“No.” Lera shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Not acceptable.”
Jason looked taken aback, but by then she knew him well enough that she could almost see the cogs and gears turning over in his mind. She went on. “If I’m going to live somewhere, I want a hand in choosing and building and preparing the place. Why should you have all the fun of that? I’m the captain of a ship, not some fine lady who only comes downstairs after the servants have lit the fires and laid the tea out.”
His thoughtful, preoccupied expression warmed into a grin. “So you’ll come back.”
“I’d only need to do that if I was leaving.”
“You’re not going back to Denalay at all?”
“Jason, do you remember my telling you how long the journey took us? How much we lost along the way?” She shook her head, feeling her loosened hair sway against her shoulders. “I’m not going back and forth, not when I’ve made up my mind.”
The Admiralty would be none too happy about it, but she’d paid her debts and more. Denalay had sixteen years of her life, and that was enough. It would always be her homeland, but it couldn’t chain her down any more than it could stop her from marrying Jason.
She expected him to smile or kiss her or tell her more about his plans for their farm, but instead he took a handkerchief out of his pocket. Something gleamed among the folds of white linen, and he reached for her right hand. The ring—a subdued, ashen metal like pewter—slid on to her fourth finger, cool against her skin.
“It fits.” When he smiled, it was private and amused, as though he knew a secret she didn’t.
“What’s this for?” Lera held up her hand to look at the ring closely. It was a plain smooth band and she liked the simplicity of it.
“It shows you’re married.” His brows went up. “Oh, that’s why you were so surprised when I said Captain Garser was married—you didn’t know he was wearing a wedding ring.”
“That wasn’t the only reason I was surprised,” Lera said. “But I don’t have anything to give you.”
Jason chuckled. “You already did. I had it made from the coin you paid me.”
She didn’t know whether that was adorably sentimental or another indication of his wicked sense of humor. “If we ever have children, we’ll tell them we met at a dinner party.”
“Better yet, in church,” Jason said. “And being our children, they’ll know it’s a pack of lies.”
Lera laughed. She couldn’t remember doing that before, but then again, the unexpected always seemed to happen with him. Oh, she might be docking in a safe harbor as all ships eventually did—if they were fortunate—but she’d never be bored, and the warm deep fullness felt as though it was spilling out from her heart to every part of her. She had never been so happy.
“I think I love you,” she said quietly.
Jason’s arms went around her, and she knew that was where she belonged. “I love you too, Lera Remerley.”
“Lera Vanze.” She couldn’t pronounce the name he’d given her, because all the l’s and r’s turned it into a tangletongue. “Where I come from it’s not a custom to change your name when you marry.” Reaching up to take his face between her palms, she drew him closer, until her lips almost touched his. “But when we’re together, when we’re alone, when we’re naked, when I’m under you…”
His arms tightened around her. “Yes?”
“…you can call me Captain.”
Epilogue
Dear Lera,
I hope this letter finds you and your husband well. I’m writing to let you know we all arrived safely home about five weeks ago. The journey took just under a month, since Checkmate didn’t have to be held back to the pace of any other ships this time, and she performed as competently as one could expect.
I delivered your letter and the prize money to the Admiralty. No one seemed very pleased, but given that you’d resigned and had handed the winnings over, there wasn’t much they could say. At least your career expired in a blaze of glory. I daresay if you hadn’t won, the reaction would have been much less restrained.
Miri and I were married recently, which is why I haven’t had time to write to you until now. Make of that what you will. Vinsen has been assigned to the command of Fallstar, a cargo carrier. I think he’d be far happier with a warship, but it’s not as though there’s a great deal of pirate activity to be dealt with any longer. There’s some rumor that what’s left of them are leaving the islands together—going where, I’m not sure. To hell, my brother says.
Write back and let me know how your farm progresses. Oh, and one last matter. Apparently the Council of Eyes and Voices has elected a Hand of the Unity. Strikes me as unusual, since there’s no immediate threat to confront. Still, they must know what they’re doing. The first Hand was chosen before the first Turean uprising and the second Hand dealt with the Infestation. It should be interesting to see what the third Hand does.
Take care, then.
Alyster
About the Author
Marian Perera has a Portuguese last name, was born in Sri Lanka, grew up in Dubai, studied in Texas, worked in Iqaluit and lives in Toronto. For now. She studied microbiology and medical laboratory technology, but fell in love with fantasy along the way. She enjoys blogging about writing, publishing and her here-and-there life at marianperera.blogspot.com, and loves to hear from readers—send her an email at [email protected] or join her on Twitter @MDPerera. There’s also more about the world of Eden on her website at www.marianperera.com.
Look for these titles by Marian Perera
Now Available:
Eden
Before the Storm
The Deepest Ocean
The Farthest Shore
Coming Soon:
The Coldest Sea
He’s racing for a prize. She’s running for her life. And they’re on a collision course.
The Farthest Shore
© 2014 Marian Perera
Eden Series, Book 3
Captain Alyster Juell is relishing the taste of his first command for the fleet of Denalay. The steamship Checkmate doesn’t carry weaponry, but that doesn’t matter. His mission is to win an ocean-crossing race—and its hefty prize.
