The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  The guarded mask slammed back onto Bas’s face, and he looked away, unable to meet Silvano’s gaze. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  “Won’t.”

  “I see. That’s unfortunate,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. Now he began to realize why his father used torture to get information. Would it be so bad? If a bit of pain could help him find his sister, would it justify the situation? Just how many lives would be saved? If Arianna was moving against him, too many innocent people would get caught in the cross fire. He needed to speak with her to understand her motivations. So far, she had avoided causing harm to the populace, but who knew what she’d be willing to do to unseat him and secure her position. She was his sister and he loved her, but she was power-hungry and conniving. With more than a little regret, he stood and nodded to Jax. It was for the best.

  Jax began to drag a struggling Bas from the room. Silvano closed his eyes and steeled himself against what was coming. It was necessary. Maybe if he told himself enough times, he would eventually believe it.

  No.

  This was wrong. “Stop!”

  Every head in the room snapped to look at Silvano.

  Before he changed his mind, Silvano said, “Release him.”

  Jax hurried to his side and lowered his voice into a whisper. “Sire, he has the information we need. Give us an hour and we’ll find out where she’s hidden and what her plans are. We could stop a war.”

  “Not like this. Release him. Now.”

  Jax gritted his teeth, but he nodded for a guard to cut Bas’s bonds.

  Shame flooded him, and suddenly he was the one unable to look the boy in the eyes. No information was worth that. “Escort him to the door and let him go.”

  “Yes, sire,” Jax said, his voice filled with venom.

  After he had left, Silvano motioned for one of the guards, a younger man with cow eyes and a dimpled chin, to approach. “Follow him at a distance. Make sure he doesn’t know he’s being followed, then report back immediately. I need to know numbers, how well they are armed, and where they are located. Then, we can plan.”

  4

  The temple of the sea god perched at the top of the cliffs against an orange and red sky. In keeping with tradition, everything within the temple had been pulled from the water, from the sandstone altar to the preserved seaweed ‘curtains’ that fluttered in the breeze. The walls, made from driftwood branches woven together, looked eerily like leviathan bones—no doubt to inspire awe in the simple-minded who would rather cling to the old ways rather than embrace progress.

  Silvano forced his feet to move forward. He’d rather be dunked in a tank of ravenous sharks than step foot in the temple, but he had no choice. If he wanted to keep the support of the small council, he needed to become Miestryri officially. He would somehow convince the high priest to anoint him.

  “Would you like me to go in with you?” Jax rested a hand on his shoulder.

  Silvano shrugged him off. “That won’t be necessary. I hardly think that an elderly priest is a threat to my well-being.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. After what happened…”

  “I can manage to hold a civil conversation with the man,” he snapped.

  Jax nodded and stepped back to stand with the other two guards who insisted on following him everywhere. While he didn’t say anything out loud, Silvano could almost hear his unspoken words. You’d better… You have a lot riding on this. He knew that better than anyone. If he couldn’t convince the priests to anoint him, then he might as well hand the country to Arianna and go back into exile.

  He hesitated under the archway, his nose wrinkling at the strong fish odor emanating from the whale oil lamps. The last time he’d been to the temple was when his mother had bled to death on her birthing bed. He’d begged the god to spare her life and had received nothing but silence and grief in return. Nothing had changed since that day. A basin of sea salt waited by the entrance. A spiraling sea glass mosaic spanned the floor. In the center of the room on a pedestal was a massive oyster shell fountain, large enough for a man to bathe in. Silvano stepped forward and ran his hands across the surface of the water. A handful of coins, gems, and sea glass rested in the bottom of the fountain, waiting to be fished out by the priests.

  If his mother had survived, would things be different? He closed his eyes, remembering one of his last happy memories of her.

