Flintlock (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Leaf worked for a bit, picking out the splinters. Barren flinched each time the Elf touched the raw skin.

  “No.”

  And Barren asked no more questions. He turned his attention to his crew, who had gathered about, waiting for orders.

  “How long since we left Aryndel?”

  “Two days,” Leaf said. “We’re on the border of the Octent and the Orient. I would not make a decision until I knew you were going to live.”

  “That bad, huh?” Barren said absently.

  Leaf was not amused. “We still do not know anything about who sold those weapons to Sabine,” said the Elf. “The Corsairs are intercepting ships carrying those weapons. It’s likely they’ve discovered the source. You and I both know this is something that must be stopped at its source.”

  “No,” Barren said immediately. “I will not work with the Corsairs of Avalon. It is against the code!”

  “You’d do well to put aside your prejudices and go to them,” Leaf argued. “Besides, it’s not like you can get in any more trouble with the Elders.”

  “I don’t care about the Elders!” Barren snapped. “The Corsairs have never been our friends!”

  “You know who you sound like? Larkin, when she first met us. She hated us, too, and you know why? Because her father said so. You can’t hate Corsairs just because the Elders told you they were our enemies. They’ve never once attacked us personally, and as far as attacking the Orient islands, let me remind you that we are pirates.”

  Barren was quiet. He knew the Elf was right. Moving forward from here was impossible without knowing how Sabine came by those weapons.

  When he had gone to trial, he’d had the same thought he was having now. There were some situations he’d never expected to be in, and this was one. “Sam,” he said. “Set sail for Avalon.”

  ***

  Cove approached Barren as he stood at the helm. He’d never seen the pirate so quiet or so severe.

  “I am sorry, Barren,” Cove said quietly. He’d hoped to have better words for the moment, but those were the only ones he could offer. Even he’d been surprised to learn Larkin was a Lyric. But now he understood what she had been hiding.

  “It is nothing to be sorry for,” Barren said after a moment. “I am only embarrassed that I thought I could love her.”

  “You do not know her motivations yet,” said Cove. “Her choice may be of benefit to you in the future.”

  “I can’t imagine how,” he said. “Except that I will not have to answer for my deeds.”

  Cove grimaced, but he had nothing more to say. He headed from deck to the hatch, feeling lightheaded and lethargic, his breath getting shorter. It was strange to be in this position, especially when it seemed Barren was getting stronger and he weaker.

  If he had to sit aside and be useless, he’d rather be dead.

  Once he was below deck, he slid to the ground, not wanting to walk any farther.

  “You look exhausted,” Sara said. He was surprised that he hadn’t even heard her approach.

  Cove managed to laugh a little. “I am tired,” he said.

  “Here, eat this,” Sara knelt beside him. She handed him a wooden plate with a piece of bread and dried meats. He took the plate, and while he didn’t feel like eating, he decided it was best to at least appear as if he had an appetite. He couldn’t stand seeing worry in Sara’s eyes, especially for him.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  But it was impossible. She would worry. She always had and even if he tried to hide how bad he was feeling, she was going to see it. They knew each other too well.

  “Okay,” he said.

  She look down at her dress and played with the hemline. It was something she did when she was upset. When she was about to cry.

  Cove sat up more, ignoring the pain that tore at his side. It was like having an open wound again. He set the plate down, and Sara reached across him. “No, no, eat,” she said, trying to put the plate in his hands again.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her upright, looking into her eyes. Before her, he hadn’t even thought of favorite colors. But her eyes made the choice simple. Blue. Sapphire blue. Tears ran down her rosy cheeks and over her red-stained lips.

  “Don’t cry for me,” Cove said, begged really.

  Her lips quivered. “What will I do without you?”

  “You will live as you always have,” he said.

  “No, no, no,” she shook her head, looking away from him. “You don’t understand. You never have.”

  Cove’s brows came together. What didn’t he understand? She had moved on before, and she had to now. She was engaged.

