by Janeal Falor
Octavian brings one finger to his pursed lips and holds it there. I take advantage of his silence to look for means of escape. Shadows from the fire dance across the room, making it so I can’t see much. A vague outline of a closed door sticks out but doesn’t leave room for hope because Emeline stands in the way. The room has pictures on the wall, though the subjects of which can’t be seen in the dim light. Rough, uneven stones are covered a foot from me by a thickly woven rug.
No escape.
I try to keep myself from reaching the despair that’s hovering near the edges of my conscious. Now is not the time to give up.
Octavian reaches over to the table next to him, pulling my attention back to him. Grabbing a pitcher, he pours a glass of water and brings it over to me.
“My dear, I know you must be parched in this heat.”
Thirsty as I am, I can’t bring myself to take a drink from the traitor. The thought sickens me, making my empty stomach roll. When he lifts the glass to my lips, I jerk away.
“I don’t want any water from you.” I put as much venom in my voice as I can.
Octavian grabs the back of my head and jams the glass to my mouth. He pours the water over my mouth, trying to force me to drink. Instead, it runs down my face and clothes. As he pulls away, I take the little water that made it into my mouth and spit it at him.
Cackling, Octavian throws the glass to the wall. Shards fly across the room. I thrust my body over Jocelyn, shards landing on my backside. Slowly, I turn back to face him. He sits, toying with a jewel on his bloated finger.
“You’re more ladylike than this. You’ll do as I want, and lucky for you, I’m letting you chose. Completely your choice, My Lady. You may either choose to deny the words you said to your parents of me, or I will start killing. Jocelyn will be the first. It’s your choice. Should you pick the easy road, I have a priest waiting on Captain Smythe’s ship willing to wed us.”
Fear grips my stomach. There has to be a way out of this. But what? I can’t let Jocelyn, or anyone else, be killed because of me. Will marrying him bring war or prevent war? I don’t know what the right choice is. “You can’t do this. Don’t start this madness, I beg of you. What can you hope to accomplish by marrying me against my will or killing the people I love?”
“My Lady, I will have power. Everyone will fear me. Everything I have ever desired will be within my reach.”
My throat closes up. He will ruin both countries. “I will not allow a man like you to become king.”
Emeline smiles. “He will become king, so you may as well get used to the idea. He will do whatever needs be done. I know he will kill anyone you care about, so I recommend staying on his good side.”
Octavian’s eyes shine with murder, his gaze boring into me. His eyes soften when he looks at Emeline. She blushes, and a giggle escapes her lips. Nausea threatens to overcome me. Seeing her this open to someone is odd, but having it be him? Disgusting.
Octavian’s threat dominates my thoughts. I have no idea what he’s capable of. The thought of being married to him is intolerable, but what other way is there out of this trap he’s placed me in? There has to be a way to escape. A plan, a thought, an idea—anything that would free me and Jocelyn from his clutches.
Octavian stands and gazes at me, eyes twinkling with amusement. He walks over to Jocelyn’s still limp form and pulls out a dagger. Horror pounds through me as he puts the blade to Jocelyn’s naked throat. Her eyes flutter open and then widen with fear when she realizes a blade is jammed against her neck.
“Don’t do this,” I say.
Octavian pulls away from Jocelyn. “I can stop. Say you’ll marry me, and Jocelyn will be spared.”
My heart twists with agony. No matter how much I care about my friend, I can’t save her to condemn two entire races. “I cannot.”
He thrusts the weapon back toward Jocelyn’s neck. Growling, he speaks through clenched teeth. “You can, and you will. I’ll draw this out if I have to. She will be tortured and die, unless you agree. Captain Smythe can even be called in. I’ve seen him in action. His torture techniques are quite refined.”
I twist my body away from him, pain wracking through me.
“Don’t worry about giving into him, Princess,” Emeline says. “I never liked Jocelyn anyway.”
I spin around to look her in the eye. Anger bites my words. “Why have you become like this? Jocelyn has only ever been kind.”
