by Giles Carwyn
“Well done, Mother. See how strong you are becoming?”
Issefyn clenched her teeth.
“Now that you have had your breakfast, would you like to see what is going on in the world? Or would you rather return to your little nest?” He patted the bed.
She said nothing.
“Come,” he said. “The fresh air will do you good.”
Suspicious, she followed the ghost out the door and up the steps. The sunlight was painfully bright, and she could feel a hint of her headache return. She squinted and looked forward. Her eyes finally adjusted, and she realized that the fleet was stopped. They had all dropped sails and were drifting in the slight breeze. A second, smaller fleet bobbed on the swells a few hundred yards from them. The black ships bore three pointed stars on their triangular sails, the symbol of the Ohohhim navy.
Issefyn sneered, scanning the ships until she spotted Arefaine standing on the deck of the foremost ship. The upstart wore a black gown and a powdered face and was surrounded by a horde of swordsmen in those preposterous finned helmets, but Issefyn could see little else at this distance.
So the arrogant girl had betrayed the emperor and brought his minions to heel. Let her bask in her glory for now. When the time was ripe, Issefyn would peel that perfect white mask from her face strip by bloody strip.
A lone figure rowed toward the preening brat, crossing the distance between the two fleets. Issefyn brushed him with her magic and sneered.
Vinghelt was struggling to row by himself, fighting the swells with no attendants to do the hard work for him. She frowned and looked at the shade’s mocking visage, clothed in the features of her dead son. “Why does he row alone?” she asked.
He merely smiled and said nothing. Issefyn turned back to the scene. Vinghelt caught a line tossed from Arefaine’s ship and climbed aboard.
The moronic Summer Prince made a great show of greeting Arefaine as if she were a long-lost friend. He kissed her hand, lingering in a grandiose bow like a groveling peacock with an erection.
For some reason the man seemed to fancy his cock trapped in a block of Ohohhim ice. Issefyn wondered why he even tried. Rutting with that man would be the blandest two minutes of any woman’s life. Surely even Arefaine could see that.
“Look at her,” Issefyn scoffed. “Treating that worm like a long-lost brother. Has she even asked about me? Has she forgotten who brought her this little fleet wrapped up with a bow?”
“The young Mother Regent has many things on her mind right now.”
“Loyalty and gratitude obviously aren’t among them.”
Arefaine and Vinghelt continued to talk. Issefyn couldn’t hear what they said, but as she looked closer, she saw a shadow hovering beside Arefaine. Careful not to draw attention to herself, Issefyn extended her ani, trying to bring the shadow into focus.
When she did, she began to laugh, then turned to face Victeris.
“I see you haunt the girl just as you haunt me.”
“A father likes to be near his children.”
The shade of a slender man in a green sarong stood at Arefaine’s right elbow. It leaned over and whispered something in her ear.
“So that is her father’s face you wear. Do you think the real Darius Morgeon would approve?”
“I am more a father to her than that man could ever be. He betrayed everything she loves—”
“—when he locked you away,” she finished for him.
Victeris seemed unperturbed. He shrugged. “She sees what she needs to see. For now.”
“And when she sees your true nature, how do you think she will feel?”
“A fine teacher moves slowly, only sharing the truth when his students are ready to accept it. As she matures, she will understand.”
“I see,” Issefyn said, watching Arefaine. The girl looked calm and confident, securely in control. She was not the manipulative hypocrite who hid behind the emperor’s skirts as she maneuvered the knife toward his back. Nor was she the brazen girl who threw her power around in Ohndarien like a harlot on parade.
Arefaine seemed to grow bored as Vinghelt droned on and on. She reached out with her mind to inspect the Summer Fleet. Issefyn hastily bolstered her glamour, but she needn’t have bothered. As soon as Arefaine’s power coalesced, the shade at her side said something, distracting her. She never made an inspection of the ships.
“You’re leading her by the nose,” Issefyn said, wondering if the shade had overpowered her, or was simply playing a clever game of lies.
“I am nurturing her.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Issefyn inspected the girl more carefully, wondering what else she had missed. She was surprised to find yet another shadow, this one at Vinghelt’s side. The Summer Prince was accompanied by a naked woman with green skin and hair that flowed to her feet like a waterfall.
She laughed. “Are you nurturing the buffoon also? Am I the only one who knows your true face?”
“For now.”
She sneered. “Why do you bother with these others? You and I are the only ones truly worthy of Efften’s legacy.”
“Perhaps,” Victeris said. “But a father loves all of his children equally. Even Vinghelt contains an ember of the sacred fire. Who knows where its light could lead him?”
No doubt to the same place a flame leads a moth, Issefyn thought.
Once more, Arefaine began to send her magic across the water to inspect the Summer Fleet, and once again, she was distracted by the shade at her side. Issefyn narrowed her eyes.
“You don’t want her to see what kind of crew Vinghelt is using, do you?”
Victeris maintained his calm smile, but said nothing.
“Are you afraid your little baby girl would disapprove of your methods?” she pressed.
Victeris shrugged. “There are some things you just don’t tell the children,” he said.
