by Rebecca Rode
But I was no royal, and my blood demanded differently.
I grabbed his head and pulled it down, pressing my lips to his.
He tensed only a moment, his mouth curving into a grin, and then I felt something within him snap. He held my face in his hands and took our kiss to a new level, his lips firm and demanding. He pulled me toward him until we’d closed every inch of distance between us, wet against dry, my shirt against his bare chest. His fingers threaded in my hair, holding me tight against him, protecting me from the world.
I’d been wrong about the politeness and patience in his blood. This was a man who knew what he wanted, and I was it.
His kisses—one upon the other, until I was desperate for air—sent heat racing through my body. I trembled in his arms. And then his kisses slowed, growing more tender and soft. His lips were a brush on mine, a quiet promise.
He pulled away and I moved to follow, a drunken sigh escaping me, but he placed his forehead against mine instead. His breaths came in quiet gasps.
“I’ve thought about doing that a hundred times,” he said, his voice raspy. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Then don’t question it. Let it just be.”
“I want nothing more.” He paused, then raised an eyebrow. “Well, I do want more, but first we’ll have to win my kingdom back.”
I gave him a wry grin. Aden’s little problem of being royal wasn’t our biggest issue right now. We had to discover the state of his government. Then he had a rebellion to organize. Then, somehow, we had to sneak into the palace and rescue Aden’s family. Failure during any of those steps would mean death for us both.
It felt utterly impossible. Of course, Aden and I had just experienced a moment I would have deemed impossible too. Perhaps impossible just involved taking desperate risks that turned wonderful in the end.
“We can’t do anything till we’re dry,” I reminded Aden, reaching for him again. He chuckled and leaned in once more.
The night passed quickly. By sunrise, the only sign of the pirates’ chase was a few muddy footprints near town. I imagined Belza’s enraged tantrum when they’d told him Aden was gone. That image, along with Aden’s fingers intertwined with mine, made me grin as we walked. It didn’t stop me from scouring the forest around us, though. I kept my free hand on one axe just in case.
The morning was a crisp one, the murky air cleared by last night’s rain. The cobblestones beneath my boots were still damp as we reached the outskirts of town, rivulets of water slanting downward toward the canals. The water level had risen even higher since I’d been here last. It had been three weeks since I’d met Aden and embarked on my very last voyage on the Majesty. Three weeks since I’d first suspected my father was a pirate. It had seemed like the worst thing imaginable.
It felt like a lifetime ago. Or perhaps a different lifetime altogether.
“I still think I should have come alone,” I told Aden. “Even if the pirates aren’t looking, the Messaun soldiers might be. Someone is sure to recognize you.”
He stroked his stubbled chin. “Not with this, they won’t. I doubt they would recognize me anyway, considering my family only travels in covered carriages. Besides, you’ve been through enough. I’m not sending you anywhere I don’t dare go myself.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Even this princeling has a little pride.”
My cheeks warmed under his gaze. I finally ducked and let my hand drop, failing to hide a smile. “Let’s get this over with, then. You wanted to gauge the military presence in the square, right?”
“The palace gates actually, if we can get close enough. I need to know what I’m up against.” His stomach rumbled, echoing the hollowness of my own. “I don’t suppose you have any coins left?”
“Nay, but I have a baker friend who might be able to help us. The market should be open on our way back.” Assuming life had resumed as normal and the soldiers didn’t immediately spot Aden and chase us down. I wasn’t all that certain of either. I was accustomed to sneaking about in this city, staying beneath the guards’ notice. Yet beard or not, Aden was far from inconspicuous. His face looked better, but the bruising was impossible to hide, and his clothing was in shambles. It was hard to see any of that when he strode with such confidence. He walked more quickly every minute, the light in his gray eyes increasing with each step closer to home and family.
Meanwhile, my own uneasiness increased as we approached the palace and the city began to awaken. The embargo and the soldiers on the beach were enough of an indication that something wasn’t right. But even now, as the sun chased away the night’s shadows, I could tell the town had changed since my visit yesterday. No children darted about the walks on their way to school. No carts rolled by, laden with goods to be sold in shops or at the market. The usual contingents of soldiers were absent. Very few people walked the streets, and they hurried past with their gazes fixed on the ground. It was as if Hughen itself cowered, holding its breath. Waiting for something.
It reminded me of Messau.
“Aden,” I whispered.
“I know.” He increased his stride even more, almost running now.
Less than five minutes later, we reached the park leading to the palace gates. The cobblestone here was older but clean, the trees neatly trimmed and rustling gently in the morning breeze. Any other day, the silence would have felt peaceful. Today it was positively eerie. My skin crawled as if covered in a thousand wood beetles. My instincts screamed for me to grab Aden’s hand and run. The sour stench in the air didn’t help.
Footsteps approached. I pulled Aden behind a cluster of trees just as a group of Messaun soldiers walked by, green uniforms and all. They scanned the park with hands on their weapons. I eyed their path and did some quick calculating. If they followed the palace wall around, we had five minutes, maybe ten.
