Princess at Sea

by Dawn Cook

  “Those men are not guests,” I said softly. “They are thieves and murderers. I will not be having dinner with them. They will be out of my palace in an hour.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” he said stiffly, his gaze fixed to a point over my right shoulder. I hated it when they did that. “Thieves and murderers. Which is why—”

  I took an aggressive step forward, clamping down on the chattering excitement in my head. “Captain,” I warned, “I have chased them from Yellow Tail to here in two days to talk to them. I would hope that you are confident enough in your men’s abilities to keep me secure while I’m in my own palace.”

  “Yes, Princess,” he said, his eyes never moving from the spot on the wall behind me.

  Satisfied, I spun on a heel, gathered my filthy skirts, and stalked forward past the library, where I first learned there was a world beyond the capital’s gates, past the secondary ball-room, where I discovered not all men could dance, and past the private sanctuary, where I didn’t go anymore since Contessa had made it her place to be alone.

  Jeck was snickering at my elbow. I didn’t know what he was so amused about. If I didn’t get in, he wouldn’t either. My confident pace faltered when I saw the door to the solarium. This was where my parents had died. I would not hear of my sister’s demise among the roses and caged birds. I wouldn’t.

  There were three guards outside the door, all in Costenopolie colors. Through the glass were three more. All of them were older and experienced. Suddenly unsure, I tucked a stray brown curl behind my ear, jerking as I found a sandbur. Hesitating, I looked down at myself.

  My hands were dirty and still smeared with tar. My dress was torn to my waist and held together with string. My boots were not my own. How on earth had I been recognized outside the city? I looked like the beggar woman my mother had probably been.

  Jeck flicked a glance at me, having moved closer to ensure he gained entrance with me. “The fire in your eye, the set to your jaw, your bearing,” he said as if he’d read my mind.

  I flushed in embarrassment despite my better judgment. “Captain Jeck will accompany me instead of you, Captain Resh,” I said, knowing it had been flattery but finding myself more inclined to let him in on the meeting. Heather fussed with my skirts, ignored.

  “Yes, Princess.” Captain Resh sounded pained. “Allow me to announce you.”

  I smoothed my tattered dress from habit as the older captain opened the door and held it for me. The scent of warm earth and the sound of birdsong filtered into the hallway. I breathed deeply, and my shoulders eased to bring me to a royal bearing. The solarium had once been my favorite place for taking my lessons in sums, letters, protocol, and history. Not anymore.

  Leaving Heather behind in the hallway, I entered first to halt beside the inner guards. Jeck was next in his clean coat and hat, smelling of sweat and the sea. Captain Resh closed the door, and after a hushed word of instruction to the sentries, preceded Jeck and me down the winding path through potted trees and climbing vines. We passed statues of Contessa, carved while she was growing up. I vowed anew that the entire crew would die if she wasn’t all right when she returned to me. The scent of early roses brought the memory of Kavenlow shouting sums at me across the garden. My pace faltered, and Jeck went a step past me before he realized I had slowed.

  How am I going to tell Kavenlow? Can I just leave with Duncan and never tell him?

  Eyebrows raised, Jeck ran his gaze over me, undoubtedly taking in my cold, frightened face. Black feathers drooped across the back of his neck, and a new sword hung from his belt. Adjusting that awful hat atop his head, he took my arm in escort and pulled me into motion.

  “Cold feet, Princess?” he said, when Captain Resh moved ahead to announce us.

  I pushed the worry down to set my stomach. “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”

  “You aren’t angry at me,” Jeck said, his voice preoccupied. “You’re harmless.”

  I frowned, thinking we made an odd pair, both moving with grace and refinement, stinking of dirt and looking like beggars on parade. “What makes you think I want you to touch me?” I said softly, and he made a small noise.

  “What you want never crossed my mind.” His voice was casual, low, pleasant, and I hated that it had somehow gained the power to soothe the voice of the wind in my head. “I’ve got ahold of you so you don’t do something foolish, like kill Captain Rylan when he prods you.”

  “If I want to kill Captain Rylan, you won’t be able to stop me,” I said boldly.

