Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  “Clever,” said Niya.

  “We are the Crying Queen,” explained Alōs. “Clever is merely one of our many attributes.”

  “Yet humility is not,” added Niya. “Do you lot ever get tired of complimenting yourselves?”

  “No,” said Alōs and Kintra at once.

  The pair shared a smile, which caused something hot and uneasy to twist inside Niya’s chest.

  Kintra is the exception.

  Niya pushed through her discomfort. “So once we are inside, then what?”

  “Once inside we need to be prepared for all things. But ultimately we will find the Prism Stone and replace it with a fake.”

  “A fake?”

  Alōs swiveled the box around on his desk and clicked it open.

  A large red stone glowed out of a bed of white satin. It was uncut and crude but no less a glorious gem. It was about the size of her fist.

  “This is a fake?” asked Niya, stepping closer. “It’s so . . .”

  “Beautiful?” said Alōs as he shut the lid. Niya blinked at the sudden loss of glamour that had momentarily filled the room. “Yes, it should be, given it’s from Esrom’s own royal vault,” he continued. “It may not be part of the Prism Stone, but it certainly has value.”

  “So where do I fit in with this plan?”

  “Once Kintra and I assess the situation in the palace, you’ll ensure our next steps go smoothly. That we get back the other half of the stone no matter what. However we might need you to help, you will. Spelling guards, distracting guests, dancing,” he finished with a sharp grin. “You’ll need to be prepared to do it all. As you promised.”

  Niya held the pirate captain’s piercing gaze, her heart beginning to beat faster. Whether at the anticipation of the heist or for the man she stood before, or both, Niya couldn’t help but feel a thrill rush down her spine. She was getting closer to her freedom. “Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll do as promised.”

  “Good.” Alōs leaned back into his chair. He steepled his fingers over his wide chest, assessing her.

  Though Niya hated his scrutinizing gaze, she kept still, chin up. Two can play this game, she thought. Silence stretched between them before, keeping his eyes trained on her, he opened a drawer to his right.

  “I have debated whether to return these to you,” he said, revealing her blades and holster. He placed them on his desk, his hands remaining possessive over the carved hilts.

  Her heart leaped at the sight of them. She had thought they had been forever lost when taken from her in Esrom. Niya’s fingers twitched at her sides to snatch them up. Ours, her magic cooed.

  “And have you come to a decision on whether you will?” She lifted a brow, feigning indifference.

  He smiled. Not fooled. “I have. But I warn you, if they fall into my possession again, I will not be so generous in their return.”

  “It is not only Kintra who is a skilled thief in this room,” said Niya, eyes narrowed. “If they fall into your possession again, you won’t notice when they fall out.”

  “Nor will you,” said Kintra to Niya. “You seem to be careless with your belongings, Red. I’d be a much better master of those blades.”

  “Care to make that threat more real?” Niya turned to the quartermaster, magic jumping in her gut.

  Kintra’s hand slipped to the long knife sheathed to her thigh. “Gladly.”

  “All right, you two,” said Alōs, raising a hand. “While the thought of watching you both black and blue one another is amusing, I have far too many valuables more important than either of you in this room to break. If you feel like a fight, do it later, and outside. Now take these”—he pushed the blades toward Niya—“before I change my mind.”

  Niya cut Kintra a last narrowed glance before retrieving her knives, slipping the holster around her hips.

  She held in the contented sigh at the familiar feel of them.

  “One last thing before you can go,” said Alōs.

  “Yes?”

  He paused for a grain fall. “I wanted to thank you.”

  Niya blinked, momentarily blindsided. “For . . . what?”

  “Helping as you did in the storm. I saw you guide the bow.”

  Niya didn’t know how to respond, to feel, so unaccustomed to genuine compliments from this man. “Yes, well, as promised. I give my full aid.”

  “Yes,” said Alōs, holding her gaze. “As promised.”

  Niya shifted her weight. She did not like him like this, she realized.

  Nice.

  She needed Alōs to remain mean, cold, loathsome.

