by Dawn Cook
I met his solemn expression with a smile that was probably besotted. “Thank you.” I dropped the sweets into a pocket and shifted closer under the excuse of a wave, reaching to check the topknot my long curls were in. It was a nervous habit that brought a knowing glint to Duncan’s eyes. He leaned closer, and my eyes widened. Oh heavens, he’s going to kiss me. It’s about chu-pits time!
Another bang from the royal apartment brought my head around. “To get some air!” came a furious shout. It was Contessa, one hand on her gathered skirts, the other reaching like a blind man as she struggled to make her way up the narrow aisle to the common room. I reluctantly eased away; my sister had the timing of an aunt with nothing to do but play chaperone.
Alex was behind her, managing the rocking boat well in his shiny boots, snug-fitting breeches, and long-tailed coat of a rich green lined in gold. In his grace, he even managed to keep his sword, at his side despite the security of the boat, from smacking anything.
“Let me help you, Contessa,” he said gallantly, a devious smile about his thin lips as he nodded first to me, then Duncan. His light dusting of freckles, fine blond hair, and trim, small-waisted figure brought to mind his murderous, power-crazed brother—the one who took over my palace and murdered my adopted parents. The similarities of the two brothers had bothered me greatly until I realized that apart from their outward appearance, they were as different as salt and sand. Thank God.
“I don’t want your help,” Contessa muttered, red spotting her pale cheeks as she tottered to the steps. “I’m trying to get away from you.”
“Contessa, love . . .” Green eyes sparkling, he reached to help her, and she jerked away, jewelry chiming. Giving him a potent glare she must have learned at the feet of the nuns who raised her, she struggled up the steps. The wind whipped her unbound hair into her eyes and made her skirt flare out. I’d have a wickedly hard time getting the yellow strands untangled tonight. Steadying herself, she stomped in her tiny boots to the railing and out of sight.
Tempting fate, Alex ran a hand over his clean-shaven cheeks and followed the petite woman up. The quick-minded prince was bored, and teasing my sister was apparently the only thing he could find to do. Unfortunately, Contessa’s provincial temper made her an easy mark.
The mood broken, Duncan slid down the bench a smidgen. He took three cards from his deck and practiced moving them in and out of hiding, the motion intentionally slow as he stretched and strengthened muscles. I was fascinated in that I could have sworn that he put the sun card in his sleeve but it was the huntsman he took back out.
Both our heads rose when Haron stomped downstairs and to his bunk, still grumbling. The first mate had the night watch, and I knew it was too early for him to be up. The faint sounds of Alex alternately trying to calm down Contessa and drive her to distraction grew louder over the creak of rope and wash of water. A sigh shifted my shoulders.
“Are you going to stop him?” Duncan asked when the sharp click of Haron’s door shutting came to us. “She sounds ready to slap him.”
Weary of it, I shook my head. When I had accepted the position of Costenopolie’s ambassador at my sister’s request, I had thought it would mean I would be smoothing great political problems, not acting as nursemaid and arbitrator between my sister and her new husband.
“No,” I said, folding my arms on the table and dropping my head onto them. “I told her he’s doing it to see her stomp her feet and put a blush on her cheeks, but she doesn’t listen.”
“Maybe she likes it.”
“That’s my guess.” I tilted my head to see him past my brown curls. Contessa was anything but even-tempered. Despite being a mirror copy of our deceased mother, one would never know she was a queen by the amount of caterwauling she did. That’s why the nuptial holiday. Under the advice of Kavenlow, I was trying to instill the provincial woman with some polish as she met the people for whom she was now responsible. It wasn’t working. And though I liked Prince Alex, he wasn’t helping.
The word “execution” and “hungry thief,” quickly followed by “barbaric” were a veritable feminine shriek, and Duncan shifted uncomfortably. The argument about changing Costenopolie’s policy on suspected criminals had started this morning when we slipped from harbor. I should step in—if only to get them to stop talking about executing thieves where Duncan could overhear. He wasn’t a thief; he was a cheat. There was a difference. Sort of.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, gathering my skirts to rise, pausing at Duncan’s hand on my shoulder. Surprised, I turned, blinking at the worry and the hint of pleading in his eyes.
