Katherine gently slid off the bed and Ana listened to her speak to the visitor through the haze of sleep. “I hope you don’t mind,” Katherine started. “Ana and I discussed our people’s history… and of yours and Sophia’s, as well. She is old enough now to grasp these things, I believe.”
“How did she seem?” Thomas said. “Sometimes it puzzles me why we should keep our children in ignorance of the past… no matter how ugly it may seem.”
“There are few who remember the tale correctly enough after so many have altered history books in favor of one or the other,” Katherine said. “Your own past should have been clarified long ago, Thomas.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Thomas replied. His voice was barely above a whisper, and Ana wondered if she was dreaming this entire conversation.
Katherine cleared her throat. “Your daughter has always been bright. She knows much about the mind, you know. The business between us and the Thalassans all made sense to her, though it brings her sadness that her family is apart for age-old prejudice.”
“It saddens me, too.” Thomas shuffled his big feet.
“And me, as well,” Katherine agreed.
“You will never know how much Sophia and I appreciate your presence in Ana’s life. You have stepped in as a mother when Sophia cannot, and we are eternally grateful to you for that.”
“It is my pleasure, Thomas. I love your family very much.”
Ana smiled dreamily, and sleep finally settled over her as her father’s retreating footsteps faded away.
* *
Ana woke to the sound of seagulls and knew they had arrived in Triton. A flash of her conversation with Katherine the night before had her frowning in remembrance. Was my father present? I swear I heard his voice…
“Good morning, pretty girl,” Katherine greeted her as she came through the wooden door. “Are you ready for another week in the sun? I’ve brought some lemons for your hair if you wish to lighten it.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you,” Ana answered, getting out of bed and taking the lemons from Katherine’s hands. She sat down at her vanity and began squeezing them into her long brown curls. She decided to let her hair fall free that day, and combed her fingers through it to smooth away the tangles from sleep.
Katherine walked over to the wardrobe and removed a white linen dress. Ana took it graciously and laid it on the bed before removing her nightdress. She stepped gracefully into her attire for the day, and smiled at her reflection in the bronze mirror above the vanity. She loved that dress, it was her most comfortable and casual garb for a day on the beach with her mother.
“Are you ready to disembark?” Katherine asked.
Ana nodded eagerly, and then frowned. “Have I woken after they’ve unloaded the infants? I do love to help bring them off the ship.”
“No, dear, you’re not too late. They’re in the middle of it as we speak.”
The two women left the room and headed up the stairs to the deck. Ana rushed along the side of the huge vessel to where they were taking the babies across the gangplank. She scooted passed a sailor carrying two babies in his arms, and ran down the steps to the ship’s makeshift nursery. A sailor named Joseph immediately handed her a pink-faced baby girl. She thanked him and carefully made her way back up the stairs to the deck.
As she stepped onto Triton’s shores she was so busy admiring the babe in her arms that she took a misstep and bumped against something hard. Startled, she looked up. The hard thing that broke her fall was the chest of a man wearing iron chainmail. He was clearly a soldier of Triton, and one that she had never seen before. Upon further inspection she noticed that he bore the scarlet cloak of a watchman.
Ana shook her head. He must think me a fool! Tripping over myself and proceeding to stare at him so!
“Are you all right?” Xander asked curiously, his amber eyes gleaming with laughter.
“Yes,” Ana answered fiercely, realizing she was still in the arms of the man. She pulled back instantly, and looked down at the baby girl pressed against her chest. “Apologies, Watchman.”
“No problem here,” Xander said with a smile. Ana was startled by the brilliance of it.
“You’re new to Triton,” Ana stated. It wasn’t a question. The island was small and there were only but a few watchmen stationed here. She knew them all by name just from seeing them around town so frequently.
“Aye,” Xander confirmed with a nod. “Just transferred.”