  All the easier to keep her wall of hate, of revenge, fortified and standing tall.

  He used me, she reminded herself, again and again. And blackmailed my family. He’s using me now.

  Just as you used him, a small voice echoed in her mind.

  “Is that all, Captain?” she asked.

  Hearing the use of his mastering title over her, without mockery or sarcasm, something in his eyes sparked. Another reminder of their momentary truce in place.

  “Yes, pirate,” said Alōs. “That will be all. For now.”

  The people of the Valley of Giants revealed themselves like flowers in bloom. There were few at the start, popping up behind rocks on the canyon’s rim, standing sentry at the edge, until they gathered along the beach at the end of the river near where the Crying Queen anchored.

  They wore hooded robes, dyed shades of burnt orange, which camouflaged them into the sandstone surroundings. Bows and arrows were poised at the ready, blades and spear tips reflecting the sun’s light.

  Kintra ordered the pirates to load trunks pulled from the bowels of the ship onto boats before the forty-odd crew members rowed to shore.

  The two groups stood along the bank, each eyeing the other with distrust, a tension added to the thick, hot air.

  Alōs stepped forward, throwing his sword to the sand, followed by a hidden blade in his boot.

  Niya looked to the pirates around her as they did the same.

  She sighed. Of course, right when I get my knives back.

  “It’s for show,” whispered Saffi beside her, noticing her hesitation. “We’ll pick them all back up in a grain fall. You’ll see.”

  Niya turned back to watch a tall woman step out from among the people of the valley. She had black skin and a shaved head save for a single strip of hair and two ears lined with gold rings.

  Niya instantly glanced to Kintra, who stood slightly behind Alōs, her styling so similar. The quartermaster’s shoulders appeared stiff, and Niya could sense her tight energy. She knew Kintra was from Shanjaree, another western city, but perhaps it was closer to the Valley of Giants than she’d originally thought.

  Alōs greeted the woman. “Paxala,” he said. Peace this day. “My crew and I have sailed for many days. We come for rest and to see the wonders of the Valley of Giants for ourselves. Nothing more.”

  The woman angled her head to the side, eyes narrowed, in a trickle of tense silence, before she broke out in a wide grin. “Alōs Ezra,” she said, clasping hands with their captain as though they were old friends. “Your entourage has grown, and so have you.”

  He smiled in kind, nodding to the soldiers behind her. “The same could be said about you, Alessia.”

  “Your lot are not the only scoundrels who have dared the western storms these past years. Our army has doubled.”

  “Really?” inquired Alōs with raised brows. “I see there is much to catch up on.”

  “Which we shall,” said Alessia. “But first, come. I shall take you to our queen.”

  The beach became alive with movement. Niya was thrown her knives by Saffi as the master gunner bent to retrieve her own blades. Kintra yelled to the pirates to pair up and haul the trunks as they marched in a line, following the people of the valley into the thick, dry brush.

  On their journey Niya quickly learned two things about this land. One: the heat was intolerable and the insects unnaturally large. Two: it was wi
ld. Their current path had been made by years of trekking over the same area rather than being paved.

  It was a grueling hike through brush and rock, full of sore feet and labored breaths. None of the valley people talked with the pirates or vice versa. Despite the pirate captain and the commander seeming to know each other, it remained a game of sizing up, of watchful eyes and skeptical brows.

  By the time their group reached the carved city situated along a high plateau, Niya was covered in sweat. Leaning against a boulder, she wiped her forehead and took in the splendor before her.

  A multitude of soaring columns of sandstone rose to the sky. Cathedrals of rock carved to make homes in the sides, ladders and roped bridges connecting them together. As their procession continued on, twisting through the streets, the citizens came out to stand in doorways, stopping their purchases among vender stalls, all to watch them pass. They wore finely beaded and embroidered wrap dresses, trousers, and tunics. All dyed a variety of reds, oranges, blues, and greens. Their skin was a variety of shades, from dark to the palest white, all accented in swirls of gold paint and piercings, as if celebrating the glimmering hue of the land they were born from.

