Do your duty, his intuition told him in a clear voice. That’s what she wants. The words were unmistakable.
His mending session ended like most others did, with him falling into a deep sleep and forgetting where he was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Wake up. Jaimin, wake up.” Nastasha shook him gently.
His eyes flickered open. He looked at Nastasha, and then over at Elaina to confirm what he remembered. Yes, her death had not been just a nightmare.
“It’s time for us to head to the port,” Nastasha said.
“We’re going?”
“Yes. They told me about your crazy plan. The ship is being prepared.”
“What do you think?” Jaimin asked her.
“More and more I’m learning it’s best not to question your insane hunches. What do I know? I’m just a mortal,” Nastasha said.
“Hush,” he said. “You’re the wisest mortal I know.”
“Eleonora and her father will stay here and try to track down King Errol,” said Nastasha. “As soon as we arrive on Celmarea, we shall need to secure the cooperation of the local general. And then I shall help you find that archway of yours.”
“I felt sure you would be opposed to this journey,” Jaimin said.
“Look, I want Elaina to survive this, and if there’s any hope over there on that island, I shall do whatever I can to find it. Here, eat something.” She handed him a small tuft of bread.
“I’m not hungry.” He stood, and saw that Eleonora was still there. She had gotten up from her chair and was stretching her back against a pillar in the shadows. He acknowledged her with a nod. “Where is Alessa?”
“She’s going to meet us at the ship,” Nastasha said.
“I need her advice.”
“Well, she’s not here. Can I help?”
“No, it’s a crazy…spirit thing. What about Makias?”
“He’s gone off too,” Eleonora said.
Jaimin approached Eleonora. When she smiled at him warmly, his heart shuddered—she looked so much like Elaina. She had the same beauty, and the same energy in her eyes. But he felt a different soul within her: like Elaina, Eleonora was genuine, brave, and caring; but Eleonora was more mature in many ways, with a sassy, self-confident personality forged by her palace upbringing.
“I…think I got a message from the divine spirit,” Jaimin said to Eleonora.
“Sorry, Jaimin, I know very little about these things,” she replied, shyly.
“I’m to do my duty,” he said.
“Is that the message?” Eleonora asked.
“Yes. That’s it. But I feel there’s more. I feel if I don’t do my duty I will lose Elaina forever.”
“Oh, Jaimin,” Nastasha said.
“So now I have a choice,” he said to them both. “Stay, bring together the allies, and defeat the purple army. Or sail in the opposite direction, searching for some ancient secret that may or may not bring Elaina back. Which one is my duty?”
“Could be either,” Eleonora said. “The tutor has secured himself on the island. Perhaps it’s your destiny—and your duty—to deal with him. Regardless of what happens here on the mainland, the tutor will need to be contained.”
Jaimin then presented the alternative: “My mother, my little sister, what’s left of our court, our loyal people, the friends who fight by our side…shouldn’t I be here to lead them, and to heal them should they fall? Eleonora’s bargain with the tutor is void now—the purple army will surely attack Arra tonight.”
“Leave Arra to your mother, and Destauria to me,” Eleonora said. “You can’t be everywhere.”
“I can’t afford to make the wrong choice.”
“I think you’ve already made your choice,” Eleonora said. “Now get going to that island. Bring my sister home.”
By the time the ship called the Sentinel was provisioned and ready to sail it was past midnight.
The Sentinel was a handsome warship, the smallest class, recently built, with a top deck, a main deck, and a cargo hold below that. Alessa had spent the evening screening the crew, who stood at attention as the passengers ascended the gang board. Nastasha, following behind Jaimin and Makias, completely lost her breath when she saw who one of the “approved” crew members was. It was Mascarin!
Her heart pounded with excitement as Mascarin’s eyes met hers, but she didn’t make a big scene to avoid upsetting Jaimin, who she assumed knew her thoughts.