  It was a hot summer night and not even the cool breeze blowing in the open windows could bring relief from the tormenting heat. Mama chuckled as I kicked off the sheets and sprawled out on the bed. She tried cuddling next to me, but I shoved her away, not wanting to feel her sticky skin on mine. We’d spent the whole day on the beach, playing in the waves, and trying to catch a mermaid. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d stopped believing in mermaids a year ago.

  ‘You’re going to spoil him with fantasy,’ his father had said. ‘He’s six now, and it’s time he puts away this childish nonsense.’ His mother had assured his father that she would take his wishes into account and, as usual, done as she’d pleased anyway.

  She propped her head on a pillow, her long, brown hair sprawling everywhere, and smiled softly at me. I smiled back, letting my tired eyes drink her in. I’d never seen anyone more beautiful. She was a goddess. Her pearl-white complexion was a star in the night sky next to my father’s midnight skin, and her pale blue eyes sparkled with love and mischief.

  “Oh, my little cuttlefish. How I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama.” I scooted closer, but not too close, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” She reached out and took my hand in hers. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister by winter’s start.”

  I didn’t know much about babies, but this sounded like a terrible idea. Jax’s mama just had a baby—a pink, wrinkly, squalling thing—and all she did was eat, cry, and sleep. Forgetting about how it was too hot to snuggle, I wiggled my way into her arms and buried my face in her shoulder. “Can’t you stop it?”

  She laughed, the soft musical sound filling the room. “No, my sweet boy.”

  “But won’t this mean you can’t love me as much?”

  “Impossible. Don’t you know that love can only grow? I love you so much already, and once the baby is born, there will be enough to fill up the sea until it overflows.” She sounded so sincere that I had to believe her. Then she sighed and cupped my chin in her hand. “You look so much like your father.”

  “Mama, will you sing my song for me?”

  She nodded and opened her mouth and sang:

  Goodbye, fair prince, I’ll see you again,

  I will come back, though I do not know when.

  I’m leaving tomorrow on waters of gold,

  Beyond the horizon lie riches untold.

  Goodbye, sweet prince, I’m never too far,

  I’ll find my way home by the light of our star.

  Adventure and fortune are calling for me,

  Over the waves to the edge of the sea.

  Goodbye, dear prince, I’ll see you soon,

  Beneath the smile of a midsummer moon.

  Look to the east and keep watch for my sail,

  We’ll sip blackberry wine as I tell you the tale.

  Goodbye, brave prince, please do not fear,

  The end of my journey is soon drawing near.

  Death’s bitter kiss can’t keep us apart,

  And you, my love, are dear to my heart.

  “This is a sight I never imagined I’d see again. The exiled prince has finally come to worship at the altar of the sea god.” The priest’s reedy voice was barely a whisper sending icy shivers across his neck, yet Silvano would recognize it anywhere as it pulled him from his memory. And like a plate of raw salted seaweed, slimy to the tongue, it was equally as repulsive.

  Silvano quickly wiped the wetness from his eyes, keeping his face turned
away. “Would strangling the sea god’s high priest in his own temple count as worship?” Anger coursed through his veins, and his hands clenched on the rim on the oyster shell. He forced himself to take a deep breath. As much as he despised the situation, he would have to cater to the priest’s whims. Until Silvano was anointed, the priest held all the power. “Apologies.”

  “We all serve him in our own ways, and for some, faith does not come easily. The question is why you feel such an extreme act necessary.”

  “The sea god and I have a bit of a tumultuous history. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep this brief.”

  “But of course. So why are you here?”

  Silvano turned to face the treacherous priest who had long since removed the ceremonial robe, replacing it with a basic white shift. A single strand of shells wrapped around his waist and fell to the floor where it clattered around his bare toes. The light from the lanterns set his hair alight, giving the priest an otherworldly glow that Silvano found disconcerting. He swallowed, refusing to show his discomfort. “You embarrassed me in front of my people.”

  A small smile played on the priest’s lips, as though Silvano were still a child instead of a man in his own right. “You embarrassed yourself.”

