by Amy Richie
“Do you think he knew what he was doing?”
“By saving you?”
“When he cut my head,” she corrected. “What if he went too deep? Do you think I'll bleed to death now?”
My smile broke free, even when I tried to bite it back. She had just been ready to jump and end it all, and now she was worried that Quinn had cut her too deep?
“You won't bleed to death.”
“How do you know?”
“It's already almost done bleeding.”
Rising back to two feet, I used a wet cloth to clean Angelina's freshly shaved head and plastered a large bandage over the cut.
“Rani?” she called softly.
“Yes?”
“Were you sad when Sid died?”
My fingers froze in mid-motion. “That was much different than this.”
“I know that,” she sighed. “But were you sad?”
“No.”
“I didn't think you were.”
I sucked in a deep breath and held it there.
“I don't blame you,” she said after a moment. “I don't blame you at all.”
Chapter 24
“She seems all right today though, doesn't she?” Sasha continued her unending questions about the previous night—the night when she had woken up to find my bed empty.
“I think cutting her hair helped,” I nodded, following Sasha's line of vision to where Angelina sat. The newly bald woman was busily braiding Katrina's hair—not smiling, but also not crying.
“And Cyrus,” she hesitated, “he really hasn't spoken to you since you told him about Dais?”
I shook my head, pressing my lips together to keep my sigh in. Quinn had come to me before they all left for Sion and said the Captain wanted Dais to go with them. The rest of us stayed behind—waiting on the ship.
“I'm sure it won't be much longer,” Sasha said … again. “You can see the land from here, so it won't take long.”
She had been saying the same thing all morning, but it seemed to be taking them a very long time to come back to the ship. “I'm sure it won't be long,” I automatically agreed.
*****
As it turned out, the sun was high in the sky, and just making its slow way back down into the water before the boats returned to the ship. I held my place with the others, careful not to snatch Dais back to my side.
He looked normal enough from a distance. His cheeks were flushed, and a huge grin split his boyish face. Maybe he'd had a good time. But of course he would; Dais loved to explore. His excitement over the endless water and the creatures that could live under it had given me too many sleepless nights to count.
“Who are they?” Betna hissed just behind me. “Did they find more survivors?”
I had been too distracted by Dais to notice anything else, but now that I took the time to look, I saw that she was right. Two men I didn't recognize stood with Cyrus and his men. The two newcomers had the same frightened, haunted looks we had worn when they found us on Ortec.
“This is Owen,” Cyrus spoke around his deep scowl, “and Adam.” He pointed out the two men. “They've survived the attacks.” His narrowed eyes rested on me for half a heartbeat before he turned to his men. “Full speed ahead. We need to get back to the Nation.”
His words created a fury of movement, and in the shuffle, Adam and Owen were pushed close to us. I pulled Dais close to my side before turning my attention back to the men.
“The attacks?” Doctor Gourini questioned. “What attacks?”
“Are you survivors from Ortec?” the older of the two men asked, his brown eyes opened as wide as they would go.
“Yes. I'm Doctor Gourini,” he pulled Constantina forward, “and this is our leader, Constantina.”
“I'm Owen,” he nodded once, “and this is Adam.” Adam looked very young; his eyes darted around quickly, not resting on anything for longer than a few seconds.
“Did they put the masks on you, too?” Adam asked in a hoarse voice.
“Masks? Who put masks on you? Did the Captain?”
“How did you survive?” Owen asked.
“We were in the safe room. When we came out, everyone was gone.”
“So you never saw the Black Dolphin?”
“No.”
“We didn't see anything,” Betna unnecessarily added.
“What happened to you?” Doctor Gourini asked for all of us.
“They came in the morning,” Owen began, we all closed in tighter to hear him better, “a huge ship with black sails.”
“Pirates,” someone whispered. I hoped it wasn't me.
“We thought they were there to steal from us and burn our houses. We've heard stories of the pirates, but we were never attacked. Sion is too small for them to bother with. Only two islands,” he shook his head, his voice catching thickly.
“Everyone we knew lived there,” Adam said quietly. “It might have been small, but ...”
He didn't need to say more, we understood.
“Pirates,” Doctor Gourini's eyes narrowed, “it doesn't make sense, though.”
It made perfect sense to me. What would stop the pirates from killing everyone in the cities? They would be free to steal everything after everyone was dead.
They didn't though, a voice in the back of my head said. Nothing was gone from Ortec—except the people.
“They all wore masks, and they made Adam and me put them on, too,” Owen continued, his wide eyes looking past us, “then he told us all to watch the dolphins.”
“What's a dolphin?”
“It's a type of fish. Out of the water came two black dolphins. They opened their mouth and black smoke came out.”
“It turned everyone to dust,” Adam blurted out. “Killed them all, and the dust just blew away in the wind.”
“He kept us alive to give Ike a message.”
“What message?” Constantina whispered.
“He wanted him to know that the Blacks were responsible for killing everyone. Carl and Kenny Black.”
“And the Nation is next.”