Nastasha wanted very much to talk to Mascarin, but not in front of everyone else, so she made her way to the stern of the vessel, hoping he would join her there. She put on the hood of her oversized black cloak. Resting against the rail, she took in a spectacular view of the lights of the capital city stretching up into the distance. Below her, she could hear the lazy creak of the ship’s oak, the squeak and judder of the mooring ropes, and the splash of the sea as it licked the dock. The hull thumped the mooring posts now and then. She breathed deeply through her nose and found the cool, salt air calming.
Meanwhile, the crew was helping Marco carry on board the crate that contained Elaina’s body. Jaimin followed the crate down into the belly of the ship. Radovan’s minister boarded next and delivered the king’s orders to the Sentinel’s captain, a seasoned naval veteran named Sam.
Mascarin found Nastasha and approached her. “You found me,” she said to him, her dark brown eyes regarding his sparkling green ones with compassion and plenty of uncertainty. “When did you get back to the city?”
“This afternoon. I met up with my children. Well, Maya was…”
“I’m so sorry,” Nastasha said.
“The word is she avenged Elaina. She tracked down and slew the man responsible.”
“May her soul find peace,” Nastasha whispered. “I understand Maya was an amazing girl, firmly devoted to others, to her country, to you…”
“I’m crushed that I wasn’t there to protect her.”
“She loved you.”
“I loved her,” he said.
Nastasha could feel his pain. “Do you really plan on making this journey with us?” she asked. “Did they tell you where we’re headed?”
“Yes, and I want to help in any way I can. And, of course, to be with you.”
She smiled. “Do you know anything about sailing a ship?”
“Not a thing. They hired me to be the cook. But I’m expected to help out on deck, too.”
One of the other deckhands gave a short whistle, trying to get Mascarin’s attention.
“I guess they need me already,” Mascarin said. “Why don’t you go down below? I’ve made some stew.”
She flashed him a flirtatious smile—the first time she had ever done that with anyone. He returned the smile before heading off to his tasks.
Nastasha removed her hood and descended the narrow stairs to the main deck to the ship’s mess, where Jaimin was peering through a hole in Elaina’s crate.
Transporting Elaina in a crate had been Nastasha’s idea. A crate would be less likely than a coffin to draw attention if they were boarded upon arrival in Celmarea, and it would help them avoid unwanted questions as they were presenting Radovan’s orders to the local general. The crate smelled of the straw that helped to support Elaina’s body, and the freshly cut wood where Jaimin had ordered that new holes be drilled so he could check on Elaina easily. He was terrified that he would run out of time and Elaina would just vanish.
Jaimin had asked for Elaina to be dressed in one of Eleonora’s fine white gowns for the journey. Her thick braids had been undone. Spots of lamplight began to sway back and forth across her closed eyes as the crew released the ship from its moorings, setting the vessel adrift for its voyage. Jaimin had the feeling that even though Elaina wasn’t in that body, she was watching him from somewhere, and she appreciated his looking after her physical form.
“She still there?” Nastasha asked.
“Of course she is,” said Jaimin.
“Good. Come eat. I hear there is stew.�
�� A heavy pot was latched to the stove to prevent it from tipping. Inside it, a fragrant meat stew bubbled.
“We’ll have some,” Alessa announced, as she and Makias entered the mess. All except Jaimin filled their bowls and sat down at the table. Jaimin wouldn’t leave the crate.
“She’d want you to eat,” Alessa told Jaimin. He just kept staring through the largest hole. “In fact,” she continued, “she’d be quite disturbed if she knew you weren’t taking care of yourself.”
“Of course you’re right,” he said, getting up. He ladled a meager portion of stew into his bowl and joined the others.
“Jaimin,” Alessa said. “After supper we’re going to need your help up top, to propel the ship. We can get to Celmarea in half the time if you join us.”
“I…can’t move water as well as you two can.” Jaimin also didn’t want to leave Elaina alone.
“He’s still learning,” Alessa told Makias.
“Does he even know about den desera?” Makias asked her.
