Siren's Song

by Trish Albright

  Stephen discovered her after the first night at sea. Despite her protests, he handed her over to Marcus on the Sultan’s Prize.

  Marcus took one look at her wool cap and cabin boy attire, and noted that Alex had indeed become a bad influence on his ward.

  He didn’t speak to Emma the first few days after she was discovered stowing away. It was worse than a deafening yell. Deafening silence. She ate in a cabin by herself, quarantined from the men. Eventually she was summoned on deck of Sultan’s Prize and given lessons in loading, cleaning, and shooting a gun. Marcus issued the orders crisply until he was satisfied with her progress. They repeated this lesson every day until Emma finally burst, spitting fire at his coldness with a fury that set off sparks. Marcus dragged her back to her cabin and locked her in.

  Joshua had kept silent regarding the entire affair, until now. “You can take the ship back to England. I’ll join Samuel.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Emma feels the same way as you do, Marcus. You would not abandon me when I need you. She is the same with Alex. The two of them are unreasonably loyal.” Joshua smiled a little. “It’s what I love most in them.”

  Joshua gazed out to sea, reflective. “I don’t want Emma here, but I understand it. You do too. Punishing her is not going to help either of you. Don’t waste the time you have together. I made a mistake with Alex. She was right. I wasn’t trying to help her. I was trying to stop her. I only cared about us. Her need to guard this map is, I think, her desire to protect something much bigger than herself. Things might have been different if we had worked together from the beginning.” He worried that now she might have to pay the price with her life. “Don’t make the same mistake. Don’t lose the very thing you hold most dear,” Joshua finished quietly.

  Marcus looked at his friend. Joshua had lost weight, and anxiety had wrought lines where laughter had once been. “Joshua, we are going to get her back. I swear it. Alex is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. She will survive this.” In his heart, Marcus had doubts, but he hoped against hope his words were true. His friend merely nodded.

  Marcus decided it was time he talked to Emma.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Prince Raja had his men looking for them. He was a minister in the sultan’s inner circle and news traveled fast. If rumors about the red-haired woman were true, he needed to make sure he was not implicated in her original escape. Too much was at risk for a mistake to be made now.

  He knew to look for the Stafford Shipping Line. He did not know his old friend Captain Leigh had finally caught up with them. The Englishman entered Prince Raja’s home, accompanied by another man, Samuel Stafford. Raja assessed the men, then offered liquor rather than tea.

  “So, my friend, you found your maiden, and now you have lost her again. What brings you here?”

  “I have reason to believe Paxton will bring her to Al-Aziz.”

  Raja nodded. “There is a murmur around the palace that there is a sign—a woman.”

  Joshua’s stomach filled with relief and dread. “That does not sound good.”

  “Please, sit.” He encouraged the men, who reluctantly obeyed. Then he began to explain. “Years ago, there was a cult of believers who lived on the coast, south of Tangiers. Worshippers of a Berber sea goddess we call Tinjis. They were fishermen by trade. The fishing was very good, and because of their growing wealth, they were eventually attacked and driven into the desert by others who wished to take advantage of the riches of sea life. Only, shortly after the tribe was driven out, a terrible storm took over, and ever since that area has been unprofitable.”

  Samuel worried that superstition was about to get them mixed up in something very dangerous again. “What might this have to do with my sister?”

  “I’ll get to that, Mr. Stafford.” Raja took a breath and explained further. “There is much discontent with my uncle’s reign. One of the biggest dissenters is these followers of the sea goddess. They have joined with other groups, and are a constant source of rebellion. This man, Paxton, claims he has captured one of the sea goddess’s guardians. You call her by a different name, but the story is the same. It is the ancient legend of creation, and the source of a prophecy that promises both triumph and destruction. Thus far, I have only seen it bring destruction. It is said your sister is one of the guardians who protects the mysteries of the goddess. The man, Paxton, has given proof of it. Proof that was very convincing.”

  “What do you mean?” Joshua asked.

  “She bore the mark.”