“Your treasured little Jocelyn is of no concern to me. Octavian has opened my eyes to a wondrous plan you will never understand. I’ll support him, no matter how he gets there. Then he will give me everything I have been denied by you.”
“I never meant to deny you anything. Even if I did, do you really think Octavian will be any better? He’s using you, and one day he’ll throw you aside like garbage.”
Emeline tosses her head away from me, but not before a glint of doubt colors her eyes. A hand grabs me and twists me back toward Jocelyn.
“Enough of this. Decide now,” Octavian shouts.
I whisper, “I can’t.”
Octavian’s face pulls into a snarl. “No excuses. Decide now.”
The shiny blade slowly turns red, as Octavian pushes it into Jocelyn’s neck. Her lips quiver, and she whimpers.
“Jocelyn.” My vision turns red at the sight of her blood working its way until it covers everything.
“That’s it,” he says. “She’s gone.”
“No.” The shriek comes pouring out of me, my body shaking with the violence of my emotions. “Please, stop. I will do it. Please, don’t hurt her or anyone else. I’ll do what you want.”
Octavian pulls the compromised dagger away from Jocelyn and brings it close to my face with a triumphant look. He pulls out a handkerchief and methodically wipes the blade clean. He grimaces at the sodden cloth and throws it onto Jocelyn. She twists her body until the cloth falls to the stones under her.
Emeline snickers, drawing a defiant glare from Jocelyn.
Octavian cuts the rope that ties my hands and feet. While I rub my wrists and ankles, he moves to cut the cords around Jocelyn’s feet but leaves the binding around her hands. He sheaths the knife and yanks me to my feet, pulling me close. I cringe away, and he pulls back further in disgust after looking at my face.
Maybe I can use magic to get out of this? But how? I might be able to get out of the ropes, but then what? Throw a wind at him? Not that I could inside, but my mind isn’t being more helpful than that.
“Isn’t that so much nicer, my ugly dear? Now that we are getting along, we best be off to the ship. We have a wedding to prepare for.”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
A nervous lump forms in my throat as two pirates row the skiff closer to the pirate ship. Though it’s still dark outside, the moon lights the unfurled black sails. This is Captain Smythe’s boat. Who knows what waits for me here? A wedding I don’t want to participate in. Maybe I can get it thrown out since everyone will know I was married on a pirate ship. I can’t count on it, though. If I enter this marriage, there’s no guaranteeing I’ll ever get out of it.
We pull up next to the boat, and a rope ladder swings down to greet us. Jocelyn is pale and shaking. A dried streak of blood on her neck stands out against her pasty skin. She gives me a tentative smile.
Octavian shoves me before I can return the encouragement. “You first, Princess.” He gestures up the rope. Gritting my teeth, I climb. My skirts make it hard, but the rope is firm and steady. I put my hand on the railing and move to pull myself up, but dirty hands grab at me, lifting me over.
I shake off the hands once my feet are planted on the deck. The pirates leer at me while I straighten my dress. Soon Jocelyn is hoisted over the railing, followed by Octavian and Emeline. Just when Emeline tumbles onto the deck, footsteps pound toward us.
“Get this ship moving,
” Octavian orders Captain Smythe, who hasn’t reached us yet.
Captain Smythe swaggers over to Octavian. “We aren’t leaving yet. Half my crew is still out there looking for her, per your wishes.”
“Leave them behind. We need to get a move on, now. There’s a wedding that needs to take place. I don’t know how long it will take for them to notice she’s missing, and I’m not sticking around to find out.”
“I will not leave my men.” Captain Smythe’s voice sends a trill of terror through me, even though it’s not directed at me. He turns and tramps to his crew, who wait for him a ways off.
“You won’t get away with this,” Octavian yells after him. “You won’t receive another piece of gold from me.”
Captain Smythe’s body stiffens, but he doesn’t turn.
