“So, my love”—Achak turned to Kintra—“have you seen any friends since you’ve arrived?”
The quartermaster frowned. “Thankfully, no.”
“It has been a while since you’ve been back here, yes?” asked Achak. “Queen Runisha told us it might be close to four years.”
“Six.” Kintra reached for a glass of wine that sat on the table, taking a hearty sip.
Niya pinched her brows together, confusion swirling. “You know the queen?”
“We know of each other,” Kintra clarified.
“Forgive me for assuming,” said Niya, “but I thought you were from Shanjaree.”
“She is,” said Saffi on the other side of Achak, stabbing a large slice of pork on her plate.
“I was.” Kintra eyed her shipmate. “And I’ll tell my own past, thank you.”
Saffi raised her hands, forkful of food included.
“Yes, I was from Shanjaree,” Kintra continued, her posture tightening as she stared into her drink. “But my only affinity now is with Alōs and the Crying Queen.”
Niya glanced at Achak over Kintra’s shoulder, but the brother raised his brows as if to say, Ask her, not me.
“So . . . how did you come to know the people of the valley?” asked Niya.
Kintra’s gaze went to the pirate lord across the room, still wrapped in conversation with the young princess. “It’s not really a tale suited for dinner conversation.”
Saffi snorted before talking through a mouthful of food. “We are pirates. When have we ever abided by conversational decorum?”
“It’s okay,” began Niya. “If you don’t want to share—”
“No, it is just that . . . the king of Shanjaree, King Othébus, was . . . not a good man, you see,” said Kintra, playing with the stem of her glass. “He took many wives. And as he got older, the wives he chose got younger. My family are members of court, or they were the last time I saw them. No one wanted to bring their daughters to the palace, but the king demanded he know the families of each of his courtiers. I must have caught his eye, for I was chosen to be his tenth wife. I was thirteen.”
“Oh dear,” breathed Niya.
“My parents tried to dissuade him,” continued Kintra, her gaze growing unfocused. “They told him I was not a good match. Too strongheaded, with opinions of my own, but King Othébus would not hear it. And because he was our king, they had to obey. I had just gotten my markings.” Kintra ran her fingers over the five scarred welts on one of her biceps. “It was how the king remembered each wife’s number in line,” she explained. “My binding to the king was meant for the following day when I met Alōs.
“He must have heard me crying, because he found me hiding in a street behind the palace, not wanting yet to go home. The burns, they hurt too badly, and I couldn’t allow my family to see me upset. Alōs asked why I was sad, and normally I wouldn’t have spoken against the king to a stranger, but at the time I was so angry and scared, and I wanted everyone to know my rage. It wasn’t until it was all said and done that I would come to learn the consequences of such an act.” Kintra smiled to herself then. “The king was murdered later that night.”
Niya’s pulse quickened as she listened to Kintra’s story, a chill running through her at her last words. “Alōs killed the king?”
Kintra nodded. “Evidently Uréli, the king’s firstborn heir, had been organizing a coup for some time. Alōs’s appearance was more than coincidence—it was planned. He wasn’t much older than myself at the time, but Alōs’s reputation had already spread far in Aadilor, and Prince Uréli requested he come for an audience. I’ve never been sure how much of my story persuaded Alōs into his next actions, but when he met with the prince, he agreed to bear the sins Uréli could not commit himself. He agreed to kill the king for Uréli, so long as Othébus’s wives were freed and taking child brides was banned.
“That night, the streets were in chaos,” Kintra went on, now seeming unable to stop her tale. “I still can hear how the horn blasts seemed to come from every treetop as soldiers forced discipline on any who openly celebrated the assassination. Alōs came and found me in my home, slipped right into my bedroom window like the shadow of a lost god. I had no idea how he knew where my family lived, but there he was, quickly telling me that he was the pirate captain of a ship called the Crying Queen. He offered me a place with his crew. I’m not sure what made me do it, but I went with him that very moment. I only left a note for my family, telling them that I loved them and I was not dead. We sailed immediately here, to the Valley of Giants, seeking sanctuary for a time. Apparently there had been a secret peace treaty between the people of the valley and Uréli. I guess the young girls at court were not the only ones threatened by the old king’s leering eyes. Many girls of Shanjaree sought refuge here, and it appears”—Kintra caught the gaze of an older woman sitting across the room—“many have not left.”
Silence fell over their small party as the commotion of the dinner continued to swim around them.
“Did the captain ever tell you why he searched you out later that night?” asked Saffi. “To ask you to join his ship?”
Kintra breathed out a sigh. “He said I reminded him of someone he had once cared for.”
Ariōn. The name hung unsaid, but an image of Alōs’s younger brother swam forward in Niya’s mind.
She sat beside the quartermaster, lost for words, as her convictions regarding the pirate lord echoed in confusion.
Protector, heartbreaker, liar, savior, friend, thief, murderer, monster, companion, defender.
How could Alōs have so many contradictions?
Because so can you, a voice whispered through her.
Niya glanced to Alōs’s dark form at the front of the hall. He was made up of cool shadows yet burned with such life, such conviction in his mission.