“She will learn soon enough,” Issefyn warned.
“Of course she will,” Victeris said softly. “They all do.”
Chapter 21
Brophy pushed the bulky needle through the threadbare cloth. The needle was supposed to be used for repairing sails, not trousers.
His pants would look like Reef’s face when he was finished, but at least he wouldn’t be hanging out of them.
He looked over at Shara where she sat at the back of the boat, wearing nothing but her oversized shirt, her hand resting on the tiller.
She was smiling.
It nearly broke his heart.
His whole body clenched when he thought back to what he’d done earlier that morning. He’d thrown her on the deck, ripped his own pants off to get at her. It reminded him of that black moment in the Nine Squares arena when he lost all composure and deliberately cut through Phee’s eye. That had been the first time in his life that he enjoyed hurting someone. That image of his fighting claw slicing through the other boy’s eye had haunted him ever since, but that moment of uncontrollable rage had only lasted a few seconds. What he’d done with Shara that morning had gone on and on.
He remembered striking her, biting her, slamming her against the deck, attacking her like she was everything he ever hated in the world. The rage exploded out of him, his whole body was screaming louder and louder. He was sure he was going to die, that the whole world would rip itself apart if he ever truly let go.
But he did let go, he completely let go, and Shara held him together.
He winced at the memory of his fists pounding against her face. But she survived every blow; somehow healing the wounds with a magic he had never seen before. She accepted everything he threw at her, and his hatred disappeared into her depthless ocean. His searing rage washed over her, through her, and vanished. He flooded her with pure evil, his evil, Efften’s evil, all the evil in the world, and she took it all. Took it all and repaid him with love.
He hung his head, suddenly dizzy. He felt so ashamed in the face of her courage and determination, so unworthy. How could anyone love that much?
What could he possibly have done to deserve that?
“You keep crying over there, you’ll never get those pants sewed,” she called out to him.
He looked up, wiping the moisture from his eyes. “You calling me a baby?”
“Yup. Big baby.” She laughed, her whole face glowing. Her dark hair fluttered in the wind, and he could see the golden feather beneath her shirt, nestled between her breasts. Her tanned skin was completely unmarked even thought he’d hit her hard enough to break steel.
He turned away and tried to add another stitch with trembling hands.
“Never mind the pants,” she said. “I like you better without them.”
He shook his head and pushed the needle through the cloth. “That’s easy for you to say. When’s the last time you ran into battle with your little man hanging out?”
She smiled and gave the tiller a sudden jerk. The boat lurched, and Brophy had to grab the gunnels to keep from being tossed overboard.
“Put that down and come over here,” she insisted.
He rose, his heart beating faster, his empty stomach squirming. The Fiend was still there. Brophy could feel him hovering like a storm in the distance. But for the first time since he made his sacrifice, he felt whole again. His heart was his own.
He walked over and knelt in front of her. She leaned forward and kissed him. “This time, let’s go slow,” she whispered. He wrapped his arms around her and the two of them sank to the deck. Her bare legs slid around his.
The boat suddenly jibbed as she let go of the tiller. The boom swung around and they rolled across the deck, slamming into the side of the boat.
“I said slow,” she whispered, laughing in his ear.
“All right,” he said, pulling back a little so he could look at her. “Slow.”
Carefully shifting his weight, he slipped inside as gently as he could. Her mouth opened, and she took little gasps of breath.
“Now who’s the big baby?” he asked, brushing a tear from her cheek.
She smiled, and she suddenly looked fragile, like the slightest pressure would crush her.
“I spent a lifetime waiting for this moment,” she said. “This one moment right here.”
He nodded, never believing he could feel this way again. She’d had to do the believing for both of them.
She reached out and touched his face, her skin warm despite the chill of the steady breeze. “All those years,” she said, her brows drawing together. “I kept telling myself that what we felt was real. Those few days on the way to the Cinder, those last moments atop the Hall of Windows. I kept telling myself that was love and love is real.”
He looked into her eyes and felt her magic swirling through them. It felt like every part of them was touching at once.
“A part of me never believed it,” she continued. “A part of me always hated myself for playing the fool.” Her hand slid across his cheek. “But right now…” She smiled as a sob burst from her throat. “Right now I’m very happy that I did.”
Brophy felt a tear roll off the tip of his nose. It splashed on her cheek.
He leaned down and kissed her. “We’re going to win this one,” he whispered, his lips never leaving hers. “I can feel it.”
Chapter 22
The sky far to the east was beginning to glow when Brophy spotted what he was looking for.
“There,” he said, pointing at the dark silhouettes that dotted the northern horizon. Shara squinted into the darkness.
“By the Seasons, Brophy,” she gasped, shaking her head. “That’s a lot of ships.” She adjusted the tiller and turned their boat directly toward them.
“The most powerful fleets in the world,” he murmured, in grudging admiration of what Arefaine had accomplished. She had united two of the largest fleets in the world and was ready to challenge the third.
