by Rebecca Rode
Father said not to hate King Eurion, that the man had announced the law in mourning. I snorted at the thought. Killing dozens of innocent women wouldn’t bring back anybody.
To my right was another plaque, scroll shaped and nearly covered in smatters of old saliva. Elena’s crew list. My heart hitched as I stepped closer, hesitated, and began to read. Each name was crossed out in a crude, almost angry way. It made them difficult to distinguish, but not impossible.
I read each name, paused, then scanned the whole list again. Only then did I let myself breathe deeply once again.
Father’s name wasn’t there.
A strange mix of relief and shame filled the space that worry had left behind. I’d jumped to a terrible conclusion rather than rely on what I knew about my own father. Rumors would come and go as they always did, but the Majesty’s first rule would always apply: loyalty. To the ship, to the crew, and to its captain. Surely that included my own flesh and blood.
If my father was a pirate, I would have known. It was that simple.
When time passed and the rumors evaporated like mist, Belza would still be just a man with a violent past. The Four Lands all despised him. If he lasted a month without a ball in his chest, I would be surprised. I examined the queen statue again, letting a familiar anger well up once more.
Belza hadn’t killed anyone today, but King Eurion had. He was the one who stood in my way. He was my enemy. While that innocent woman hadn’t survived, I would. I knew it sure as the ugly cobblestone and the waiting horses tied to shop fronts, heads lowered in lazy slumber. Not only would I survive, but I would command my father’s ship someday, whether anyone liked it or not. As Lane, I was powerful—strong, safe, worthy of respect. Everything a captain should be.
The rain began again. I raised my face to welcome it as footsteps stopped behind me. I whirled to find Father standing there with a dark expression, his hat clutched in both hands. “You shouldn’t have fled the execution like that, bringing attention upon yourself.”
I frowned. That wasn’t what I’d expected him to say. I considered telling him about the strange boy, then thought better of it. “I could have danced a jig and nobody would’ve noticed. Lands forbid they miss a second of someone’s suffering.”
“This isn’t a joke,” he snapped. “I should be angry at your blatant disobedience… but then, had you listened, it could be your body swinging back there.”
That familiar tightening sensation returned, and I swallowed just to prove I could. “It wasn’t.”
“Because of a coincidence. We can’t rely on coincidences, Lane. Things are changing here, getting more complicated. Nowhere is truly safe for you now.” He shoved the hat back onto his head, seeming to gather himself. “There was a missive in the post today. From Nara.”
I stiffened. Nara. The name felt wrong, like a word reflected backward in a mirror. She was “that woman” or “your mum,” the tainted shadow of a life long past for both my father and me. He hadn’t uttered her name in years.
“What did she want?”
“She’s sent for you. Owns a manor in Ellegran now, said she’ll set aside a room. Think of it. No more sharing a ship’s cabin with your father, separated by a hanging sheet. Your own room.”
My thoughts swirled until I felt unbalanced, like a giant crack had appeared in the deck and I was falling, falling, falling, trying to catch myself before I struck the water and never rose again. This couldn’t be happening, not when the path I’d chosen depended so much on the Majesty. “My own room,” I repeated flatly.
“All to yourself.”
I gritted my teeth to gain a little control. “Why would I care about four walls and a floor? And you didn’t tell me you’ve been speaking with that—that… priss. The woman left me on the docks for dead.”
“She sends missives occasionally. It’s only proper to answer. And she didn’t leave you for dead—she trusted you to my care.” His face twisted, like he was still trying to convince himself. There was a pain there I’d never seen before. For things done or left undone, I wasn’t sure. “Now I’ll be trusting you to hers.”
I pushed back my rising panic and folded my arms. I knew what he wasn’t saying. “This is about Belza, isn’t it? You’re afraid he’ll find you, and you’re panicking.”
He blinked, but recovered quickly. “It’s more than—”
“The inspectors aren’t such a danger either,” I plunged on. “If we avoided them today, we can avoid them again.”
“You’re sixteen now, Lane,” he growled. “Only a year away from marriage age. We both knew this wouldn’t last forever. You’ve a pretty face and a different shape even than last year. It won’t be long before you start your womanly courses.”
I kept my face blank. That particular surprise was three years old, long past. A dark day. I’d been vigilant with the laundry since then. But that wasn’t even the hardest part of hiding who I was. I hunched my shoulders a little more, feeling the linen bindings under my shirt pinch tighter. “No matter.”
“Aye? You look twelve, but even young lads grow up sometime. Where is the chest hair? Your voice change? The crew will notice things like you going to the bathhouse alone at port and sneaking your bucket around. I’m a fool. Should’ve listened to Dennis and sent you away years ago.”
I blinked, his words sizzling into my soul like hot tar. This wasn’t something that had just occurred to him. He’d thought this decision through, weighing each consequence and stacking them against me without my knowing. These were arguments he’d been collecting for a very long time. In my mind, it had always been Father and me against the world. The two of us, facing down inspectors and pirates and hard winters. As I watched for adventure on the horizon, had he been watching for Belza? As I dreamed of inheriting the ship, had he waited until the day he could finally be rid of me?