  “Every Miestryri is anointed as his predecessor crests the horizon into his next life. It’s a tradition that spans the centuries, and you threw that in my face by calling doubt on my claim. You will rectify this slight at once.”

  “The path of succession is… unclear at the moment.”

  “It was my right—”

  “Your right?” He folded his hands at his waist and spoke slowly. “You come into this holy place like a petulant child whose toy has been taken away. You show none of the patience or wisdom necessary for the honor. So what, pray tell, gives you the right to be Miestryri?”

  “I am the firstborn of the former Miestryri.”

  “The same Miestryri that you killed, correct?” The priest lifted in hand in a placating gesture. “No need to get defensive. I have no authority over such things, and I’d rather spare you from spewing excuses that we both know won’t matter. You’ve created a stain on your soul that not even salt and sand can scrub away.”

  “I’m hardly the first.”

  “No, and I doubt you’ll be the last. Perhaps during your exile, you spent too much time around those who not only view patricide and regicide as legitimate pathways to succession, they actively encourage them. But you’re not in Kearar or Lingate right now, and you’re a fool if you believe the people of Crystalmoor will forgive you so easily. Why should I anoint you?”

  “If my birth won’t sway you, then maybe my Gift will.” Silvano pulled his shoulders back and stood to his full height to glare down at the weak-backed priest. He would not be cowed. Not when he was this close to gaining everything he wanted. “I am a powerful Irrigo—perhaps the most powerful in over one hundred years. Surely you can see that it is my destiny. The sea chose me for a reason, and I will rule my people.”

  “Rule?” The priest cocked his head to the side. “Not serve?”

  Silvano winced and hurried to cover his mistake. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the priests. No one would follow a Miestryri who hadn’t been anointed. “Ah, I misspoke. Obviously, I meant serve, as generations of Miestryri have done for thousands of years. Crystalmoor will thrive under my care, you can be assured of that.”

  “The strength of your Gift, your power, does not guarantee that the sea has chosen you. Your own uncle was the firstborn in his family, and his ability to manipulate water was legendary. Greater than yours, I would wager, if such things were allowed for us priests. Though it was blasphemous, the lowborn whispered that he was the reincarnation of the sea god himself. But when it came time to choose succession, the sea passed him over in favor of your father.”

  “Why?” Silvano couldn’t stop the question before it escaped his lips. He had never met his uncle, who had left the palace before he was born. Rumor had it that the man had fled in the middle of the night with a schooner and a skeleton crew, never to be seen again. Silvano hadn’t realized that his uncle, not his father, had been the firstborn.

  “Why are some blessed with long, healthy lives while children fall ill and die, beyond the help of our Healers? Why do some set sail in a storm and return triumphant while others disappear in fair weather, never to be seen again. Surely, our fragile brains cannot comprehend the greater mysteries. We must accept that the oldest and most powerful are not necessarily the best choice for the throne.”

  “You will not help me then,” Silvano said, his shoulders sagging.

  “We must wait and watch for a sign. I suggest you meditate on this in quiet reflection. The sea god will better hear your pleas if you first make an offering.” The priest gestured to the fountain, his meaning clear. He would be happy to anoint Silvano… for the right price.

  “Will he?” Silvano asked in a biting voice, unable to mask the hatred from his tone. “And how many widows have you told that very thing as they were praying for their husbands return? How many children as they beg for their mothers while they bleed out? How much have you profited from their hopes and their grief?”

  The priest's face filled with pity. “We have all experienced loss, and it grows no easier as time passes. It is difficult to accept, but if the sea god wants to claim someone for his own, there is nothing we mortals can do to stop it. You can stop death no easier than you can stop the waves from crashing on the shore.”

  “Let me be clear, priest. I have no interest in stopping death. My plans are for the living, and I cannot help them without this power. You will anoint me as Miestryri, or I will find someone who will. I doubt all your priests are as pious as you.” Silvano let the threat hang heavy between them.

