by Rebecca Rode
And worry I did. Aden’s skills were improving, but it was obvious by the Messauns’ glares that he was the object of conversation. An invisible line had been drawn—Kemp’s men on one side, Hughens and Ellegrans on the other. The gathering storm felt like a constant buzz in my veins.
On the afternoon of day six, I decided to check on Aden. I found the prince sitting next to Barrie in the galley, playing cards with five others. Barrie looked up and grinned. “Join us. We’re playing oh-tag-four.”
I hid my irritation. Popular with the nobles, oh-tag-four was a bluffing game. The key was to look impassive while sweeping the table of their winnings. But instead of gold, the piles in front of the crew were trinkets—old watches, hand-painted cards from the isles, even a vest.
Aden’s offering included three coppers and a razor. He smiled. “Sure, Lane. Do you have something to trade?”
You, I wanted to say. I’ll happily give you away. He could be so infuriating. A noble’s game? It was like he wanted to be discovered.
“Nay,” I finally said. “But I’ll watch.” I situated myself at the empty table behind them and folded my arms.
Aden shrugged and turned back to the game. “Now deal.”
Barrie shuffled the deck and passed out six cards each. To my surprise, two Messauns also took cards, watching Barrie’s hands carefully. They wanted him to cheat so they could take his pile—a pair of new stockings and a still-usable bootlace he’d bought in Hughen.
Barrie turned over two cards, and the game began. Everyone waited for the first to make his move. The men would bluff about what they had, each bluff higher than the last. When someone lied, they could be called out. But if the caller was wrong, the victor gained his entire offering stack.
“Three sixes,” Aden said.
It was a safe bluff. Sixes were easy to get, and he wasn’t likely to be called out this early. The Messauns frowned but continued to wait.
“Sevens,” Julian said just as Barrie said, “Eights.”
My mind wandered as the game continued. I didn’t know I’d been staring at Aden until he met my gaze and smiled. My spine snapped straight and I returned his grin with a scowl.
His shoulders shook from silent laughter. Then he turned back to the cards for his turn. “Elevens.”
“I call.”
It was Jamus who had said it, a muscular Messaun with a beard that probably hid half his meals from the past week. He held his cards close and stared Aden down, obviously expecting a fight.
Aden’s grin didn’t fade as he placed his cards on the table. Three elevens. The other men groaned as he swept the winnings into his pile.
“Again,” Jamus snapped, and Barrie dealt another hand.
Aden’s smile pulled the men in too easily, I decided as the game began. Most respected him enough to withhold their usual teasing when he refused fowl at mealtimes. Paval had even begun making him a separate hen-free meal, something none of the other Hughens received. I hoped Paval spat in it for extra health.
But I knew the real person behind the smile, and I would not be fooled. Not by a smile or anything else.
“Three twelves,” Jamus said.
Barrie lifted an eyebrow. “I call.”
I frowned. Barrie wanted desperately to be seen as an equal, but this wasn’t the time to take risks.
“Very well,” the Messaun said, and placed his cards down for everyone to see. There, at the top, were three twelves.
Barrie’s shoulders slumped, but Aden was calm. “Worst sleeve trick I’ve ever seen. If you need stockings that badly, I know where you can find a pair. Can’t guarantee they aren’t infested, though.” He picked up the set of twelves. Each card had a different design on its back from the others.
The Messaun slammed his hands onto the table, making the cards shake. “This deck isn’t a full one, Hughen. We’ve pieced it together.”
It was a lie, and everyone in the room knew it. Aden seemed ready to throw his cards and lunge at the man. I gave him a warning look. To his credit, his jaw snapped shut, and they simply glared at each other over the table.
“Be careful, chicken lover,” the Messaun growled as his friend rose to stand beside him.
“Or what, you’ll steal my stockings too?”
The other spoke now. “Filthy Hughen. Kemp’ll make sure you get what’s coming, and plenty of it.”