My stomach turned uncomfortably. Was that what happened to all of our people, too? Did they all turn to dust and blow away?
“Who are the Blacks?” I heard someone ask. “Are they pirates?”
“The very worst pirates alive,” Cyrus' voice brought my attention back to the present. “If the Blacks are behind this,” he sighed loudly, “then we're all in trouble.”
“But, I don't understand,” Constantina shook her head, “What do they want?”
“Carl Black has a vision of being in charge of the entire world.”
“Why?”
“And it looks like they've found a weapon to do it,” he continued, without acknowledging Constantina.
Chapter 25
“Rani,” Cyrus called out across the others, “can I have a word with you?”
I nodded at once, without hesitation.
“Privately,” he clarified.
Ignoring the curious stares from Sasha and Betna, I fell into step behind Cyrus. He led the way to his own room―the same room I had been brought to the first time when I boarded the ship, unconscious.
Cyrus closed the door behind me.
“How is the girl?” he asked, surprising me. I had been careful not to guess what he wanted to talk to me about that required privacy, but if I had, Angelina wouldn't have been it.
“She seems better today.”
“And you?”
My eyes widened slightly, and quickly shifted down to the floor. “I was never sick,” I mumbled. Unless you counted the time I had to eat all the salmon, or the time I fell into the oatmeal. Even those times were nothing serious.
“Quinn tells me you almost went overboard yourself, trying to save her.”
My face flamed hot, embarrassment keeping my head lowered. “I am well,” I half whispered.
“I should have come to you myself this morning to get the boy,” he sighed. “But I was called away at the last moment,
and Quinn volunteered. I suspect he wanted an excuse to check on Angelina's condition.”
Luckily my head was still lowered or he would have seen my eyebrows knit together with my confusion. Why would Captain Cyrus need to explain himself—especially to a servant of Ortec? We were all at his mercy; he could do whatever he wanted.
“I had told the boy a few days ago that he could go with us to Sion.”
I nodded.
“It wasn't because of ... what you told me.”
From under my lashes, I saw his tongue slide slowly across his top lip.
“I've been giving it some thought,” he softly cleared his throat, “and before you even told me that ... that Dais is my son, I decided that I wanted to take care of you.”
My head snapped up to look at him fully. No one had ever wanted to take care of me before. To Sid, I had only ever been an object that he wanted to possess and to Avery—a responsibility. Who had ever wanted me? Besides my parents—was there anyone? Maybe Sasha, but that was different.
My heart beat wildly against my ribs as I stared up at Cyrus.
“The world is changing, Rani.” His green eyes lit up. “Every day the water recedes further and further. New land is popping up all over the place—land for people to live on. The island cities are overflowing. They send their young away all the time for being born the wrong gender. Did you know Quinn's family was sent away?”
He ignored my nod.
“His wife and son died before they could find a place to live. We see it all the time.”
I held my breath—waiting.
“A few weeks before we were sent to search for survivors, Ike gave me an island.”
“He gave you an island?” I croaked.
“E7,” he nodded. “It's not as big as Ortec, and eventually it will in all likelihood connect to the Nation, but Ike needs people he can trust in charge of these islands that keep turning up. E7 was one of the first, so it's ready for people to live on it. It would take time and hard work, but I think we could make it a home.”
In his excitement, Cyrus grabbed hold of both my shoulders. “I intend to ask Ike to send the survivors of Ortec there, along with the families of my crew. Adam and Owen too,” he added. “What do you think?”
I felt my mouth drop open. I hurried to snap it closed. “What about the Black Dolphins?”
His smile changed briefly to a scowl, and he dropped his hands.
“The Blacks will have to be dealt with,” he conceded. “It's only one group of pirates, though. As far as I know, not even Carl Black can make the pirates work together. It will be up to Ike what we do, but they will be stopped. You don't need to worry.”
I wasn't worried. Not about Carl Black and his Black Dolphins. At that moment, I was having a hard time worrying about anything.
“I'll take care of you, Rani,” Cyrus promised.
“I trust you,” I told him, slipping my hand silently into his.
His eyes widened, but he didn't pull away from me. Instead, he tightened his grip on my hand and reached behind me to pull open the door.
“If we're lucky,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled me back to join the others, “we'll reach the Nation tomorrow. But we might get slowed down; Quinn says there will be a storm tonight. I've learned over the years that he usually isn't wrong about these things. Once we get there ...”
I stopped hearing Cyrus' words as we got closer to the others. I was still focusing on the words he had said in his cabin and on the way my heart reacted to the feel of his skin on my skin.
Cyrus didn't let go of my hand when we came to a stop next to Quinn, who was still questioning Owen and Adam—along with the others.
“Any problems?” he inquired solemnly.
“Nothing,” Quinn shook his head.
“We should arrive by tomorrow,” he told Doctor Gourini.
“Rani,” Constantina called out, “go and prepare some food. I'm sure Betna and Katrina should eat something.”
The hand against mine tightened its grip.