“It’s never been explained to him.”
“Your Highness,” Makias said to Jaimin, “you can move water by yourself or together with us. As a sera—a team, I suppose you would say—we can move many times more than we can alone.”
“Fascinating,” Nastasha said. “If I could be in your minds for but a moment…”
Makias gave her a look and she thought she heard faintly, you can. But she dismissed it as her own wishful mind.
“Be grateful you’re not in mine,” Jaimin said.
Jaimin decided he would help push the ship along. His fate lied on Celmarea, and the sooner they got there, the better.
After the meal, Jaimin, Alessa and Makias donned long, water-resistant coats, wrapped their necks tightly in black wool scarves, and ascended to the top deck. The night was frigid, and the breeze seemed to be having no effect on the fog that now surrounded the vessel. Alessa briefed Captain Sam, who explained to the rest of the crew that the ship was soon to get some supernatural propulsion.
“Hey,” Alessa told Jaimin as they regrouped at the stern, “you’re doing well.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.” She offered him a hug and he took her up on it.
“Do you believe we can bring Elaina back?” Jaimin asked.
“I believe there is a chance,” she said in his ear. He hugged her tighter, and he lost a few tears.
Below deck, in the darkness of the sleeping quarters, Nastasha hung her cloak on a peg, and found her pack on her assigned bunk. She took from her pack a flint box and lit a candle, setting it in a sconce by the bed. Next, she removed a book: the vividly illustrated Celmarean field guide.
After slipping herself beneath the covers and getting comfortable, she opened the book and began pronouncing the text aloud. She still didn’t understand much, but she found herself intrigued by the syntax and sentence structure. She discerned which constructions were prefixes, endings, articles and particles. And she grew sleepy.
“What we are looking for is a rolling motion—out, up, in, and down—perpendicular to the stern.” Makias was explaining, up top.
“Maybe you should just show me,” Jaimin said.
“Very well,” Makias said.
“You join in as soon as you understand,” Alessa told him. She patted the rail between her and Makias where Jaimin was meant to stand. Jaimin stepped up.
Alessa and Makias looked at each other lovingly, and then turned their attention to the choppy grey sea behind the ship, reaching out their hands toward it. A roll of sea water began to form. It wedged up under the stern and began nudging the ship forward like a persistent goat.
Jaimin reached out with his mind and willed himself to assist with the action at the sea’s surface. He reached out, palms facing down, as Makias and Alessa were doing. Very quickly he understood the rhythm of energy set up by the other two. As soon as he had matched their pattern exactly, he felt like he’d just jumped onto a fast-moving wagon. Alessa smiled broadly. Makias nodded his approval. Jaimin found the experience strangely pleasurable, just like the time he and Elaina had worked together to create an ice bridge over the Kaela River.
And he realized he was hardly applying his will. When he put more force into it, the ship suddenly lurched forward and the roll of water nearly doubled in size. The crew manning the sails hooted and squawked. Jaimin backed off.
“No, no, keep it up. It’s okay. They’ll adjust,” Alessa said.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” asked Makias.
“Yes,” Jaimin said. “Yes, it does.” And he increased his effort once again. Combining efforts with other Celmareans seemed to tap into a center of raw, sexual energy within him, which might have been awkward given he was working with his aunt and her boyfriend, but it wasn’t.
Down in the sleeping quarters, out of the corner of her eye, Nastasha saw someone enter. Mascarin emerged into the candlelight. “Hi there,” she said, setting the book aside. He knelt down beside the bed.
“Your eyes are shining,” he said in a soft, slow voice. “I can tell you’re with child.”
“With your children,” she said. “There are two of them now.”
“With our children,” he said.
As he neared her, her heart began to beat strongly against the inside of her chest. She studied Mascarin and how he made her feel now. During her long stay with the Shadow Children she had decided, after many hours of deliberation, that she had been attracted to Mascarin when they were first together. She wasn’t just pretending to want him to make a challenging situation bearable. Some time had passed now, and she had begun to doubt. But here he was before her again, and she felt the pull once more.