“Tess. You don’t owe her anything. You owe Kavenlow even less. Why won’t you—”
Pulling from his hand, I stood, cutting him off and catching my balance at one of the support planks over which the deck was built. “I owe her everything. I owe Kavenlow my life for pulling me from the gutter. Nothing is keeping you here. If you want to go, that’s fine, but she needs me. Costenopolie needs me.” Frustration at the old argument made my words harsher than I had intended, but I wouldn’t drop my eyes.
He made a scoffing bark of laughter, slumping back. “God save you, Tess. Costenopolie won’t fall if you leave it,” he said bitingly, then pinched his brow to soften his words.
I flushed. Actually, it might. Eventually. But I couldn’t tell him that. He had no inkling that a continentwide game of hidden conquest swirled under the veneer of royal power. Very few did. I had been raised in the palace, and even I hadn’t known until Kavenlow told me of the magic for which he had been secretly building my strength.
I said nothing while the frustration shifted behind his eyes. He knew he was welcome to stay at court as long as he wanted, but as a player, I couldn’t allow myself to get close to anyone lest he be used against me by a rival. All Duncan knew was that I wouldn’t allow more than a fleeting kiss, and I knew it confused him when he saw my willingness in an unguarded moment. Things had been a lot easier when I’d been the crown princess.
“I’m not leaving her,” I said, stepping from behind the table. “For you, or anything.” Grabbing the ladder, I started up, hiding behind my responsibilities as ambassador. I felt like the bottom of a chu pit for my lies of omission and my lack of trust in him.
A confused anger at myself warmed me as I held my skirts with one hand, the ladder with the other. It wasn’t fair. None of it. Whom I gave my heart to was no longer linked to the crown, yet I was still ruled by it. I left him with his cards, as silent and as frustrated as I was.
The wood framing the hatch under my hand was warm from the sun, and I lurched onto the deck. Like a blow, the wind struck me, pushing me and making my skirt flare. It wasn’t cold, but so strong a force took getting used to. My toes gripped the wood, polished by sun and sliding ropes. Squinting from the glare, I held back the brown curls that had escaped my topknot.
I was facing the stern, and the clouds behind the tilting horizon were blue with rain. The waves were choppy since the wind was blowing against the current, tearing the wave tops as tonight’s storm grew closer. At the wheel, Captain Borlett gave me a sympathetic nod, looking stiff and uncomfortable at his unintentional overhearing of the royal argument. I thought he looked inexcusably relieved that it wasn’t his responsibility to put an end to it.
A welcoming nicker pulled my gaze to my horses, standing tethered against the wall of the galley shack at the bow. The black animals were here only because Alex’s horse hadn’t taken to the water, and Contessa had rightly insisted they should have matched animals.
I didn’t mind riding borrowed horses myself when we went ashore to assure the populace that they really did have a queen, and she had our mother’s elegant, regal beauty even if I didn’t, but the royal couple should be on horses in which we were confident. Jy and Pitch were well behaved, and had been trained for water travel even before Kavenlow had given them to me. The gelding was my favorite. I had named him Jy, short for Jeck’s horse, which is what I had called him befo
re knowing he was really mine.
Contessa’s voice pulled me to the railing where Alex had nearly pinned the white-clad woman. Her fair skin was even paler in anger, and she had taken a defensive stance, with her hands on her hips, looking like a fishwife despite her wearing enough silk to make a tent. Alex, too, had lost his teasing air, having a stiff attitude with his chin high and his jaw set. His freckles were lost behind a red tinge. My mood of exasperation shifted to one of bother. She must have insulted his honor. It was the only thing that could arouse the fun-loving man’s slow temper.
Setting aside my thoughts of Duncan, I went to the railing, then forward across the sloping deck. “Contessa,” I called, but neither of them heard me over the wind.
My sister drew her heart-shaped features tight, pushing herself away from the railing and boldly into Prince Alex’s space. The two of them made a handsome couple in their finery despite their anger. “You’re wrong,” she said, loud enough for the sailors below to hear, and I cringed. “You may have wiggled your foul way into my palace, but your Misdev cruelty will not gain one foothold in Costenopolie as long as I breathe!”
