Oathen

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  Once she was gone, Rhona waved her glass and drew attention back to herself. “Who wants more wine? Geret?”

  Late that night, Rhona ushered Geret into her cabin and bolted the door. She led him by the hand through the red silk curtains, then pulled them shut behind her. Though his heart was pounding, it had little to do with the russet-haired pirate captain beside him. Sanych’s words at supper had been aimed at him, not her, and Geret was grateful for her perspective. It made what he had to do next a little easier.

  ~~~

  “I didn’t know Vintens slept with their clothes on,” Siela said. She and Rhona stood at the bow while Rhona used her spyglass to look for the whale spout her lookout had just alerted her to.

  “Well, not all the time,” Rhona replied, giving her a knowing look.

  Siela giggled. “Who knew that not raiding dirtwalkers could be so much fun?” She turned and looked back at Geret, who sat on the castle rail reading a book. He seemed very pleased by it. She raised an eyebrow to Rhona.

  “Aye, he reads a lot. Sanych picks his books for him. I don’t know why he values her taste so much. She gives him books on bogs and Daskan politics and Nen Thakkan fairy tales. He tried to read to me from one called The Holy Romance of Mardimer, but it was about a Byarran friar and his stupid barefoot walk across the Desert of Glass. I had to tell him to stop after two pages.”

  Siela shrugged. “Dirtwalkers must really like books about people who walk in the dirt.”

  Rhona snorted. “If those books weren’t worth more than this whole ship, I’d turn them into jetsam.” She looked back though the spyglass. “That whale’s gone deep. Just in case there are more trailing behind it, have Ruel turn two points to starboard.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Siela headed aft.

  Rhona watched Geret read for another few minutes. The mere sight of him brought last night’s emotions to the fore of her mind, and she felt her breathing speed up. Finally she tapped her spyglass against her palm and strode in his direction.

  Before she could reach him, however, he slid forward off the castle rail, landing in front of her. He grinned. “A fine morning, isn’t it?”

  Rhona slipped her arms around his waist and leaned close, but her expression was stormy. “You’ve been avoiding me this morning, but I’ll have the truth, Geret. What in the dark and withered nads of the death gods possessed you to turn me down last night?”

  His eyes flicked away from hers, and he drew a deep breath. “I was pretty tired, and your bed was very comfortable. I’d been wanting to try it out for weeks.”

  “Liar.” She snatched the book from his hand. He reached for it, eyes wide, but she tossed it across the deck. “Is it her?” she asked, careful to keep her voice down.

  He stilled.”What?”

  “You’d prefer her to me. Is that it?”

  He licked his lips and gave her a weak grin. “My uncle would remind me that I’m not allowed to consider either one of you.”

  Her lip curled. “Your uncle isn’t here, Geret. But I am.” She grabbed him by his open collar and began to drag him toward the stairs that led below.

  “Rhona, let go.” He tried to take his shirt from her hands, but she jerked on it. The fabric ripped, making him stumble a step away. “Rhona!”

  She stopped and looked back at him. “Lesson number six: don’t ever challenge the captain unless you can take her whole crew as well.”

  “Are you always this unreasonable when you don’t get your way, or is it just with me?” he hissed, bracing himself against her pull.

  Rhona stopped pulling and turned to face him. Her free hand slipped behind her to rest on the handle of a dagger on the back of her belt. Her eyes were as cold as the blue bands of ice in the Shatterglass glacier. “What did you say to me?”

  Geret looked across the deck for support. Several crew members watched, but no one interfered. Kemsil looked down from the castle deck with concern. Just as he opened his mouth to call down, Meena put a hand on his arm. She pointed past Geret and mouthed words the prince couldn’t hear.

  At that moment, a long, gleaming blade pierced the lace on Rhona’s sleeve and whispered against her wrist. She and Geret watched it slide until its hilt rested against her arm and Geret’s collar.

  “Fine day for a duel, don’t you think?” Salvor asked. A small smile matched his lazy tone.

  A gust of wind ruffled Geret’s hair. “It’s on the windy side.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” Salvor’s eyes locked onto Rhona’s.

  She let go of her dagger, and Salvor withdrew his blade from her sleeve. “You want to duel the captain of a Clan vessel? Do you have any idea what that means, Lord Thelios?”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t care who you are. You touch my prince like that, you have my full attention.”

  Rhona laughed. “I thought you said he wasn’t your type.”

  Eavesdropping crew members chuckled, but Salvor merely smiled patiently, waiting.

  “You’re serious.”

  He nodded.

  “Well, you should know, the Clans don’t duel. We fight for blood until one side submits, and we don’t play around with dulled or wooden blades. You still want to dance on my deck?”

  Another small smile. “Most emphatically.”

  Rhona looked to Geret, but he just shrugged and jerked his head toward Salvor. “You two have fun.”

  “All right, shiny.” She turned and raised her voice. “The bodyguard wants to command the Princeling. What say you, Clansfolk? Should I bleed off that arrogance for him?”

  The crew cheered in response. Many of them abandoned their tasks and drew closer.

  She faced Salvor again. “All right, dirtwalker; let’s dance.”

