by Alex Lidell
“Are you in love with him?” he asks calmly.
I flinch, this time with fear. “What?”
“Do you love Domenic Dana?”
“No. Of course not.” My heart races, and heat rises to my face.
He chuckles. “I am ten years older than you, Nile. I’ve a bit of experience reading such things. I understand.” The mirth fades. He taps his fingers together and looks somewhere beyond his cabin walls. Minutes pass in silence while the prince appears to have a conversation with himself, tasting thoughts in his mind and discarding them one at a time until something clicks into place and he nods. “Dana is a Felielle subject,” he says quietly. “The Lyron League court-martial will likely have no choice but to sentence him to death. But…” He pauses, pressing his lips together. “But the Felielle royal family has been known to grant pardons. During a time of special occasion, few would think much of it. In truth, many would expect a kind act from a new princess.”
Words abandon me. He’s offering me a way to save Domenic’s life. I’d have thought this a cunning trick but for the cards that sentenced Domenic to death having been played before Tamiath ever stepped foot into the game. I bite my lip.
“Will you marry me now?” Tamiath asks again, and for the first time, I see the anxiety chiseled in his gaze. One that’s much deeper and more primal than my potential refusal can possibly account for. When he looks at me again, there’s a rawness to it. “I need you, Nile. We need each other.”
And suddenly, I know. “You are in love,” I whisper. My thoughts race. Tamiath is in love. Desperately so. And obviously not with me. And yet he wants to marry.
No, needs to marry. I jerk with the memory of Tamiath’s strangled call when Johina open fire on…on Aaron.
“You are in love with a man,” I say slowly. “And it would mean his death should the truth of your relationship become known in Felielle. So…so you did the best thing you could think of. You sought out a girl from Ashing, not Felielle, a girl who you heard was a soldier and little wished for a life of another kind. You sought her out in order to offer her what you know she wants. A commission.”
Tamiath’s pallor is all the answer I need.
Chapter 28
“Yes.” One word. One nod. That’s all it takes to turn my life officially on its head. Tam kisses my cheek and whispers his thanks. I can’t summon words. Nor can I summon the courage to go above deck while the news of our official betrothal spreads like wildfire through the Falcon.
It was the right choice, I tell myself. The best choice. The only choice. One that will keep Domenic alive.
The carpenter makes short work of adding a partition to Tamiath’s cabin, the biggest on the ship, to create a private space for my cot. Beyond the glass window, the Hawk stands in Falcon’s wake, finishing repairs before heading to Ashing. The Hope and other Lyron ships are already moving about, some heading to the mainland, others to map the best routes to the Crystal Oasis and valuable timber. The Tirik limp home to lick their wounds. With the coastlines ravaged and timber not readily available, it will take them a few months to repair and regroup.
I try to be happy. I really do. Happy for Kederic’s command of the Hope for this voyage, for Tamiath and Aaron, for the respite in the Lyron-Tirik war. But each time I follow a thought, it brings me back to Domenic. Alone and hurt and locked in a cell, all because he chose to sign his own death warrant to give me a chance to escape the Aurora.
The tentative knock at the cabin door sounds a few times before I register the intrusion. I finally invite the visitor in, forcing myself to my feet only to come face-to-face with Aaron and sit right back down. Curly haired, well muscled, and a bit shorter than Tamiath, Aaron has the air of a lifelong soldier mixed with an oddly beautiful face and lashes that would be the envy of any court lady. Standing with his hand on the now-closed door, he looks ready to bolt right back into the passageway.
Silence hangs between us until I finally clear my throat. “If you need Prince Tamiath, he’s been out for about an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know.” Aaron nods, revealing a stitched but still-swollen gash that Johina’s pistol shot left across his temple. “I came to see you.”
Right. I hook the toe of my boot around the leg of the closest chair and slide it toward Aaron. Perhaps I should find some wine. I seldom drink spirits, but a chat with my future husband’s male lover seems like a good time to start doing so. “Just Nile is fine.”