“And you are a silly woman who has no inkling of how the world works,” he said. From the wheel came Captain Borlett’s audible intake of breath.
“You chull!” Contessa shrieked. “And you’re a royal snot who can’t see the ocean for the waves. The power to chop the hands off thieves will not be given back to harbormasters and village leaders. Kavenlow will hear every complaint before sentence is cast. I don’t care how much it pulls from the coffers. I will see your sword broken and you slinging chu before I let you convince me otherwise!”
“The sword of my grandfather will not break,” Alex said, setting a hand atop the handle.
I came abreast of them, not sure how to interfere without ending up publicly reprimanded. It was embarrassing, and I didn’t like it. “Ah, Contessa?” I started, tension slamming the air from me when she lunged forward and pulled Alex’s sword.
My hand went to my topknot where I usually kept my poisoned darts. “Contessa!” I shouted, lurching to stand between her and Alex as she struggled to hold the heavy sword.
The point dipped as the fiery woman looked from me to Alex in frustration. “If your sword won’t break,” she threatened, “then I’ll be rid of it.”
“Contessa! No!” I cried, reaching out even as she twisted her body and threw Alex’s sword out over the water. I held my breath, watching in a horrid fascination as the hazy sun glinted on the highly polished metal. Alex’s green eyes went wide in disbelief; he was too shocked to move. Soundless over the wind, it cut cleanly into the water—and was gone.
She had thrown his sword into the waves. She had thrown his grandfather’s sword where none could find it. Suddenly frightened, I tore my gaze from the gray waves laced with froth. I could see the new Misdev/Costenopolie alliance that I had worked so hard to foster shred like cotton. Her temper had dealt a blow more severe than had I murdered the prince in his bed.
Contessa’s color was high, and she met my horrified look and Alex’s expression of shock with absolutely no repentance. Her satisfaction melted into surprise when Alex swooped around me, and before I knew his intent, picked her up, and dropped her over the side. Her shriek of surprise cut off with a splash.
“Fetch my sword, wife,” he whispered, his jaw tight in anger.
“Contessa!” I shrieked when the call for man-in-the-water went up from three different throats. Panicking, I pulled three knives from my waistband. The first I threw to thunk into one of the twin lines holding the mainsail. One side of the massive sheet fell in a sliding sound of canvas amid shouts of distress. The second went thunking into the lead of my black gelding, freeing him. I had a third knife which I wanted to stick into that fool prince Alex, but instead I used it to rip my outer dress off. My heart pounded and my fingers fumbled in fear. Contessa . . .
“Where is she?” Alex said, his angry satisfaction dissolving as he peered over the railing and watched the waves. Slowly, he moved to the stern of the boat to stay with the disappearing bubbles. “She hasn’t come up yet.”
“She’s drowning,” I said, shoving my dress into him so hard he almost fell back. Stupid landlubber. Doesn’t know a bloody thing. “Her skirts are pulling her down. Congratulations. I think you’re the new king of Costenopolie.”
His mouth opened, and his face went ashen under his blond bangs. I had no time to spare for him. Whistling for my horse, I ran to the stern, and as Captain Borlett reached out in alarm and protest, I scrambled over the railing and fell ungracefully into the water.
Captain Borlett’s call cut off with the shocking, swirling cold. A second, muffled whoosh of sound shook me as I pushed to the surface. It was Jy, having jumped the railing right behind me. Pulling in a huge breath of air, I dived. The sounds of organized panic vanished.
Salt water burned my eyes as I looked for a shadow in the murky dusk the clouds had made of the ocean. Nothing. I came up, gasping. Jy was nearby, his feet darting down as if trying to trot. His neck was arched and his eyes wide in excitement. I thanked God I had spent the last three months training him to follow my whistle. Kavenlow had thought it was a vain, silly, woman thing to have a horse come when called. I wished he had been right.
From above came the sound of Duncan shouting my name. The boat had slipped farther away despite the remaining sails having been dropped. I went to dive again, pulling in so much air my lungs hurt. I upended myself and went down. Oh God. What if I can’t find her? My parents’ deaths, allowing a prince of Misdev to wed my sister; what would it all be for if I lost the only person I had a tie with?