There was something in his eyes that held her gaze. He felt refreshingly genuine. All Thalassans were intriguing to her because of the many differences between them and her fellow Gaians. Their thoughts were rarely tinted with secrecy and mistrust, a common trait for people like her. Gaians were so used to others probing their minds that there was a bitter taste on the edges of everyone’s thoughts, it seemed. Thalassans, on the other hand, just lived their lives without having to worry about anyone trespassing into their minds. The contrasting texture or tone to their thoughts was noticeable and refreshing to Ana. This man, in particular, had a sweetness to his thoughts that she was drawn to. It wasn’t weakness or naiveté, but tenderness. It complimented his strong jawline and broad shoulders nicely, she mused.
“And how do you like it so far?” Ana asked the watchman. She shifted the baby to her other arm and adjusted the linen swaddling clothes against the breeze.
“I like it more and more with each passing day. In fact, I like it more now than I had even five minutes ago.” He winked, and Ana’s cheeks flamed under his coquetry.
“I’d better go,” Ana hurried away from the olive-skinned watchman and headed towards one of the wagons that take the orphans to her mother’s nursery. She placed the baby inside and looked around eagerly. Usually Sophia was at the docks awaiting her arrival, yet Ana could not see her anywhere. In her searching, her eyes landed yet again on the eyes of the watchman who kept her from falling.
“Hello, baby girl!” Sophia came up behind Ana and threw her arms around her. “I’ve missed you these last three weeks!”
“And I have missed you, Mother,” Ana replied, taking in Sophia’s familiar scent of spices and lemons. Ana had learned to lighten her dark hair with lemons from her mother when she was a child.
“You look tired.”
Ana shrugged. “Katherine told me many things last night, I suppose we talked for quite some time.”
“May I ask what subject you were discussing?” prodded Sophia.
“It was mostly about the history of our world, and why things are the way they are.” Ana checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. She lowered her voice, just in case. “We also spoke of you and Papa.”
“That sounds… enlightening,” Sophia commented, her dark eyes wary. She put an arm around her daughter and started to lead her towards her home. “Shall we break our fast?”
Ana nodded her head in agreement and allowed her mother to pull her towards the small town. Her thoughts traveled back to the watchman at the dock, and she wondered what it was about him that kept him in her mind. She brushed it off again with the notion that many Thalassans were of curiosity to her because they had a different air about them than Gaians did.
“Ana!” Sophia poked her daughter. “Are you listening to me?”
Ana chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“Where did your mind go?” Sophia asked.
“Oh, it was really quite nothing. I tripped as I was coming off the ship’s boarding ramp and a watchman caught me before I fell. I’ve never seen him before.” Ana answered, thanking the gods her mother could not know what she had actually been thinking.
“Is he somewhat tall? With thick brown hair and amber eyes?” Sophia suggested.
“Yes, that was him. Do you know him?”
“Oh, yes, that’s Xander. He was just transferred here from Pontos. He was once an orphan from Gaia. It warms my heart to see even one of my little babes from the nursery
become such a success.”
“That’s wonderful, Mother.” Ana smiled at Sophia, and followed her up the steps to the little house they had just reached. It was labeled number one sixty-five, her home away from home.
The Footpad
The Phoros slowed to a halt on Triton’s soft sands. Donovan stood at the stern of the ship with his arms folded. He had to mentally prepare himself for what he was to do on the island. It was not that murder was abstract to him, he had assassinated more men and women than he could remember. However, he always took precautions.
“You must find a way to make it seem a suicide,” Nicolette had told him back in Tellus.
He had been agitated with their exchange but did well to hide his thoughts, counting from one to a hundred and then back down again as the conversation ensued. “I know my job, Madam. Leave the thinking to me.”
Nicolette had touched his muscled bicep then and grinned. “Do the job to my satisfaction and you will find me worth more than mere coins.”
“The job won’t cost mere coins,” Donovan had replied and moved his arm away from her touch. It was not that the diplomat was not attractive. The footpad figured he would enjoy rutting with her enough, but he never mixed business with pleasure. He had a mind to rise high in the world after decades of scraps, and sex had a way of mucking that up.