As Niya did with hers.
Her duty to her family, her king, was everything she had. Everything she believed in and would fight for. That meant sometimes committing monstrous acts in the name of good.
She suddenly felt very hot, her magic twisting in her gut as it sensed her flash of panic. She realized with a flood of dread she would have done exactly as Alōs had, to her or to anyone else who got in the way of what she was after, especially if it was to save her family, her home.
She would have broken a thousand hearts, betrayed a kingdom of people, to protect those she loved.
And there was no denying Alōs loved his brother, was still duty bound to Esrom despite his banishment, and, as evident from these stories, cared about the pirates aboard his ship.
He cared.
Niya felt far away at the thought, as though everything in the room now glistened with new meaning.
We have fought as enemies for a long while, fire dancer. His earlier words to her echoed in her mind. Perhaps it is time we see what happens when we work as allies.
Had he truly been attempting peace? Peace that he perhaps had wished they could have built had they met on a different day under different circumstances?
If my memory serves—Alōs’s voice from earlier continued to burn through her resolve—you have been seeking me out since that night. Not the other way around.
I sought you out because I had been trying to kill you!
It sounds, then, like it is you who hates me.
You who hates me.
Something shifted, hard and uncomfortable, in her chest.
Dare Niya admit that she now understood Alōs? All his motives and intentions toward her. He had been on a mission to destroy any threats in his way in order to heal from a past that still haunted him, still had his heart splintered and bruised. Niya had been a threat to him.
It wasn’t just your identity I had grown to want.
Niya’s throat felt gripped tight, unable to swallow against what this possibly meant.
Her gaze swung to Alōs’s at the front of the room.
As though the pirate could sense her pulse of panicked energy even from
this distance, his attention shifted off the princess, and his glowing blue eyes locked onto hers.
Niya’s heartbeat sounded loud and uncontrolled in her ears.
It wasn’t just your identity I had grown to want.
There was a roomful of guests between them, heady music filling the air, but for a grain fall it was just her and him, fire and ice steaming the air.
“Would you ever go back?” Saffi’s question to Kintra sounded muffled in Niya’s ears, but it pierced through her bubble of spiraling emotions enough for her to tear her gaze from the pirate lord.
“No,” said Kintra. “I see no point in it.”
Saffi glanced down to her plate. “No,” she echoed. “No point.”
“Where you are born only defines your blood,” said Achak as he sipped his wine. “And even that is too easily spilled. Your home is where you’re happiest, and that, my children, can be anytime, anywhere, and with anyone.”
The sound of forks clinking against goblets had the commotion of the room quieting.
“Your Graces.” Alōs stood, and heads and bodies twisted toward where he bowed to the royal family. “I want to thank you,” he said, “on behalf of myself and my crew, for such a warm welcome. My sailors know it could not have come at a better time. Believe me when I say they were starting to look at one another like the food they have so ravenously devoured on their plates.”
Laughter filled the hall as Niya continued to feel numb and far away.
“In a show of our deep gratitude,” Alōs continued, “we would like to present your lovely daughter with a belated birthday present.”
Boman approached the table and handed Alōs an ornately carved coral box.
In shocked pleasure, Princess Callista held her hands to her mouth as Alōs placed the gift before her and opened the lid. Her delighted gasp echoed through the room.
“It is beautiful! Mother, look how beautiful it is.”
Callista lifted a silver-spun diadem from the box. Five spiraling and interlocking tips covered in glistening sapphires and diamonds.
The members of court chittered in awe as Queen Runisha leaned in to inspect the tiara.
“Yes, my light,” said the queen, her intelligent eyes sliding to Alōs, who sat back down beside her daughter. “It is extremely breathtaking. How thoughtful of you, Lord Ezra, to part with such a rare treasure. I believe this alabaster silver is only found in Esrom?”
The queen was showing her cards. I know where your origins lie, her look seemed to say.
Alōs merely smiled. “Shall we see if it fits?”
Princess Callista’s attending ladies approached, removing her current crown and placing the new one atop her head.
Niya hardly took in the next events as she watched the old diadem with the Prism Stone be placed on a plush pillow. Two armed guards came to stand on either side of the attending lady, who held it carefully a step behind the princess’s chair.
“Oh, I love it.” Callista’s smile was radiant as she gazed into the mirror one of her other maidens brought forth, tilting her head this way and that. The diamonds sparkled like her youth. She placed a hand on Alōs’s arm. “Thank you. I shall wear it the rest of the evening!”
The guests clapped before the music started up again. It was a new, quicker beat, filled with drums and the pleasant mixture of male and female voices.
The king stood, extending a large hand to his wife. With a laugh that brought a gentler light to Queen Runisha’s eyes, she followed her husband to the center of the room.
The hall filled with cheers of delight before others were moved to dance.
Usually Niya would have joined in on such a moment, but she now forced herself to the task at hand, her attentions only on one event this evening.
Niya watched as the old crown was carried, guards in tow, from the hall.
Her gaze flickered to Kintra. A shared look before the quartermaster stood, excusing herself.