  A fair-skinned girl hid behind her mother’s legs, staring up at Niya as she walked past where the pair appeared to have stopped to collect water from a spigot. She probably was no older than six, but half her right ear was already covered in piercings. Niya smiled at the girl, and she ducked farther away.

  This city was as sprawling as it was tall, a tangling mix of dwellings built beside or on top of shops. Eventually they entered a wide main thruway, which led to a rising stone monolith at the end. At the base were stairs that went up, up, up, up, up. Niya craned her head back to take in a massive palace at the very top, carved out of the rock’s face.

  Twirling columns supported an intricately carved roof in half relief, where the sun glistened over the sandstone, making it appear as though thousands of diamonds were embedded in its surface.

  “We’re to go up there?” Niya all but whined. “There must be two thousand steps.”

  “I’d rather sail through the Mocking Mist without my ear wax,” grumbled Boman beside her, dabbing at the sweat along his neck. It was a useless gesture, given his entire shirt was soaked through.

  “Come on, you old cows”—Saffi nudged them both—“or do you want me to tell Kintra you’ve volunteered to carry one of the trunks the rest of the way?”

  Niya’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Saffi merely smiled, inching to where Kintra stood at the front of their procession, beside where Alōs was talking with Alessia. The two were engaged in an amusing story, while Kintra remained stone faced, glancing to their surroundings with tense shoulders.

  “Come on, Red.” Boman took Niya’s arm. “Best not test her. In my experience, she’d do anything for a laugh.”

  It felt like a miracle, but Niya made it up the towering steps to enter a cool, shadowed hall, smelling of desert jasmine and yucca, a tangy sweetness.

  Giant bowls of fire lined the way forward, peppered between massive stone columns that held up a beautiful mosaic ceiling.

  The patterns were geometric and elaborate, reminding Niya of some of the stained glass windows found in the Council buildings in Jabari.

  At the thought of her home, a sharp ache seized her heart.

  How she missed her city of birth. The tight alleys that held memories of her and her sisters running through them after dark. Larkyra and Arabessa would certainly enjoy the splendor she walked through now. At the thought, Niya was gripped by a desperate wish to see them. If only for a moment so she might tell them all that had happened since they’d been parted.

  Niya moved with the wave of her crew as they were guided down another grand hall, tall doors opening to usher them into a throne room. Like many courts Niya had seen, this one was lined on either side with court members, curious gazes wrapped up in fine clothes and fluttering feather-woven fans.

  At the very back, three figures sat atop a dais in high-backed chairs made from a mixture of wood and stone. This was where their group halted, lowering their trunks, as Alessia approached the royal family, whispering something low.

  Queen Runisha, who sat in the middle, peered down at them. Her garb was a dusty hue, cinched tight at the waist, which accentuated her rigid posture. Her black hair was teased and gathered tight into multiple twisting buns, where a similar crown as her husband’s, a branch-like creation curling around sapphires and orange citrine, rested. The pair also shared similar green eyes, but while King Anup looked upon them bored, hers were alight with curiosity and intelligence.

  She waved a hand as if to say, Go on.

  Alōs swept forward, bowing low onto one knee. The crew followed in an awkward wave of pirates attempting to show chivalry. Taking in the scene, Niya smiled in amusement but did the same.

  “Your Graces,” began Alōs, looking up to the three figures, “we thank you for welcoming us into your beautiful city. We have traveled far to reach the wonder the rest of Aadilor calls the lost gods’ gold. Though we are lowly rats of the sea, our visit is one of peace and rest.”

  Listening to Alōs, Niya was quickly reminded of how silver tongued he could be.

  “We come offering gifts in exchange for hospitality,” continued Alōs as he signaled at nearby crew. They brought forward and opened their trunks. Piles of sparkling riches shimmered from the cases: jewels and silver coins. Appreciative gasps and murmurs filled the hall from the court members. Saffi had explained that it was a portion of the pirates’ pillaging, taxes of a sort, saved for times like these, when they needed to stop in friendly waters to refuel. Treasure in trade for food and rest.