  ~~~

  Salvor and Geret stepped back to the castle wall and waited while crew members cleared a space on deck for the duel. Above them, Kemsil and Meena leaned on the rail.

  “I suggest you not watch, Geret,” Salvor said, keeping his eyes on Rhona.

  Geret slid his gaze over. “Why not? You think I’ll lose my breakfast at the sight of your precious blood?”

  “This is for your benefit; don’t stab me in the foot. Go below and stay there. Don’t forget the book.”

  Sanych’s book! Does he know what’s in it? Geret stepped over and retrieved it from where Rhona had thrown it, closing it carefully and dusting it off. With one last glance at Salvor, he headed below.

  At the door to Rhona’s cabin, he hesitated. Inside were the red silk curtains and the swinging bed Rhona had nearly dragged him to just moments ago. It wouldn’t kill me to let Rhona bed me, I suppose. But more refusals might be dangerous to my health. Was Rhona right about me? Did I turn her down last night because of my duty to Vint, or because of Sanych?

  His head swam. Don’t want to go in that cabin right now. I need to write back to Sanych, though, and the inkwell is in there.

  He opened the door quietly and eased inside, looking behind him to make sure Rhona wasn’t barging down to drag him to her bed again. When he closed it and turned around, he saw Sanych sitting at the table. Her pen was poised over another priceless book.

  “Is Rhona coming?” she asked, standing abruptly.

  “No, no. Salvor’s dueling her on deck. She’ll be distracted from me for awhile…which is exactly what he wanted,” he finished, belatedly realizing Salvor’s plan. Well, I see no reason not to take advantage of his plan and execute one of my own.

  She seated herself again. “What’s going on? Why is your shirt torn?”

  “The situation is being handled,” he said, sliding into a chair across the corner from her. “Listen, whatever the crew says about last night, don’t believe them.”

  She met his eyes and quirked her lips into a brief grin. “You mean how the dirtwalker prince was helplessly mesmerized by the jewel-encrusted…charms…of their captain? Mmhmm. My ears didn’t stop working during the night.”

  “What?”

  She pointed t
o the wall behind him. “My bunk is right there, Geret. You snored something awful, but that’s all you did.”

  A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and he slumped onto one elbow, taking her hand with his. “You’re a treasure, Sanych.”

  She smiled. “Ironic. You’ve traveled halfway across the world seeking the treasure of the Dire Tome, only to learn that it’s a cursed and evil book, yet I’ve been by your side the whole time, unnoticed.”

  “No, not unnoticed. Underappreciated, maybe.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Maybe? Maybe?” She scoffed. “I was just a cute girl in the moonlight to you, Geret. Just Salvor’s little girlfriend, to steal kisses from among the coconuts.”

  He met her eyes, feeling his heart pound against the edge of the table. Oh yes, I definitely turned Rhona down because of Sanych. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “For that indiscretion, you have my most abject apology. The more I know you, the more I enjoy your company.”