  “When you left before, at least I knew you were here on this earth. But how can I live in a world where I know you don’t exist?”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. So he didn’t say anything. He placed his hand on the side of her face and she froze. He kept her gaze as he ran his fingers through her blond hair. It was like silk and curled around his fingers.

  And she leaned forward to kiss him.

  They had kissed before, but those were innocent kisses. Light kisses. This was desperate. There was anger and fear. It was like they couldn’t be close enough, and their kisses were rushed as if time was running out. Cove’s lips trailed her jaw, her neck, her shoulders…but he stopped. His grip on her didn’t lessen, because he knew that when Sara realized why he’d stopped, she wouldn’t want to be in his arms.

  “Sara,” Cove said, and he moved the collar of her dress back with his thumb. There were colors of yellow, green, and blue. They were bruises, almost healed, but very much present.

  She pushed against him, wanting to tear away from him, but Cove kept her firmly beside him. “Who did this?” he kept his voice controlled, calm. If he was to show her how angry he really was, she would be terrified of him.

  She shook her head and cried harder.

  “He did this, didn’t he?”

  Cove tried to move her face toward his, but she pushed against him harder. It made sense now, why she was so desperate for him to stay. “No!” she cried and stood. She turned her back on him, burying her face in her hands.

  Cove stood with some effort, but he kept his distance.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she sobbed, but she still hid her face.

  “Sara,” Cove said quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Do not be ashamed.”

  She turned into him and sobbed quietly. He held her, not saying a word. He swore the next time he saw Ben Willow, his rival would die.

  Bright sunlight filtered in through the windows. “Up!” Ms. Jennings said. It was the only word she’d spoken to Larkin since her return. “You are requested at the castle.”

  Larkin opened her bleary eyes. “The castle?”

  “The king requests it,” she said. “Up!”

  Larkin got up slowly, only to be pulled by the hand and pushed toward her bath. The water already rose with steam. “Hurry!”

  Larkin glared at the old woman and waited until she left to immerse herself in the hot bath. She scrubbed her skin until it stung and her scalp tingled. Her hair felt heavy as she sat before the mirror while Ms. Jennings arranged the curls, unnecessarily pinning them too tightly. Any other time she might have threatened punishment, but that was not for today. Her eyes were painted, cheeks pinched, waist fitted into a corset. The dress Ms. Jennings helped her into was iridescent pink, which made her skin seem even darker. The sleeves hung off her shoulders, and the skirt was full. She did not remember it.

  “Where did this come from?” she asked.

  “It was a gift,” said Ms. Jennings.

  “From who?”

  The old woman did not answer. Larkin set her jaw.

  When she stood before the mirror, she was not herself.

  “You look beautiful,” another servant said entering the room with fresh flowers. “It is no wonder Barren Reed was smitten with you.”
Larkin met her gaze and saw that the woman hesitated for a step, but then gave a small smile. Larkin wondered what she’d seen in her eyes. Hostility? Ms. Jennings huffed.

  Larkin turned toward the window. Her habit of looking out at the sea each morning had not changed. After the storm last night, the sun was bright and the sea a marvelous blue. As before, she felt that uneasy pull toward the ocean. She wondered if it ever went away.

  “Your father waits for you,” said Ms. Jennings. “Go.”

  Larkin turned, gathering the wide skirt into her hands before she left the room. “Oh, Ms. Jennings,” she said. “I would prefer you kept your dissatisfaction with my return to yourself while I am around. I think I might favor you talking behind my back as before.”

  The old woman raised her head proudly, and the other servant giggled until Ms. Jennings cast her a warning glance.

  Larkin made her way downstairs. Her father was waiting for her. He helped her into their waiting carriage without a word and they hurried off toward the castle.

  “What is this for?” she asked.

  “I warned you to tread carefully,” her father said, then sighed, peering out the window. “You said this was not a triumph over Barren Reed, but it most certainly is.”