Aden bared his teeth. “I’ve had worse threats from a dying mule.”
I rose to my feet, but Barrie beat me to it. He inserted himself between the men and shoved the stockings at the Messaun’s chest. “Here. Take them.” Then he shot Aden a look.
Aden took the hint. He shook his head and stomped toward the stairs. I watched him go, my mind numbed by the fact that Aden, a Hughen prince, had just defended my friend—a young sailor he barely knew.
I rose to follow. Despite the Messauns’ eyes burning into my back, I wore a smile of my own.
After the dim lighting below, the bright sun made me squint. A few men at work paused to watch me cross the deck. Only when we’d reached the bow near the decapitated wooden goddess did Aden turn to face me. “What?” he snapped.
“Oh-tag-four? Very subtle.”
“It was Barrie’s idea. He wanted me to teach him.” He sighed heavily, looking upward as if pleading to the sky for assistance. “Things get heated during cards sometimes. It was a harmless game.”
“Why do you hate Messauns so much?”
He looked surprised. “I don’t.”
“Your actions just now prove otherwise.”
“It’s not where they’re from, all right? It’s what they represent.”
“Which is?”
He turned away. “Forget it.”
Odd. Hughens had always hated Messauns, but this felt like something more. “Look,” I said, more quietly this time. “Not all Messauns are like that, and not all Hughens are good people either. Every man on this ship is needed and therefore deserves respect. You’ll just have to figure out how to live with them. Meanwhile, those men aren’t the only ones watching you. You’re getting sloppy. The crew listen to your choice of words, catch the sharpness of your language and the way you move.” And some would pass the information along to Kemp. “You can’t afford to be relaxed in your disguise, not even for cards.” Not even for Barrie, who looked at Aden like a smitten pup these days.
A thought occurred to me then. What if Kemp’s men had been looking for clues in Aden’s game? Maybe Kempton suspected Aden wasn’t who he claimed. He had said he looked familiar.
Aden’s smile returned. “The way I move? How is that, exactly?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You know. Just—everyone has their own way.” I couldn’t very well say that he moved with a smooth precision and confidence that captured attention. “And don’t upset yourself when they cheat. They all do it, even the Hughens. That’s the fun of playing cards, not getting caught.”
His grin faded. “Then what’s the point of rules?”
“If you want rules, go ashore. There’s only one law here—ship first, self second. It’s not something I would expect a royal to understand.”
I thought he’d argue, but he was quiet for a long moment. He clasped one arm with his other hand, staring at the broken figurehead. I settled next to him, surprised at his silence yet content to wait.
“You have a point,” Aden finally muttered. “We’ve been going about this wrong. The accent practice and deck training are helpful, but my disguise won’t be convincing until I understand how these men think. I need to know what their lives are like. That’s what I need you to teach me.”
“You want to learn about… common life?”
“Yes.” He turned back to me. “Not only for this voyage, but to take back with me. I may never get to travel like this again.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the goddess. “That is disturbing.”
“What?”
“It’s just that… Has it really never occurred to you before? To speak with com
mon folk and ask questions and see what their lives are like? I don’t see how you can lead a people you don’t know at all.”
An invisible wall slammed down between us, his eyes growing hard. “I’ve told you before, I won’t lead anyone. But commoners can raise complaints anytime they like. All they need is a noble sponsor who will represent them in court.”
“And the majority are turned away. What of them? Those with desperate needs—starving children, sick parents. The people who can’t work any longer or never could. The only commoners you’ve bothered to know are those the nobility wish you to see.” My fingers were clenched around the rail, white at the knuckles. I peeled them off and met his gaze with a fierceness that surprised even me. “You scorn Messauns like Kemp, call them conniving and prideful, yet your own government models theirs. The system of representation your king boasts about, Meldon’s Legislative Parallel? It has only hurt your country. It’s added distance between you and the people you govern and shielded you from real life.
