Viper

by Bex Hogan

  Silently I’m on my feet, the knife in my hand itching to spill blood, and when the intruder enters the room my blade is immediately at their throat.

  Only trouble is, theirs is at mine too.

  We stand for a moment at an impasse, and my heart sinks when I see who it is. Anyone but her.

  ‘This isn’t quite the welcome I hoped for,’ she says, but lowers her blade.

  I hesitate before lowering mine. ‘I never thought you’d be the one sent to kill me.’

  And Grace laughs.

  It isn’t a cruel sound, more a tired one.

  ‘I’m not here to kill you,’ she says, striding past me and sitting at the table.

  I watch her uncertainly, still clutching my knife. ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  Her dark eyes glimmer like the ocean’s depths. ‘I told you at your Initiation that whatever happened I was with you.’

  ‘Really? I don’t recall you stopping my father from beating me and I certainly haven’t seen you since.’

  Grace sighs. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have been much use to you dead, would I?’

  I’m nowhere near believing her. ‘What makes you think I’d trust you for a second? Your loyalty lies with my father and I’m far too well acquainted with the pleasure you all take from cold-blooded murder. I want nothing to do with any of you.’

  ‘My loyalty has never been to the Viper,’ she spits with anger. ‘He is a butcher and I’ve despised having to take orders from him. But some things are more important than what I want.’

  I frown. ‘Such as?’

  Grace doesn’t answer, though, to my frustration. Instead she looks at me, confusion spreading over her sharp features. Perhaps she no longer recognises the girl standing before her. I certainly don’t. ‘Look, if I had wanted to betray you, it would have been easy. I could have given up the location of our boat, but I didn’t. I told the Captain we’d landed in a different cove altogether; I wanted you to escape. And I came as soon as I could. I wanted to know the Captain’s intentions once you fled.’ She pauses, as though what she has to say next will be hard for me to hear. ‘You’re not safe here. He’s sending assassins to every island to bring you back.’

  So he doesn’t just want me dead then. ‘Yeah, thanks, but I got that message when Briggs came for me last night.’

  I can tell from her surprise she thought she’d found me first, and then her eyes linger on my bloodied knuckles. ‘You killed him?’

  I don’t want to answer. Saying it out loud will make it too real, and I try to hide my hands in shame. ‘He murdered the family I was staying with.’

  It’s as though pieces click together for Grace, my anger suddenly explained. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘That I didn’t get here sooner.’ But she sounds as impressed as she is shocked at what I’ve done, and it bothers me. I don’t want her respect. Not for this.

  ‘I’m sorry I ever stayed.’

  We’re silent for a while, and though I move to sit opposite her at the table, my knife remains firmly in my grip. She still hasn’t given me her reasons for remaining a Snake so long. Until she does, I cannot trust her.

  ‘What do you plan to do?’ Grace says eventually. When I raise my eyes to meet hers she smiles. ‘You won’t just give up. I know you too well.’

  Oh, really? ‘I’m going to the First Isle.’

  I don’t think Grace could have looked more startled if I’d said I was heading back to the Maiden. ‘Why?’

  Because things cannot be allowed to continue like this. Someone has to help the islanders. If the Viper isn’t prepared to protect the people, then his daughter will.

  ‘I need to talk with my fiancé. I think his father needs some help.’

  ‘Then I’m coming with you.’

  I suppose I could have refused, could have told Grace to leave me in peace, but I didn’t want to. Though I still refuse to trust her, I also can’t bear to be alone right now.

  The following dawn, I sit by the grave, searching for words to say farewell. There are none. It hurts so much to have to leave them. But I must.

  Grace and I walk for two days straight to reach the small fishing port off the western coast. A gold coin crossing palms is all that’s needed to secure our passage on a small fishing vessel headed for the First Isle.

  The journey takes over a week, with the weather kind and the fishermen anxious to keep out of our way. Though Grace hides her Snake blacks beneath a travelling cloak, she makes sure they see enough to instill fear in them. It’s a calculated risk – word of where we are could get back to my father. But it’s a risk worth taking for the protection it provides. Only a fool would want to get on the wrong side of a Snake.