We waited a full minute after they were out of sight before stepping toward the gate once more. Then Aden’s ragged breathing hitched.
I followed his gaze. The palace gate was tall and regal, a structure built to last thousands of years. The pillars were carved from stone and the metal bars forged by expert blacksmiths. The gate itself was closed, of course. But Aden stared at the wall to its right, his face draining of color. A series of long shadows hung from the bars. Suddenly the stench made more sense, and my stomach nearly turned over.
Bodies.
Eighteen of them, still as death. Two were ladies. Their colorful gowns fluttered quietly in the wind. What kind of a sick, twisted mind displayed his victims in such a manner?
Ever so slowly, Aden crept toward the nearest body. He crouched to see the victim’s face, then crumpled to his knees. “No.”
It was Aden’s father, the king.
This was the man who’d taken Elena’s head with her own axe. This man was the reason I’d grown up in fear, hunted for who I was, hoping against impossible odds for a life that could never exist. My imagination had made him out to be some kind of legend—yet here he hung, as human as anyone who’d ever lived.
He hated sailor women, but one had saved his own son’s life. If he’d lived to see it, would that realization have softened his heart?
Warmth welled up in my eyes. This time, I let it stay for Aden’s sake. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“They couldn’t even allow him a dignified death.” His voice sounded small, strangled.
By the dried blood staining the king’s chest, it had been a violent death indeed. I was sad for the man, I realized. For the memories he would never get to make with his family, for his inability to see the potential of women sailors. For the peaceful, full life he could have enjoyed with his subjects.
Hanging the king’s body here was the ultimate insult. Worse than an insult. Rasmus had meant it as a message. Displaying the corpse in the square would have curbed any uprising in town, but Rasmus didn’t seem concerned about that. He’d hung it here, where anyone threatening his newfound power would be sure to see it. No wonder the khral had aligne
d himself with pirates. He had far more in common with them than with any aristocrat.
“We’ll give him a proper, respectful burial as soon as we can.” I glanced over my shoulder. That group of soldiers would return any minute now, assuming there weren’t others. It wouldn’t take long to connect the boy kneeling at the king’s feet with the missing prince. “Are the rest of your family… here?”
It seemed an eternity before he slowly lifted his head to scan the others. Finally, he let his shoulders sag. “No.”
“Good. That means they’re alive, Aden. We can still save them.” I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But we have to go now.”
A deep shudder racked his body. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so, so sorry, Father. I never should have left.”
“If you hadn’t, you could be hanging right there next to him. You may yet.” A chill gripped my spine as I realized it was true. My axes were the only weapons we had, and we stood completely exposed. I scanned the park again, fighting a rising sense of panic. Every shadow looked like a soldier ready to pounce. This was a bad idea.
I crouched beside Aden, placed his arm around my shoulders, and stood with a grunt. It worked. He looked almost surprised to find himself standing, eye level with the downcast face of the man he’d once admired.
He tore his gaze away. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said softly.
I stepped between the two men, forcing him to look at me. “It does. It matters more than ever. Your family waits for you. There’s nobody else to save them, Aden. Just you.”
His expression was haunted, broken. “Just me.”
I paused, then placed a hand on his cheek. “But you can’t do anything for them if you’re caught. Let’s go back to the house now and sort everything out. Aye?”
He nodded. It was far from convincing, but it was something.
I took his hand and pulled him away.
I sat on the blanket in the abandoned watch house, knees pulled to my chest, listening to the rain. It was different, the sound of rain on land. I’d seen hundreds of storms on the Majesty, all unique in their intensity. The rain was our cradle—it caressed the ship like a mother stroking her sleeping child. I’d fallen asleep to the sound of water pelting the deck and collecting in puddles that would later be swept away by the crew. Rain wasn’t our enemy. It was our neighbor.
But here, it felt completely different. Raindrops hit the metal roof like swords striking, sharp and loud, and the wind shook the shelter so hard I heard rattling from the tresses above. I stared at the puddle collecting by my soggy bare feet. I’d turned my boots over to let them dry. It didn’t look like that would happen anytime soon.
It wasn’t just the rain I listened for now. Aden was out there somewhere, lost in his grief. When we’d arrived, he’d asked to be alone. I knew better than to argue. His world had collapsed on top of him, and I knew too well how that felt. Except he also had an entire kingdom at stake and few options that allowed him to save it.
He’d been out there for hours. There was only so long a grieving person should be alone.
I stood and made my way outside, leaving my wet boots behind. Aden was a light figure against a grove of distant trees. The forest floor was soft underfoot as I made my way toward him, placing my feet carefully to avoid puddles. A faint smoke traveled in the late-afternoon breeze, more memory than substance. Probably nothing more than what remained of a beach patrol’s fire, but I scanned the trees carefully as I walked anyway.
Aden stared blankly into the forest as I arrived, his eyes red and slightly puffy. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his shirt clung to him, unclasped and wet. He didn’t seem to notice my presence.
I slipped my hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “I wanted things to end differently for you. I’m sorry.”
“Master Nomad’s Law,” Aden muttered. “Your word is your power. Messau and Hughen had a peace treaty.”