  He kept his eyes on the window. Larkin pulled back the curtains and peered out. There were people everywhere. They were marching toward the castle. When her eyes met some of the onlookers, she pulled away from the window and pushed herself to the center of the seat in the carriage.

  “Where are they going?”

  For a moment, she feared there would be a hanging today.

  “Tetherion will present you to the public,” he said. “Afterwards he expects you to socialize with the loyalists. They will be brutal.”

  “Were they not all concerned about my absence?” she asked.

  “Concerned, yes,” he said. “But that was when you were gone. You’re back now. Rumors abound, and one thing remains certain…you are now damaged goods.”

  Larkin’s face felt hot. Damaged goods. As if she were a thing to be traded or bought. She should have expected such.

  They arrived at the castle through an alternate route that sloped up a steep hill. Larkin was helped out of the carriage and swept inside. She could hear shouts and commotion nearby and she knew it was the crowd who had gathered to see that she had returned. She wondered what sort of opinions they held about her. Cove had taught her that the most important opinions were those of the common people. There were more of them than there were of the privileged. Their power was great, if only they realized it.

  She was led up the grand staircase and to Tetherion’s study. She kept her father’s arm and cast glances at him now and then to see his expression. It was the same—cold as stone.

  When they entered the study, her eyes immediately went to the balcony which was covered with thick velvet curtains. Tetherion stood before them, his arms behind his back. Illiana’s Relic seemed to glare back at her. She tried to keep her eyes from it, knowing Tetherion would notice her stare. Natherious stood aside to the left of his father, staring outside, while Datherious stood opposite his father.

  “Lady Larkin, you look lovely,” Tetherion said.

  “Thank you, your majesty,” she said, and curtsied deep.

  “This is a fine day. Shall we?”

  They turned to face the velvet curtains. She heard the page announce them, “King Tetherion presents to you, Lady Larkin Lee!”

  Fear gripped her heart as Tetherion led her forward. What if this was an execution? And her father had led her into it?

  The sun was bright as she stepped onto the balcony. She squinted against the brightness. A roar erupted from below, a mixture of cheers and jeers. She wasn’t sure what these people felt of her: relief, excitement, disgust. They would feel many things, believe what they wanted to believe.

  Tetherion raised his hand with hers in it and waved. Larkin did the same, a smile plastered on her face. Tetherion drew her closer to the balcony edge and her heart hammered harder in her chest. He motioned to silence the crowd.

  “My people, today we celebrate triumph over Barren Reed, for one of our own has escaped.”

  The crowd roared and Larkin laughed. One of our own. They had no idea how different she actually was. Even now the magic within her was swirling about. She imagined that it would be beautiful if it wasn’t so devastating.

  “Remember that while we’ve had one successful recovery, we have had many failures. Do not let your hatred for this dreaded pirate ebb. We will not rest until he hangs!”

  The crowd seemed to explode with excitement. Larkin turned to watch Tetherion, and he nodded at a soldier who raised his flintlock pistol in the air and released a bullet. Then Larkin’s eyes focused on movement at the docks where several ships were now setting sail.

  “What is happening?” she asked.

  Tetherion looked down at her, a smirk on his face. “It’s a race,” he said. “The first to return with Barren Reed will be heavily rewarded with thousands of pounds, a title, and you.”

  “Me?” Larkin asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “It would do you well to wed a wealthy privateer. It is perhaps the only offer you will ever have considering your situation.”

  “I’m not yours to marry off,” Larkin said bitingly.

  “Oh, don’t worry, if you don’t like him, you can just kill him,” Tetherion said, turning to face the crowd, who had turned to cheer the ships forward.

  She felt anger and fear battle inside her, and she knew she had made a mistake. She kept telling herself this was all for one purpose. She had a job to complete; she only hoped she could.