  Grace is doing her best to regain my trust by telling me what’s happened since my Initiation, and I sense an honesty about her I never did before. After such a public defiance, such an obvious failure, my father only had one choice. I have been disowned. He has given orders for any member of his crew to bring me back in whatever condition pleases them, so long as I’m alive. He wants the final punishment to be his alone. I understand. The Viper must have absolute authority, total respect from his crew, and any sign of weakness could be his undoing. Nothing says ‘don’t cross me’ like the public slaughter of your own child.

  The thought of the man I once so desperately sought approval from wishing me dead is crushing, but that pain is shoved deep down, stowed away in an inaccessible part of my being. It’s there alongside the memories of Tomas and his parents, because if I stop to dwell on all that I’ve lost, the grief will drive me mad. I must look only forward if I am to survive.

  Grace doesn’t mention Bronn at all, and I’m too scared to ask about him. Certainly I’ve done my damnedest to silence the thoughts of him that have crept unbidden to my mind since I fled the Fourth. I’m so afraid that he’s dead, punished for his part in my Initiation. But if he’s alive, then that means he was working with my father, which brings me no comfort either. So I find it’s best to try not to think about him at all.

  We have, however, spoken about Torin. It remains to be seen whether word that my father has disowned me has reached Torin and – if it has – whether he still considers me his fiancée. I’m relying on holding some sway with Torin to be allowed to speak to the King. I’m sure they don’t let just anyone stroll up to his throne.

  I’ve asked Grace what her opinion of Torin is, whether he can be trusted. She’s said only that she barely knows him, but that she doesn’t believe there’s any love lost between the palace and my father at the moment.

  ‘Because my father’s attacking the King’s Fleet?’ I’d asked, causing Grace to look surprised. ‘I’m not completely stupid.’

  She’d given me a nod of respect. ‘Yes, I doubt that’s helping, though the King will only have his suspicions as to who is attacking the Fleet, not proof. The Captain is careful to leave no survivors to report back.’

  And yet for all our conversations, she continues to offer no explanation as to why she’s remained a member of a crew she now openly admits to despising. So while I’m willing to listen to what she has to say, I’m guarded with my own thoughts. And one evening, when she joins me on deck carrying two flagons of rum and asking more questions, my patience finally runs out.

  ‘You don’t get to hear what I’ve been through,’ I snap when Grace pries once more into my time on the Floral Island. The wild fury whips up inside me like a storm before I’m able to rein it back under control.

  Grace sighs, drinking deeply from her flagon. She says nothing and I think perhaps she’s going to leave me alone, but she stays and eventually breaks the silence. ‘Did you know you have a birthmark on the back of your neck?’

  It’s about the last thing I’m expecting her to say and it throws me off guard. ‘Do I?’ I touch my neck instinctively, but feel nothing.

  ‘It’s hidden by your hair, but I’ve glimpsed it several times over the years, though I neve
r get used to seeing it.’

  I remember the way she’d behaved oddly the day I got engaged, when I suggested putting my hair up, and wonder if that’s why. ‘Lots of people have birthmarks.’

  ‘True. But only a few bear the mark of the crescent moon.’

  ‘OK, you’ve lost me,’ I say, and, though I laugh, it’s a nervous sound.

  Grace sighs, and runs her fingers through her hair. I’ve never seen her looking so uncomfortable. ‘You want to know why I’ve stayed with the Captain all these years?’

  I nod, unsure how this is all connected.

  ‘I’m from the Twelfth Isle.’

  I stare at her in disbelief. ‘You’re a Westerner?’

  She nods proudly. ‘I’m a Guardian of the Royal Bloodline.’

  She says it like it’s something I should have heard of. But I haven’t, even though I know my history well. I know all about the war two hundred years ago that ripped the Twelve Isles in half. How after centuries of the kingdoms existing harmoniously alongside each other, the Western King, Gormand the Destroyer, grew jealous of the East’s riches, its bountiful mines and thriving trade. Greed corrupted Gormand and he waged war against the East. To defend his Isles and his throne, the Eastern King sent his Viper to the West. The Viper assassinated Gormand, as well as his entire family and anyone with a close allegiance to them.

