Veritas

by St Clare, Kelly

  The other parts had been on land and guarded by immortals. Ebba would have assumed a sea creature had the part if they were in their home waters, but the mysteries of the Dynami made it impossible to assume anything. Was it an island that could move? Or some other immortal being? Maybe a human-animal hybrid like the Daedalions? Was the creature evil or good? Was there some trick to making whatever the thing was stop so they could retrieve the part? And what if the part was deep, deep down in the water? Grubby could retrieve it, she supposed, but going in alone was dangerous. They hadn’t managed to retrieve any of the parts since the dynami without someone dying.

  Her attention drifted to the prince, recalling the sweetness of their kiss yesterday evening. A twinge of excitement clenched her insides, and Ebba observed it, wondering if that was the deeper regard Caspian spoke of. They’d kissed before, but last night felt like . . . more. Not new, necessarily, but like it meant something bigger. From what the prince said, if she’d understood right, the feelings game was a wait-and-see kind of deal. Ebba wanted to return his regard, and she was pretty sure that with time, she would.

  As though feeling her heavy perusal, Caspian glanced up from Plank’s tutorial on the ropes controlling the sails and grinned her way. Ebba waved.

  Stubby cleared his throat. “He’d make a good captain, that one.”

  Ebba lowered her hand. “What?”

  The tips of her father’s ears pinkened. “Just sayin’,” Stubby hurried to add. “A passin’ remark. He might not have started out so well, but he learns quick and is eager to know more. Kind to a fault. Aye, he could make a very good captain.”

  “Aye,” she drew out.

  Is that what all of her fathers thought? That Caspian would make a good captain? Her eyes rounded. Oh, shite. Had Plank shared their discussion with the others?

  Ebba cringed, realizing Stubby had just given the prince his approval. Or had he?

  Her fathers once made the prince vomit for being without a tunic around her, and now they were giving her two thumbs up? Why the sudden change? She’d altered a lot, so maybe they’d seen that. Regardless, if this was Stubby’s way of tricking information out of her, she wasn’t falling for it. Her fathers might act like they didn’t care for the day, but Ebba knew how overprotective and wily they were.

  “He might,” Ebba answered neutrally.

  Stubby opened his mouth again.

  “Where be Jagger?” she blurted.

  Her father’s pleasant expression dropped into a scowl. “Why do ye ask?”

  Because she wanted to avoid him. Ebba shrugged a shoulder.

  “I ain’t seen him in a bit,” Stubby said, adding, “He’d make a terrible captain.”

  She craned to see up to the crow’s nest, but there was no sign of his flaxen hair waving about in the chilled morning breeze. He must be below deck, which was odd. Ebba kissed Stubby’s cheek before freeing herself from his embrace.

  “I’m goin’ to climb the shrouds. Shout if ye need me.”

  “I will, lass. Do yer spellin’ on the way. Barrels is on at us to get ye practicin’.”

  She snorted. “He’s worse than a shark stealin’ fish from a line.”

  Stubby glanced around for her oldest father before answering, “He’s like a dried barnacle on the underside o’ the ship. But best keep him happy; he leaves ink blotches on my deck when his cravat be in a twist.”

  He pointed to the deck and Ebba squinted, bending down. “That’s tiny!”

  Stubby glared at the offensive ink stain on the wood. “Still there, ain’t it?”

  Ebba knew better than to argue. She slapped the wheel. “W-h-e-e-l in the h-e-l-m,” she said loudly. Leaving the helm, she jumped on the deck and said, “D-i-c-k.”

  “D-e-c-k,” Stubby called.

  She peered back, copying her father. “D-e-c-k.”

  Ebba pointed to the center of the ship. “M-a-s-t.”

  Running to the rigging, she swung herself up and began to climb the “R-i-p-e-s in the r-i-g-g-i-n to the n-i-s-t.”

  Ebba looked to the right when the sails were happy and full. “S-a-i-l. B-o-o-m. S-k-y. B-u-r-d.” She blinked to where the diluted strands of light were punching through the c-l-o-u-d-s, and as she swung into the crow’s nest, she shouted, “S-o-n!”

  Her foot landed on soft ground.

  “Oof.” Someone exhaled.

