Saffi shrugged. “The captain had enough to worry about.”
Niya’s ears perked up at that. “What do you mean?”
“You know, with the bounties on all our heads from the Thief King.”
Ah, yes, that, she thought, slightly disappointed that Saffi hadn’t revealed something else. Something Niya didn’t yet know about Alōs.
Secrets.
Leverage.
“Did you know what you were all doing in stealing phorria? What it would mean once you got caught?”
Saffi leveled a calculating gaze on her. “Do you mean, Did we know the risk we all took?”
Niya nodded.
“Yes,” said Saffi.
“And yet you still went along with Alōs’s orders to steal the drug from the Thief Kingdom, though you all could have been killed by the king?”
“The captain,” Saffi said, correcting Niya’s slipup, “always puts such big decisions to a vote.”
“A vote?”
“Aye, he may be our captain, but he needs us as much as we need him. Boats don’t sail well with crew that ain’t inclined to sail them.”
Niya let this information settle. She was surprised that such a symbiotic relationship existed between Alōs and his pirates. She always viewed him as an unyielding captain, at least with how much he enjoyed bossing everyone around. Could he truly care for what his pirates wanted?
Niya glanced down to the rippling water, not enjoying the tingling of jealousy that rose with the idea of Alōs allowing his crew to be a part of making such important decisions. For she could not help thinking of her father, the Thief King, and how his commands were exactly that, commands, never to be questioned. And Arabessa, chastening her whenever she had an outburst, despite often being the one to incite them. In contrast, the pirates hardly blinked if Niya awoke in a foul mood or cut them with words if they annoyed her. In fact, this lot merely gave it right back, her attitude blending in seamlessly with their own. At these thoughts, a prickle of unease wriggled in Niya’s gut. Though she was chained to the Crying Queen, could there be more freedom here than at home?
Guilt instantly gripped her.
Traitor, her magic hissed. Disloyal.
No, she thought. No. I didn’t mean it! My family is my everything. They had done and would do anything for her. Just as she would for them.
Shaking off her sudden nonsense emotions, Niya glanced back at Saffi. “So what did you all gain from risking such a treasonous act against the Thief King?”
“‘Treasonous act’?” Saffi repeated before laughing. “By the lost gods, you really must have high-ranking connections in the kingdom to speak so loyally.”
Niya did not respond, merely shifted as warning bells went off in her head. She had to be more careful with her words. Otherwise she might allude to exactly how connected and loyal she was.
“But what we gained,” Saffi continued, her eyes glazing over as she looked out to the dark waters, a fond memory arising, “was more coin than any of us had ever seen for doing such little work. We didn’t even have to kill anyone for it.”
Niya snorted. “You chanced your lives for some silver?”
“It wasn’t just ‘some silver,’ Red.” Saffi’s narrowed gaze swung to her. “It was enough money for us to be sitting pretty for the rest of the year. Which we now are. Yeah, sure, we got caught in the end, but our captain got us out of that mess. He always does. Which is why we trust his decisions, no matter how dangerous. We’d sail any course he sets, for he’s never led us astray yet.”
Yeah, he got out of that mess because of me, thought Niya sourly.
Despite Saffi’s words, she didn’t believe for one grain fall that Alōs had risked all he had gained in the Thief Kingdom merely for some silver. No matter the amount.
Niya rubbed at the mark of her binding bet on her wrist, the black band feeling heavy on her skin.
Riches might have been the story he’d painted for his crew, but she knew Alōs well enough to understand his goals were bigger than monetary gain. They always had been. Power, status, information to blackmail with. These were the things he hunted.
But she kept quiet regarding her suspicions of the pirate captain.
It was clear her doubts would not be shared with her current companion. Plus, it was best to not let on that, besides Burlz and Prik, there might be another traitorous crew member in their midst, despite temptations of freedom she might enjoy aboard their ship.