The shade of red on Octavian’s face grows deeper. “Never mind. We’ll set sail when his men get back. Until then, we have a wedding to prepare for. It will be at dawn, whether or not we’ve set sail. Emeline, have one of these pirates show you to a cabin and prepare Arabella for our wedding. Make Jocelyn help.”
“Yes, my lord.”
A pirate, only slightly cleaner than the others, ushers us forward. While we follow the man, Jocelyn clings to my arm. I don’t know who’s more scared—her or me—I have years more of practice hiding my feelings.
The pirate motions to a room and moves to the side so we can squeeze past. Flinching under his gaze, I skirt past him. The room reminds me of the one I shared with Constance on Captain Zaccheus’s ship, but it’s less taken care of. The cramped quarters have two beds, both of which hold thin, holey blankets. A small, grimy dresser with a brush, and above it, there is a mirror that barely shows a reflection.
“Get ready. Your dress was brought on board earlier. I’ll be back with it momentarily.” Emeline leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.
Jocelyn shakes by my side. The dried blood runs across her neck and trails onto the neckline of her dress. My heart constricts as I look at it, though the danger is over for the time being.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“I—I think so.” Her pale face is getting back some of its color.
“Here. Let me heal that for you.” I start to reach up, but she stops me.
“You don’t have to do that. It isn’t more than a scratch. I’d hate for you to waste energy that might otherwise be used to escape. I can’t believe we are here.”
“I wish we had something to clean the cut with.”
“It’ll be fine. Having a bit of dried blood on me is the least of our worries right now.”
With a quick squeeze around her shoulders, I gingerly sit on one of the beds and motion toward the brush. It at least looks cleaner than anything else in the room. “Let’s keep busy. I don’t want to anger anyone further. The hostile environment on this boat is like a powder keg, and I don’t want either of us to be the one to make it blow.”
Jocelyn nods, grabs the brush, and reaches me. She brushes my hair in silence. The air is tense with unease. With each familiar stroke, I become more relaxed.
It must do the same for Jocelyn because she says, “My lady, you mustn’t go through with this. He’s a madman. Who knows what will happen to your people if you marry him? I’ve never seen someone so consumed by madness. I admit I’m frightened, but what happens to me doesn’t matter.”
The pirate standing guard outside the door shifts his weight, reminding us of his presence. Escape that way is not an option, and that leaves only one exit from the room. The sound of water crashing onto the boat plays gently in the background, like music ill suited for the situation.
“If only it were that easy,” I say. “I’m afraid of him and what he’s capable of. I keep hoping for a chance to escape, but I haven’t seen anything that could help us. You’re right. He’s a madman, and I fear how far he’ll go if I refuse him. I know he would have killed you. That can’t happen. You are too dear to me.” There’s no way I could bear to watch Jocelyn be tortured because of me.
She shrugs me off, though not without a quiver to her hand. “I’ll die if I must. My life is not nearly as important as yours.”
“Don’t say that. You are important. I will never forgive myself if I could prevent your death and didn’t. You are a true friend. I won’t give up on you.”
“I’m pleased you think of me as a friend, but it doesn’t change the fact that my life, my influence, is meaningless compared to yours. Even more, it means nothing if he’s to marry you and gain the throne. He will ruin all that’s good.” Her chin trembles, but her words hold steady.
“He will. What can I do, though? There are no options left.”
“There is one. It may be impossible, but we should at least try.”
Surprised at her words, I snap my head up to give her a closer look. “What is that?”
“We could try to escape by—”
Her words are cut short by Emeline’s entrance. `“I doubt you’ll be able to escape what’s awaiting you.” Emeline sneers at us. “You’re on a boat about to set sail. No one here wants to help you. They’ve all been ordered to keep an eye out, to make sure you don’t escape, and you are running out of time. Your wedding will take place just after dawn, which will be arriving shortly.”
“You are cruel,” Jocelyn says. “Have you no feeling left in your body? I’ve tried so hard to be your friend, and you rejected that for someone like Octavian? You make me sick.”