Niya’s pulse thumped a new beat of readiness, an unknown patience keeping her seated and waiting.
She hesitantly allowed herself to glance at Alōs. He was once again in conversation with the princess in her new diadem.
His smile was charming, but there, edging the corners, was the twist of a jackal’s grin.
Their old games might have ended, but new ones had just begun.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Alōs waited in the shadows of an alcove, a spiral column his separation from the plush-rugged hall that stretched out on either side. The royal wing sat quiet, save for the pacing guards: groups of two every quarter sand fall.
His breaths were even, but his cool magic twisted quickly through his veins along with his growing anticipation. This was it. This would be his final act to allow him to sever his responsibilities to the kingdom that had banished him.
He could dare to dream of sailing untethered, a truly free man, into the open waters.
Yet even at the thought, Alōs winced, feeling that never-ending tug deep in the center of his frozen heart.
Ariōn, it whispered. You could never truly leave Ariōn.
Couldn’t he, though? I have done far worse, he thought.
The sudden weight of guilt that fell upon his shoulders was momentarily distracted by the black line of the binding bet along his wrist growing hot. As it always did when she drew near.
There was a new jump in his magic, readiness solidifying as a blur of red hair slid into the alcove where he stood. He inhaled the scent of honeysuckle as Niya pressed herself in close beside him, sharing his shadows as the soft material of her wrap dress brushed against his hand.
Alōs was momentarily dashed back into her shared bedchamber from earlier tonight, where they’d stood alone in a sea of plush bedding. He had caught the tail end of the message from her family, saw the track of tears on her cheek. Something heavy and rather uncomfortable had shifted within his chest then. For he was quite certain he did not like it.
Despite their tumultuous history, Alōs had never seen the fire dancer cry.
Not even when he’d known he would be breaking her heart.
Or had come to collect for the secrets he knew of her.
Or had been forced to lay a whip to her skin.
Niya had remained a statue of contained power, a lost god staring him in the eye, silently promising her own retribution greater than any pain he might have laid upon her that day.
It was enough to take anyone’s breath away.
Bring a lesser monster than he to his knees in a plea for forgiveness.
But Alōs had not been seeking to be forgiven, only to be forgotten.
“Did any see you approach?” he asked Niya, his attention returning to where they claimed shadows deep within the mountain palace.
“Would I be standing here if they had?” she asked, her blue eyes dancing, alive and excited as they met his. “You’re not the only one who can hide behind columns.”
Alōs ignored her jab. “The guards appear to be on double patrol tonight.”
“A smart order,” said Niya. “Since pirates do roam about.”
“Yes,” mused Alōs. “But their caution forces ours. We must be quick and quiet. Kintra said the crown was brought to the princess’s quarters, which are down the hall to the left. Two guards stand outside at all times.”
Niya nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“No,” he agreed, “but we don’t know where it is kept within her rooms. It could be in a safe or simply sitting out on her dressing table.”
“Shall we place a bet on where we’ll find it?” Her white grin gleamed bright even in the dark.
Alōs shook his head and, despite his earlier somber mood, found himself smiling in return. “You truly are your own worst enemy.”
“Says my actual enemy.”
His eyes found hers once more. “I thought we had made peace, fire dancer?”
“Yes, but habits are hard to break.”
“So I am your habit?” Alōs arched a brow.
How impossible she made it not to flirt.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “Now, shall we talk more or finish this?”
“How close do you need to be to trance the guards properly?”
“I could do it from here,” said Niya, “but it’s best if I can see them first.”
Alōs peered out of their alcove. The hall extending to the princess’s wing remained empty. Large flaming bowls lined the way on either side, dancing light and shadows along the painted murals. There would be no columns to hide behind after this. They would be prey running across a barren field.
“All right,” Alōs murmured. “Let’s get closer.”
Alōs moved from their safe, shadowed corner and slid silently down the corridor, Niya quick on his heels.
He had left the party at its height, the dancing and music growing quick and heady. The princess was spinning about with lords and ladies of her court, and the king and queen had long since gone off to bed. All parties properly distracted from Alōs and his whereabouts as he disappeared from the banquet.
“Wait,” whispered Niya, coming to a stop beside him. “I think I feel someone approach . . . a group.”
Alōs cursed. “How close?”
“Close,” said Niya, beginning to retrace their steps. “They must have come from the princess’s rooms. I wasn’t able to sense their movements until now. The stone walls are thick in this mountain palace.”
Alōs looked down the hall behind them. They had traveled far from the alcove.
“They’re almost here,” said Niya, fire flickering alive in her palms. “We won’t have time to run back the other way. We’ll have to fight them.”
“No. We cannot risk raising any alarms.” He pulled them beside one of the flaming bowls. “Can you trance them?”
Niya’s gaze went out of focus for a moment, her magic slipping from her, orange mist testing air. “Yes,” she began, “but . . . I fear a few have the gifts. I don’t have time to make it subtle; they will know something was done to them once my spell breaks.”
Alōs could hear a rumble of approaching voices now, see forms turning into their hall from the far end. A foreign sense of panic seized him as he locked eyes with Niya.
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