My breath slipped out in a trail of bubbles at the gray shape darting past me, my first fear of sharks dying when I realized it was a stingray. It was followed by a painful strike of hope as I followed its motion to a wildly struggling shadow.
Contessa! I thought, striking out for her, feeling that my arms were too slow and my motions useless. She was deep underwater, almost lost in the gloom. Panic showed in her violent motions. Fire burned in my chest. I had to surface.
I clawed my way up, breaking the surface in a fear-laced breath. The boat was far ahead, stalled in the mounting waves. Beyond were the warships, their heavy momentum making it harder for them to turn. Jy had begun to follow them, my call forgotten. I dived again.
The numbing rush of water filled my ears, making my pounding blood a goad, driving me down. Her shadow grew. Fingers stretching, I grasped her wildly waving hair. Face to the surface, I kicked myself upward. Her weight held me down. Too slowly, the surface brightened.
A muffled sound of bubbles, carrying her sob, urged me upward, pushed by my sister’s last breath. Arms aching, I pulled us to the soft smear of sky made gray by too much water. I broke the surface, gasping. My limbs trembled as I pulled her up. She burst out in a panic-driven gasp of air. I managed one good breath before she pushed me under, frantic to escape.
The influx of air gave her the strength to keep her face above water, and I kicked away and surfaced. Her eyes were wide and unknowing in terror, the blue of them shocking in the depth of fear they showed. “Tess,” she managed, water slipping past her mouth, and she reached out to push me under again.
The sounds of a distant rescue vanished in a swirl of in-rushing water. Breath held, I went passive, letting her get a full gulp of air while she unintentionally drowned me. My thoughts were screaming in a shared panic, but I walled them off. I had to call my horse back. There was no chance if fear ruled me. If I couldn’t get him to return, Contessa would drown both of us.
I exhaled, sinking out from under her. My sister’s motions grew violent as my support dropped away. The muzzy gray of the world’s water surrounded me, insulating me from her terror. I fell deep into my thoughts, willing my magic to surface. My left leg throbbed, and my head pounded as I pulled on more magic than I was capable of. I had to call my horse. I had to find Jy’s thoughts.
As my lungs
burned and my reason screamed to surface, I sent my awareness out, slow and cold from the surrounding water. The quick thoughts of the stingrays were distracting, their mirror-bright minds like flashes in the dark. Desperate, I searched more carefully, following a faint emotion of cold water making limbs slow and unresponsive. It had to be Jy.
Fastening on feelings that weren’t mine, I slipped my thoughts into the intelligent animal’s, the way made easy by frequent practice. Air slipped past my lips and ran a fast trail to the surface in relief. I had found him.
Immediately, I struggled to the surface lest our joined thoughts make Jy think he was drowning. Here, I thought, relief flooding me as the levelheaded horse obediently turned and headed away from the Sandpiper. From the deck came Duncan’s hail. I caught a glimpse of him, standing at the stern beside Captain Borlett, leaning halfway over the railing.
Contessa clutched at me when I surfaced, reason clearly having broken through her panic. Strands of blond hair were in her face, and fear had twisted her expression—but she wasn’t panicking anymore. “Tess,” she sobbed, the water seeping past her lips. “I thought I killed you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve killed us both. I can’t stay up. They won’t get a boat to us in time.”
“Jy is coming,” I said around a cough. “Grab on to him.”
Her eyes widened, and the hint of hope made her look like an angel, downtrodden by the ignorant rabble of humanity. “Jy?” she said, sinking as she exhaled.
I pulled her up, going under myself. The sound of Jy’s splashing was muffled, and when I shook the water from my eyes, he was there.
Contessa was coughing violently, sinking lower into the water with her motions. I grabbed Jy’s mane, pulling her hand to lie beside mine. Her thin, pale fingers trembled, then clutched the horse’s mane with a frightened, white-knuckled strength. Sobs mixed with her hacking coughs as she hung on, the thin muscles of her arms showing under the sodden silk.