As the voyage gets underway, Alyster hits his first snag—there’s a stowaway on board, a reporter who poked around for information about his ship the day before. And it’s too late to turn back.
Miri Tayes didn’t intend to stow away. She was forced to run for her life when a colleague discovered her secret: She can pass for normal but she’s a half-salt—daughter of a Denalait mother and a pirate father.
Despite her lack of seaworthy skills, Miri works hard to earn her keep, and Alyster, taken with her quick wit and steely nerve, falls for her. But as the race intensifies and the pirates use a kraken to hunt down Checkmate for its new technology, the truth could be the most elusive—and dangerous—prize of all.
Warning: Contains a reporter hiding a dangerous secret and the captain who’d like to strip her bare in more ways than one. Also pirates, prejudice and passion.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Farthest Shore:
Putting the lantern down, he pulled the crate’s lid off, blade at the ready.
A woman’s corpse was curled up inside. Or at least that was what it looked like until she twitched and fell still again. Alyster caught her shoulder and pushed hard to roll her face-up.
He recognized her despite the blue-grey undertone to her skin, and the half-lidded eyes that didn’t seem to see anything. He touched her throat. A pulse pressed against his fingers and didn’t return for what felt like half a minute, just like the way she’d rapped on the inside of the crate. How long had she been in there? He looked away from her face and saw the blood, clotted and dried, but still recognizably blood.
Belatedly remembering he no longer had to
deal with this by himself, he yelled for help, then slapped the woman’s face lightly. “Come on, wake up.” What was her name? She’d told him, but he couldn’t remember.
Steps rattled under the impact of feet, and he shouted at whoever it was to bring Dr. Berl. The woman seemed to be breathing a little more often now, though, and the blood beneath her skin was visible where he’d smacked her. Her eyelids quivered and so did her limbs.
She was still mostly curled up in the crate, so Alyster sheathed the saber, slid his arms beneath her knees and shoulders and lifted her out. Carry her to the surgery? No, best wait until Reveka made sure it was safe to move her. He laid her on the floor instead, and her eyes opened fully.
“Can you hear me?” he said.
Her lips moved, though her voice was so quiet he had to lean down to hear. “’m s-sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry I…scared you.”
Alyster drew back, not sure what to say, but no reply seemed to be called for as the woman’s eyes went wide. With a whimper she doubled over, face to the floor. The sound turned to a muffled keen, and he guessed she was feeling blood flow back into limbs held cramped and motionless for too long. Risking her life and going through that much pain seemed rather drastic measures to take just to report back to the Endworld Beacon about his ship.
The sound stopped, and she worked a trembling arm beneath her, but before she could lift herself off the floor, Reveka came clattering down the stairs. Alyster stepped aside for her.
“I found her in this crate,” he said as he replaced the lid.
Reveka went to her knees beside the woman—now he remembered her name, Miri—and took a wrist between her fingers, her other hand snapping open the lid of a pocket watch with practiced ease. Unity, Alyster thought, everyone has a watch these days.
The woman’s damp hair hung down lankly, hiding her face, but the questions in Reveka’s eyes were only too clear when she finally put the watch away. Alyster shrugged.
“She’s from Endworld,” he said, “and she was asking questions about the ship yesterday, but that’s all I know.” A handful of the off-duty crew had crowded into the hold to gape, so Alyster leveled a look at them until they began to shuffle out. “Dunvin, make yourself useful and get some hot water,” he said, and told Reveka he would fetch some rum.
He didn’t know if that was medically advisable for the woman, but he could certainly use it now that the surprise of his discovery had worn off. By the time he returned, Reveka was inspecting a gash on Miri’s arm. Nasty. He would have distrusted a small scratch, but that looked like the kind of injury which resulted from blocking a blade.
“How did you get that?” he said.
Miri licked her lips. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and dry, but quite intelligible.
“A man tried to kill me,” she said.
Oh, that was one for the logbook all right. Alyster said nothing more as Dunvin came in with a steaming jug, while Reveka produced a pair of shears and cut away Miri’s sleeve. He uncorked the bottle of rum and held it up, but Reveka shook her head.
Before this voyage is over, we might all have learned to speak without saying a word. He offered Miri the bottle.
“What is that?” She didn’t look at all enthusiastic.
“One of the best from Varland Distilleries. They call it Admiral’s Blood.” He held it out. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me.”
She swallowed a mouthful and grimaced, but there was color in her lips now. Reveka cleaned the wound with hot water, while Alyster took the bottle back and sipped, feeling the warmth of the deep green glass where Miri’s mouth had been. She looked a little more alive now, and the muscles in her face relaxed slowly as Reveka bandaged her arm.
“Any instructions for your patient before I take over?” he said, recorking the bottle. Reveka shook her head again, slipped rags and shears into her pockets and began to rise.
“Wait.” Miri started to put a hand on Reveka’s arm, then seemed to think better of it. Her voice was still throaty, but now that was probably the effect of the strongest rum on board rather than of near-suffocation. “Thank you for your help. I’m Miri Tayes.”
