by Lisa Shearin
This morning, they wanted security. Normally, when a high-profile guest entered the harbor, Guardian gunships would surround the arriving ship, to ensure that no vessel approached unless authorized. The two Guardian gunships Mychael had dispatched were moored nearby, and the sky dragons had returned to the citadel’s massive launch pad and stables. If they were needed, they could swoop down from the citadel to the harbor in less than a minute.
Isibel Eiliesor, the new elven ambassador to the Isle of Mid, could not be any safer than she was right now.
Mychael’s scowl told me that he still didn’t like it. I kept my expression carefully neutral. It wasn’t easy since I knew only too well part of the reason for that scowl.
Mychael had shown me a holographic portrait of his younger sister. She was stunning. Phaelan had a keen appreciation for beautiful women. Plus, he’d gotten to rescue this one from pirates. My cousin was like a peacock, he liked showing off for the ladies, and Phaelan had yet to meet a woman who was immune. During the brief conversation we’d had this morning via Ben the telepath, I got the impression that Isibel had been less than impressed, or if she had, she’d kept it to herself.
“Isibel may be on Phaelan’s ship,” I told Mychael as we dismounted, “but rest assured she’s on a pedestal.”
His response was a single grunt. I’d learned that translated as he agreed with my opinion, but reserved the right to take action if I was wrong, which in this case meant pounding my cousin into deck wax.
I was looking forward to meeting my future sister-in-law, but I couldn’t wait to see Phaelan. I’d know instantly if she’d dropped anchor on his ego.
*
The ladder was quickly lowered over the side of the Fortune, and Mychael and I climbed on board.
I had to hand it to my cousin, he knew how to control his crew. Of course, knowing that the paladin of the Conclave Guardians’ sister was on board, and was to be escorted into Mid’s harbor by Guardian gunships and sky dragons, told them how they’d better behave when the paladin himself set foot on deck.
Phaelan’s crew was as presentable as it was possible to make them with only a few hours’ notice, and those not actively involved in anchoring and securing the Fortune were standing in nearly straight lines and almost at attention.
It was a stunning achievement.
What I saw next was nothing short of staggering.
Crimson was my cousin’s signature color. It said everything about him: fearless and flamboyant.
This morning, Captain Phaelan Benares, pirate most feared, scourge of the Seven Kingdoms’ seas, was wearing somber black.
What the hell?
I was sure my expression said that and then some, but the only response I got from Phaelan was a solemn nod. Normally I would be on the receiving end of a rib-crushing hug, deck full of crew or not.
Then my cousin’s focus was on Mychael. He crossed the deck to us in a silence so complete, the sharp tap of his boot heels could be clearly heard on the wood. Boots that’d been polished to within an inch of their lives.
I shot a quick glance at Mychael out of the corner of my eye. His scowl was still securely in place, but his eyes were a wee bit wider than usual. I wasn’t the only one taken aback at my cousin’s sudden display of propriety.
I pressed my lips together against a smile. Mychael had never scared Phaelan before, and I didn’t think he’d had a change of heart on that point now. I knew the reason. My cousin’s change in heart—and wardrobe—had nothing to do with Mychael, and everything to do with Isibel Eiliesor.
Now I knew why Uncle Ryn hadn’t come over from the Red Hawk. He didn’t trust himself not to laugh his ass off at his smitten son.
Phaelan stopped a respectful distance from Mychael. “If you’ll follow me. I thought it best that the ambassador wait below.”
As Phaelan turned and we followed, I noticed that he hadn’t addressed Mychael either by title or “sir.” Apparently my cousin’s formality had its limits.
Once in the passageway belowdecks, Phaelan made a beeline for his cabin at the stern of the ship. Mychael had taken my hand to help me down the stairs even though we both knew I didn’t need it. My Mychael was a gentleman, and my not needing help for five steps didn’t enter into his thinking. He wasn’t thinking right now; he was worrying.