Cyrus had told me just a few days before that I was no longer a servant of Ortec because Ortec was gone. I didn't believe him then, but now I was starting to see how right he was.
I was also beginning to understand though, that I was still a survivor of Ortec—and so were they. We were all connected and always would be. I wasn't their servant anymore; we were all the same.
Gently disentangling myself from Cyrus, I looped my arm through Betna's, and we both started toward the kitchen.
“What,” Constantina sneered, “are you going to make her prepare her own meal?”
I didn't turn around.
“Wait for me,” Angelina yelled, hurrying to catch up. “I'll help.”
I grinned over at her.
“It looks like it's going to storm,” Betna predicted darkly.
“Quinn said it would tonight,” Angelina pouted.
Smiling wide, I turned my face up into the strengthening breeze. It looked like Quinn would be right again about the storm. I realized as we walked that Cyrus was right, too.
The world was changing.
*****
The Girl From Ortec
Book Three
Castles in the Sand
Chapter 1
The tree that barred my path to the door seemed to come alive in the ever darkening shadows, made even more eerie by the single lantern Doctor Gourini had insisted we hang by the front door every time we left the house at night. I held my own lantern up to eye level and panned it slowly along my line of vision. The water in the pan that was clutched under my arm sloshed over the rim and dampened my clothes, but I paid little attention to it. I was more concerned about making it back to the house in one piece.
I puffed my cheeks out and let the air escape quickly, then I darted forward past the tree.
Once I was safe inside, I pressed my back against the door for a moment to let my heart slow down before making my way to the kitchen. I hated when Angelina sent me for water after it was dark. Honestly, no one was going to be eating this late at night. What did she need it for?
After only a short rest, I walked quickly back to the kitchen where Angelina and Betna were waiting for me.
“What took you so long, Rani?” Angelina scowled, grabbing the pan out from under my arm.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Don't you listen to her,” Betna snapped out. “She's just nervous about the meeting.”
We were all nervous about the meeting that was coming. “Where's Sasha?” I asked instead of acknowledging the renewed racing of my heart.
“Where is Sasha always at?” Angelina rolled her eyes dramatically.
“In the nursery,” Betna and I said in unison.
Sasha spent almost all her free time in the nursery these days, although I couldn't blame her. The tension in the big house had become almost tangible over the past two days—ever since Ike had come to visit. Of course Sasha would retreat to the non-talking members of the house; it was the only place to escape the incessant worry and stress.
“I think I'll go and see her,” I muttered, nodding my head at the two women.
“Don't be long,” Angelina warned, wagging a finger in my face.
“I won't,” I promised. I turned away as Angelina began pouring the water into a large kettle that was made especially for boiling the water.
“The meeting is being held in the dining room,” Betna reminded me, taking cups out of a small closet.
I nodded my understanding. Of course I remembered where the meeting was being held; it was all anyone had talked about for two days. Hiding my small frown, I began back the way I had come to get to the nursery.
Sasha was sitting in one of the rockers holding the youngest of our group when I entered the nursery. She looked up with a soft smile. “Hello,” she cooed, as if she were talking to the baby instead of me.
“Hi,” I replied on an exhale, sounding entirely too much like a sigh.
Sasha's eyebr
ow cocked high on her forehead but she let it go quickly. “Were you in the kitchen all night?” she asked.
“Part of it,” I confirmed. “Angelina needed water.”
“You went out this late?” She glanced at the darkened window.
I ran my tongue across my top lip. “It was all right,” I lied.
“Why did she need water?” Her eyebrows lowered severely. “She's not baking something for the meeting, is she?”
“I don't think so.” The kettle probably meant tea, Angelina's new obsession. Apparently she had read in a book that the people before the Great Wave drank large amounts of tea so she insisted we should do the same. Personally, I didn't like the way the warm liquid made my mouth feel, but it was drastically better than coffee. “How is she?” I pointed down to the baby.
Sasha smiled wider. “Betna's young daughter doesn't like to stay asleep through the night,” she complained, but her joy at having a baby to hold drowned out any irritation she might have felt.
“And Emily?” I crossed over to the baby's bed and peered down at the sleeping form. We had all been delighted to welcome Katrina's daughter into our home almost one year earlier, and just a few months later Betna gave her a playmate. Watching the girls grow took some of the bite from the heartache of Cyrus's continued absence. It had been more than a year—far too long with no news. I couldn't even be sure that he was still alive.
I sat back down and pressed my lips tight together to suppress another sigh. Sasha was still watching me closely. “She's asleep now?” Sasha asked, not taking her eyes away from me.
“Yes,” I grunted, nodding in case she didn't hear me.
“What has your forehead so creased?” she asked bluntly.
“What?” My hand flew automatically to my forehead to try and rub away the lines.
“Say it,” she ordered.
“I am worried about leaving.” Most of the truth was better than a full lie, I assured my racing heart.
“Is there anything else you're worried about?”
I shook my head, not daring to look at my observant friend. “It isn't my place to worry,” I mumbled.
