Lady Smoke

by Laura Sebastian

“Not useless,” I say, stepping forward. “He’s not answering the question you asked, but he’s said an awful lot.”

  Dragonsbane tilts her head. “I’m not sure what you’re hearing—”

  “The heathen Ash Princess and the kidnapped Prinz,” I repeat. “That’s the story that’s being told. But you aren’t a prisoner, are you, Søren? You wear no chains, you’re free to roam. You’re on our side willingly.”

  Søren meets my gaze, his eyes sparking with understanding.

  “I wasn’t kidnapped, Mattin,” he lies, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. Mattin shrugs him off.

  “Then the whore must have tricked you—used her heathen magic to put a spell on you,” he bites out, loud enough that everyone watching can hear. “The Prinz I served with would never betray his brothers otherwise.”

  Whispers break out across the deck, but it takes a moment for me to realize that he’s talking about me. Søren winces at the word whore, but I don’t know whether to laugh or retort. Neither would help. Nothing I say will sway Mattin into believing Søren is trustworthy enough to talk to. There’s nothing Dragonsbane can do either, short of torture—though I’m not sure he would fold even then. No, Søren is the only one who can break him, so I keep quiet and let him do it.

  “There was no magic,” Søren says. “Only truth that I was too frightened to see before. Truth that I think you know as well: my father is a coward and a tyrant.”

  For a long moment, Mattin is silent. “The Kaiser has expanded our reach during his reign and opened more trade,” he says finally.

  “No, Mattin,” Søren says, glancing at the crowd gathered and amplifying his words so all can hear. “My father has sat on a throne and grown lazy. He is content with feasting and being worshipped like a god. But what sort of god sends his men off to fight a battle he’s too frightened to fight himself? He hasn’t gone to war in more than two decades because he thinks his own life is more precious than yours, but I don’t think that’s true. Your wife and daughter would disagree as well.”

  Mattin straightens up before turning his head to glower at Søren. “Do you think you would be any better? How, when you put an Astrean whore above your own people?”

  Before I can feel the sting of that word again, Søren’s fist collides with the side of Mattin’s face and he doubles over, blood dripping from his mouth. Søren grabs his bound wrists and yanks him upright again, turning him to face me.

  “You’ll apologize,” he says, pulling Mattin’s arms until they are nearly yanked out of their sockets. Mattin winces. When he meets my eyes, there is little more than hate there.

  “No,” Mattin spits out.

  Søren clenches his jaw and yanks the man’s arms until he cries out. “Her name is Queen Theodosia, and if you won’t apologize for disrespecting her, I’ll let her men have you and I’ll describe your last moments to your wife so that she knows how pathetically you died.”

  Mattin grunts, eyes dropping away. “I apologize,” he says through gritted teeth.

  Søren looks tempted to extract something more sincere out of him, but that would hardly be productive. I clear my throat.

  “I accept your apology,” I say coldly. “I hope you come to see that a woman can wield power beyond what’s between her legs—for your daughter’s sake if nothing else.”

  He flinches before Søren forcefully turns him back to face him.

  “I’m trying to help you, Mattin,” Søren says. “When I was on board the Pride, you had more grievances with the Kaiser than anyone. He raised taxes and your parents had to scramble to work harder on the farm to pay them. Your father worked himself to death, you said, because his five sons were all called to fight the Kaiser’s wars. When you received word that your daughter was born, you told me you were glad it wasn’t a boy so that he wouldn’t…what were your words? ‘Die for an old man’s selfishness’?”

  Mattin doesn’t reply at first but I can see him waver. “You wouldn’t be any better,” he says finally.

  Søren glances at me before looking back at him. “I never had any desire to be Kaiser—I was always open about that, even back when we crewed together. I wanted a ship and the sea around me and nothing else—I still do want that. If I had my way, I would never go back to court, but I’ve led men who died for my father’s selfishness—just like your brothers have, just like your father did. The Kaiser will never be satisfied until the entire world is scorched earth. Or until someone stops him.”

  “So you’re joining them?” Mattin asks, looking at Dragonsbane, Pavlos, and me. “They would see every Kalovaxian put to death.”