Phaelan stopped at the door, and stood aside for us. Mychael reached for the door handle with one hand, the other hand keeping a firm grip on mine.
I pulled my hand away.
That got his attention.
I spoke before he could ask. “You haven’t seen her for a few years. You should have time alone. Just open the door when you’re ready. I’ll be here waiting.”
In response, Mychael pulled me to his chest and tightly held me there as I felt what was probably the first decent breath he’d taken since leaving the citadel. My arms went around his waist and I hugged him tightly and nuzzled beneath his chin.
Phaelan had to be feeling like a third oar, but neither one of us cared.
With a brush of his lips against the top of my head, Mychael released me and went into Phaelan’s cabin, closing the door behind him.
I looked at Phaelan. Phaelan looked back at me. I didn’t say a word, but simply gave him a quick head-to-toe glance and back, followed by a raised eyebrow. My cousin sighed, rolled his eyes, and unless my eyes deceived me, actually turned a little pink in the face. It wasn’t a blush. The second-most-feared pirate would never blush.
I smiled slowly.
“Oh, shut up,” he said.
In unspoken agreement, we put a little distance between us and the cabin. Once we did, I was all business, at least until I’d gotten all the facts. Then I’d move on to the fun—a woman finally turning my cousin the pirate into a lovesick cabin boy.
Phaelan wasn’t a magic user, so we hadn’t been able to talk directly; instead we’d had to rely on the telepath go-between. You could get facts that way, but not details. I wanted details. Mychael would be getting Isibel’s side of the story. My job was Phaelan. Mychael and I would be comparing notes later.
“Okay, what happened?” I asked.
“I spotted the Blue Rose burning on a shoal about ten miles northwest of Gruen. We got as close as we could to check for survivors. There weren’t any. There were two holes blasted in her side below her waterline, and what was left of her mainmast was flying the royal elven standard. We’d just come through the straits, and none of the ships we saw had the guns for that kind of damage. That meant the bastard had run north or west. Since our course was northwest, we held steady and kept close watch. Didn’t take us long to spot him. Will Saltman, so-called captain of the Fancy Devil.” Phaelan’s lips narrowed into a thin, angry line. “I knew what cargo Will had been known to carry. As soon as we changed course to intercept, he made a run for it. You don’t run unless you’ve got something to hide.”
“Or someone you want to keep.”
My cousin nodded grimly. “The Fancy Devil was listing a little to starboard. It looked like the Blue Rose had managed to get off at least one good shot before she was taken. Then suddenly it was like Will decided to stop running. The sails went slack, and it didn’t look as if anyone was at the rudder. I knew something was wrong. Even so, we expected a fight when we got there, not a deck full of dead men.”
“Dead?”
“Yep.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one, and not a mark on any of them to say what did the killing. From the look on their faces, you’d think they’d been literally scared to death. The captives were locked up below. Whatever took out the crew didn’t touch the captives. They said they heard screams that no man should be able to make followed by bodies hitting the deck, then nothing until we arrived.”
There were two things Phaelan didn’t like: magic and dead bodies that might have been killed by magic. And no man who went to sea wanted to come across a ship full of dead men. Sailors were a superstitious lot, and getting anywhere near a ghost
ship was tempting Fate and every last one of her sisters.
“You know I hate to ask this, but did you happen to bring one of those bodies?”
“I brought two of them, and I damned near had a mutiny on my hands for hauling those carcasses on board. My men are spooked.”
So was Phaelan.
He kept going. “You come across a ship of dead men, you leave them where they fell. But I knew Mychael would want somebody to poke ’n prod the corpses to find out what killed them.”
“Who’d you bring?”
“Saltman and his mate, George Pennett.” Phaelan shrugged. “Just because it looked like the same thing killed them all, didn’t mean it was, so I brought two.” He tapped the deck below us with the toe of one boot. “Got them both down in the lowest part of the hold wrapped in an old sail. We hoisted them off their deck and into our hold without anyone touching them; the paladin can get them out the same way.” He made a flapping motion with both of his hands. “Hitch one of those flying lizards of his up to a rope or something. Just get them off my ship.”