The sun rose higher as they sailed closer to the vast armada and he could soon make out the black, triangular sails of the Ohohhim ships amid the many-colored banners of the Summer Fleet. He did a quick count. There had to be nearly a hundred Ohohhim ships, and twice as many in the Summer Fleet. The bulky hulls and brightly colored sails of the Summermen’s pleasure barges surrounded the austere Ohohhim warships like a gaudy ruffle.
“Have you thought any more about how you are going to approach Arefaine?”
“I’ve barely thought about anything else for the past three days,” he said. “It hinges on the Fiend. This Efflum. He’s convinced her that he’s her father. I have to find some way to prove he’s lying, and break his hold on her.”
Shara nodded. “Are you sure you want her to survive this battle?” she asked, looking at Brophy with a frown. “If Ossamyr tried to assassinate Arefaine, she must have had a good reason. I can’t help agreeing with her a little bit. The coming bloodbath is Arefaine’s doing, and for what? I keep wondering if maybe a hundred years is not so long a time to wait for the Silver Islanders to finish the job they started. Why not let them finish the Fiend? Why do we need Arefaine?”
“We’ve been through this before, Shara. The Fiend is growing stronger. He’s working his way free. Ohndarien has already been overrun by weeping ones. How long until the rest of the world is just like her?”
Her lips pressed together in a line, and she watched him.
“Arefaine is the only one who can stop him.”
“All right,” she said. “I trust your judgment. We’ll do it your way.”
“Thank you. The first thing we have to do is stop this battle while we still can. But how do I convince her to turn against the only person she’s ever loved?”
“By making her a better offer.”
He looked at her, frowning. “No. I won’t step back into the role the emperor wrote for me. I won’t try to seduce her.”
“Who said anything about seducing?”
“I’m not going to try to manipulate her either. I don’t even think I could. She’s too smart for that.”
“So don’t lie. Don’t say anything. Just be there. Just love her.”
He shook his head. “I don’t love her. I love you.”
She took his hand, squeezed it. “I know,” she murmured. “I know that to the center of my bones. But isn’t there room in the human heart for more than just one person?”
He watched her, but didn’t say anything.
“You may not love her the same way you love me, but you still love her. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about her. The rest of us assume the worst in her. But you’ve always seen things differently. Just like when you cast the music box off the Hall of Windows. I thought you were insane, but you were right. Your intuition was strong, Brophy, and I trust it. You want Arefaine to be treated decently. You want to protect her, help her find the home she’s always looked for. Isn’t that love?” She shrugged. “I think it’s the best part of love.”
Brophy looked at the ships in the distance, frowning in concentration.
“You might be right,” he said quietly.
“I know I am. If she’s going to listen to anyone, she’ll listen to you. She loves you.”
Brophy shook his head. “Perhaps she did once, but not anymore.”
“Love is love, Brophy. It doesn’t go away that easily.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“You need to go to her, and go alone.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she said, squeezing his hand. “The last thing Arefaine wants to see is your other lover by your side.”
“But, Shara—”
She cut him off with a look. “I’ll be right behind you, just out of sight. But she’s never going to hear you with me there.”
He frowned. “You’re starting to sound like the emperor,” he said.
She smiled. “I always liked the emperor. I would have slept with him if I wasn’t so busy pining over your bier.”
Brophy started to protest again, but his eyes narrowed as he spotted something in the distance. “Look,” he said, pointing fa
rther east.
Shara narrowed her eyes. There was a large atoll just north of Efften. The narrow strait between the two islands was full of Islander warships, their steel prows glinting in the morning sun.
“Dammit,” Brophy said. “I wanted to get to Arefaine first.”
Shara looked back and forth between the two fleets heading straight for each other. “We drifted too far west during the night. I don’t think we’ll make it.”
He took the tiller from Shara, and she stood up, her gaze fixed on the ships in the distance. “It looks like the Silver Islanders are outnumbered two-or three-to-one,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean much,” Brophy assured her. “Ship for ship, no one can match the Silver Islanders on the open seas.”
Brophy remembered the grim resolution on Reef’s face when he set his own ship ablaze to keep it out of Brophy’s hands. That kind of fanaticism had allowed them to rule the Great Ocean for centuries.
“If anyone could win this battle, it is the Silver Islanders.”
“Not against Arefaine and that many weeping ones. They’re sailing to their deaths and they’re taking Ossamyr with them.”
“I know. I still can’t believe the two of you became friends.”
“She changed, Brophy. And she never forgave herself for what she did to you.”
“That makes two of us.”
Shara shook her head. “She’s done no worse to you than Arefaine. How can you forgive the one and not the other?”
Brophy sighed. “None of that matters now. Can you find Arefaine with your magic? Do you know where she is?”
Shara turned to face the Ohohhim fleet. Her black hair fluttered behind her in the stiff breeze. Her straight nose, her full lips, were painted bright against that dark backdrop. Brophy followed her gaze, searching the distant ships for any sign of the young woman who had nearly been his lover and his executioner.
The Ohohhim ships were in the center of the formation. Plumes of black smoke rose from the incendiaries smoldering on their decks, leaving a black haze in their wake.
“There she is.” Shara pointed. “In the crow’s nest of that largest ship, there in the center.”