  When the men balked, Raja questioned. “You did not know?” They had looks of both dismay and increasing trepidation.

  “Paxton has already sold her to my uncle, who is making plans for a public execution the day after tomorrow. That is, she will be the finale to the other executions in a celebration of his twentieth anniversary in power.”

  He stopped. The men stared at him in horror, his old friend turning gray.

  Samuel Stafford spoke. “Tell us. Please. Is she okay? How can we reach her?”

  Raja sat back thoughtfully. “She is at the palace, not the prison. The sultan wishes to enjoy her. Perhaps he will like her enough not to destroy her right away,” he said to offer hope.

  “How well guarded is the palace?” Samuel asked.

  “Any attempt to enter would be your death.” Raja stated it calmly. “The sultan has little trust for anyone right now and has many enemies.”

  “Raja,” Joshua pleaded. “You have no cause to help me and every reason to send us away. I would not think ill of you if you did. But, I have only just found Alex after three years. We are to be married. She is all to me. For whatever reason, Allah has put us both back in your hands.” He paused. “Whatever it takes I am willing to risk it. Whatever you need, I am willing to give.” Joshua held his palms out in humble supplication, his words a powerful plea. The other man backed his vow.

  Allah must have some hand in this, Raja thought. The circumstances were too unusual, and very timely. This could possibly work to his advantage. His older brother had waited years to claim power, waiting patiently while their uncle’s corruption slowly destroyed their people. This was perhaps a sign. He mulled it over in his head, knowing he would feel compelled to help these men regardless. Only, he couldn’t let his sympathies get the better of him. They needed to make this work.

  He stood up finally and nodded, causing the two men to breathe sighs of relief. “I heard the sultan paid a treasure for this girl. She must be very special.”

  “She is very special, Raja,” Joshua said. “I wish you had time to get to know her.”

  “One of these days, perhaps. I will visit you in England. Now that you are a rich duke, eh?”

  “I’m counting on that,” Joshua promised.

  Joshua conveyed the news to the others. It seemed a miracle. Though none understood the “mark” that Raja implied she bore. Joshua worried over what Paxton could have done to her, but forced the imaginings from his mind, only caring to get her back alive.

  “The captain’s a fighter, sure enough,” Birdie promised. “I told you, Stephen. She’s the most resourceful of the bunch of you.”

  Samuel grinned at Birdie’s loyalty. He looked at his family, hopeful they would see another Christmas together. Matthew was missing. It was always a compulsion to know where they all were in times like this. And someone should bring Emma news on Sultan’s Prize. He would send Birdie. He didn’t want the older man getting caught in gunfire.

  “Do all the ships have their instructions? If we miss the rendezvous point, get the hell out of the harbor,” Joshua instructed. “According to Raja, this place is going to be bedlam tonight.”

  “What about Paxton?” Stephen asked. “We can’t let him get away.”

  Joshua nodded agreement. “My first priority is getting Alex to safety.”

  Samuel concurred, though he had men making inquiries. “Has anyone heard from Matthew?” His brother chose that moment to walk in, holding a book. �
�Matthew, where in the hell—”

  Matthew interrupted, tossing him the book. “Alex’s journal.”

  Samuel frowned. “Where did you get it?”

  “From Paxton’s ship, of course.” He grinned at his brother’s surprised expression. “Which has recently joined the ranks of the Stafford Shipping Line. Nearly sufficient payback for Paxton stealing yours three years ago. However, if you wish me to return it …”

  Samuel shook his head with a laugh. “I accept the gift. And the journal. Now we just need Alex.”

  Matthew nodded. “So what’s the plan? We break into the palace, steal her away from an army, and make a run for it?”

  “Good God,” Marcus scowled. “That’s not the plan.” Everyone looked at him. “Please. Tell me that’s not the plan …”

  Joshua and Prince Raja laughed loudly at the sultan’s joke made in broken English. They had been drinking and eating for the last six hours, and it was only right that they should be quite loud at this point. Joshua lifted his chalice again in salute.