  Ebba squeaked as her legs went out from under her and she landed, unceremoniously, on top of the person, knocking her head on the inner wall of the nest.

  “Ouch.” She pushed back her dreads, glaring.

  “It’s s-u-n,” Jagger drawled.

  She twisted and glanced down. He sat cross-legged in the nest, and she was sprawled sideways across his lap.

  Ebba struggled to get off the pirate in the tiny space. “What are ye doin’ here?”

  “Watch it,” he scolded, shifting the unsheathed veritas out of reach from her flailing arms.

  Ebba abandoned her escape, jaw dropping. “I could’ve landed on that.”

  “Ye’re the one who jumped in without lookin’.”

  “I thought my nest was empty,” she said. “Why are ye in here if ye ain’t lookin’ at the sea?” She struggled again, and Jagger watched her attempts without a single offer to help.

  It occurred to her that he was greatly enjoying himself.

  His gaze fell to her legs.

  She peered down and saw her slops had worked themselves higher as she fidgeted. Ebba reached down and tugged the trousers back down to hide her injuries.

  Jagger gripped either side of her waist and lifted her, depositing her on the nest floor opposite him. He drew in his legs to give her space and shifted veritas farther away.

  Ebba huffed and pushed her dreads off her face again.

  Ice shot through her as she belatedly recalled her plan to avoid Jagger.

  “Ain’t ye goin’ to tell me to get out?” he asked, watching her.

  She peered at him, heart pounding in her chest. The sun hadn’t fully risen, and his half of the crow’s nest was cast in shadow. His flaxen coloring was easily lost in the dark, but his silver eyes glinted more in the absence of light.

  Ebba glanced away and quickly realized that the confines of the crow’s nest didn’t make avoiding someone easy.

  “Ye were below deck for a couple of days, so. . . .” He gestured to the nest.

  “Aye,” she said after a beat, clearing her throat. “It be okay.”

  His eyes widened dramatically. “It’s okay that I’m in yer nest? Viva, just how badly did Calypso scare ye?”

  Her cheeks burned. “I knew ye’d make fun o’ it.” She wanted to meet his gaze and dare him to say more, but whatever Caspian’s earlier kiss fixed had run out.

  “Ye did call me hideous silver eyes and a lipless stingray. I’m allowed a couple o’ digs to earn my dignity back.”

  She didn’t answer, scratching at the grain of the wood barrel.

  Jagger nudged her with his foot. “Do ye want me to go back and kill him for ye?”

  Ebba frowned and glanced over at him. “What?”

  “I’ll shove veritas right through his black immortal heart. I ain’t sure if he’d come back or not, or if that would even kill him, but it’d make ye feel better.”

  “I’m surprised ye’d offer,” she replied.

  “Are ye? Then ye haven’t been lookin’.”

  Oh, she’d been looking, all right. Hard not to when he leaned everywhere. Jagger had shown he was willing to go to great measures to protect his tribe. But she hadn’t ever thought herself within the number of people he’d strive to protect.

  “I don’t want ye to kill Calypso.” At least she didn’t think she did.

  “Oh, ye want to take his skirt off again?”

  Ebba kicked him, face flaming. “Nay, that ain’t why.”

  “Good. Then tell me.”

  Good? She glanced away once more, disconcerted by the tilt of his head and the challenge in his eyes that remind
ed her, in part, of the immortal.

  “It was his nature to do that, wasn’t it?” she said. “Calypso’s? I didn’t like it. Well, I wasn’t in my right mind for it. That’s why I didn’t like it.”

  “If ye were in yer right mind, ye’d be up for it?”

  She darted a look back and saw Jagger was grinning. Ebba kicked him a second time.

  “Ye ain’t allowed to kick me just because ye’re sad and hurtin’,” he scolded. “And ye didn’t answer.”

  She sniffed. “If I were in my right mind?” She thought about it. “Nay, I don’t know or trust him. Why would I wish to kiss him as I did?”

  “So trust be the key,” he murmured.

  Ebba frowned. “What did ye say?”

  Jagger sat back, and the tension between them dissipated somewhat. She took a full breath for the first time since leaping onto his lap.