  Jeck’s grip tightened in warning, then eased. “My king’s son is in jeopardy,” he breathed so only I might hear as our boots thumped on the slate tiles behind the captain of my sister’s guards. “Do anything to anger that man enough to harm Prince Alex further, and I may not be able to sway my sovereign from any warlike directions. You already drove his second son mad. If anything befalls Alex, he will assume the abduction and murder were planned by your queen.”

  My heart pounded, and I tried to calm myself before I filled my veins with venom. It had been Jeck and Kavenlow who had driven King Misdev’s second son to appear mad, but it didn’t really matter. And planned treachery sounded exactly like what the war-loving Misdevs would think. “What kind of player are you if you can’t control your pieces?” I mocked softly, as the patter of Jeck and me being announced came from around a vine-hidden court.

  Jeck stopped, leaning close enough for his breath to stir a wayward curl. “I may let my king believe what he wants in this case.”

  “You care what happens to Alex?” I asked, truly surprised. And I caught a flicker of emotion, seeing him hide it behind a grimace. I was slowly learning that was his way of divorcing himself from feelings he thought were useless or counterproductive. Emotions such as understanding, mercy, compassion, empathy, love.

  The sound of chairs scraping came as Captain Resh finished announcing us. Immediately, Jeck shifted us into motion. “I’ve invested a lot of time in him. That’s all.”

  Thinking, I let him pull me forward. It was more than that. After so close an association, he couldn’t lie to me as easily as to everyone else. Could it be that Jeck, Captain of the Misdev guards and player extraordinaire, actually cared about the people he was responsible for?

  But my musings vanished when we found Kavenlow, Captain Rylan, and Mr. Smitty standing at a parlay table beside the orchid pond. My eyes went to Kavenlow and stopped. I stared at him, feeling helpless. A thousand words rushed to be spoken, but I could say none of them, bound by rigid patterns of proper behavior. He looked shockingly relieved for an instant, then it vanished behind a shield of formality.

  In a familiar gesture of worry, he ran a short-fingered hand across his tidy, black-and-gray beard. Shifting in graceful agitation, the thickset man looked more like a master of horse-men than a master of books, despite his fine clothes. A dagger rested on his hip in an obvious threat, enforcing his mien of hidden power. His blue-gray eyes, full of dismay and sorrow, took in my ragtag appearance. I flushed. I was a princess. Sort of. On my better days.

  Mr. Smitty was staring, his mouth working as he crossed himself and backed up a step. “You’re alive!” He clutched at Captain Rylan’s sleeve, tugging at it as if in disbelief. “She’s alive,” the uncouth man hissed at his captain. “She’s burning still alive. My God, how did she get here so quick? We left ’em—”

  “Mr. Smitty!” Captain Rylan barked, almost cuffing the frightened, superstitious man. “Shut your bloody yelp hole.”

  Kavenlow seemed to have to tear his gaze from me as he fixed his hard gaze on the overdressed captain in his faded finery. “Left behind, Captain Rylan?” he said, every syllable precise and carrying a heavy anger. “You told me she perished with the crew of the Sandpiper.”

  “That would be a matter of interpretation, Chancellor.” My voice was smooth and even, surprising even me. The captain of my sister’s guards had quietly excused himself and was gone, and I heard the door shut in the distance.


  Kavenlow came forward, reaching out and taking my hand. “Princess,” was all he said as he bent his head over my filthy fingers for the expected greeting. I almost cried. I wanted to fall into his shoulder and sob—and was reduced to this. Kavenlow’s hand trembled as he let my fingers fall. “Captain Jeck,” he said evenly, his gaze turning to Jeck. “I’m pleased to see you.”

  “Sir,” the man said softly, never looking at Captain Rylan or Mr. Smitty, his hand still cupping my elbow. “I would speak with you at your earliest convenience concerning a matter of mutual interest.”

  A ribbon of panic slipped around my heart and tightened. Kavenlow saw it, his face going expressionless. A matter of mutual interest? With Jeck’s hand still on my elbow, that could only mean one thing. Me.

  I tried to pull away from Jeck, and he set his other hand atop my arm, preventing it. My pulse hammered, and though I tried to stop it, the wind swirled in my head. From outside came the patter of old leaves against the glass. Venom pumped into me, and my vision blurred. Frightened, I set my weak right hand atop Jeck’s arm and sent a warning pulse of hurt through him. It was a fraction of what would kill him, but I knew he felt it, as he started.

