by Elly Blake
“Does she help them into an early grave?”
He shrugged. “Some of them were old enough when she married them that they might have died of natural causes. Others have had… unfortunate accidents.”
“Then why does anyone marry her? Doesn’t everyone know her reputation?”
“Well, she’s beautiful,” he said musingly. “But generally her unlucky grooms have little choice. She blackmails or threatens people who owe her money or favors. It’s either marry her or face something worse.”
“What could be worse than marrying a murderess?”
His eyes shifted away. “There are worse things. Knowing she’ll go after your family, for instance.”
A cold gust made the sails snap and the ship list to port. A cloud passed over the sun, casting us in shadow.
“She sounds ruthless,” I said with a tiny shiver. “Are you sure we should be going to see this woman?”
“What choice do we have? Liddy has Marella, and Cirrus told us to save her, hopefully because she knows the location of the Isle of Night. The good news is, Liddy is a mercenary to her core. If we pay her enough, she’ll give Marella to us.”
His voice was cool and even, but I didn’t like the tension in his face and the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Kai, you don’t owe her money, do you?”
“Of course not,” he snapped, his lips tightening. He brushed a speck of lint off his shoulder and muttered, “At least, I won’t after I repay her.”
“Oh my gods… Why would you borrow from her?”
He shot me a look of annoyance. “I had reasons. I don’t need to justify them to you.”
I stiffened. “Forgive me for asking.”
He sighed. “I just don’t like to talk about it. I’d rather forget that time in my life. It was after I failed the Fireblood trials and my family lost their island. My father took ill and my sister was caring for both him and my young niece. They needed food and shelter and medicine, and it was up to me to help. But I had no idea how. It was before I began privateering.”
My heart gave a tiny pulse of heat to think of him being that desperate and alone. “So you borrowed money from Liddy?”
“I had no choice. And I did pay her back faithfully… until the last few months when I’ve been busy. With you, I might add.”
“You missed payments?” I asked with alarm.
“Only a couple. A problem soon to be rectified when we approach her with bags of Tempesian coin. It will delight her to take money from the coffers of the Frost King.”
“So she’s a Fireblood?”
“She is.”
“Then don’t go to this meeting. I’ll go in with the Fireblood masters.”
“Not without me, you won’t. She wouldn’t tell you anything if you went in alone. You’re a princess, and she’s an outlaw. You’re as far apart as sea and sun.”
“Why does she trust you, then? You’re a prince.”
“An empty title when I met her. I’m a known entity, and more important, I owe her money. She trusts people she can control or destroy. If she laid a finger on you, the entire Sudesian navy wouldn’t rest until she was captured.”
He had a point. “Well, I hope she’s as forgiving as you think she’ll be when you show up on her doorstep. Which is where, exactly?”
“She owns islands all the way from the Gray Isles to Sudesia, but word is that she’s on Serpents Cay this time of year.”
“I’m going with you to that meeting,” I stated, in case there was any doubt.
“Of course you are. Did you think I deluded myself there was any hope of you staying behind?”
He grinned and I grinned back. I hoped it meant things were finally returning to normal between us.
The moment was shattered by Brother Thistle’s groan floating up from the foot of the stairs leading to the quarterdeck.
The few days of our voyage so far had gone smoothly, with clear weather and calm seas, but Brother Thistle, with his gray-tinged skin and tightly pressed lips, looked as if he’d been on a storm-tossed ship for weeks. He made his way up the steps slowly, with one hand on the railing and the other on his cane.
I reached out to take his arm. “I still can’t believe you’re coming with us. Are you sure this was a good idea?”
The wind played havoc with the hem of his robe, forcing him to hold it down with one hand. He looked as out of place on a ship as a fish on land.
“I detest sea travel,” he said in a low voice. Frost covered his cane—a sure sign that his emotions weren’t completely in check.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.” If his seasickness hadn’t abated by now, it probably wouldn’t for the whole trip. “One of the ships could turn around and take you back.”