“Do you even see the orphans living in the street, fighting for scraps? Do you bother to act when good families lose their homes after a poor harvest? Did your father give a moment’s thought that the women he sent to the gallows last week could be proven innocent at a trial? Don’t act like a benevolent god simply because you’ve descended to show interest in us. This is something you should have done long ago.”
His mouth hung slightly open, his gray eyes wide. “I… Meldon’s Parallel has brought more wealth to the country than the previous system ever did.”
“Don’t ask your tutors. Don’t ask lordlings who use sweet words at court. Ask real workers what happened to their livelihoods when that law took effect. I think you’ll be surprised at their answers.”
His jaw clenched. “Lane Garrow, expert on foreign policy and political history.”
I bit back another retort I’d regret. I meant every word, but this was the prince. Making him angry wouldn’t remove the Edict. It would just get me thrown into the dungeon when we arrived in Ellegran. Or sent directly to the gallows. “Sorry.”
He sighed. “No. You aren’t sorry, and you shouldn’t be. That is precisely what I asked for. I just wasn’t expecting it to come in such a forceful manner or from such an unusual source.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Next time you lecture me about politics, let’s find a more private location. The men are too interested in this conversation.”
I looked past his shoulder at the men who’d inched closer during my tirade. They weren’t close enough to hear, but word would rapidly spread that I’d been yelling at Aden. “No more gambling,” I shouted, hoping it would satisfy their curiosity. “Not until you have respect for our rules.”
He flinched. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“Aye. You did.”
Aden chuckled and joined me at the rail, looking down upon the poor goddess figurine leading our charge. She’d be repaired eventually, but it wasn’t worth the carpenter’s attention right now. He was busy enough trying to keep his patch in place from the cannon blast.
“Who is she?” he asked softly.
“The night goddess Medachumen.” Father said it honored the religion of the Motherland, when the Founder had sent her children to inhabit the continents hundreds of years before. Few even remembered what the religion was called. “I’ll teach you, but when we’re alone. At night, off watch.”
He nodded. “Where?”
“In the hold. It’s dark, but we won’t be overheard.” Or discovered, if my luck held. I’d have to think of a good excuse, should anyone find us alone.
“Tonight, then?”
I was about to agree when I heard the call from the nest above. “Ships ahoy!”
Ships? Occasionally, two ships sailed together for protection. But that was more common in the islands, where small bands of pirates roamed.
Father barreled out of his cabin and onto the quarterdeck to meet Dennis, who had already lifted the glass to his eye.
“Stay here,” I said. “Please.”
Aden nodded, already squinting at the horizon.
Father barely registered my arrival. He watched Dennis with an impatient frown. “How many?”
“Four, sir. I can’t make out their banners yet.”
“A convoy. This far north?”
Dennis nearly dropped the glass, then raised it again. “It can’t be.”
“What, man?”
“A b-black flag with a red blade in the center. That’s… Belza’s.”
I sucked in a quick breath as the two men stared at each other. Not one, but four ships. How could Belza have gathered such a following already? And how could he possibly have found us so quickly?
Father tore the glass from Dennis’s hands and squinted into it. “Impossible. Belza’s on his way to Hughen from the east.”
“Perhaps we were wrong about his whereabouts,” Dennis said.
Father growled under his breath. “They must be imitators. Belza wouldn’t dare raise his old pirate banner as a privateer. He’d be arrested again within the week.”
“Why would a convoy pretend to be pirates?” I asked. “And if they’re pirates, why pretend to be Belza’s?”
“Scare tactic, I’d guess. When he discovers they’re using his name, he’ll hunt them down to the last man.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Dennis scowled as he took the glass back. “Imitators or not, four ships block the channel, and they’ve likely spotted us. We’d best turn around. We’ll sail north and hire a ship in Messau to deliver the copper instead. Or take the longer route south around the continent.”
“That will add six additional weeks,” Father said, looking at me now.