  “How can you be sure that you’re not just letting out emotions with me that you dare not show Rhona? Isn’t this just the reverse of the Cuttleboat kiss, with you in the relationship instead of me? Your passion overflows when you’re stressed, but when things are going well, we’re just friends again. How do I know I won’t just return to being short-and-slightly-irritating-Sanych in your eyes?”

  Geret began a denial, but some small part of him realized he was in no position to judge his own motivations dispassionately; he’d done exactly as she claimed once they reached the safety of Salience, even if it had been at Salvor’s suggestion. He let go of her hand, setting it gently on the table.

  “Rhona likes me all to herself; being isolated from my friends makes it easy to lose myself in her ways. But your books, the notes you write inside them, they keep me centered. I’ll balance here for as long as I can. Hopefully, once we reach Shanal, I can get some space and sort myself out. Can you wait for me to do that, Sanych?”

  She looked down at the book she’d been writing in, and Geret felt a stab of worry. Had he hurt her too deeply by keeping his feelings from her in Salience?

  “Master Godric told me, before I left to find Meena, that once an Archivist is called to an advisory position, most of their time will be spent waiting for others to recognize the wisdom of their advice, and that I should practice my patience. I didn’t think I’d be advising anyone so soon. But since that’s one of my duties in your expedition, Prince Geret, I’ll work on my patience right away.”

  She’ll wait for me! His grin felt like it was going to split his face into two ecstatic halves.

  A muted cheer, interspersed with cannonball whistles, radiated through the planks overhead. Their wide eyes met; the duel was over.

  “Give me that book,” Sanych said, reaching for it. “And get out of here.”

  Geret handed the book over and stepped to the door. “You’ll keep writing?”

  “Not if you don’t get out!” she said hurriedly, her chair clattering as she darted for the desk, drawing her small dagger.

  Geret grinned at her, then hurried over to his own cabin, closing the door quietly behind him. His heart thrummed with success at his secret conversation with Sanych. I need to remember to thank Salvor.

  A jab of adrenaline cured his mind of its euphoria. Rhona wouldn’t actually kill Salvor, would she?