He shook his head. “I must do this.”
Just then, a flash of blue moved in my peripheral vision. Arcus appeared at the top of the companionway, his head swiveling as he searched the deck, stopping when he saw me. My pulse danced in surprise as he approached. He’d done everything he could to avoid me for the past week since that night in my bedroom. He’d barely spoken two words to me, and only when necessary, only when we were among other people. I hadn’t even seen him alone.
For once, I hadn’t tried to push into his space. I felt awkward, confused, and bitter at his reaction. Ashamed of the way I’d lashed out. A tangled mess of feelings I wasn’t ready to sort through.
Still, like an addict, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. As he mounted the steps to the quarterdeck, I drank in the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his bluish-gray shirt under the indigo cloak. The wind raked his hair, making it fall in enchanting waves over his forehead and ears. If we’d been alone—and not at odds—I would have sunk my fingers into it without hesitation and drawn those sculpted lips close for a kiss.
Who was I kidding? We wouldn’t even have had to be alone.
I strove to sound casual. “We were just discussing the moneylender, who is going to do her best to lighten your treasury.”
Arcus patted Brother Thistle on the shoulder, then faced Kai. “I’m going with you.”
“Not an option,” Kai replied immediately. “Liddy hates Frostbloods. You would ruin any chance of her opening up to us. Ruby and I will handle this one.”
Arcus crossed his arms, still not sparing me a glance. “If I’m not going, neither is Ruby.”
Irritation distracted me from appreciating the way his arms bulged in the too-tight shirt. “Didn’t we recently have this conversation? About you being too protective?”
“I’m not saying I need to be in the meeting. I merely want to be on the island in case anything goes wrong.”
I folded my arms, prepared to list all the reasons why that wasn’t possible, but Kai surprised me by saying, “That sounds reasonable. You’ll need to stay out of sight, though.”
Tension visibly drained from Arcus, his shoulders and jaw relaxing. “I’ll go wherever you tell me.”
I stared at him, bemused. He was actually willing to take orders from Kai just so he could stay close to us.
Kai paused, then nodded his agreement. Brother Thistle was smiling, clearly pleased that they’d come to terms. I looked between all three, feeling as if some subtle shift had happened. A tentative offer and acceptance of trust or some other message I was missing.
If there was even a question that they might try to cut me out, I was having none of it.
“I’m going to that meeting,” I stated, flicking a look at Arcus as I added, “and you’re staying here where it’s safe.”
There was no telling what Liddy might do if she had the Frost King at her mercy. For once, it was me trying to protect him.
“Maybe it’s you who should stay behind for once,” Arcus said stonily, his eyes implacable. It felt as if he were staring right through me. I suppressed a shiver.
“We are all taking risks,” Kai said. “I need Ruby at the meeting.” He turned to me. “I have an idea how you can hel
p if Liddy decides I owe her more than just repayment of my debt. But I’d feel better if Arcus were nearby in case things go wrong.”
There it was again. Some unspoken truce between them. Kai had even—finally—called Arcus by name. I threw up my hands, knowing this argument was lost.
“Fine, Kai, but if he gets hurt, I’m holding you responsible.” I flushed, feeling Arcus’s eyes on me.
“If he is hurt,” Kai muttered, “I have no doubt you’ll take it out on me.”
“Just so long as we’re clear.”
NINETEEN
IN THE COLD, DARK HOURS BEFORE dawn, I crept into Brother Thistle’s cabin with a tiny flame lit in my palm. He slept soundly, his back to me, for which I whispered a quick thank-you to Sud. He’d be furious if he caught me.
It was the work of a few minutes to search his trunk and find the familiar wooden box that held the relic: a piece of Cirrus’s cloth. Since I’d contacted the goddess once, I was sure I could successfully contact her again, and this time I would ask more questions about rescuing Marella and getting to the Gate.