Niya was determined to find out what secrets Alōs kept hidden, what treasure he truly hunted, and why. And when she did, she would not hesitate to use every last piece of that leverage against him so she could truly be set free.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Alōs leaned over his desk in his quarters, studying his maps of Aadilor’s far west lands. After returning to the anchored Crying Queen outside Barter Bay, he had given the rest of his crew leave for the night. His ship now sat quiet in the early hours of dawn, a light pink stretching into his windows. He knew most would not be returning until late afternoon, Niya included. She had been more than pleased to go exploring with Saffi and the rest of his pirates.
Alōs had yet to tell his crew where they were next to sail.
Pirates took bad news better after a night of mischief. But to be safe, Alōs had divided up the bounty from Cax Island for when they returned. He might be a ruthless leader, but he was also a fair one. He knew when to put honey in his pirates’ pots. People followed their leaders easier when they believed they were treated equally among their own. It was strenuous work, being the Crying Queen’s captain. A constant balancing act between assuaging other people’s egos and exerting his strength to keep the ornerier pirates in line. Alōs was good at it, however. Being a leader. But perhaps it was merely in his blood.
Twisting his compass over previously marked lines, he outlined a few new routes they could sail to the Valley of Giants. He would double-check each with his helmsman, Boman, but he knew only one would get them there the fastest.
As he studied the jagged coastline of the west lands, he stared at the River Pelt, which led to their destination. It was wide enough that they could sail a large distance in, but getting there would be the tricky part. The air was drier in the west, the sun hotter, promising treacherous storms through the cooler waters as they mixed with the heat. Cold clashing with hot always caused tension.
Then there was the Mocking Mist.
This, more than the length they had to sail or the rough sea, was what his crew would not be pleased about. Few could handle what the mist had to say if they didn’t take precautions.
His mind drifted back to last night, when Niya had repeated all the information that had flowed through Cebba’s pliable lips.
She had let slip that someone from the Valley of Giants had come to the trader, seeking a stone worthy of the royal family’s daughter—the next in line to be queen. They had left with the most valuable gem Cebba had, the bloodred one, making her pockets grossly fat for years.
Alōs could imagine; it was this original trade to Cebba that had afforded him his ship and the first of his crew.
Though it was not much information, it was all he needed for this next leg.
In spite of Niya’s recent performance provoking unwanted, heated memories, Alōs had been right; she was a valuable asset.
And she was his for a year.
A rap at his door brought Alōs back to his quarters. A cool sea breeze filtered through an open windowpane at his back. “Enter.”
Kintra stepped in, face grave. “You have a visitor.”
A figure floated in behind her, their magic a metallic pulse funneling into his chamber. Cold, but soothing. Familiar. They wore a hooded robe of rich blue that hid their face, with an intricate silver pattern sewn along the edges.
Alōs straightened, his focus sharpening. “You may leave us.”
The room hung in silence as Kintra walked out, the door shutting with an audible click.
“I thought we
agreed you were never to come here.”
“We did,” said a man as he pushed back his hood. “But when I saw it empty, I could not resist.”
The visitor’s hair was as white as the moon, his skin brown like Alōs’s, and he had similar glowing turquoise eyes. A silver tattoo started at the tip of his nose and expanded up and over each of his brows. It was the marking of the High Surbs from Esrom, the hidden underwater kingdom. Alōs’s homeland.
He watched the man’s gaze fall to the silver sandglass on his desk.
Alōs’s chest tightened with unease. “What are you doing here, Ixō?” he asked.
“It is your parents.”
“I have no parents.”
“You soon may not.”
Alōs went very still as he forced down a sharp pang of panic. He was ice. Stone. He did not feel. “Tell me.”
“Your mother became sick after the last moon letting. She passed last night.”
Alōs remained silent. Numb.
“As you know, it is common with our kind that are bonded with such love,” Ixō went on to explain, “that one cannot live long without the—”
“I remember the teachings you High Surbs spouted. I do not need another lesson.”