She took his hand and drew it toward her face. His fingertips smelled of the sea, so she kissed his knuckles, and then his wrist.
“Is this allowed?” Mascarin joked. “Will I lose my job if I’m caught with one of our most important passengers?”
“You know who else is on board, don’t you? I’m hardly the most important.”
“Ah, but your family is wealthy, are they not?” he asked. “You come from privilege.”
She responded carefully: “I’ve never lacked beautiful things in my life, but…I’ve never truly fit in with the court lifestyle either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve indulged in my share of luxuries, but wealth has never consumed my attention as it has for some of my friends. I’ve always been the intellectual. I’m driven by curiosity—what’s beyond the walls of our castle? Beyond our borders? Over the sea? And now, being away from Arra, I…I feel more present than I ever have before. Despite the hardship. Does that make sense?”
“You’re an adventurer,” he said.
“I suppose at heart I am.”
“I am too, in a sense,” he said. “I’ve always looked to the horizon, risking my life again and again to restore some sanity to a kingdom whose king had lost his way.”
“We probably have quite a bit in common,” she said. “But you also have to look after the Shadow Children. I bet they come to you constantly with their needs.”
“I’m happy to play that role for them. I’m happy to help.”
“Who attends to your needs?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Everyone needs someone, Mascarin,” she said. “Take off your coat.”
He took off his coat, revealing a sleek silver tunic beneath. She slipped her hand up under his tunic and ran it up his side and around to his bare back, pulling him closer to her. Before long, his tunic was on the floor, and she had invited him up onto her bed.
With a weak breath, Nastasha blew out the candle.
She took charge, and in the complete darkness she satisfied Mascarin’s desires, as well as her own.
Up on deck, Jaimin drove the water ever harder. The Sentinel flew through the night toward Celmarea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Afraid to enter the sleeping quarters for fear of se
eing Nastasha with Mascarin, Jaimin spent the last few pre-dawn hours sleeping on the floor of the mess in front of Elaina’s crate, with a stack of folded dishtowels for a pillow. When he awoke, through blurry eyes he saw Mascarin tying on an apron, heading into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
A while later, Mascarin emerged from the kitchen and saw Jaimin peeking into the crate. “Good morning, Your Highness,” Mascarin said. “May I pour you some tea, or perhaps some hot milk?”
“Milk, please,” Jaimin said. He got up and sat at the table.
Mascarin returned quickly with a steaming ceramic mug of milk, a spoon, and two shallow bowls: one with powdered cinnamon, and the other with cocoa. “We haven’t met,” he said, “but you know my children. My name is Mascarin.”
“Of course,” Jaimin said.
“I can cook, and I can fight. I’m at your service.”
“Thank you.”
“Your pack is on your bunk,” Mascarin said. “And there’s a fresh water shower in back if you’d like to clean up.”
Jaimin just nodded.
Next, Nastasha entered from the sleeping quarters, having just showered. Her exceptionally long hair, still wet, looked curlier than it did when dry. She had donned a crew uniform: a clean blue sailor’s shirt and brown linen pants. She looked at Mascarin shyly, and then at Jaimin.
“Milk or tea for you, my lady?” Mascarin asked.
“Tea, please,” she said. Mascarin returned to the kitchen and Nastasha sat down beside Jaimin.
“Are you keeping him?” Jaimin whispered to her.
“Jaimin,” she snapped, “he’s not a pet!”
“Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“I don’t know what the future holds for me and Mascarin. I’m focused on the mission.”
Jaimin wasn’t convinced. Yes, the first time she had slept with Mascarin it had been to advance the mission. But Jaimin knew that more had happened last night, and now she was indulging her own desires. “Don’t forget sometimes I feel what you feel,” Jaimin said.
I haven’t forgotten that, Nastasha thought. But it’s not going to affect how I live my life.
The Fallen Mender Page 15