Tucking the box under my arm, I returned to my cabin, setting it on my lap as I sat on my bunk. When I drew the cloth out, I took a moment to calm my breathing and my mind, then pushed out a gentle layer of heat, the way I had before. A surge of prickly energy flowed up my arms. I waited, expecting the room to fade and Cirrus to appear.
Nothing happened. The mahogany-paneled walls of the cabin stayed resolutely solid.
I lay down, clutching the relic to my chest. Maybe my mind wasn’t calm enough. I shut my eyes and waited, my breathing slowing until the silken threads of sleep crept over me.
Sometime later, the scents of wintergreen and wood fires filled my cabin. I inhaled, expecting the sense of peace and calm I had during my vision of Cirrus.
Instead, a pounding in my head made me feel as if ice smashed into my skull. Then a gust of blistering desert air seared my skin. I let out a cry and opened my eyes.
Two strange figures loomed over me: a vibrant, dark-haired woman with flames in her eyes and a blue-eyed, serious-faced man, his skin and hair covered with frost. He wore armor made of ice, and she a gown made of flames. Power crackled in the air.
I knew who they were. They looked just as they did in the tapestries in Forwind Abbey.
“Finally,” Fors, god of the north wind, said dispassionately, dropping his ice-coated fists. He examined his hands. “I would hate to think I’d lost my touch reaching into the mind of a mortal.”
“Punching your way into it, you mean.” Sud, goddess of the south wind, shook her head at him before returning her attention to me. “She is small.” Her head tilted. “A fledgling.”
Fors sighed. “She is mortal. What did you expect? They are all puny.”
“Cirrus said she held much power when she sent us here in her place.” Sud sounded skeptical. “I do not see anything exceptional. But then, these things do not always show on the surface.”
My blood rushed in my veins as they examined me. Instead of Cirrus, somehow I’d summoned Fors and Sud, the god and goddess who had created Frostbloods and Firebloods. I lay stunned and silent, trying to decide if this was a dream. It might have been. They didn’t behave like deities, or at least not like Cirrus—stately and elegant. Instead they behaved like regular bickering siblings.
“Are you… are you really here?” I asked in a whisper so quiet I barely heard myself.
“Fear not, mortal,” Fors said in a loud, nearly toneless voice while taking stock of my cabin with a bored countenance. “We mean you no harm.”
“You need not shout,” Sud admonished him. “We are already speaking at a volume detectable by mortal ears. In our long absence from their realm, you have forgotten much, my brother.”
Fors sniffed once and raised a brow at his sister but didn’t reply.
I rubbed my eyes and blinked. There they were, still there.
Sud smiled, cocking her head again. “They are rather charming, aren’t they?” With slow deliberation, she reached out and touched my nose with her burning fingertip. Boop. My eyes rounded. Hers crinkled at the edges.
“In their way,” Fors agreed coolly. “Though I prefer my mortals a little more… authoritative and intimidating.”
“To each her own,” Sud countered.
“You’re speaking another language,” I wondered aloud, just above a whisper. “Yet I understand you.”
Sud continued to smile indulgently. “There wouldn’t be much point in talking otherwise.”
It was so wrong to be lying in bed in front of the god and goddess, but when I tried to move, my limbs wouldn’t obey. “Should I… should I kneel?” I asked worriedly.
The goddess waved a hand. “No time for that. We come to you on behalf of our sister, goddess of the west wind.” She shook her head, frowning. “I am quite out of practice at conversing with mortals. I will speak plainly. Cirrus told us you have used her relic to try to speak with her. Do not do so again. She cannot help you, and neither, unfortunately, can we. Our mother, Neb, made us vow never to interfere with mortals after our brother Eurus, well, ruined everything.”
“Irritating,” Fors said, the ice on his body crackling. “After we saved him from exile.”
The flames in Sud’s eyes flared brighter. “Unforgivable. But then, our mistake was trusting him.”
“So the stories are true?” I asked in awe.
Suddenly, the twin gods appeared as children. Their cheeks were more rounded, their olive skin and white teeth glowing with health. They giggled as I stared.