  “This time, Your Highness, we drink to your legacy! To your sons and your sons’ sons, and their sons, and Allah help you, even to your daughters if you ever have any. May your royal line be long, healthy, wealthy, and blessed by Allah who is so great,” he grinned drunkenly, looking highly self-satisfied. “I become more prolific as the night goes on!”

  The sultan laughed. “And smarter too!”

  “A long drink for a long toast.” Joshua tipped his goblet dramatically then slammed it down in satisfaction and challenge to the sultan. Al-Aziz repeated the gesture that the duke insisted was English custom.

  They had just negotiated a large trade of arms that promised the sultan would have the most technologically advanced army on the continent. None would challenge him now. They had shown a worthy sample today, and in two weeks Al-Aziz would get his first shipment—or so they promised. Joshua nodded heartily at the sultan. The man was feeling invincible.

  “I would much like to stay, my friend, but I have another celebration I must attend tonight.”

  “Another?” Joshua asked, offended.

  “Uncle has a woman who awaits him,” Raja said.

  Joshua laughed, and gave the sultan a manly slap on the back as he stood with him. “Just one? She must be some woman.” The men laughed again.

  “She is a flower,” the sultan couldn’t help bragging. “And tonight she will learn what it is to be loved, eh?” He puffed out, “By the sultan of love.” They all laughed again and the sultan continued, “If she pleases me, I will not kill her. Not soon.” The sultan burst out laughing again. After a stunned second Joshua joined in loudly, the effort painful.

  “To my uncle, the sultan of love!” Another toast, then goblets hit the table.

  Joshua thought he would strangle the sultan then and there, but there was a time for everything. He stood up swaying, reaching for the balance. “We retire then.”

  The sultan laughed at him. “I think you retire very quickly, English.”

  Raja agreed, giving him some male nudging.

  “My thanks, sultan of love.” Joshua lifted his goblet one last time. “To your fine home, good food, good wine, and that your ‘flower’ pleases you.”

  The sultan laughed and drank heartily, nearly falling over when he slammed the goblet down. Raja caught his uncle.

  “Did you order the girl to my chambers, Raja?”

  “Yes, Uncle. Not ten minutes ago. She will be on her way.”

  “Very good. I go await my pleasure.”

  “I will assist you, Uncle.”

  “We both will.” Joshua jumped in swaying again, before letting out a loud belch that caused the sultan to chuckle. “And rejoice your good fortune as we go.”

  “To my good fortune.”

  The three left for the sultan’s chambers, staggering and howling as they went. Raja’s servant, a young Moroccan covered in a black robe, followed his master obediently. As they continued to the sultan’s chambers two additional guards escorted discreetly behind. When Joshua and Raja reached the sultan’s guarded doors they gave a drunken salute, and bade him good luck and farewell.

  Alex walked as slow as humanly possible. The tile felt cool beneath her slipper-encased feet but she perspired with fear beneath the heavy caftan and veils covering her. Her new tattoo seemed to burn at her nape in response to her fear, reminding her that she was forever cursed. She itched to rub it and stop the power it had on her.

  Her armed escorts marched in unison, leading her the short distance from the harem to the sultan’s private quarters. She would have enjoyed the echo of their unified steps had they not been leading her to an untimely death, for she was determined that she would die before the sultan touched her.

  Alex breathed slowly to prepare herself. She studied the swords in the guards’ uniforms in front of her and knew the placement would be the same with those behind her. There was little time left for action. Purposely tripping on her long robe, she reached out to the guard behind her on the left, who reached to catch her instinctively. She smiled gratefully as she regained both her balance and his sword, slicing his wrist with one agile movement. She turned so quickly his partner didn’t have time to respond before his leg spurted blood. The two front guards turned, only to panic as the woman whisked through their grasp and ran.

  Alex sprinted to the end of the hall and not sure which way to turn, went left. At the end she had to turn again. This time she went right. It was a mistake.