I tried unsuccessfully to tamp down my irritation. Father had allowed fear to guide him at the port, and we’d all suffered for it. I refused to be the cause of such a decision again, especially when we were already low on men and provisions. But my father had a Hughen prince on board and didn’t even know it. Did Aden have something to do with those ships?
I considered telling Father about Aden. A captain deserved to know who served on his ship, didn’t he? It would lessen the burden of lies that I carried. It was the responsible thing for a captain’s boy to do, much less a daughter.
Then I remembered everything Father refused to tell me, and I clamped my mouth stubbornly closed.
“Sir. There are figures running about, clearing the decks. They’ve been ordered to give chase.” There was an edge of panic in Dennis’s voice. “If we veer hard north straightaway, they won’t catch us. I’ll issue the order immediately.”
Father still watched me, his frown deepening. “There’s no guarantee we can outrun them that way. Our destination is Ellegran, and no pretenders are going to stop us. We’ll thread the Needle and come out on the other side. They won’t dare follow, and we’ll be two days ahead.”
My chest felt tight. “You said it was unsafe. The last time—”
“Unsafe but not impossible. The Needle should be passable this time of year. Aye, ’tis the best heading.”
“Captain,” Dennis moaned. “You can’t be serious.”
“You heard me.” He raised his voice. “Marley, head six degrees east. Dennis will assist you with the map.”
“Aye, sir,” Marley said, gripping the wheel with tight knuckles. He hadn’t missed a word either.
This wasn’t about the copper. Father intended to dump me off in Ellegran before fleeing south until the pirate threat disappeared. But that could be years from now. Decades, perhaps.
Father brought the glass to his eye once again before returning it to Dennis. His shoulders were high and rigid, his mouth tight. I felt light-headed. Four pirate ships. If he truly saw the Needle as our best option for survival, he knew exactly who those ships belonged to—and they were no impostors.
Kemp trotted up to the quarterdeck. “What news have ye, Cap’n?”
“Gather the men, Gun Master. We’re steering into Hellion’s Corridor.”
Kemp’s smile froze. “Not the Needle, sir?”
“Aye.”
Kemp tore the glass from Dennis’s hands and extended it toward the ships in the distance. When he finally pulled away, there was an odd expression on his face. “Captain, I don’t think—”
Father whirled on him. “Gather the men. Now.”
The two glared at each other so intensely, I feared the air between them would catch aflame. It was Kemp who finally stepped back, muttering to himself. He shoved the glass into Father’s hands and stomped down the steps.
I dragged my feet back to the bow, where Aden still waited. He looked as grim as I felt. Every man on deck had seen the worry on the captain’s face. When they discovered where he intended to take us, that concern would multiply considerably.
My voice was numb. “We won’t be meeting tonight. Father is taking us through the Needle.”
Aden’s eyes widened. “Then it’s true. Captain Garrow has done it before. That’s how he crosses the sea so fast.”
“He once worked as a pilot on Two Light Island,” I explained. “Ships paid him well to navigate them through. But then the storms worsened, and now nobody else dares attempt it.” I didn’t mention that my father hadn’t done it in three years himself. Our last crossing had been barely successful, and that was in the calm waters of summer.
That wasn’t all that bothered me. Kemp’s reaction to those ships had been odd. Not like he’d expected them, exactly, but he certainly wasn’t happy about fleeing.
Aden nodded. “I’m looking forward to seeing the captain guide us through. We’ll meet tomorrow night, then. After our watch ends at the first bell.”
“First bell,” I agreed, although my mind was a thousand miles away.
The Needle was exactly how it sounded: a narrow, rocky channel in which visibility was always poor. Its riverlike current barely fit a single ship across in some places. Even now, as I squinted at the high cliff walls in the distance, I could see the remains of decades-old shipwrecks floating out to sea. Hellion’s Corridor. The shortcut ships entered but rarely exited intact.