Nicolette had been taken aback by his reproach. Her thoughts had trailed to distaste for Donovan before she curbed them quickly. “I will make certain you are handsomely rewarded, there is no question about that.”
“Good,” he had replied, and that was it.
Now they were on the deck of the Phoros together, watching with apathy as the infants were removed from the ship. The footpad scowled at the sound of the children. Gaian babies were bad enough, but Thalassans? There was nothing worse than the pink face of a wailing babe hoping to be held by tender arms. Donovan had never been the type to give that love to a child. He had one of his own in Tartarus, his home town, born from a young local woman in the port city. At least she claimed it was his, and with the dark blue eyes and light brown hair the three-year-old child possessed he supposed the woman was right. He shared those features, but as much as he liked to feel a high regard for himself he could not foster feelings for a cheap copy whelped off a tavern slut.
Nicolette disembarked, all but pushing her way through the sailors on her way to the boarding ramp. Donovan followed in key, along with an armed guardsman named Frederick who glanced his way and then averted his eyes immediately. The footpad grinned at the obvious fear he instilled in others.
Nicolette walked along the fine sands of Triton’s beach at a rapid pace. She never stopped to say hello to a single villager on her way to the Thalassan Embassy. Donovan matched her speed while Frederick struggled to keep up. Thirty pounds of armor and ten pounds of weapons will do that to a man, Donovan thought with a sneer. He had always been averse to wearing the heavy armor others dressed in, preferring a boiled leather cuirass to block only feeble blows. If anyone should land anything but a frail strike I would deserve death anyway, Donovan reasoned. All in all his armor and the shortsword he carried weighed only fifteen pounds so he could always be quick on his feet. In his line of work heavy armor was unnecessary anyway. His victims never saw it coming.
Nicolette went through the door with her silver gown flowing like smoke. As soon as she entered the building she swiveled to Frederick. “Prepare my room, have something quick to eat, and then meet us in the conference room.”
“Yes, Madam,” Frederick said quickly and walked from the Embassy hall up the stairs to the quarters reserved for Triton’s Gaian visitors.
“The prince is not here yet,” Donovan thought with his dark blue eyes staring into Nicolette’s jade ones.
“Now you see his insolence firsthand,” Nicolette responded.
“I could not care less about his insolence,” Donovan thought with a shake of his head.
“Yet you care deeply for Thalassan impudence in general,” Nicolette replied with a smirk. “Do not think too highly of yourself, footpad.”
“You know nothing of what I think.” Donovan sneered. He turned his attention away from her and began analyzing the patterning on the wall’s tapestries until he felt her presence in his mind dissipate. There was a wall-hanging for every isle of Thalassa, each with their own letter in the center of the piece while colors swirled around the letters of the distinguishing characteristics the lands carried. Pontos’ tapestry was very regal, with the crimson and gold colors of the Coren family, Thalassa’s royal House. Contrastingly, Triton’s wall-hanging was mainly swirls that must have represented waves. There was also an olive branch that signified the peace held on the isle. Donovan found that amusing. As if they offer us peace. A vassal kingdom.
A new mind entered the room and Donovan turned to find an older gentleman standing before the doorway. He was clearly higher born than the average man. Judging by the thoughts rambling in the old man’s head, Donovan guessed he was probably the cousin to one of the noble families of Thalassa. His thoughts were clear and educated, and he was even wise enough to guard them a bit when he looked from Nicolette to Donovan and back again.
“Madam, are you ready to be seated?” Aldous asked.
“The prince’s ship was not in port,” Nicolette stated with a forced smile.
“He is often tardy, Madam, my apologies on his behalf.” Aldous gave a small bow of his head. He was the constable of Triton’s small garrison, and thus a sort of makeshift governor for the isle as well. Though he must have been in his latter fifties the gray-haired man carried himself with an elegance that made his barrel-chested frame seem out of place.