  Two giant men in traditional robes turned the corner at the end and there were two more guards behind them. She skidded on the tile, reaching back to the floor for balance as she slid to the ground, her sword clattering loudly. In her urgency to stop, Alex barely registered the dark faces before scrambling backward to regain her flight. She grabbed the sword, but when she turned around it was too late. The four guards were bearing down on her and the injured ones looked murderous. She swung defensively to keep them at a distance, knowing they could not kill her without incurring the sultan’s wrath. With no time left, she turned the sword on herself, hoping the threat would make them pause.

  “No!”

  The command froze her. The deep baritone was harsh. It was followed by a drunken laugh. She dared not take her eyes off the guards to look back at the owner of the voice. It was achingly familiar. She shook her head. Best not to dream now. Two more guards had joined her escort and she was surrounded.

  A man pushed his way through. Stumbled more like, she noticed.

  “I say, what’s going on here?” He showed no awareness of danger despite the weapon in her hand, and continued with his pompous line of questioning. “Shouldn’t you be in bed with the other girls, young lady?”

  Alex stared. Then she stared some more. Then she reversed the direction of the sword at him. She wouldn’t have recognized him if not for his height, his eyes, and his voice. He was covered in a jellaba and what was visible of his face was darkened by several days’ growth of moustache and beard. It was the eyes that caught her, an overbright blue. Eyes that seemed not to recognize her. He blinked hard—as if to focus. He was drunk. The scent of it was wafting to her. Dear God. She sucked in air for control. She was about to be served up to her enemy and he was drunk! Fury overcame fear.

  The guards explained to Raja the girl was meant to go to the sultan. Raja hiccuped, appearing somewhat inebriated, and interpreted for the duke.

  “What? This is his flower, eh?” He looked at the guards and gave what she supposed was the nudge for “guess he’ll be having a good time tonight.” Then he lifted his hands up to ward off the guards saying he had this under control. They looked doubtful, but after checking with Prince Raja, backed up a little.

  Alex poked the sword at him threateningly.

  “Now then, my lady, why don’t you put that little knife away. Why your arms are surely getting tired by now, and I promise you the sultan is not nearly as bad as you think. Why he is a fine man. And his wine … well.” He
laughed, swaying. “I don’t think I need to go on about that.”

  She glared at him.

  “Come now, he is a sultan of love, nothing to fear.”

  Raja interpreted the joke for the nervous guards. They laughed discreetly.

  Joshua nodded slowly to them. “Why he is. Self-proclaimed, but lotta love tha’ man has.” His words were definitely slurring now. “Thas’ why he needs lotsa women. ’Cause he’s lotsa man.”

  Alex knew she couldn’t die. It was damn well up to her to save them both.

  “You don’t talk much, do you? Did they cut out your tongue? I heard they do that here. Not that I object. Many a woman’s talked and nagged my ears near off.” He swung an arm wildly, knocking a surprised guard in the face. “Oh wait! We haven’t been introduced properly, have we?” He pulled himself up respectfully and again waved to his friend, this time causing the guard to duck for cover. “Thiz iz my fr-friend. Prince Raja.”

  Raja bowed … very carefully.

  “And I am His Gracefulness, the Duke of Worthington.” He thumped his chest. “That’s the seventh …” He counted slowly on his fingers and held up eight in all. He stared blearily at his thumb and pushed it down to make seven. It popped up and he pushed it down again. When this happened a third time, he gave up and just reiterated, “Seventh duke of … of …” He forgot what he was saying. “Of, well … whatever.” He waved a hand to the other side and whacked an unsuspecting guard. “Oh, sorry, chap. Now that the introductions are made, I think you should lay down your weapon before these fine gentlemen get into trouble.”

  Alex seriously debated his request. She thought about driving the sword through him. Did they bathe in alcohol? Here she had been terrified for her life and virtue, and he had been spending the evening getting thoroughly smashed with the sultan. She desperately tried to figure out how getting drunk could be part of any great rescue plan. You couldn’t leave anything to men!

  “There you go, sweetlings. Jus’ right here on the floor. Nice an’ safe. With the handle toward me if you don’t mind. Jus’ in case you get an itch to change yer mind.”