He’d even written my mum—that woman—and kept it from me. Somehow, that was the greatest betrayal of all.
“I’m no child,” I said. “I know the dangers and I choose this anyway. All of it. The inspectors, suspicion. Belza.”
“You know very little of it. ’Tis my responsibility to protect you, as your father.”
“I’m not afraid. I refuse to let them beat me as they’ve obviously beaten you.”
His eyes turned sharp as a pirate’s blade. “And I refuse to see you on that platform with a noose around your neck. I’m protecting you from yourself as much as the world. Ellegran will be your home, and that’s final.”
I grimaced. The words hacked like a cutlass at my earlier resolve. The Majesty was home. My life there existed like the gulls overhead and the water below. It just was.
Father softened at my expression. “You’ll have a better life in Ellegran than I could ever offer you anyway. With your mother’s station, you could stop being Lane and become anyone you like. No more pretending, no more hiding. No more lies.”
“My hiding? My pretending?” My voice was incredulous. I had spent my life hiding, perhaps, but never pretending. Lane was me. I was meant to be a sailor, even if I had to wear boy’s clothing to do it. Did he truly not see that? “Tell me what Belza wants from you so we can discuss lies in depth.”
He flinched. My retort had found its mark. “I refuse to discuss either matter. You will return to the ship this instant.”
I felt victory slipping away. “Father, I—I barely remember my life before. The Majesty is all I know. If you won’t give me a choice, at least give me more time to prepare.”
He watched me for a long moment. There was a heaviness in his eyes that scared me. “A choice, then. Pahn the hen farmer is looking for help. It isn’t glamorous work, but it will provide what you need to survive. Or if you choose to return to the Majesty, know this—I will gauge your safety carefully on this voyage. If I feel your life is in danger, you won’t question my decision to send you off. The Majesty sets sail at dawn.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, then shut it again and stalked away.
; I was left gaping after him. Sometime in the past hour, my life had taken a horrifying turn. He had to know I could never be happy raising livestock after the open sea. But when faced with being the daughter of some Ellegran lady, I wasn’t sure which was worse.
A montage of experiences came to mind—canvas snapping in a taut northern wind, the slippery wetness of freshly scrubbed wood beneath my knees, the acidic heaviness of gunpowder in my nostrils after a long drill. Even the tiny slivers from mending line meant that I was alive, far more than the prettiest embroidery ever could. How could my own room in a quiet, lonely house ever compare?
The shock had fully drained away now, leaving behind a hard core of anger. What I wanted didn’t matter. Not to Father, not to Eurion. It was about superstition, not logic. Never mind that I could tie a bowline knot faster than anyone else in the crew, one so tight the devil himself couldn’t loose it. I was faster up the ratlines than anybody, and I knew the Gaigon Channel better than most sailors four times my age. I’d been born to sail, to command a crew. Our crew. I just had to find a solution that would calm Father’s irrational fears.
I headed straight for the docks, adopting the wide-stepped swagger of a twelve-year-old boy, as always. It barely took a thought these days. A contingent of blue-clad soldiers marched by, likely returning to the palace from the gallows. They carried no body. The poor woman’s corpse had likely been thrown into a wagon bound for the sea alongside those of the paupers whose families couldn’t afford the burial fee.
My reflection in a shop window slid to an abrupt stop. A skinny figure with jaw-length hair pulled back into a tail stared back. Typical sailor. Sure, I was taller than most captain’s boys—they usually rose to a midship position by thirteen—but nothing about me screamed girl. My bindings, stretched as they were, still kept all my curves flat. Nothing was amiss.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to look again.
And there it was. The trousers fit a bit more snugly than they should, the shirt too tight through the chest. A slender neck was barely visible under a dirty collar, and a sprinkling of freckles highlighted a hooked, very feminine nose. But above all, dark eyes glowered back at me with the wisdom of someone far older than the twelve years I pretended. Pain reflected back, the anger of a girl who’d spent her life reaching desperately for something the world had declared impossible.
I’d grown up around men. I spoke like them, walked like them. I knew how to swing my arms and stride around like the world was mine. I had the right clothes and the right words. Even the right build. But as long as men like King Eurion and Captain Belza pursued us, I would spend my life running. At some point I would have to turn and fight.
New clothes, I decided. A new shirt at the very least, and stronger bindings. Perhaps a hat. New trousers could come later. Once we put distance between the ship and Hughen, we could all relax again.
A sharp wind tore at my ponytail, grabbing a piece of dull brown hair and trying to send it eastward. The king and that horrid pirate could fall on their own swords. For once, I didn’t hunch my shoulders as I headed for the docks.
I would command the Majesty someday. The world would just have to get used to the idea.
I was nearly to the ship when I spotted our gun master, Kempton, filling a tavern doorway. His white-blond hair was a tight knot at the back of his head, and his shirtsleeves were torn clean off as always. He insisted it was for convenience in battle. I knew better. Kemp wielded intimidation like a weapon, and he did it well. But as formidable as his stature appeared, it was the chilling gaze from his nearly clear Messaun eyes that made men’s knees shake.