  Jeck casually took his arm from mine and moved me to a bench. I bent my weak knees and obediently sat where he put me, shaking inside. Saying nothing, he fell into a parade rest beside me, the arm I had touched hidden partially behind his back. As I composed myself and the leaves outside dropped to the ground, I could almost feel Kavenlow’s unspoken question fall heavily on me as he looked first at me, then at Jeck’s stiff posture. It was obvious he knew something had happened between us, but not what.

  I felt sick. Hurting Jeck had been as easy as learning how to spit from the palace’s tower. He hadn’t been aware it was coming as before, and I didn’t think he had the control I’d found. And where I should be pleased I had taken what he taught me and brought it a step further, it scared me even more. What had I become?

  The two pirates, oblivious to the small drama, had retreated to their wood-paneled chairs beside the table. One was confident in his faded finery and ringed fingers, the other frightened and stinking of sweat because I was alive and sitting before them. The thought of my sister rose to the forefront of my mind, and I leaned toward Captain Rylan, smoothly, calmly, and with the grace of forgotten queens.

  “If my sister returns to me less than when I left her, I will do terrible things, Captain Rylan,” I said. My voice was cold, chilling even me.

  Oblivious to the danger behind my threat, Rylan smiled as if he wanted to reach out and pat my hand. Mr. Smitty heard it though, and he paled, crossing himself as he stood and all but hid behind his captain. Kavenlow’s expression was pained. Jeck remained impassive. If he had laughed, I would have slapped him.

  Rylan smiled, clearly thinking he was still in control. He wasn’t. The man was as dead as my parents. “That depends upon your tightfisted money handler,” he said confidently. “He’s rather reluctant to part with it.” Making a soft sound of admonishment, he settled an ankle atop a knee. His fingers steepled, and he eyed me from over them, smiling. Behind him, Mr. Smitty moved from foot to foot, fidgeting.

  “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you alive and . . . ready to enlighten your chancellor that my threats are real,” the pirate captain said, making my stomach clench. “It seems he’s stalling while your guards are scouring the country trying to find them. You won’t. I want a decision now, or I will send your royal couple back to you. One alive, one dead.”

  My face went white. He wouldn’t.

  “Oh, yes I would,” he said matter-of-factly as he idly spun a thick ring with a blue stone on his pinky finger. It looked like a ladies’ ring, and I wondered where he had stolen it. “I’m still in a quandary trying to decide which one. Who would you rather have? A live sister and a war with Misdev, or a dead sister and a broken kingdom?” He simpered, making my blood pound in my ears. “Or you could make it so much simpler by giving me what I want. I’ll send them both toddling home with nary a scratch on them.” He hesitated. “For the most part.”

  The leaves beat again against the glass, and I forced the chatter in my head to be still. My fingers were tingling with venom, and I had a despairing thought that in my worry, I was making my own situation worse, dumping more poison into me to raise my residual levels of toxin even higher.

  “You’ll have your ransom, Captain,” I said, feeling breathless and unreal. “And I’ll have my sister and her husband, safe and unharmed.”

  “Princess,” Kavenlow murmured in warning.

  Jeck was a lot more direct. “He’s lying,” he said, as if the man wasn’t six feet away.

  “I don’t care if he’s lying or not,” I said hotly. “We will pay the ransom.”

  “Tess,” Kavenlow protested, “may I counsel you for a moment?”

  I flushed, suddenly aware I was arguing against my master’s game. It was my sister’s life, though, and Alex’s, and probably Duncan’s. My eyes dropped, and I whispered, “Sorry.”

  Jeck grunted in surprise at my quick apology, a soft sound that probably reached only me.

  Kavenlow straightened and stood, tugging his simple jacket straight. “Gentleman,” he said firmly. “We shall take a rest. Wine, if you will, and perhaps something from the kitchen.”

  “Do what you want,” Captain Rylan said, waving a generous hand with his rings flashing. “But if I and Mr. Smitty aren’t aboard our boat by sunset, word will go out, and they will die.”