  That depends entirely on how Rhona sees the duel, he realized. Does she believe Salvor’s just looking for a little swordplay, or does she see him as my champion, stepping up to defend my chastity from her evil advances? He smirked. Should I send Salvor a lacy handkerchief as a sign of my favor?

  ~~~

  Salvor and Rhona stepped into the clear space on the main deck. Salvor held his family sword in one hand; Rhona carried a pair of short swords. He stood still, dispassionately waiting. She sank into a wide stance, shifting her feet and keeping her hands in constant motion.

  Around them, the crew chanted and cheered. Meena and Kemsil were among them, but Salvor paid them no mind. Having experienced Meena’s life-restoring healing once before, he found himself with even fewer concerns for the duel’s outcome than usual. I’m getting unforgivably lazy, he told himself.

  “Whenever you’re—” he began.

  Rhona darted across the deck at him, slashing with her swords. One contacted his sword, and the other swiped low toward his knee. He blocked them both and spun out of range.

  As the crowd laughed, he said, “I see you’re familiar with Geret’s preferred dueling style.”

  Rhona grinned, twirling her swords. “I’m familiar with quite a lot of Geret’s preferred styles.”

  The crew laughed, and she lunged again. Salvor thrust his sword forward, catching her hilt with his larger one. Her second sword sang in from the side, and he grasped her wrist, twisting and ducking, using her momentum. As he pivoted and dropped to one knee, Rhona went flying over his head, skidding across the deck on her back.

  Rhona growled and got to her feet. “Looks like you’ve practiced with Geret a fair bit yourself.”

  He got to his feet. “There’s a certain satisfaction in playing dirty, yes.”

  “Then you’re gonna love the rest of this fight.” She threw one of her swords at him. He dodged to the side, but she met him there with her other blade, slicing a small cut across his chest.

  He knocked her remaining sword from her hand and punched her in the cheek, making her stagger. As he followed for another strike, she dropped to the deck and kicked up at his groin with her foot. A quick block with his knee saved him; he stabbed down at her as she lay at his feet.

  She parried his strike with the inside of her boot, then tripped him backward, shoving at his knee with one foot while hooking his heel with the other. She drew her dagger from the back of her belt and tried to stab his thigh. He kicked the small blade from her fingers; it skittered across the deck. With a curse, she scampered after it, but Salvor was right behind her. He tackled her to the deck, pinning her arms.

  Struggling, she looked up at him and said, “You’re enjoying this a little too much, methinks.”

  “Nonsense. When one has a qualified opponent, it’s not possible to enjoy combat too much.”

  She grinned at his compliment. With a sudden wrench, she arched and bucked Salvor off. He rolled into the shins of a few sailors, who happily kicked him back into the fight.

  As he got to his feet, he saw that Rhona held both her short swords again. He squinted one eye at her, knowing she couldn’t have retrieved them from opposite ends of the dueling circle so quickly without help.

  She laughed, giving her blades a flourish. “Welcome to the Clan, Salvor!”

  He lunged toward her, sword flicking in a silver blur. She backed away, parrying with both swords as fast as she could. One strike slipped through, though, splitting the lacing on her blouse. Salvor grinned.

  “Trying to seduce me during a sword fight?” she asked, panting as they both paused. “We both know that’s not going to work.”

  “Yes it is,” he said, smoothing his hair back with his free hand.

  She let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re certainly sure of yourself.”

  He grinned, showing his teeth. “Precisely.”

  He stepped forward, raising his blade to engage her again, but she gripped her torn shirt with the edges of her fingers and jerked, ripping the fabric down to her belt. Salvor, distracted by the sight of her full breasts peeking through the torn cloth, didn’t get his sword over in time to block Rhona’s next thrust. Wincing, he staggered back from a wound in his shoulder, only to receive another along his ribs, followed by a kick to his knee. He dropped to the deck, panting.

  Rhona drew and hurled her dagger. It struck Salvor in the hand, pinning him to the deck, and he growled in pain behind his teeth. She approached his other arm and kicked his sword away, then sniffed in disdain and dropped her blades point-first into the deck boards.

  She dropped onto his chest, making him cough.”This is the best yo
u dirtwalkers can do? Can you really blame the Clans for feeling superior?”

  Keep it together; we’re not done with her yet. Salvor looked up, past her spilling cleavage, to her face. “This how you bested your six captains? By cheating?”

  She gave him a brilliant smile. “Of course. All I needed was to impress their crew, show them during the fight that I was determined and capable. A well-timed kick in the back of their captain’s knee, or a flying citrus to the head, and they all but handed me the fight.”

  “All for one, and one for herself?”

  Rhona drew yet another dagger from inside her boot. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember it for later. Right now, though, I’m trying to decide where to maim you for your arrogance.” She slid the dagger along his jaw, letting it rest against his ear.

  Though he bled from multiple wounds, his eyes trailed along her rent shirt before looking overhead at her again. “You won’t even let me beg for mercy, Rhona?”

  A smile teased her lips. “Ooh, begging. But you’d better make it good—”

  He reached up and cupped the back of her head with his free hand, pulling her down and kissing her. Her hands slammed into the deck on either side of his head as she toppled onto his chest. The watching sailors went silent.

  He saw her pupils widen and heard her gasp through her nose, but she didn’t pull away. He made a low sound of approval in his throat and moved his tongue against hers, and one of her hands slid over to tangle in his braided hair.

  Finally, he let his lips slide from hers. Her eyes were wide above his, and her mostly-bared bosom heaved.

  Meena whistled somewhere among the crowd, starting high and descending in a rush. The cannonball imitation was picked up by others, and soon the deck under Salvor’s back was trembling with the pounding of boots.

  Rhona leaned over and spoke smilingly into his ear over the noise. “Well played, Vinten. You try this again, though, and I will lop something off.” She jerked the dagger from his wounded hand and cleaned it off against his shirt.

  Though his hand was throbbing like mad, he clambered to his feet and murmured, “You try to force Geret again, and I’ll do more than kiss you.”