  When Tetherion was satisfied with the crowd, he pulled her away from the balcony. “I hope that did not exhaust you, Lady. We’ve more events to attend.”

  “Oh, your majesty, I am quite energized,” she said. If he was going mock her, she would mock him.

  She was allowed to take her father’s arm as they descended the grand staircase to the first floor of the castle. She’d forgotten how lacking she’d found the castle of Maris. Though light streamed in from windows high above, the whole castle always seemed dim. The tapestries were all dusty, the dirt covering their history. There was a grandness to everything—the large endless stairs, the blood-red carpet, the massive statues that greeted them as they descended the steps—but it was not awe-worthy. She tried to remember ever finding this place beautiful, and she had to wonder if a different king occupied the throne, if a just king commanded, would it be different?

  She and her father were separated from Tetherion and the twins once they reached the bottom of the stairs and were ushered into a room. Through the open windows, Larkin could hear shouts and demands. She knew the crowd had not dispersed. She wondered if they cried for her death.

  “They cry for a new king,” her father said quietly. “Many have joined the Commonwealth’s cause.”

  The Commonwealth. Her throat felt tight. They were another problem, Ben Willow, especially. What would he do once he found out she was here? Would he attempt to expose her magic since she did not have Barren’s compass to offer? Aethea had said that the compass had been confiscated upon her capture, but Tetherion did not wear it as he did Illiana’s Relic. Would he not display the other proudly? Perhaps Aethea had been wrong. Perhaps the compass had not fallen into Tetherion’s hands, but if the king did not have it, who did?

  “Do you agree with the Commonwealth?”

  “I think they are false prophets of sorts,” he said. “Rumors are that Datherious supports their cause to dethrone Tetherion. He has become their icon. It gives him power he should not have.”

  Anxiety filled Larkin’s stomach. What she wouldn’t give to be anywhere else but here.

  “Watch your words in there,” her father’s voice was low, warning. “They will prey on anything you offer.”

  She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

  Shortly they were retrieved by a servant who led the
m into the ballroom. The double doors were opened, and she raised her head higher. She paused as she entered the room, hesitating. Men and women were scattered all about. They were loyalists, judging by their dress of fine suits and wide dresses. When they spotted her at the entrance, a strange silence spread about the room, and women leaned in to whisper in each other’s ears. She should have guessed this is how it would go, and she realized now that she was here that she wasn’t necessarily ready to face their scrutiny. She was reminded of Ben’s words. She really had no idea what it meant to be rejected by society, but she had a feeling she was about to find out.

  Tetherion and his sons were at the center of the crowd, and when the crowd hushed he turned toward her in his false, animated manner, spreading his hands wide so that the gems on his fingers flashed.

  “Lady Larkin!” he strode forward.

  The black of his eyes glinted. He was insincere, though she didn’t expect much from the King of the Orient. It was strange that she had now become a part of their act.

  She curtsied deep, and he chuckled. Her stomach turned as she rose. He reached for her hand and drew her near him. She hated the closeness—darkness radiated from Tetherion like magic radiated from her. “Ah, this is a fine day! Ladies and gentleman, I present to you Lady Larkin! Fresh from the sea.”

  Some people clapped, but others looked on in disdain. She smiled anyway and nodded in appreciation at those who clapped. As she exchanged a glance with Tetherion, she saw how amused he was. She knew this was deliberate. It was a test, and as terrible a test as it was, she would need to pass it to stay free. This was a place she’d never expected to be.

  Tetherion let her hand go, and she managed to take a step away. Then the vultures converged. She stood as a part of a circle, though she felt surrounded like a prisoner held for interrogation.

  “So tell us, Lady Larkin, how did you find the company of Barren Reed?” Lord Covington posed the question. He had a sweet disposition, but his wife’s critical stare spoke of her disapproval.

  “Deplorable,” Larkin said, and the lies she told felt like knives in her blood. “I apologize if you were expecting him to have manners.”