  At that, Søren hesitates, his eyes meeting mine. He can’t lie, I realize. So I do.

  “We want Astrea back,” I say. “That’s all. We are joining our forces to remove the Kaiser, and in exchange for our help, Søren has promised to take his people away from our home.”

  I half expect Dragonsbane—or any of the other Astreans gathered—to laugh or contradict me, but everyone remains mercifully silent. Søren nods.

  “Times are desperate,” he adds. “We might not be ideal partners, but we’re far more formidable together than we are on our own.”

  Mattin looks at all of us before he sighs, slumping forward. “I told you: I don’t know anything about the Kaiser’s plans. I’m too far from court.”

  Søren’s face falls but he nods.

  “You can go back home, though,” I say. “And ensure the Kaiser’s lies aren’t the only story the people are hearing. Let them know that Søren is alive and well and fighting his father.”

  “If I do, you’ll let me go?” he asks, looking at Dragonsbane skeptically.

  “Yes,” I say before she can answer. I know even as I say it that it’s a promise I’m in no position to make.

  Dragonsbane narrows her eyes. “Pavlos, take him down to our brig,” she says, sounding bored. “We’ll compare his story to the rest and figure out who is the most useful to spare.”

  Pavlos lowers his knife and steps forward to take hold of Mattin’s shoulder and haul him away just as Søren comes toward me, eyes intent with a look I recognize only an instant before Pavlos’s scream pierces the air. With Søren blocking my view, I can only make out a flash of silver and Pavlos crumpling to the ground with a thud before Mattin lunges toward Dragonsbane.

  Panicked shouts from the crew pierce the air, but Dragonsbane is quicker than I thought and dodges out of the way an instant before Mattin buries a dagger in the mast she had been leaning against. A second earlier and the blade would have found her throat.

  Before I can process what’s happening or where Mattin got the dagger from, Søren is grabbing my dagger from its hilt at my hip, and without hesitating, he sends it flying through the air. It embeds itself in the back of Mattin’s neck just as he’s closing in once again on Dragonsbane.

  He dies quickly, with barely a gurgle as he slumps to the ground at Dragonsbane’s feet.

  For a few beats, no one moves—not Søren or me or the Astrean crew or even the Kalovaxians still on their knees. The only sound is our labored breathing and the waves crashing against the ship’s hull. It all happened so quickly, but as far as I can tell, when Pavlos took hold of Mattin again, it gave him the opportunity to somehow grab Pavlos’s dagger, cut his own bindings, and stab Pavlos before turning to Dragonsbane, even though Søren and I were closer. Søren saved Dragonsbane’s life when he had a lot of reasons not to.

  And one good reason to do just that.

  THERE IS NO SAVING THE other Kalovaxians after that, and their deaths are quick and bloody, staining the deck of the Pride. Dragonsbane instructs a handful of her crew to take care of the bodies. Her voice doesn’t waver. She might as well be asking them to clean up spilled ale.

  The men and women do as she asks without hesitation before she dismisses the remaining crowd. Anders comes up from belowdec
ks, eyes scanning the body-strewn deck with a cold detachment. When he sees Pavlos, though, he freezes. He pushes his way through the crowd toward us as everyone leaves, coming to stand closer to Dragonsbane than I think is entirely appropriate, with his brow creased in concern. She must feel uncomfortable with his proximity as well, because she takes a step away.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” he asks her.

  She waves his concern away. “I’m fine,” she says before pausing, her eyes narrowing at Søren. “One of the hostages attacked me, but the Prinkiti stopped him.” The effort it takes for her to admit her own weakness in the same breath as she commends Søren is clear.

  Though Søren doesn’t understand the words, he seems to guess the sentiment. He nods at Dragonsbane, but wisely says nothing.

  “He saved you,” Anders says slowly, disbelief evident in every word.

  Dragonsbane bristles at the phrase. She looks at Søren, her curiosity winning out. “Why?” she asks him in Kalovaxian.

  Søren shrugs. “I meant what I said—I am on your side.”