“Yes, well.” Ixō’s chin tipped up. “We fear your father is quick to follow.”
“And?”
Ixō appeared momentarily appalled. “Your father bade me to find you. He wants, needs, you to come home, to see him.”
My father. Home. The armor around Alōs’s heart thickened, his magic swirling through his veins to protect him. “It is no longer my home,” he said. “Hasn’t been in a very long time. You and I both ensured that.”
“Esrom will always be your home. It is forever in your blood, despite your banishment.”
“It is precisely my banishment that keeps it thus. My place is now on this ship and wherever the sea takes me.”
“Please, Alōs.” Ixō stepped closer. “If not for your parents, then for your brother. Come for Ariōn.”
Ariōn. The center of Alōs’s heart, which he locked up tightest, shivered. He leaned forward, digging his knuckles into his desk. “All I’ve ever done is for him. Where I am now is because of him.”
“And he knows this,” Ixō assured. “Your parents do . . . did as well. Why do you think no guards have disturbed you whenever you’ve made anchor in Esrom? Despite how fleeting your stay or how well you try to hide, they have always known when the Queen sails in.”
This knowledge did little to help ease Alōs’s growing frustration.
“Because I never step onto Esrom’s shores, and I never let the citizens know that I am there. I keep my ship in the sanctuary waters as law decrees for unapproved visitors. Are you saying I will have sanction to step onto the islands if I do return?”
Ixō’s eyes lowered. “No.”
Alōs laughed, humorlessly. “So my brother and my dying father are meant to come aboard this ship? Crawling with pirates? I think not.”
“I will organize your safe passage to them. You know there are ways in that will not be watched. The private beaches to the west have not been used since you’ve left. Please, Alōs, do you not wish to see your parents one last time?”
His magic jumped along with his rage. “I have already made peace regarding my final meetings with Tallōs and Cordelia. Why should I ruin that with a memory of one dead and one ill?”
“To comfort Ariōn,” pleaded Ixō. “You know he grows weaker when he’s distressed.”
Alōs closed his eyes, the fight leaving him, as it always did when it came to his brother.
Finally, he met Ixō’s gaze. He didn’t need to speak his answer for the surb to know he would come.
The Crying Queen rang with the shouts and scuffles of his crew preparing to set sail. Getting to Esrom was not like getting to most places. They wouldn’t glide along the ocean waves but rather under them. In an air-pocket tunnel where no sails would be needed for their journey.
Alōs stood at the wheel beside Boman and watched the fluid coordination between the cockpit and foredeck, his crew boss yelling commands. This was the part he always reveled in, the commotion before setting off to a new destination. Even scoundrels could be choreographed.
Saffi paced the main deck below him, yelling instructions to her team, who worked with grunts and groans to secure the cannons. Alōs’s gaze locked onto Niya as she pulled ropes tighter, the heat glinting off her hair, painting it a bright orange.
Even now, Niya’s body flowed in a smooth rhythm to her orders, not a step tripped or movement wasted. She had proved to be a quick study in her duties. But this did not surprise Alōs, for he had understood early that she was a clever and adaptable creature. Like him.
“The anchor’s up, Captain,” Emanté, his boatswain, said as he approached. His white skin was always in a different state of sunburn, yet never once did he complain. The young man seemed to enjoy any time spent under the sun, as his currently bare chest proved.
“Then prepare all to hold on,” instructed Alōs.
“I’ve got a good grip on her, Cap’n.” Boman nodded to his sturdy grasp on the wheel.
His pirates knew what to do when told they were going to Esrom.
Kintra ascended the stairs from the main deck to come to Alōs’s side. Holding a bowl, she extended him a clean knife. Alōs picked up the blade and rolled up his sleeve, displaying a few old cuts on his forearm. He sliced a new one open.
Kintra held the bowl beneath his arm and caught every crimson drop before handing him gauze and a bandage.
Wrapping his forearm, Alōs met Niya’s curious gaze from where she stood below. Her attention fell to his bandage.