He muttered something to the handful of men surrounding him as I passed, his voice slurred. There was a smattering of uneasy laughter. Drunker than a rat in a barrel of ale. Last time he’d sounded like that, Father had been forced to pay half a month’s wages to bail him out from the city dungeons. Yet somehow I was the one being kicked off the crew.
I was so distracted that I stumbled over a loose cobblestone in the road—only to smack hard into a man’s chest. He grunted.
“My apol—” I began, but the words died in my throat. It was the boy in the expensive clothes with the dirt stain so close I could touch it with my nose.
Fear surged once again, and that familiar choking sensation returned. It was too late to run. If he shouted, the guards would be upon us within seconds. Mustering every ounce of willpower I possessed, I folded my arms across my chest and returned his probing gaze with my best glare. Nothing girl about this sailor, my hard expression said. Not an ounce of feminine weakness.
His mouth—a perfectly shaped one—turned upward into a grin. “You were saying?” No accusations, no interrogating questions. He simply looked pleased.
I frowned. “No matter.” I turned and stalked away.
He trotted up from behind and matched my stride, oblivious. “That was impressive.”
I groaned inwardly. “Walking down the street isn’t particularly impressive.”
“Escaping the execution. Pretending to be sick was brilliant. Masterfully done.”
I glanced at him again, but there was only amusement in his eyes. He hadn’t given chase then, nor had he sent the guards after me. I’d run away like a fool and he’d been happy to watch me do it.
My gaze slid down to his boots again. No merchant could afford such expensive leather. The rich son of a lord, then. I shot him another scowl, which made him chuckle, then I sneaked a discreet look across the harbor to the Majesty. Her deck lay empty. No inspection teams, no soldiers.
“How fortunate that you were entertained,” I said. “Now explain why you’re following me about.”
He hurried to match my pace. “Actually, I wondered if you’d help me secure passage.” He spotted a contingent of guards at the other end of the dock and hunched his shoulders.
I eyed him. What kind of lordling feared royal soldiers? None I wanted to be involved with, that was certain. I began to jog. He did the same. My scowl deepened.
“You’ll have to talk to the captain about that,” I said.
“That’s the traditional way to get passage, yes. But my situation is different. Could you just—” He grabbed at my arm, trying to pull me to a halt.
I whirled to face him, yanking my arm free. “Don’t touch me, or you’ll be taking a long swim. I say again, you’re talking to the wrong person. Only the captain or an officer can grant you passage.”
He dropped his hand. “Captain Garrow already refused me. He won’t transport those running from the guards.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then we’re done here.”
“I’ll pay well. It’s extremely important. Please.”
I sent him a flat look. Nobility were the cheapest people alive—they always undercut our usual fares. Lords and ladies considered their presence blessing enough for the merchants and captains serving them, as if being forced to bow and scrape was the purpose of a sailor’s very existence. Only shadowy business would cause nobility to offer a huge sum for passage. Even so…
“We don’t want your gold,” I told him.
He blinked. “I’m short on other resources at the moment.”
“Besides, we don’t work with lords and ladies.”
“Fortunately, I’m neither lord nor lady,” the boy said with a half smile. “And I’d like to point out that I’m running from the king’s guards, something nobility doesn’t do. You need money, and I need passage. We can help each other.”
I paused. “Why do you think we need money?”
He looked surprised. “Belza’s interest in Captain Garrow has scared off all his usual customers. He’s been asking merchants for loans all morning. I thought you knew.”
So much for Father’s reputation. The slightest doubt, and everyone he knew had abandoned him as though he were an injured gull. But I couldn’t deny my interest in the stranger’s offer. “You said you’d pay well?”
“Very.” He looked over his shoulder at the guards aga
in.
I hesitated. He was right that we needed to leave quickly, but this could all be an elaborate hoax. The boy was obviously upper class, no matter what he pretended. If he was lying about being from a lord’s house, this conversation was already dangerous. Even as the fugitive son of a lord, he could have a personal relationship with King Eurion. Turning me in would be a simple task. But there was an edge of panic to his voice that couldn’t be faked. Whatever he’d done, it was terrible enough to make him desperate. Desperation could be used.
If only he weren’t so blasted nice to look at.
“Halt!” someone called behind us.
I flinched and turned slowly, my heart leaping to a gallop. But the guard stalked past me toward a wagon jostling by. The driver, a gray-haired man with a bulbous nose and hard eyes, yanked at the reins just as the guard jogged up and leaped onto the wagon bed. He began shoving around the man’s load.
“What are you looking for?” the old driver growled. The guard shot him a scathing look, causing the driver to hunch his shoulders and turn back to his team.
A moment later, the guard jumped down and tossed a dismissive hand toward the driver, who snapped the reins. The guard strode in my direction with a scowl. I realized I was staring. I crossed my arms over my shirt and threw a glance toward the rail. The boy was gone.
“You,” the guard said, stopping in front of me. “Have you seen a boy of seventeen, brown hair?” His breath stunk of old meat.
I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head.
“Send for a guard if you see him.” He was already walking away.
Air escaped me in a long, relieved breath. Two close calls in a single day. Our departure couldn’t come soon enough.