  Dragonsbane frowns, and I can tell she still doesn’t believe him.

  “We can use him,” I say again in Astrean. “His guilt is real and it’s driving him. He’s of much more use to us as an ally than as a prisoner.”

  Dragonsbane’s nostrils flare. “He’s one of them. He can never be an ally,” she says before turning to Anders. “I’ll need to speak with Pavlos’s family as soon as possible. Did you get information from any of the hostages we took belowdecks?”

  For a moment, I think Anders is going to ignore her question and press for more about Dragonsbane’s near assassination, but he finally nods. “They each talked easily enough, but in the end, most of it couldn’t be verified with the other prisoners, as usual.”

  “What could be verified?” she asks.

  Anders’s eyes flicker to me, then Søren, then back to Dragonsbane.

  “I’m not sure it’s wise to discuss in front of mixed company, Captain,” he says carefully.

  “The Prinkiti wants to be of assistance,” she says in Astrean. “Perhaps we should let him try to suss out what information is true. He and Theo know the Kalovaxians better than anyone, after all.”

  “ ‘Prinkiti’ is me, isn’t it?” Søren whispers to me in Kalovaxian. “I really don’t like that nickname.”

  “I think you’re stuck with it,” I whisper back.

  “Hush,” Dragonsbane snaps at us. “What information, Anders?”

  He still hesitates, glancing uncertainly at Søren. “The story traveling the country is that the Prinkiti was kidnapped by the Queen after she murdered the Theyn and ran away. The Kaiser is offering a million gold pieces for her head, but five million if she’s brought back alive.”

  The implication slithers across my skin. I vow to myself that I’ll end my own life before I let anyone take me to the Kaiser alive.

  “We heard the same, more or less. Are there any rewards for the Prinkiti?” Dragonsbane asks.

  Søren lets out an annoyed huff.

  “Ten million for the Prinkiti,” Anders says. “On the condition that he is handed over alive and unharmed. If he has so much as a stubbed toe, the reward is forfeit.”

  “The Kaiser doesn’t really want his son back, but the people love their Prinz, so he’s creating that illusion to keep their goodwill, all the while ensuring that there’s too much risk to tempt most bounty hunters,” I say. Dragonsbane and Anders turn to look at me, surprised that I spoke. I continue. “Everyone knows Søren is a warrior. If he was kidnapped, he wouldn’t have gone without a fight. Injuries are a given, so as far as they’re concerned, Søren is a lost cause. They’ll be focusing their efforts on me, just as the Kaiser wants them to.”

  Dragonsbane’s eyebrows rise but she nods, turning back to Anders. “Any rumors about where they’re searching hardest?”

  “There was a rumor that she escaped to a refugee camp in Timmoree,” he says.

  “Good,” Dragonsbane says. “That’s three days north of Sta’Crivero, and I’ve been assured that once we’re in the city, King Etristo will protect Theo with his own life.”

  “Words are easy,” I point out. “Do you trust him?”

  She shrugs. “I trust that he’s motivated by money,” she says. “And I trust that his cut of your dowry will bring him far more than five million gold pieces.”

  I can’t argue with the logic of that, though my stomach sours at the word dowry. It was a custom in the Kalovaxian court as well, girls being sold off with a pile of gold to show their worth. It bothered me then, when it was girls I didn’t really know and whom I disliked on principle. Now, though, I am the one being sold off, earning a profit not just for Astrea, but for King Etristo and presumably Dragonsbane as well. I feel like a thing instead of a person, the way I always felt around the Kaiser.

  “What of the hostages?” I ask Anders, trying to push the feeling away and focus on the present. “Are they willing to turn spy for us?”

  “They’re willing to not be executed,” Anders says, words clipped, but Dragonsbane is already shaking her head.

  “No,” she says. “It was a ridiculous plan before and this business with Pavlos only confirmed that. They can’t be trusted. Anders, give the order.”

  The order to kill them. I glance at Søren, who doesn’t understand any of this but would protest if he could.

  “That wasn’t the agreement,” I say, looking back at Dragonsbane. “They made a deal for their lives.”