A flicker of displeasure settled over Alōs. What he was about to show her not many had seen. But it could not be avoided.
Placing his back to her, he rolled down his sleeve as Kintra carried the bowl to each corner of the ship, using a rag to mark sections of the banisters with his blood.
Only those from Esrom could locate the hidden realm and open the passageway that led to the underwater city. Alōs’s blood acted as the tether that could always return him to his place of birth. It was said to have been a gift from the lost gods to Aerélōs and Danōt, the first people of his homeland, before the city had sunk to the seafloor. A way for their children to always find their way home. Alōs’s mother used to retell the story to him and his brother as she tucked them in at night.
His mother.
His mother was dead.
Walking to the stern, Alōs grasped the banister and stared out at the calm sea. Barter Bay had now shrunk to a mere smudge on the horizon behind them.
Ixō had left immediately after his visit, jumping into the waters, his ancient surb magic creating an air pocket around himself as he descended into the depths, finding his way back.
Alōs could do the same, but getting his ship and crew there safely was an entirely different matter. And he could not leave them topside. He didn’t know how long this trip would take. Plus, there were advantages in sailing to Esrom, one being that when you left, you could get to farther parts of Aadilor quicker than if you sailed above.
Anything to get him closer to the Valley of Giants, he’d take.
Inhaling a deep breath, Alōs began to push his magic into the wood. His muscles strained as he pushed out his gifts, the icy magic crawling through his veins and out of his skin. Like sparks and crackles of light, his gifts swam through the banister’s density, stretching the entire length. Mine, his magic hissed, all of this is mine, until it hit the markings of his blood at each corner of his ship, connecting like a click of a lock. Any with the Sight could see the ship now ringing and pulsing with his magic, glowing brighter as he forced out as much of the lost gods’ gifts as he could, until the air grew cold, frosted. His breaths came out in icy puffs.
He held his beloved, his Crying Queen, in a hug.
And then, when he felt all was secure, Alōs spoke the words that would get t
hem to Esrom.
“Dōs estudé.” My home.
The waves below his ship roared as they crashed away, a tear ripping open across the sea, sending the Queen swaying. Fish flopped to the surface, chunks of foam flew, and salt water sprayed across Alōs’s face. His body felt torn in two as he fought for control, his magic wanting to sever him as it stretched from his skin, pulled at his bones, but he held steady.
It wasn’t until he felt as though he might topple overboard, until his nerve endings sizzled their exhaustion, that a wide chasm opened beneath them and the Crying Queen fell through.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A cool mist peppered Alōs’s skin, wind whipping back his hair, as they traveled through a hollowed-out waterway. It was called the Stream, the passage beneath the waves that could be created to sail to Esrom.
Sea life did not penetrate inside the tunnel of air but could be seen swimming outside its current. The Stream took them down, deeper into the waters, and as the sunlight dimmed, glowing jellyfish and other illuminating marine life lined its liquid sides, urging them forward. The Crying Queen skimmed along the bottom of the Stream’s floor as it soared at a dizzying speed.
No matter where you sailed from in Aadilor, the journey to Esrom through this passage always took exactly a full sand fall. Which made this path one of the easier to travel, despite being underwater and requiring magic and blood.
But Alōs was not scared of blood.
Their journey had barely begun when Alōs saw the blue glow at the end, heard the roar of the waterfall that was the final entrance to the hidden city. It cataloged all who entered and exited, and as the Crying Queen passed through, the ship was awash with shimmering dust, a punctured layer of magic, as they left the Stream and swam into new waters.
The true splendor of Aadilor took up Alōs’s vision.
A sparkling kingdom at night stretched out, the star-filled sky camouflaging any hint that they were indeed deep down at the bottom of the Obasi Sea. Warm, fragrant air filled Alōs’s lungs on a deep inhale. Home, his magic purred.
Dance of a Burning Sea Page 16