  But instead of this bringing peace, without a ruling family anarchy descended over the Western Isles, plunging them into a lawless chaos. War raged pointlessly as the Eastern King tried to claim the Western throne for himself, with neither side accumulating anything other than losses until the Eastern King retreated. Little has been heard from the Western Isles ever since.

  Certainly nothing about guardians of a royal bloodline.

  I’m unsure where to start. ‘The Western royalty were wiped out.’

  Her eyes sparkle with excitement, the relief of finally sharing her secret apparent. ‘No. There was a survivor. A servant helped the youngest prince hide, and then took him far away to keep him safe. That servant was my ancestor and my people have striven to protect the bloodline ever since.’

  ‘Your people? Grace, this is crazy.’ Where is all this coming from?

  ‘I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. We lost the last known descendant just over twenty years ago when I was still a child. She just disappeared one day and it’s been my life’s purpose to discover what happened to her. That’s why I joined the Maiden, to go places I couldn’t otherwise, to expand the search.’

  A knot is forming in my chest. ‘Why are you telling me this? Why now?’

  Grace fiddles nervously with a thread on her sleeve, before she takes a deep breath and looks me right in the eye. ‘Because I think you’re the last of the bloodline. In fact, I’m certain of it.’

  My mouth parts but no words come out. Eventually I manage a simple, ‘That’s insane.’

  Grace smiles, a knowing look on her face as if I’m reacting precisely how she expected. ‘I joined the Maiden when I was sixteen, my training as a Guardian complete. Though my talent was enough to get me on board, your father didn’t like me one bit. But I worked hard to gain the crew’s respect, knowing how important it was for me to integrate myself. And then I had my Initiation.’ She pauses and sighs. ‘Adler always has been a perceptive bastard, seeing all our weaknesses. I thought I’d been clever, hidden mine away. But for my final test he gathered his most senior Snakes, including Cleeve, and challenged me to fight them. To keep my place on the ship I had to beat my peers, humiliating them publicly, undoing all my efforts to be accepted. By the time I was done I knew I’d have no friends left, and I was right. But it was worth it. I was a Snake. Now my real work could begin. But do you know what my first mission was? To look after you.’

  Now her smile reaches her eyes as she looks warmly at me. ‘I was so mad to be stuck with the Captain’s brat and I’d almost resolved to leave the ship and continue my search in some other way. But then one day we were practising your fighting. You were dressed ridiculously for such work, and I snapped. I told you to strip down to your undergarments, and to tie your hair out of your face. If we were going to train, we were going to do it properly. That was the day I saw your birthmark for the first time and everything changed. I had been looking for a woman, and somehow I’d stumbled upon her child instead. Because there could be no doubt. Every known member of the Western royalty has borne the mark of the crescent moon.’

  I remember that day. I had been desperate to impress her. I was just eleven, and looked up to Grace with almost blind adoration. I was so excited my father had considered me worthy to be tutored by her that I would have stripped naked and cut all my hair off if she’d asked me. It stings to realise training me was a punishment and not an honour. I have to force myself to focus on the most pressing part of her story, the part where I’m supposedly a royal Westerner. ‘You do know it’s not possible?’ I ask as gently as I’m able, because she seems so sincere. ‘You know who my father is.’

  ‘But do you know who your mother was?’ She has me there and she knows it. ‘Who’s to say your father didn’t unknowingly fall for the Western Princess, the woman lost two decades ago?’

  ‘It’s a big assumption,’ I say, still not believing it’s possible. But a seed of doubt has been planted.

  ‘Perhaps. But what I do know is the last confirmed sighting of her was on the Eighth Isle. Then, somehow, she disappeared. No one really knows what happened, and of course the Guardians never stopped searching, but since then all we’ve had are rumours, one of which spoke of her being seen with a man and child. That was nearly eighteen years ago. And now here you are bearing the mark.’

  ‘You think that man was my father? It’s impossible. There’s no way he’d ever cross into Western waters, let alone set foot on the islands.’