“She’s the ship’s physician,” Alyster said. “Dr. Reveka Berl.”
Miri blinked. “Doesn’t she speak?”
“When she has something important to say.” He reached down to help Miri up, thinking it was almost a tradition that fleet doctors were brilliant eccentrics. Reveka left as Miri clutched his hand tightly and got to her feet, swaying as she let go.
He took her condition in with a single look. Nothing but limes and straw had been in the crate, so obviously she hadn’t brought any extra clothes, and the ones she wore were not just torn but filthy. His first priority, though, was to make sure she wasn’t a threat to the ship.
If she was? Checkmate was so stripped down for speed that she didn’t have a brig. Well, he’d cross that strait when he came to it.
“Let’s go.” He picked up the lantern and allowed her to precede him out—not so much from courtesy as from caution that wouldn’t allow him to turn his back to anyone he didn’t trust. It took her a little while to climb the stairs, but while she looked wobbly on her feet, she didn’t fall. Alyster wondered if she was hungry. If her story passed muster, he’d send for food.
He directed her through the narrow corridor that led to the officers’ quarters in the stern and the captain’s cabin at the very end, a suite consisting of a tiny bedroom and a slightly larger cross between a dining room and a study. That was a good enough place to question her, so he pulled out a chair and she sank into it as if the journey had taken the last of her strength. Alyster locked the bottle of rum away. No need for the lantern now the windows admitted plenty of sunlight, making Miri look even more draggled and weary.
Except for her eyes. The lids were swollen, but the alert look was back. And the hollows around her eyes made them seem larger, like pools in autumn, brown leaves and water.
He steered his thoughts away from that distraction. He had to question her while she was at a low ebb, and there would never be a better time to begin. Drawing another chair out, he sat down facing her.
“What exactly are you doing on my ship?” he said.
Some secrets are best forgotten.
A Veil of Secrets
© 2014 Hailey Edwards
Araneae Nation, Book 5
Fresh from the battlefields of Erania, Marne rides south with Edan, headed for the city of Beltania. Among the Mimetidae guards accompanying them is Asher, who’s been a thorn in her side since the day they met. He’s rude and abrasive…yet he was the first to volunteer as escort.
Marne dreams of a fresh start where no one knows who—or what—she is. But first, they must cross the veil. Rumor has it spirits haunt that grim stretch of road, and unwary travelers who enter are never heard from again.
Veil or no veil, Asher is honor bound to see Marne safely to her new home. Though truth be told, Marne leaving Erania is the last thing he wants. This journey is his final chance to convince her distance will only make his heart grow fonder.
When Edan is lost to the mists, Marne is trapped in a strange land with no allies—with a man who draws her closer every day. Closer to her heart, and her secrets. Secrets she must reveal if they are to save the one man bent on tearing them apart.
Warning: This book contains one heroine willing to fly into the face of danger and the hero who gives her heart wings. This adventure is BYOM, Bring Your Own Meal. Trust me, where we’re going, takeout is to die for. Literally.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Veil of Secrets:
“Did you know anyone can make an offering to Old Father, and if he accepts, he can divine their future mate?” He let me snatch the journal out of his hands. “The Salticidae belief in soul mates is so deeply rooted in their culture t
hat before a person forms a strong bond with their significant other the couple must have their spiritual status confirmed. They bring Old Father an item that belongs to their beloved, and from that he can tell whether they are a match. I decided to test his process for myself.”
“Why would you—?” A worse thought occurred to me. “You shared my journal with him?”
“No.” He reached behind his back. “That would have been a violation of your trust.”
“Trust? What trust?” My claws lengthened. “You read my journal without my permission.”
His lips tightened. “I read your notes to save you, to learn how to care for you.”
The joints in my wings began itching. “I am not a pet.”
“You would have died if I hadn’t,” he pointed out to me.
I tucked the journal, the memories of Edan, against my chest. “I wanted to.”
He went still. “And now?”
“I will do my duty to Henri.” Starting tomorrow, I would write. “Then I’m going after Idra.”
He pulled the bowl I had used for breakfast from behind him.
“Where did you—?” I groaned, feeling ten kinds of foolish. “You lied to me.”
“I did. I had to know.” He tossed it to the ground. “Tell me.”
Tell him. Not hardly. “I see no reason to answer your deceit with the truth.”
“Tell me the truth.” He prowled closer. “Were you married to Edan?”
The evasion came harder to my tongue than expected. “That is none of your business.”
He stalked me until my back hit a tree. “A yes would have been simpler.”
My pulse leapt when he braced a hand over my head and leaned closer. “Why does it matter?”
“It might be what you are, or what was done to me, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” His jaw worked. “You can imagine how that conflicts my morals to covet another male’s wife, especially one whose husband obviously adored her.” He smiled, and it was hard. “Rather he doted on her, like one might a younger sister. After reading your journal, I thought to myself that I never saw you and Edan be affectionate in the way husbands and wives are. Rough as his edges were, he would have stolen a kiss from you, a real kiss, if he had wanted one. Yet he never did. Not that I saw. Why was that?”
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