  “That’s why I didn’t kill him—his nature,” the pirate said. “I wouldn’t kill a creature for obeyin’ its instincts, like a sow protectin’ her piglets. But the more I think on it, the more I wonder if I should’ve.”

  “Eh?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the strands that extended down past his chin. “The pillars are just actin’ in their nature, and they’re plain evil. Where be the line when it comes to actin’ in yer nature? Calypso stepped over the line well and truly. What he was goin’ to do is worse than lurin’ ye to the rocks to die.”

  Ebba mulled that over, surprised that Jagger was confused over the same thing as she. “I don’t know his story, but ye’re right, I ain’t sure nature should be an excuse. Was Calypso aware of what he was doin’? Seemed so. And the pillars cert’inly are. The siren had a mindless want to draw men to the rocks for revenge. And Ladon didn’t seem to have a choice when seekin’ the good half o’ his soul over and over.”

  Jagger nodded. “Ye think the line be det’rmined by mindlessness and abil’ty to reason?”

  Did she? “Perhaps. But evil still be ter’ible without reason, don’t it?” Ebba thought of what Calypso did and realized that was true of what he’d done to her. Magical nature aside, he shouldn’t be allowed to hurt others or take their will away.

  She sighed. “What he did to me was plain wrong. Obeyin’ yer nature only be okay if it don’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Aye, I agree,” he mused and then cursed loudly. “I should’ve killed him.”

  How had the conversation arrived here? Why wasn’t she shouting at Jagger to get out of her nest? This was . . . nice. Nice enough that Ebba felt safe venturing to a subject that had played on her mind for a while now.

  “Hey, Jagger? Ye know when we were in Medusa’s Lair, and that sweet-smellin’ water made ye spill yer guts out?”

  His eyes darkened, and he said warily, “Aye.”

  The tone of his reply caught her off-guard. She floundered for a moment before matching it as an exact replica to the tone she’d used minutes ago. He felt vulnerable. Just like her when she hadn’t known what he’d say to her.

  “I’ve wanted to say sorry since then. Kind o’. When ye returned the beads to me back on Zol, I wasn’t sure what ye meant by the gift, and so I couldn’t decide how to respond.” She stopped and then added, “But in my defense, ye’re a secr’tive, moody bugger.”

  He appeared surprised by her sort-of apology. He blinked. “I ain’t sure how I meant the gift either.”

  Jagger’s gaze dropped to veritas. She stared down at Caspian’s family heirloom.

  “Do ye hold that sword to sort between tainted moments and the real stuff then?” Ebba blurted the question and held her breath.

  He regarded her and said drily, “How long have ye wanted to ask that?”

  “Not long.”

  Jagger stared at the dark sky. “Aye, I do.”

  “Aye?” Caspian was right!

  “I used to steal it when I couldn’t see straight. But since the prince deigned to lend it to me, I just hold it all the time. It shows me truth from lie.”

  Ebba slanted a look at him. “Are ye still holdin’ on to killin’ Caspian?”

  Jagger regarded her. “Not for now. He gave me the sword and saved me from the thunderbird, so I can’t kill him just yet.”

  “That’s very . . . pirate o’ ye,” she ventured.

  “I spent a long time with my tribe, but I took to pirate life.”

  She had to agree. Silently. When they first met, she’d thought him born on the seas. “How long do ye think ye’ll need to hold the sword and be above deck for? Ye’re an immune. Medusa said ye’ll force the taint out.”

  “If she’s right,” he muttered darkly.

  Pain flickered across his face. He whipped out a hand to grip the hilt of the sword. He froze, silver eyes wide as his lips moved wordlessly.

  He was. . . . Was he struggling with the taint? That was all it took to trigger his tainted thoughts? Or was the darkness always present, and he found it harder to distinguish the truth at times?

  She’d never seen Jagger lose control like this. Not daring to make a sound, Ebba watched him fight the invisible monsters in his head.

  His mouth stopped moving, and slowly his body unlocked. He straightened and met her stare. She eyed the red tinging the sides of his neck and jaw.

  “We need to figure out how Caspian and me fit into all this.” Ebba changed the subject, tapping her bottom lip.