  Grace doesn’t seem bothered by my logic. ‘I don’t pretend to have all the answers. All I know is you bear the mark. You are descended from Western royalty.’

  My scepticism isn’t ready to be silenced just yet. ‘Don’t you think this is all just a bit convenient? You’re looking for royalty and there I am, right on the ship you chose?’

  She ignores my sarcasm. ‘What you call convenience, I call fate.’

  I take some deep breaths. ‘Suppose you’re right, just suppose,’ I hasten to add, ‘what would you want with me?’

  ‘The Guardians have protected the descendants for centuries in the belief that one day the throne will be reclaimed and peace brought to the Western Isles.’ She sees the look of shock on my face and continues quickly. ‘But it’s become more than that for me. You asked me why I remained a Snake? I stayed for you. I’ve taught you everything I know, have watched over and protected you. But you’re not a child any more. I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become, Marianne. Whether you want to reclaim your throne or not, my allegiance, my loyalty is to you. Wherever this journey takes us, I will be with you to the end.’

  And she reaches for my hand, wrapping it in her own with such affection it almost breaks me.

  What do I say to something like this? To something most probably nonsensical, but horribly rooted in enough uncertainty to make me wonder? It’s clear she believes it, though, and I realise that’s all that matters.

  The anger I’ve been directing at her falls away like a blanket slipping from my shoulders. It was never meant for her in the first place, and I no longer have the energy to keep pushing her away. Especially after such a pledge of devotion. ‘And I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘Me too,’ she says with a smile brighter than I’ve seen in a long while. ‘But I don’t think you should tell anyone about all this. Not until we’re certain who we can trust.’

  I have no intention of repeating such nonsense to anyone, but don’t want to hurt her by saying so. ‘The only thing we need to discuss with the King is how we can help him.’

  ‘You think he’ll listen?’

  ‘You think he won’t?’ When Grace answ
ers with a sceptical frown I sigh. ‘All I know is the people are in need of protection. The King can’t give them that while my father’s destroying his Fleet. That’s where we come in.’

  ‘That’s assuming he wants to help his people.’

  Her cynicism reminds me of Clara, her suggestion that the King cares nothing for his subjects, only for himself.

  So as we enter the waters surrounding the First Isle, my insides knot. Perhaps Grace is right, perhaps the King won’t listen to what I have to say. But still, I have to try.

  The ports here are always bustling with life, ships of all sizes and from all islands here for business, and today is no exception – it’s heaving.

  The First Isle – which for a long time went by no other name until the King insisted we start calling it the ‘King’s Isle’ – is nothing like any of the other five Eastern Isles. For a start it’s about four times the size of the others, and is the most industrial and heavily populated. The pulsing heart that keeps the rest alive. Tall chimneys decorate the skyline, pumping smoke of varying colours into the air, signalling that business in the many factories located in this southern peninsula is yet to be affected by the discord elsewhere. Seeing the smoke comes as somewhat of a relief. I’d half expected all industry to have ground to a halt given the state of the other Isles.

  The First is the one island my father allowed me to visit and I have twice before been permitted to peruse the markets in this part of the town. Despite my armed escorts, I always felt enchanted not only by the fragrances of spice and flowers that filled the air, but also by the traders themselves who represent the beautiful diversity of the Isles.

  A long time ago, it was easy to see which island people belonged to. Those from the Second had an earthy complexion, their skin ruddy from the farming their island is famous for, while the Fourth islanders were as alluring as their flowers. Those that raised livestock on the vast plains of the Fifth were sturdy pale souls, like their beasts, while the inhabitants of the Sixth Isle were as intimidating and as hard as the rocks they mined. The Third islanders always kept a low profile – even now they don’t attend the market, preferring to use couriers to bring their goods – but their skin was as dark as the trees they carved. But over many centuries people moved around, fell in love, resettled, so that now it is almost impossible to tell a person’s origin simply from the colour of their skin. My father always said such variety made it easier for assassins to move around unnoticed, to blend in and never stand out. But to me it spoke of the love and respect all the islands had for each other, that they were bound together by more than just the ocean.