  The priest’s lips pulled back from his teeth, and Silvano took a step backward. “You can sit up on your throne and play king as much as you wish, but it changes nothing. Chosen or not, the sea god cannot reach those hidden behind stone walls, so far from the sea.”

  Silvano rushed out of the temple before the priest could see how much his words had shaken him. He blew past an overly-inquisitive Jax and didn’t stop until he came to the fork in the path. If he turned right, it would lead him back to the castle where he could shutter himself in his rooms and refuse to speak with anyone. But that wouldn’t solve his problem. As tempting as it was, he couldn’t ignore the situation, hoping it would fix itself. Reluctantly, he chose the left path.

  There was one person he needed to see. If anyone could help him make sense of this mess, it was Olielle.

  5

  “Don’t fret, my friend. The sea gods haven’t claimed me yet, and they won’t get me tonight, either.” I shoved Mikkal to the side and hurried to Olielle’s house. The overly-clingy Shield had only gotten worse since the assassination attempt, and if he didn’t give me some space, I was going to explode. I ran a hand down my finest silk doublet and adjusted my cloak before knocking on the door. This was the last night I had to keep up this charade, and I was determined to sell it properly.

  Olielle answered the door a moment later. The way her face lit up at the sight of me made me question just how fake our engagement was to her. She pressed a kiss to each of my cheeks, and I stepped back to hold her at arm’s length. “Olielle, you look positively ravishing!”

  She tucked a strand of long, auburn hair behind her ear while tilting her head toward Mikkal. “Won’t you come in, my lord?”

  “With pleasure.” Once I got rid of my Shield, at least. I turned to Mikkal and said, “I’ll be back at dawn, then we’ll embark on a glorious adventure!”

  He shook his head defiantly, making no move to leave. I could feel Olielle fidgeting behind me, and my nerves began to grate. “Let me remind you that Lucan tried to assassinate my father, not me. Furthermore, I highly doubt that my betrothed has any nefarious designs on my life. I am perfectly safe here. Now, leave me. Go and visit your sister if you must have someth
ing with which to occupy your time. That is a command.”

  Without waiting for him to obey, I grabbed Olielle by the arm and hurried inside, slamming the door behind us, making her giggle. She waited a minute before peeking out the window, and her entire body relaxed. “He’s leaving.”

  “It’s about time!” I said, throwing myself down onto the sofa. “Do you know how exhausting it is to be followed every minute of every day?”

  “And how do you think he feels?”

  I twisted in my seat to watch her walk into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a bottle of vintage red and two long-stemmed glasses. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Her full lips quirked into a smile as she popped the cork and poured the wine before offering me a glass. “It must be torture to deal with you constantly. Between your flaunting authority and rampant partying, I’m surprised he hasn’t killed you already.”

  “How positively vicious! I’m wounded!” I took the glass and gave it a suspicious sniff. “Unless you’re planning on poisoning me yourself. I’m fairly certain that depriving the world of my devilishly good looks is tantamount to treason.”

  “Yes, that would be the real crime for sure,” she said dryly. Then her face softened, and she sat next to me on the sofa. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Personally, I think my father is overreacting a bit, but exile just might be the best thing to happen to me. Now, I’ll have the opportunity to do some digging on the Order. I might even make alliances for when I return. My father will have to see that I’m the best choice to be named successor.”

  “I hope you’re right. We’ve worked too hard to secure your position to lose it now.”

  “And your position? We both know you are the true mastermind here.”

  “Obviously. Without my help, Arianna would have destroyed you by now. Better to be viewed as incompetent and underestimated by your opponents than seen as a threat” She clinked her glass against mine before taking a small sip. “I’ve put together a bag for you. In it you’ll find maps, coin, lists of safe places, and enough food to see you through to Lingate. Don’t worry about Crystalmoor. I’ll make sure to maintain your presence here until it’s safe to come home.”