Emeline smirks. “I never wanted to be your friend. Your constant chatter is enough to drive the sanest person mad. I hope Arabella fights just hard enough for you to have a small taste of torture. It’s the way I feel around you.”
Jocelyn balls her hands into fists, but I speak before things can become more heated. “I’m cooperating, Emeline, so there is no need to worry about anything happening to Jocelyn. As for you, I’m saddened by your decisions. You’re a good person, and I wanted us to be friends. If you were open with me, instead of going to Octavian, we could have resolved our differences. That choice will always be there, but it can’t happen unless you abandon this plot.”
Emeline struggles for words. “You… I… It— Never mind. Things will happen the way they’re supposed to. Lord Octavian has made sure of that. Now, Princess, it’s time to get into your wedding gown.”
Trembling with anger, I stand and walk over to her. My body is stiff as I try to control myself. “Don’t forget my words about Octavian. He will not be as kind to you as I would have been.”
I yank the white dress out of Emeline’s hands and storm off to the corner—not nearly far enough. The smug look on Emeline’s face slips away, replaced with confusion. Her eyebrows knit together for a few moments before she turns and hurries out of the room.
I give a sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to put this on,” I say.
“Then don’t,” Jocelyn responds.
If it wasn’t for the images of her being tortured flashing through my mind, I wouldn’t. “Let’s get it over with.”
As we work to put on the dress, I can’t help but think this isn’t how I pictured things going on my wedding day, even if it was to be an arranged betrothal. Once I’m dressed, I frown at the frilly dress. “It’s good that I won’t wed today.” If I can manage to find a plan of escape. “This dress is ghastly. I can’t imagine ever getting married in something so distasteful. I look like a lacy mess.”
The corners of Jocelyn’s mouth move upward. “Emeline doesn’t have very good taste, does she?”
We laugh. Emeline never did pick out my clothes, only brought them to me. Our mirth fades as the seriousness of the situation eradicates our congenial mood. Her eyes fill with fear, and I close the distance between us to wrap my arms tightly around her. We embrace like long-lost sisters.
“How can we escape?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure.” She ponders,
and then says, “Maybe when they take us out, we can both make a break for the railing and jump ship. I could probably swim to shore. Could you make it?”
“Perhaps, but the way we’re surrounded, I doubt the opportunity will come.”
She gives a solemn nod. “What about magic, then? Is there any way it could help us out of this mess?”
“I don’t know. Let me think about it.” I study the cabin, wracking my brain for a plan when the door bursts open.
Emeline enters, breaking the moment with a distasteful look on her face. “So sorry to interrupt, but it is time for your wedding, Princess.”
I clench my fist as she motions me out the door. Mustering all my strength, I walk into the dawning morning.
Jocelyn starts after us, but Emeline stops her. “Oh, didn’t I tell you, Jocelyn? You will be staying here with a guard who’s more than willing to dole out punishments for misbehavior. I’d be careful if I were you. I’ve heard he has a very bad temper.” Emeline shoves Jocelyn back into the room, causing her to stumble and fall. Then she shuts the door and locks it.
“You will pay for this someday,” I say to her. “I’ll see to it.”
“Wrong. Everyone else may pay, but Lord Octavian will make sure I’m well taken care of.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“What do you know?” Emeline’s voice grows shrill, the words coming faster as she speaks. “He promised me anything I desired. Riches. Jewels. All the human slaves I want. The only thing I had to do was watch you from the inside and report to him. I’ve been telling him about your actions for a long time. I’ve done my part. He’ll give me everything I desire. Your parents will be taken care of soon, and then I’m sure I can convince him to destroy you and let me take the throne in your place.”
I scoff. “You’re delusional. He’ll do nothing for you, even if he does win. I’ll not let that happen, though. I’ll do what I must, and then you’ll receive your reward for being a traitor.”
“Ah, yes.” Octavian’s voice startles me. “You have power to do whatever you want, my dear. As soon as we are married, I shall take care of Emeline for you. I believe I know a few places we could send her.”