  Jagger shifted though he retained his grip on veritas. “Hard to do in the middle o’ the Dynami.”

  She ignored the slight shake in his voice. “True enough. But I wish I knew why all this was happenin’ to us.”

  “Does there need to be a reason? Sometimes shite things just are.”

  Ebba thought of everything he’d gone through and conceded the point. Mainly because he still looked a bit ashamed after the sword-clutching episode.

  “It was shite what happened to me with Calypso.” She rested her chin on her knees and hugged her legs.

  “Aye, Viva. Bein’ controlled ain’t pleasant.”

  When it came to the taint, Ebba had to agree though she hoped to never be in that position again.

  She startled when Jagger held out the hilt of veritas to her.

  “Hold it,” he told her. “The sword don’t show truth for anythin’ ye haven’t already witnessed, but it will for anythin’ ye did see. Think o’ yer time with Calypso and hold the sword. It’ll show ye how things really were. The sword’ll help even if it be hard to watch.”

  For the first time since finding out what veritas did, Ebba was tempted. And very, very afraid of going back there. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the sword.

  “Why are all pirates so scared o’ the truth?” he murmured. “That be one thing I ain’t picked up. Touch it. Go on.”

  The sword was shinier than the other parts of the weapon they were assembling. She guessed it hadn’t been buried away for fifty years and left to tarnish. Ebba answered his first question. “Because we’re all runnin’.” She changed the subject. “Will it only show me the part with Calypso? I don’t want to know all the truths.”

  “Like?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Stuff I be happy not knowin’ that I don’t know about.”

  “When I hold it, I keep my mind on the present moment. If my mind drifts, the sword shows me the truth o’ other things—replays my memories to show me the truth o’ those moments. It shows me truth and lie, too, one as a glowin’ light and the other with a shadowed edge. Ye get used to the shock o’ it, and seein’ the truth ain’t bad at all. Not when ye haven’t been able to see anythin’ in a long time.”

  A challenging gleam entered his eyes again.

  “It will help ye,” he pressed. “Trust me.”

  She’d already decided she trusted him, but part of her still hesitated. Ebba licked her lips, fingertips extending to the sword.

  Jagger leaned forward, crowding close, and Ebba’s chest tightened.

  Dare. Challenge. Promise.


  Overwhelming.

  Her breath came quick and, eyes wide, she shot to her feet. Jagger snatched the sword. The blade just missed cutting upward through her torso.

  Standing, he rested it against the barrel behind him.

  “Viva, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, turning back, hands out. “What’s wrong?”

  He stepped closer. Standing over her.

  Ebba gripped the edge of the crow’s nest behind her, chest rising and falling as she stared at him.

  “It’s all right, Viva,” he said gently. “Shh now. That’s just a bad memory comin’ up to grab ye.”

  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears so loudly she could barely hear him. But she inhaled sharply, slowly recollecting herself as he continued to murmur low and soft.

  Shoulders sagging, she let go of the barrel lip, avoiding his gaze.

  “Ye should touch the sword,” Jagger urged.

  Ebba slowly turned away, swinging a leg over. “Nay, Jagger. Not today.”

  He followed her as she placed both feet on the rigging on the other side. “Are ye sure?”

  She stared at the rope squares. “Aye.”

  Desperate to be away, Ebba made to descend. Jagger reached down and covered her hands with his. Peeking up through her lashes, she scanned his serious expression.

  “Ye don’t need to be afraid o’ me, Viva. Not ever. Ye can trust me.”

  Nine

  Ebba thudded on deck, having taken her time on the way down from the conversation with Jagger.

  “Everything okay?” Caspian said.

  He peered up the rigging, and she heard the ropes creaking overhead. Ebba didn’t turn to confirm Jagger was descending too.

  “Aye,” she managed. “Learn anythin’?”

  The unsmiling prince didn’t answer.

  “Caspian?” she said, confusion filling her.

  He ran his hand through his hair and smiled at her. But the gesture was tight, nothing like his usual grin. The prince peered over her shoulder again.

  She fidgeted as the silence between them became awkward. Was this the jealousy Caspian talked about earlier? He’d only mentioned feeling it over her with Calypso, not with Jagger. Was this a new thing?