to differ.”
“Yes, I’m sure they would, given most begged quite a lot in their final moments.”
“Cowards,” scoffed Kintra before finishing her drink with a swig. Placing her empty glass on his desk, she stood. “Since all will go as planned, as you have assured, then tomorrow night we still sail out of the strait?”
“We still sail out of the strait,” confirmed Alōs. “And when the fourth light hits, be sure to bring our guest below deck. I have a feeling she’ll attempt to try better luck overboard.”
“Are you sure she’s worth all this trouble?”
“She’s the only way the Thief King might pardon us.”
Kintra watched him for a moment. “Who is this girl, Alōs?”
“Someone worth the trouble,” answered Alōs. “Now go; I have many important things to ponder.”
She gave him a mocking salute. “Aye, Captain.”
As Kintra strode from his quarters, Alōs turned to watch the setting sun slip below the water, ignoring the deafening hiss of grains falling behind him as he twisted his ring, around and around. The magic inside the stone stirred, awakening his own gifts. Hoooome, it purred.
Alōs ignored this too.
This ship was his home. Nowhere else.
Steepling his fingers, Alōs replayed Kintra’s last question.
Are you sure she’s worth all this trouble?
Yes, thought Alōs. Niya was proving to be worth more than he had originally bargained for. He dared to think what more he could gain with her so near.
Soon the light in his cabin dimmed to night, and a tingling sensation circled his wrist, but Alōs didn’t need to look down to know that the mark of his binding bet, in the end, would remain an outlined band—a debt to be collected.
Alōs grinned, feeling the future in his dark heart.
Victory was on the horizon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
His smile is deliciously sinful, thought Niya as the man approached.
But perhaps it was so because no mask covered his handsome face. Here, an act of bold recklessness. Both traits Niya enjoyed to a dangerous extent.
His power touched her next, a cool caress of green expanding from his body. And just like his physique, his gifts were strong, born from a long lineage, Niya knew, for her own gifts were the same.
Arabessa and Larkyra sat on either side of her in their costumed splendor, resting amid the debauchery taking place after one of their performances in the palace. Disguised court members crowded the shadowed room. Bodies were pressed up against one another as spirits were poured into mouths, dripping down hints of exposed skin before being licked clean. Hands roamed inside garments as a steady tempo of music made by a quartet of musicians in one corner twisted about the sweat- and incense-filled air. The evening had started like all the others, and Niya had assumed it would end similarly—a rather monotonous bore.
But the presence of this man, with his glowing turquoise eyes, which remained on her rather than on either of her slender sisters, and his exposed features, cut of beauty and dark allure: it awoke a swirling sensation in her gut. An anticipation. A much-needed excitement.
“Good evening,” said the man, his voice a deep rumble as he stopped before them.
Niya said nothing, only watched him curiously from behind her headdress, as she knew both her s
isters did. The Mousai were meant to be seen as a fearful tool in the Thief Kingdom, pretty creatures with a lethal touch. To retain their mystery, they had to remain just that, mysterious.
“My name is Alōs Ezra,” said he, black coat swirling with his flourished bow. “The lord and captain of the Crying Queen.”
Ah, thought Niya, a pirate. She had heard whisperings about this Crying Queen, the ruthlessness of her growing crew, but she did not know a captain such as he claimed her.
Niya’s magic swam awake, warm and bubbling, feeling her interest peak.
“I must compliment you on your performance,” continued Lord Ezra. “It was quite extraordinary. If a touch dramatic.”
To this Niya grinned behind her disguise. Normally those who approached them only pandered and preened. “One might say that by definition most performances,” began Niya, unable to help herself, “are meant to touch on the theatrical.”
“Well volleyed,” said Lord Ezra, his eyes seeming to burn brighter at hearing her reply. “If ever we were to play chess, remind me to cheat, for I fear that may be the only way to win against you.”
“Who said I would not be cheating as well?”
“Who indeed?” The pirate grinned, a flash of white against his brown skin.
Niya wanted to say more, play more with this tempting man, but a jab from Arabessa’s gifts stopped her.
Careful, her sister’s magic seemed to say.
Niya prickled but obediently remained mute.
Lord Ezra seemed to read the shift, for he bowed again, but not before meeting her gaze one last time. “I look forward to our games,” he said. “Especially the cheating kind.”
Not until the pirate strode away from them, disappearing into the cloaked crowd, did Niya realize he had only addressed her the entire time, never once glancing at either of her sisters.
A new smile curled onto her lips. Games, she thought. Niya was very fond of games.
The room in the palace shifted and changed as splotches of new visions appeared before Niya. They came and went as though she were looking up at the dancing surface of a dark sea, moonlight reflecting down, fragmented.
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