“It was a youthful folly.” Sud motioned between herself and her twin. “We were but this old when we found Eurus alone on the island. We brought him to our parents, begged them to forgive him. We thought he had changed.”
“We were wrong,” Fors said. “He could not bear that we had created mortals with our own gifts. He had to have the same. And when he could not, he vowed to destroy our creations. If he releases his shadows, Frostbloods and Firebloods will cease to exist.”
In the space of a blink, they returned to their adult forms. They stared at me, waiting.
“I want to stop him,” I said earnestly, shaking with the need to do whatever the gods commanded. “Please, what can I do?”
Fors said, “Eurus believes you are full of darkness, a mortal specially made to do his bidding. Is he correct?”
“No,” I said firmly, then added desperately, “I hope not.”
The goddess narrowed her eyes in contemplation. I had the sense she was peering into my soul. “This girl is one of my own, and yet she loves one of yours.”
“Of course,” Fors replied in a superior tone. “How could she not?”
“Love can make you strong,” she said, giving him a significant look. “And love can make you weak.”
“Irrelevant,” Fors replied. “The only question is whether she has enough control to fight the darkness.”
“Or whether she is brave enough to succumb,” Sud added.
They nodded in unison.
“What does that mean?” I asked urgently.
Sud peered at me for a few moments before saying, “Know this: We cannot interfere as long as Eurus keeps Neb’s law. A mortal form with only mortal abilities breaks no vow.”
“If he should slip, though,” Fors murmured, lifting a brow. “If he should forget himself…”
“Then you can help?” I asked, my pulse registering my excitement. “If Eurus uses his powers as a god?”
Sud tilted her head again. “I wish we could bring this one home with us. Such a darling little mortal.”
“What would you do with such a puny creature?” Fors shook his head in disgust, turning his back on me, his outline starting to fade as he walked away.
“I would teach her all the secrets of fire,” Sud replied, elbowing her way in front of him.
“And then when you grow bored with her, I suppose you can put her in the statue garden.”
Sud’s musical
laughter swirled in the air, the dust motes in my cabin catching fire and dancing before winking out.
“Wait!” I called, feeling empty with the loss of their presence. “I have more questions!”
But their images had already disappeared, leaving only the scent of ashes and evergreen. I saw no more until I woke the next morning.
TWENTY
THE BAG OF COINS LANDED WITH A thwump on the scarred wooden table, and the pirates’ raucous chatter tapered into silence. Two dozen pairs of eyes turned toward us. Their hands reached for daggers or swords.
Despite the tavern’s humble facade of mismatched stones and crumbling mortar, the spacious interior boasted high ceilings and thick oak beams hung with three large iron chandeliers. Most of the candles had burned down to nubs, their flickering glow leaving the corners in shadow. Cheroot smoke floated in clouds, its earthy scent underlaid by the musk of sweat.
The decor was a discrepant mix of sturdy furniture and extravagant baubles. Between two grimy windows, a fluted glass vase brimmed with peacock feathers. Beside it an enormous gilded tusk sat on end, as if an animal were skewering the tavern from below. On one side of the bar, a black lacquered chest with open drawers spilled silks in a colorful mess. On the other side, a marble statue of a woman rose from a seashell cast in bronze. The floor was covered in peanut shells and the remainder of spilled drinks. A lean, sharp-eyed man and a serving maid with curly red hair flitted between tables, their smiles generous, their steps quick, and their trays laden with stoneware frothing with ale.
Liddy’s guards outside had recognized Kai and happily received his bribes to let us pass. They stood, massive arms folded, on either side of the door.
We moved closer to Liddy. Even if Kai hadn’t described her to me, I’d have guessed her status by the sheer volume of gaudy jewelry adorning her throat and wrists. She wore so many necklaces—pearl, gold, silver, diamond—that I wondered how she could breathe.
As agreed beforehand, Kai took the lead. He’d warned me that he’d need to tread carefully as he made amends for his late payment. My role would come later.