Aaron swallows, his curly hair and hint of freckles reminding me of an older version of Thatch Lawrence. “Nile,” he repeats as if tasting the word. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Not just back on the Aurora, but in what you discussed with Tam. What you agreed to do. If there is something I might do in return… I know nothing will equal your actions, but if I might make your own life more comfortable… I mean to say, I’m at your service.”
I rub my face with my hands. “What else did my new friend Tam tell you of our conversation?”
Aaron flushes and lowers his gaze. “Nothing.” He sighs and, as if just realizing he is still standing, takes the chair I slid to him. Aaron sits with his knees spread and his forearms braced on his knees. His light green eyes look up at me. “Please do not be angry with Tam. He… What he and I do, in Felielle it is a matter of life and death for me. Not officially, perhaps, but given Tam’s station, that is the reality of it. Tam had to tell me that you guessed the truth.”
And if I hadn’t guessed? Would the two of them play me for years? An unfair question. “Who else knows?” I ask instead.
“No one,” Aaron tells me, his jaw tightening. “Tam’s mother suspects, though. It is because of her that Tam started the whole marriage show to begin with.”
“I see.”
“I doubt it.” Aaron winces. “But perhaps you will once you meet her.”
“I see,” I say again.
He grips my gaze. “Tamiath told me nothing else of your conversation, though. He is a good man, Nile. And he will keep your confidence. As will I. I know you’ve little reason to believe just now, but it’s true.”
It’s also mutually assured destruction. I play with the thought of telling Aaron about Domenic, but decide against it. No benefit and too much danger. Plus, I’m little certain I can keep myself together if I touch that conversation. Suddenly, all I want to do is sleep and beg the stars that I don’t dream of Domenic. I wonder whether the sudden despair is obvious in my face or if Aaron is simply a keen observer, but I feel him notice the change in me.
Aaron’s green eyes narrow on mine, then slide along my body in such a frank assessment that I shift from fatigue to indignation to curiosity in a span of a heartbeat.
“Yes?” I raise a brow.
“I thought, if you are well enough, we might go on deck and spar.”
It’s a good thing I’m not drinking wine, I decide. I’d choke if I was. “Shall we be fighting for Tam’s affection?”
“Oh, most certainly not.” For the first time since Aaron entered the room, I see a spark of mischief. “It will most likely piss him off no end. And that’s only half the benefit.”
“The other being?”
Aaron grins. “That there is a unit of Felielle soldiers drilling there just now. If you’d like to send a message about who you are and how you are to be treated, this is the time to do it.”
In other words, enough wallowing.
As we walk onto the poop deck, where Tam and two dozen of his men are, in fact, training with knives and blades, I decide that it would be very difficult to dislike Aaron. Striding companionably beside me, Aaron carries a pair of practice blades and inquires about the different parts of the ship, as if the rigging—and not the new Felielle princess—should be the main focus of everyone’s attention.
It, of course, fools no one, and by the time we reach the poop deck, a blanket of silence hangs among the Felielle men training there. Stopping before Prince Tamiath, Aaron gives his commander a formal bow.
“Might
we encroach on a bit of your space, sir?” he asks in a voice designed to carry over the unit of men on the poop.
“For what, exactly?” Tam asks, his eyes flashing a warning at Aaron, who appears suddenly blind to subtlety.
“The princess requested I tutor her on the Felielle swordsmanship style before she joins in the regular training. It seemed a fair request, sir.”
I make a mental note to introduce Aaron and Catsper, and then think better of it. If the two of them team up, there will be no defense for anyone.
Tam’s face turns to stone, and I almost feel bad for Aaron.
Aaron bows to the prince as if permission had been granted, and tosses me a practice blade. He’ll pay for this, I’m certain. In private, yes, but he’ll pay.