“A treaty Rasmus’s father signed, not him,” I said. “I’m not saying it’s right, because it wasn’t. But it’s clear now we can’t trust anyone.”
A long silence fell. A bird shrieked high overhead, followed by rustling somewhere in the brush.
“I can’t do this.” He sounded strangled. “I have no army, no allies. Not even a weapon.” His expression was so full of pain, so raw, that my heart broke open all over again. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. It doesn’t feel real.”
“The believing part will take a while,” I said softly.
“I didn’t want to go at first,” Aden whispered. “I told him I wouldn’t.”
“Your father?”
He nodded. “I thought he was overreacting. Even told him that. Then he warned me about Varnen and what he was capable of. I told my father to assassinate him instead and leave me be.”
His hand was cold. I gripped it in my other hand and began to rub some warmth into it. “He convinced you eventually.”
“He did.” Aden tore his gaze away, staring at the forest floor. He looked positively shattered. “He made it sound noble, like this was a bold mission that he trusted me to fulfill. I thought he was trying to manipulate me. It wasn’t until I was in the brig of a pirate ship that I realized his mission was doomed from the start. There was never enough time to get help, even if things had gone smoothly. He never expected me to succeed. He just wanted me to be safe.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I was too angry to tell him goodbye.”
“You feel guilty for surviving when he didn’t. You feel guilty for every time you disobeyed, every lie you told, every roll of the eyes. Every time you yelled that you never wanted to be like him.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Because you know that was a lie too.”
“Laney,” he said softly, and pulled me against his chest. His arms closed around my waist in an embrace, and he placed his chin on my head as if to hold me there. I clung to him with the same ferocity.
Neither of us needed to speak. We understood each other more deeply than anyone else in the world, and neither wanted that connection to end.
“The sea nearly beat me,” I said after a while, my voice muffled against his shirt. I looked upward to find him watching me. “Not because I almost drowned, but because I almost considered letting it win. It was after my father died and the ship started going under. The sea took him and the Majesty and everyone I cared about. It would have been so easy to let the water take me too.”
“But you chose to fight instead. Why?”
“I found a purpose, something bigger than me. Something impossible enough to distract me from the pain for a while.”
“My dramatic rescue.”
I felt a tiny grin escape. “It was rather dramatic, wasn’t it?”
“And now that you’ve succeeded?” His voice was flat as he pulled slightly away. “This morning, you said I was all my family had. You avoided using the word us.”
My grin faded and I stared at the ground. “I told you once that I was never the type to save kingdoms. Once you were safe, I planned to hunt down Belza the way he hunted my father. I wanted him to feel my axe in his belly and know it was me who killed him. I still want that.” The truth of the words chilled my heart. I meant every single one.
Aden waited a moment, then prodded. “But?”
I shrugged. “I’m not done with the first task yet.”
“I should send you away. This is no mutiny of a few dozen men. It’s me against an entire army.”
I placed a finger to his lips, rendering him utterly and completely still. “Us. It’s us against an army. And a mutiny is exactly what this is. Just, you know, on a larger scale. The same rules apply.”
“I thought there were no rules in battle.”
“See? You’re finally learning.”
He sighed, sounding defeated. “I suppose we should go inside and make some kind of plan.”
“First we’ll get you dry. When this rain lets up, I’ll go into town and find some food. Then we can discuss how to make our own dram
atic rescue.”
He hung back for a moment before following me to the shelter.
We’d just rounded the corner when a figure stepped inside the door ahead of us.
Aden went rigid. “Pirates.”
I squinted at the open doorway. “That was an awfully small pirate.”
“Whoever it was, they’ve found us. It’s time to go.” He turned away.
I grabbed his arm. “Not yet. I left my boots in there. And I’m not leaving without my axes.”
“I’ll find you another pair. Come on.”
I jerked free of his arm and crept toward the door, stepping carefully with my bare feet to avoid where the wood creaked. Aden muttered something under his breath and followed. I peered inside.
Pain slammed into my head and everything went dark.
I lay sprawled on the floor. The partially intact ceiling made the cloudy sky above look broken. I stared at it for several seconds before my wits returned. Someone is here.
Flinching at the ache at the base of my skull, I turned my head to find Aden locked in combat with a dark figure in the shadows in front of me. He shoved my attacker to the ground and advanced with fists raised.
I finally realized what was happening. “Aden, stop!”
He stepped back to look at me, relief in his expression. Then he turned to the figure on the floor, and his eyes widened.
Aden’s opponent pushed herself to her feet and stepped into the fragmented light, glowering at us. By the girl’s stature, she had to be around thirteen, maybe fourteen. Her hair was fashioned in a messy braid. But the strangest part was the gown. It fell past her waist in elegant folds that rustled like expensive satin, the hem at least a foot too long.
I rose as well, if a little shakily, and pressed a hand to the back of my head. A piece of rotted wood sat on the floor by the doorway. I gave it a good kick, sending it across the room.
“You all right?” Aden asked me, still eyeing the stranger.
I groaned. “Just lovely.”