  My throat closed, and my shoulders tightened. Kavenlow took my arm and pulled me to my feet. I rose numbly. Jeck was going to tell him. I was going to lose everything that meant anything to me, and my sister was going to die.

  His grip supporting me, Kavenlow gestured to Jeck. “Sir? Would you care to accompany us?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, then lowered my voice. “No,” I said softer, when Kavenlow hesitated.

  Eye twitching, Kavenlow looked at Jeck, clearly not wanting to leave him alone with the two men to possibly talk deals he would know nothing about. He took a firmer stance, his squat silhouette looking aggressive but the look in his eyes questioning.

  “Please, Kavenlow,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

  He grimaced, frowned, and vacillated.

  Jeck wasn’t helping. Smiling at Kavenlow’s discomfort, he said, “Of course, please go. We can talk later. I’ll stay with Captain Rylan and Mr. Smitty. We have much to discuss on our own.” His face was pleasant behind his ragged beard, but I could see his hidden anger now that I had spent several days with him. It wasn’t directed at me, but at the two pirates, and I wondered if he could read me as easily, now, too.

  Kavenlow muttered a terse, “Gentleman,” taking my arm and pulling me into a fast pace that quickly left them behind. My heartbeat grew fast, and I was glad I was in flat-heeled boots so I could keep up. My steps seemed loud on the slate pathway. I couldn’t hear Kavenlow’s at all. He moved quickly, his motions abrupt and short. My brow pinched, and I became pensive. He was angry with me. But I had to talk to him before Jeck had a chance.

  We came into view of the door. The waiting sentries straightened and opened it for us. I felt unreal as Kavenlow escorted me into the hallway, now smelling empty and barren after the rich scents of the solarium. Still not having said anything, Kavenlow dropped my arm and beckoned one of the outer sentries closer. I stood like an errant child, woebegone and shaky, as the door to the solarium closed, shutting out the birdsong.

  “Wine,” Kavenlow said shortly. “Immediately. Until I return, I want two serving girls in there to keep the conversation to the weather and how big the crabs are this year.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And a plate of food as well,” he said. “Something warm. I’ll be in the sanctuary with Princess Tess.”

  He took my arm. My eyes fell upon his fingers. The tips were stained with ink as they usually were, his nails trimmed neatly and his fingers strong from r
eining in spirited horses rather than turning pages. He was angry with me. I could understand why. She had been in my care, and I had lost her. Twice.

  With a quick, preoccupied gait, he pulled me down the hallway to the sanctuary. He was right in that it would likely be empty. No one went in there since Contessa had made it her refuge. I stumbled in after Kavenlow, seeing her everywhere in the familiar room: the low black ceiling, the one stained-glass window shining like glory itself, the simple altar, and the three short rows of pews. It was a very small room, comforting to her after having been raised in a nunnery.

  He left me standing in the middle of the narrow aisle, going with an angry haste to check to see that the small anteroom behind the altar was empty. I heard the thunk of the door closing and the clatter of the bar being set in place.

  “Kavenlow . . .” I said, low and miserable.

  I gasped when he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. Expecting a severe chastisement and lecture, I wasn’t prepared when he took me in a fierce hug. My shoulder throbbed, and I stifled a cry of pain and surprise.

  “They said you had died!” he whispered fiercely, his grip on me never loosening. I could smell the scent of leather and horse that ever lingered on him, and the pungent scent of ink. My breath was forced from me, and I belatedly returned his embrace. He isn’t angry with me, I thought, in a wash of relief that brought a lump to my throat.

  He pulled away, his hands remaining atop my shoulders. His blue eyes were dark and glinting with unshed tears, the wrinkles about them deep with emotion. “They said you had died, Tess. They told me you had died!”

  My breath came in a sob. He wasn’t angry with me. “Kavenlow . . . I—”

  He gave me another hug, gentler this time but no less intense. “When I received Contessa’s letter, I was so worried,” he said, interrupting me. “I knew you would be all right. But they told me you were dead! Oh, Tess, I thought you had left me.”

  Left me, echoed in my thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. A hundred things to say flashed through my mind. A hundred things to tell. A hundred lies to give him so I wouldn’t have to leave. But what came out was a weepy, “I’m sorry, Kavenlow.”