My body groans as I snatch the weapon from the air. I’m tired and I’m sore. My only salvation is that in the short time I’ve known Catsper, he’s managed to drill the tired-and-sore excuse out of my arsenal. If you can breathe, you can fight, he’d tell if he were here instead of helping Kederic. And if you want to keep breathing, you’d better fight. Right. Adjusting my hand on the sword hilt, I meet Aaron’s gaze in an exchange of salutes that has the soldiers taking a step back to watch.
“If they were sailors, they’d be exchanging bets now,” I murmur to Aaron as I open with a low feint to his thighs that morphs into a slice across his belly.
Aaron steps sideways sharply, deflecting the thrust with expert precision. “Oh, they are. They just don’t want the prince to notice.”
Aaron’s blade snaps down hard toward my right shoulder. Hard enough that even if he pulls the blow, it will still come close to shattering bone. Storms and hail.
I bend my knees as I parry, the vibrations of the strike making my teeth clank together. Letting the force of Aaron’s own blow propel me, I spin around, dropping low and extending my leg as I do.
The ship rocks on the waves, and my heel catches Aaron’s ankle just as he fights for balance on the shifting deck.
Aaron swears, recovers, and promptly tries to separate my head from my shoulders.
It’s all I can do to duck under the deadly arc of his blade and raise my own in time to block the next attack. The swords slam hard against each other, and only another lurch of the ship keeps me from toppling under Aaron’s relentless pressure. Strike. Strike. Strike.
No let up. No reprieve. No quarter.
After Catsper, who openly carries violence with each step he takes, gentle Aaron’s hidden fire is a sight of its own to behold.
When the ship jumps on the next wave, I seize on Aaron’s heartbeat of disorientation to slide close to him, negating the advantage of the man’s greater reach.
He elbows me in the ribs and dances away, circling like a wolf.
My lungs burn, but the triumph roars in my blood. It had worked, using the ship’s motion to beat Aaron’s defenses. Only for a moment, but still.
A plan forms in my mind, falling into place block by block as the ocean sings its song. With Aaron’s greater strength and training, he’d take me down in a moment on land. On the ocean, however, with the moving deck and cresting waves…
Aaron circles again, likely to give me a chance to breathe. His mistake.
Focusing my attention on the ship’s movements, I drink in the pattern of waves that I know Aaron cannot read. Crest and valley, crest and valley, each rocking the ship, the deck, the world. I watch the coming waves as I would in a naval battle, waiting for the uproll to give the order to fire. Except instead of firing, when the next large wave crests, I kick.
My foot sinks into Aaron’s abdomen just as the deck drops out from below him.
Aaron’s eyes widen as he is suddenly airborne. He lands on his back with a thud that’s echoed in the gasps and chuckles around us. Even Aaron’s own mouth twitches in a half smile as he recovers from the impact.
My victory is short-lived as Aaron rolls backward over his shoulder to come to his feet again. Then he rushes me, his full strength and training and wrath aimed at my chest.
In a blink, I’m flat on my own back, the point of Aaron’s blade at my throat.
Right. And that’s that.
Aaron grins and withdraws the weapon, offering me his hand. “Not bad for a seaman. And here I thought you lot were only good for giving us soldiers a ride.”
“Hear! Hear!” shouts one of the watching Felielle soldiers.
“Enough.” Tam’s command quiets his men like the report of a great gun. All the soldiers, this time including Aaron, reclaim their wits and straighten before their commander. Discipline thus restored, Tamiath strides toward where Aaron and I now stand side by side.
A show. Aaron and I had put on a show, and I little blame Tamiath for his unhappiness over being neither consulted nor warned. Aaron lowers his face as Tam approaches us. I raise mine.
“Are you all right?” Tam asks me coolly. He is no longer the man I’d met in the privacy of our cabin, but a prince and commander.
“No,” I say, meeting him glare for glare. “I’m dead. At least that was my understanding of the somewhat universal blade-at-your-throat signal.”
I hold my breath.
Tamiath tilts his head, considering. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat. “I would be pleased if you learned better strategy than waiting for the ground to mystically drop out from beneath your opponent’s feet.”
“I would be pleased if you learned the different mystical forces and waves,” I say in matching tone.