  “Rise, pirate.” Queen Runisha’s voice vibrated deep in the hall. It was a husky, pleasing sound. A mother’s hum. “We do not see visitors here often, especially not of your variety. But the storms and mist have let you pass, as they have once before. Yes, the land remembers you, Lord Ezra, as well as a few of your companions.” Queen Runisha’s gaze brushed past him and landed on Kintra. “It is good to see you have proved again to be worthy of an audience. Now tell me: While your gifts are welcome, it is your words I wish to validate. Have you truly come in friendship?”

  “We have, Your Grace.”

  The queen remained skeptical.

  But Niya’s attention was pulled from the exchange when a flash of red caught her eye.

  Princess Callista sat to the queen’s left, silent, obedient, learning. And while she certainly was a vision with her smooth brown skin wrapped in a dusty-rose robe, it was her gold crown that had Niya’s heart jumping into her throat. The hall fell away, the crew, the court members, the words spoken between Alōs and the queen. For all Niya could see, could taste, was the brilliant red stone resting in the middle of Princess Callista’s diadem.

  The Prism Stone.

  Niya’s magic flooded her veins at her jolt of shock.

  It was here. Right in front of her. In front of everyone. A round oval of purity, glimmering red and bright, like newly spilled blood, amid a wrapping of gold leafing in the young girl’s crown.

  Niya fought every urge to snatch it and run.

  This is it, her mind screamed.

  What caused Alōs’s desperation.

  What Esrom needed.

  What promised Niya’s freedom.

  It’s here!

  Niya felt torn in two, from knowing she needed to remain still and uncaring among her companions yet desperately wishing to point to the stone and yell, Mine!

  She looked to Alōs at the front.

  Has he seen it? Nothing in his stance gave it away. But then, there. In the intensity of his gaze as it held on to the young princess. It was the look of a wolf finding its prey.

  Callista blushed under the attention.

  Niya had a moment of empathy for the girl, for who knew the depravity the pirate lord would stoop to so he could reclaim what he had suffered so greatly to find.

>   “I will put to the test your words of peace, Lord Alōs.” Queen Runisha’s voice returned Niya to their exchange. “And when I say ‘test,’ I mean it. We will extend our hospitality, but know my soldiers outnumber your crew tenfold.”

  “May I assure you, then,” he said, charmer’s grin present, “any test I’ve been given I’ve passed with flying colors.”

  Queen Runisha smiled as well, a game seemingly now afoot. “Then, great people of the valley”—she turned her gaze to her subjects—“come forth and meet our new friends, for tonight we will be dining with pirates.”

  The hall erupted with movement as the gifted treasures were carried away and servants slunk from shadows to guide the group of pirates to where they would be staying within the palace.

  Niya’s magic jumped along with her haste as she squeezed through bodies to get to Kintra. Had she seen the Prism Stone as well? Niya’s mind spun, plans forming for how they could take a crown from a royal’s head without them noticing.

  But when she was only a few steps from the quartermaster, a touch of magic, strong and familiar, caressed the back of her neck.

  Hello, it seemed to say.

  She spun, brows pinched as she searched the cavernous hall.

  Who’s there? she thought.

  And then, as though the lost gods smiled down on her this day, she saw them.

  They stood amid an animated conversation taking place between a group of court members, but they paid them little mind as their violet eyes clung to her, a crooked smile on their lips.

  Niya’s heart gave a leap.

  Achak, her old friend, was here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Despite the excruciating voyage to the Valley of Giants, Niya decided she quite liked this kingdom. For so far, since arrival, everything was going according to plan and more.

  As Niya reclined deeper into the hot spring, where she and the rest of her female crew members bathed within the mountain palace, she looked across her secluded pool to Achak.

  Steam scented with jasmine and honey rose around the sister’s black, luminous skin, her bald head glistening with water droplets.