“That’s a lovely story,” Jax said, gesturing to Silvano, “but it doesn’t explain how you were Gifted.”
“I’m getting to that. Our journey led us to the frozen wasteland of Tregydar where we found a settlement completely removed from the influence of the Order. It was there that we met a Seer—”
“A what?”
“A Seer. It’s like a… female Magi. She can see the future. Opal, the Seer, gave us a place to stay and taught us of the treachery of the Order. It was because of her that I was not only given my Gift, but also a safe place to train.”
Jax’s brow furrowed. “And what happened to the others?”
“Mara was captured by the Order. In truth, I had hoped that she would join my cause in reclaiming my throne, but it was not to be. She’s probably still a captive. I’m ashamed to say it, but I hope she is. It’s for the best. A power like hers is too dangerous to let go free.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of their botched attack flooded through his mind. “A few weeks later, Opal had a vision that the Order was going to invade Tregydar and wipe out the settlement. She evacuated their home and sent Wynn and me in two different ways. She told me it was time to reclaim my birthright. That in two months’ time, I should go to the Warlord and ask for help. Then I should come here and take my place as the crown prince. Obviously, I decided to cut out the middle man and come here directly. It seemed more efficient at the time.”
“I’m still struggling with the idea that dregs can be Gifted. I never thought it was possible… It flies in the face of everything we’ve been taught.”
“I was as shocked as you, but you can see the evidence here.” Silvano stood and walked to the window that overlooked the city. Everyone depended on him to do the right thing, but change came with a cost. For Crystalmoor, the price would be their ignorance. “When I am Miestryri, I will stop at nothing to rid our country of the Order’s corruption. As Opal once said, it’s a rot that must be carved out and destroyed.”
“You’re already up against a fair amount of opposition from the masses. If you attempt to drive out the Order altogether, you’ll be facing an all-out rebellion.”
“As Miestryri, it is my duty to do what’s best for my people.”
“I only hope that you will do the right thing.”
“Do you doubt me?”
“Of course not, I—"
The door crashed open and two guards entered the room, dragging a bound prisoner behind them. The guards roughly shoved him to his knees before Silvano. The boy seemed young, no older than fourteen or fifteen. His blue eyes held a glimmer of defiance, rather than fear, and his pale skin was flushed.
“We apprehended him skulking around the treasury, sire,” the guard said, giving the boy a kick with his boot.
“Was anything missing?”
“No. We’ve confirmed that everything is secure and accounted for.”
“So, what should we do with you?” Silvano brushed the straw-colored hair back from the boy’s face before tilting his chin up to get a better look at him. “Why did you come here? And how did you get in without someone stopping you?” He directed the pointed question to his guards who fidgeted under his scathing glare.
“If I may, sire, we don’t believe he was working alone.”
“I agree with your assessment. Anyone with the intellectual capabilities of a sea sponge would agree! How else would a child from the slums know his way around the castle so well? Have you searched him?”
“Yes, sire.” The guard unfolded a piece of parchment and held it up. “It appears to be a map.”
Silvano snatched it from his hand and almost dropped it. Not only was it a near perfect rendering of the castle layout, but the labels… he’d recognize that handwriting anywhere. What did she want so badly from the treasury that she was willing to send someone to get it?
Jax leaned closer to get a better look at the paper. No doubt he’d drawn the same conclusion when he whispered, “We should torture him for information.”
Silvano wished he could have been surprised by the suggestion, but he’d be lying if he said he was. Torture was one of his father’s favorite methods of getting someone to talk, but he didn’t want to be like his father. He wanted to be better. He wanted his people’s love, not their fear.
He looked at the boy again. He had the rough edges of someone who was used to struggling. He was just a little too thin, his clothes a little too torn. “What is your name?”
The boy spit in his face.
Jax pulled his hand back to hit the boy, who flinched violently to the side before the blow could even land. Silvano shouted, “Wait!”
Jax looked at him in confusion but obeyed and lowered his hand to his side. Silvano wouldn’t boast that he was the best at reading people but growing up in the court of sycophants and backstabbers had its advantages. There was more to this boy than a simple thief. He recognized the look in his eyes as if he were looking in the mirror. He was a casualty of a system that didn’t care who it hurt, so long as those who were in power stayed in power, no matter the cost. Jax protested as Silvano lowered himself to kneel before the boy.
Feeling a connection to him, Silvano reached out and placed an arm on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re a dreg.”
His eyes bugged out of his head. “How did you—”
“It’s obvious. You come from a poor family and were likely born in the slums. Your parents tried their best to protect you, but they couldn’t stop the persecution. This made you feel powerless and angry. When the Miestryri died, you thought it would get worse. You didn’t know me, so you turned to Arianna. Did she come to you with an offer? Did she offer you protection in exchange for your support?”
The boy gaped, his jaw working like he was trying to chew through a clam shell.
“I know what you’re going through. I grew up a dreg, too, and I have experienced that prejudice firsthand. I want to make things better for everyone…” Silvano trailed off. “What is your name?”
“Bas.”
Silvano smiled and nodded his head. “Bas, I can’t improve your situation if Crystalmoor is divided. A war would make things worse for everyone. Now, I don’t know what Arianna is planning, but I do know that she’s probably making her decisions based on hearsay and false rumors. If we want to create a country where everyone is treated equally, regardless of station, we need to be united. You can help by giving us information.” He held up the map. “I know she gave you this map, Bas. Where is my sister?”
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.”
Miestryri Page 3