“We’ll take that seating in the meantime,” Donovan spoke for both of them. Nicolette shot him a glance but he ignored it and followed the constable into the meeting room.
“I do not believe we have met before,” Aldous said. He extended his hand and Donovan shook it awkwardly.
“Armand is ill this week,” Donovan said regarding Nicolette’s other guardsman. The footpad had stolen into the guard’s quarters in Tellus and had replaced three of the green spinach and lettuce leaves in his pantry with hyacinth leaves. Armand must have made himself a salad that very night for two days later when it came time to embark on the Phoros he was unable to leave the latrine.
“That’s a shame,” Aldous said dutifully. He looked Donovan up and down with a cocked expression. “You do not wear mail?”
“He asks a lot of questions,” Donovan thought wolfishly.
“Only one will die, fool, we do not want to arouse suspicion,” Nicolette snapped in her mind.
Donovan forced himself to smile for the constable. “Gaian Military does not require us to wear mail. We are given a choice between leather and metal, but of course our commanders and nobility typically wear plate. Thalassans must have the same ideals I see,” he added with a nod to the armor Aldous was wearing.
Aldous glanced down at the expensive leather cuirass he wore and smiled sheepishly. “My old bones ache in the morning and at night, however if I wear mail like the rest of my garrison then they ache all day and I’m rendered immobile when I try to climb into bed.”
Donovan grunted and turned to the lavish chair Nicolette stood behind. He pulled the seat out for her and she gracefully sat down and thanked him. He then stood at her right, staring straight ahead until Frederick entered the room. The other guardsman gave a clumsy greeting to the constable and took his place at Nicolette’s left. He tried to stand as still as possible as well while Aldous took his leave to await Prince Daemyn in the next room. The three Gaians were like statues, fixed in place and letting no words utter from their mouths as thoughts gently floated between their minds.
The prince of Thalassa entered the room with a swagger and feigned joy to see the Gaians awaiting him. He embraced the two Gaian guards strongly and with a giggle went to his gilded chair and plopped down like a bag of sand. His own guardsmen, the superior ones called w
atchmen in Thalassan Military, followed at their prince’s heels and stood to either side of him. One was middle-aged with a face like he had just bitten into a lemon, while the other was a youth of olive complexion and slightly taller than the average man.
Daemyn’s thoughts were fluttering as he entered the room, first thinking on how he must have come across by being late a second time to meet with Nicolette, followed by a swift mental comparison between Frederick’s appearance and the new guardsman Nicolette kept at her right. He briefly looked at Nicolette’s curvaceous body revealed by her silk gown but then quelled those thoughts to a minimum and began the process.
“How many children were brought today?” Daemyn inquired.
Donovan found it amusing that the prince was genuinely interested, not just feigning such for how it made him look.
“There were thirty-four this month,” Nicolette answered briskly. “Let’s skip the pleasantries.”
“A meeting lasting several heartbeats,” Daemyn observed. “You’re quite the talker.”
“Do you have two hundred and forty pounds of gold on your vessel or not?” Nicolette asked through clenched teeth.
“I do not,” Prince Daemyn declared, “because we only owe you two hundred and twenty. We have already had this discussion, Nicolette. I will not go over it again.”
“You cannot blame a woman for trying,” Nicolette said with a sly grin. Daemyn had a fleeting thought of how much he would like to feel those lips on his body when suddenly Nicolette said, “I assume, then, that you have the two hundred and twenty pounds we require?”
“Everything is being transferred to your boat as we speak,” the prince answered. “I took the liberty of putting forth a bit more effort in this meeting.”
Nicolette was clearly agitated by that but let it pass. “I suppose that concludes our business, then.”
“Will you be staying the full week as usual, Madam?” Daemyn inquired.
“I shall,” Nicolette answered. “I have a desire to see last month’s babies. I trust they have not been sent anywhere else?”
Severance (The Sovereign Book 1) Page 9