“Within the next half hour,” I promised him. “Thank you, Phaelan. If we can figure out what got Will Saltman and his crew, it could help lead us to who went after Markus.”
“Markus?”
I hit the high points of what had happened.
“Someone’s elf hunting,” Phaelan surmised. “And it sounds like a goblin.”
“We’ve got a lead on a couple of someones who could be involved.”
“To a lot of people, a goblin is a goblin.”
I blew out a breath. “I know.”
“Are Tam and Imala here?”
“They are.”
“Anything attack them?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“Huh?”
“They didn’t come here by mirror. And the less you know about how they did have to travel, the happier you’ll be.”
“I’ve got two dead bodies in my hold, probably killed by magic. So I’ll take that happy and raise you a blissfully ignorant.”
What would make me happy was to change the subject to Isibel Eiliesor.
“So…You met Mychael’s sister.”
Phaelan’s face went totally blank. It was the face that had won him many a card game. “Yes.”
“Oh come on, Phaelan. It’s me.”
“I know it’s you, that’s why I’m not telling you anything.”
I smiled slowly. “So there’s something to tell?”
“I’m not telling that, either.”
“I won’t tell Mago, I promise.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“Last time wasn’t my future sister-in-law.” I stopped. “Wait a minute. You’re my cousin, so that would make you and her…”
“Not a problem.”
I grinned. “So you’ve thought about it.”
“I’m a man. Of course, I’ve thought about it.” The not-blush was back. “And run numerous scenarios.”
“I won’t mention your ‘scenarios’ to Mychael.”
“My continued life expectancy would appreciate that.”
We hadn’t heard a peep from Phaelan’s cabin.
Until now.
“Sounds like they’ve gotten past the reunion part,” I noted dryly. “I think it’s safe to go in now.”
Phaelan snorted. “Safe for who?”
“Not Mychael. But it sounds like he could use reinforcements.”
Opening the door didn’t stop them. It took several seconds of Phaelan and me simply standing there for there to be a break in hostilities.
Isibel Eiliesor was petite and porcelain-skinned, with hair that was a tumbling mass of fiery curls and eyes the color of violets. The term “fairy princess” had been created just for her.
Women looked like that in storybooks, not in real life.
Yet, there she stood, toe to furious toe with her big brother, the top of her curly head coming only to the center of Mychael’s chest.
How she must have hated that.
The fire in Isibel’s eyes was only too familiar to me. I’d seen it for years every time I’d looked in the mirror. Being a woman trying to get a start in what was traditionally a man’s profession had given me plenty of chances to be enraged at being pushed aside or not taken as seriously as men doing the same work. Infuriated didn’t begin to describe the frustration and anger I’d experienced every day.
I saw that in my soon-to-be sister-in-law all too clearly.
Right now I saw that she’d made up her mind that she was where she wanted to be, and no one was going to push her aside again. She was done.
Good for her.
I could also see that Mychael hadn’t yet come to that realization, and his big-brother protective urges weren’t letting him see what was obvious to me. Yes, her ship had been attacked and she’d been taken captive; and yes, it was a good thing the Fortune had come along when she did, but no one person would have been able to prevent her ship being taken or the ambassador’s murder, at least not without the help of a certain all-powerful rock of our former acquaintance.
Isibel had a bull’s-eye between her eyes and needed protection—the kind that would help her do her job, not the kind that would prevent it getting done.
Mychael wanted to lock his little sister up for safekeeping. I’d been on the receiving end of that impulse, too. Isibel Eiliesor was the elven ambassador, and until Markus Sevelien was on his feet, she was also the senior representative of the elven queen in the peace talks. She couldn’t be locked away from anyone.