  “A deal is only as honorable as the people who make it,” Dragonsbane says. “And we all know that the Kalovaxians have no honor.”

  “I’m going to need to pick up Astrean very quickly,” Søren mutters to himself.

  I ignore him. “Do you have honor?” I ask Dragonsbane.

  She bares her teeth in what might pass as a smile but isn’t. “No,” she tells me. “That’s why I’ve stayed alive as long as I have. The men aren’t worth the risk and so they’ll die. That’s why the Prinkiti is going to be returned to the brig, no matter how useful you think he might be.”

  I glance at Søren. I did not drag him out here and make him watch his own people be slaughtered just so he can be put back into chains. Artemisia’s words echo in my mind.

  “By not agreeing to an arranged marriage yet, you have something my mother wants and so you have some measure of control.” I feel sick, but I know what I have to do.

  “Søren isn’t going back to the brig,” I tell Dragonsbane, swallowing down my doubts and meeting her surprised gaze. “I don’t know much about the world outside of Astrea, and I will need Søren’s assistance in selecting the most suitable husband when we reach Sta’Crivero.”

  Dragonsbane stares at me in shock. “You have me for that, Theo, and Anders. There is no need to trust a traitor Prinz.”

  “I trust Søren,” I insist. “If you want me to go through with this plot of yours, I want him out of the brig and treated as my advisor.”

  She considers my words, her lips pursing. “Very well,” she says after a moment, her voice dangerously low. “I suppose he has proven some measure of loyalty today, though I’ve always found the loyalty of men to be a fickle thing. He is your responsibility, Theo, and at the first sign of treason, his life is forfeit, am I understood?”

  “At the first sign of treason, I will kill him myself,” I say.

  Dragonsbane’s expression is sour, but she nods.

  “Was there any other information?” I ask Anders.

  He clears his throat, looking like he would rather step on rusted nails than intrude on our conversation. “There was only one other thing we could verify,” he admits. “About the Kaiser.”

  Even the thought of the Kaiser makes my whole body seize up, though I try to keep my expression level and distant. I’m an ocean away, I remind
myself. He can’t touch me, not even for five million gold pieces.

  It’s another rare word that Søren recognizes and he stiffens beside me, glancing back and forth between Anders and me with a guarded expression.

  “He took a wife after you fled—a rushed marriage that’s been plagued by some unkind rumors.”

  For a second, my breath leaves me.

  “Who?” I finally manage to ask.

  “The Theyn’s daughter,” Anders says. “Lady Crescentia.”

  SØREN IS SILENT AT MY side as we walk down the hallway that leads to my cabin. I barely notice him. My mind is a whirlpool, spiraling my thoughts until they’re jumbled and senseless.

  “He said Crescentia,” Søren says finally, when we’re close to my room. “And the color drained from your face. Is she…” He trails off.

  “She’s not dead,” I tell him, and his face relaxes. I don’t tell him that I think death would be a preferable fate.

  “I’m glad,” he says. “When I got back to court, my father had laid my whole life out for me, including Crescentia. I resented her for that, but it was never about her. You truly care about her, don’t you?”

  I think of Cress as I last saw her on the other side of my cell bars, wild-eyed and brittle, with singed skin and white hair and a touch that turned the cell bars scalding hot. My friend, once, my heart’s sister. But not anymore.

  “One day, when I am Kaiserin, I will have your country and all the people in it burned to the ground,” she said to me in her raw, pained voice. Now she is Kaiserin, and there is nothing to stop her from fulfilling that vow.

  “I don’t know her,” I tell Søren. “And she doesn’t know me.”

  I open the door to my cabin only to find Blaise, Heron, and Artemisia already waiting for me. As soon as they see me, Blaise jumps up from where he’s sitting on my bed.

  “Are you all right?” he asks in Astrean. “We were belowdecks handling other interviews, but we heard that a hostage attacked—”

  “We’re fine,” I assure him, switching to Kalovaxian so that Søren can understand as well. “He killed Pavlos and tried to kill Dragonsbane, but Søren stopped him.”