His mouth twitches. “We’ll teach each other, then.” Without breaking my gaze, Tam holds his hand out to Aaron, who obediently surrenders his practice blade to the prince. “Shall we be about it, then?”
It’s a long, hard few hours, made more so by everything else I’d put my body through recently. I can barely stand by the time Tam calls a halt. The soldiers are in little better shape, though I know their challenge came from the shifting deck, not the sheer physicality of the fight. I think Tamiath pushed everyone to their limit on purpose, wringing full advantage of the camaraderie that shared misery instills. Either way, I’m obliged to hold on to the bulkhead as Tam, Aaron, and I trudge back to the cabin.
“Not that I mind,” I say when the door closes behind us, “but is Aaron’s presence here not odd?” My voice, laden with fatigue, sounds half-drunk.
Tam grins. “On the contrary. He’s our chaperone, you see.”
I roll my eyes and sprawl onto the first piece of furniture I see, which happens to be the sea chest from earlier.
Tam grips the edge of the dining table, as if the wood were any more stable than the rest of the rocking ship. “Once I’m not worried about losing my dinner, Aaron, I’m going to describe the full extent of your stupidity to you. In detail.” Tam closes his eyes. “Goddess take me, but I hate waves.”
“Bringing Nile to spar on deck was a good idea,” Aaron says, crossing his arms as he sits. “It’s all perception now, and this—her with a weapon, us taking her fighting skills seriously—it sent the right message. You are just sore that you didn’t come up with it.”
“I did come up with it,” Tam growls at him. “And then I thought one second longer and decided to wait until Nile heals before putting on a show.”
“Heals?” Aaron echoes, his brow furrowing as he studies me. “Is she injured?”
I tense, little wishing to explain either my back or the muscles screaming from convulsion, but Tam steps in smoothly, “Nile was part of two boarding parties in a span of two days. What do you think?”
Aaron winces, and I can see the apology I don’t deserve forming in his throat.
“I’m quite all right,” I say quickly, even as my body reports in with complaints. “And I needed to get my mind off…things.” I take a deep breath, allowing nothing but common fatigue to show in my face even as my heart threatens to break. The marriage I agreed to this morning is a business arrangement, and I refuse to burden my two partners with anything more than I must.
The ship’s bell rings through the Falcon, and I excuse myself to my cot, grateful for the privacy as I collapse onto the sheets. I’m bleeding. Skin and heart and mind. But, on the other side of the partition, another cot groans as two bodies slide onto its narrow frame. It’s a small thing, one that lovers all across the world do every day without thought, but one the two men beside me have been denied. If my being here in this cabin makes falling asleep in each other’s arms possible for them, then today was well lived. I’ll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.
Chapter 29
“I’d like you to have a bodyguard.” Tam’s words, said with deceptive casualness over breakfast a few days after our official betrothal, have me spilling my coffee.
“You what?” I jerk away from the table before the scalding liquid burns my skin, Aaron doing the same beside me. My chest heaves as I stare at Tamiath. First my mother forcing things on me for my own good, then Ana and Domenic. Now Tamiath. It’s some kind of Felielle disease. “No, Tam. The answer is, no. I’m neither a porcelain doll nor a dog to be leashed. Your fragile Felielle sentiment be damned.”
“It’s your Felielle sentiment now,” Tam snaps back at me, his spine straightening so hard that Aaron subtly maneuvers between us. “And you bloody well will care about its people and their fragile sentiments. We will lead, we will guide, and we will challenge. We will not…” His palms plant on the table beside my place setting. “We will not disrespect them or break their trust.”
“No one will take an officer with bodyguards seriously, Tamiath,” I hiss back at him, my hands mirroring his on the table. “I would be a doll playing at commander. How can I ask my people to risk their lives while I hide behind someone’s back?”
Tam sighs and pushes himself upright with visible effort. “What were you planning on doing about your Gift?” he asks.
“Don’t change the topic.”
Tam sits, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not. How many people know you are an air caller?”