Isibel had been through hell, and while I wanted nothing more than to give my future sister-in-law the biggest hug I had in me, I couldn’t do it. It was what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t what Isibel—or Mychael—needed. At least not yet.
Defuse the situation now, repair any damage later.
So I did the best thing for Isibel as the elven ambassador and my future sister-in-law—and for Mychael as my future husband and present paladin. I crossed the cabin to them, extended my right hand to Isibel, and said what both of them needed to hear.
“Ambassador Eiliesor, on behalf of the archmagus, I welcome you to the Isle of Mid.” After a thoroughly professional handshake, then I gave my new sister a big hug and a bigger smile. “And I’m so glad to meet you!”
Isibel’s responding smile lit up her face, and she returned my hug with enthusiasm.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you, and thanks to your cousin, Captain Benares.”
I turned to Mychael. “See? She’s fine. Let’s move on.”
“We were discussing where Her Excellency will be staying during the negotiations,” Mychael said stiffly. He’d put the slightest emphasis on “Her Excellency.”
Sounded like he hadn’t moved on from that part. Yet. Time for a little nudge in the needed direction.
I gave him a brittle smile. “So I heard—and Phaelan heard and so did every crewman on this end of the ship.”
Mychael took a breath and blew it out. “I lost control.”
“Yes, you did. And it was understandable. Your sister is in danger. You love her and want to keep her safe.”
Isibel was staring daggers at her brother. “By sitting on me like a mother hen.”
I paused. That made an interesting visual. “As elven ambassador, Isibel has responsibilities that can’t be carried out with you sitting on her.”
“Finally a voice of reason,” Isibel said.
I turned to her. “At the same time, as paladin, it is Mychael’s responsibility to ensure the safety of each and every delegate. Considering the present situation—two murders and a kidnapping—”
Isibel froze. “Two murders?”
“Markus Sevelien was attacked by a spider monster inside the mirror tunnel between Silvanlar and here.”
“Inside a mirror tunnel?”
“Yeah, we’re trying to wrap our heads around how that happened, too. Markus was killed, b
ut your brother, the best healer in the kingdoms, brought him back.”
“How is—”
“He’ll be fine. He’s resting now.”
Isibel reached back and sat in one of Phaelan’s cabin chairs. “I didn’t know.”
“And until we know who’s behind this,” Mychael said, “we need to keep as much information to ourselves as possible—and you in secure lodgings.”
“You’re saying that the elven embassy isn’t secure?”
“Oh, it’s secure, all right,” I told her. “Phaelan and I had a hell of a time escaping from their dungeon a couple of weeks ago.”
Isibel blinked. “Dungeon?”
“They probably call it ‘security holding cells’ or something more polite,” I said, “but when you’re chained to a wall, dungeon pretty much sums it up.”
“I had heard that you were held against your will by Inquisitor Balmorlan.”
“And your predecessor, Giles Keril. After that, Markus scrubbed the place clean of cohorts and minions.”
“At least as thorough a job as he could with people who change allegiances quicker than the wind changes direction,” Phaelan added.
“The best thing we can do now is to get back to the citadel.” I held up a hand to stop Isibel’s objection. “It’s merely a temporary solution until we get the situation under control. Markus has a room in Justinius’s tower—for security and medical reasons. Next to Mychael, Dalis is the best healer on the island. She’s the old man’s personal physician. I know Markus will want to talk to you. And since he won’t be leaving his bed for a while, you’ll need to be where he is. Agreed?”
Isibel gave me a single nod. “Agreed.” She was calm and cool, the embodiment of a diplomat.
I looked to Mychael. “I know this is a big shock, but big shocks are what you handle best.” I threw in an encouraging smile. I couldn’t tell if it had any effect. Mychael’s paladin face was firmly in place: cool and determined. Hurricane-force winds wouldn’t faze him. That could be good or very bad. Considering how our day had gone so far, I was going to call it good and leave it at that. I needed one thing in my “win” column today.