by Kyra Gregory
Malia smiled, placing her head against his chest. “I’m fine,” she said. “But my mother isn’t, by the sound of it.”
Jared paused. He knew she was right. Even so, there was something else he knew—with Jared, she would be fine. “Your father loves your mother than anything the world; keeping her from travelling is likely a precaution.”
“You’re probably right,” she whispered. “Whatever the response from either of my parents, I’d like to visit them sometime soon.”
Riffin nodded, pursing his lips together, “Of course,” he said. He took a step away, kissing the back of her hand, “My mother has required me to make a visit to Evrad for some time,” he declared. “I’ve put it off, owing to the girls’ premature arrival, but I’ll plan for it to happen while you visit family, this way we need only be parted once.”
Malia smiled warmly, contented as she leaned into him once again. “That sounds like a good idea,” she whispered.
Riffin kissed the top of her head, “Write to them then,” he said. “We’ll make preparations.”
Malia pursed her lips together, nodding. Riffin leaned into her, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss.
Their separation was going to be difficult, a thing that only occurred to Riffin as he watched their packed trunks, separated beside the door to their chambers. Malia’s eyes wouldn’t leave her daughter’s faces, burning their image into her mind. She had commissioned pictures of them, rough sketches at best, to show her parents—if they asked—but she knew them to be nothing when compared to the real thing.
She pressed kisses to their cheeks as they slept, tears burning in her eyes, and then walked with Riffin to the square where their separate carriages waited. “Before long, we’ll be back together,” he said, kissing her knuckles on both hands. “And if I finish my duties in Evrad quickly enough, should you need to stay in Azura longer, I will come there.”
Malia smiled. Her eyes were flooded with happiness at the thought, though torn by what she knew to be of greater importance. “You should be back here,” she said. “Be with the children. Write to me often about them.”
Riffin ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her face, “The children will be safe,” he said. “I promise.”
Malia stepped up onto the tips of her toes, meeting him for their last kiss for the next few weeks. He saw her off, into the carriage and out of the gates. Soon, his carriage followed and started on its journey to Evrad. Seated in his place, already taken by the emptiness in his chest, he tore his eyes away from scenery that he’d seen thousands of times before. He looked to Thane, seated across from him, arms crossed against his chest as he rested his head against the side of the carriage. Riffin smirked, kicking Thane’s seat, causing him to jump and turn to him, “Look lively,” he said, “you’re all the company I have for the next ten days.”
Thane smirked, arching his back and stretching, “Just like it used to be,” he said.
Chapter 15
THE THING ABOUT TRAVELLING is it makes it very difficult to remember who you are. Living a life so far from your roots, away from family, away from all the people who know you—it made it easy to forget it all, so long as there was no need to cling onto the past. The same wasn't necessarily true for Riffin. The only moments in which he could remotely forget himself was during the long lulls during their travels. Sitting in his carriage with his friend across from him, they passed the time with stories and anecdotes from their childhood. Occasionally, if they were really bored, they would play the same games they had back then.
It was when their carriage came to a stop and he exited that he was reminded of who he was. Being a Prince commanded more attention than he liked and, sometimes, even so much as greeting the nobles irked him.
Boring as his travels often were, they earned little of his ire—so long as he could forget being parted from his wife and children. His visits and meetings went along remarkably unhindered otherwise.
It was almost eerie, if he was truly honest with himself. His mother and father often spoke of the dangers that came with travel and with being away from home. With Thane by his side, however, he liked to think that safety and home were never quite as far away as they were for his mother.
Much had changed since the time in which she was in his place. While they had their age in common, Riffin found himself surrounded with far more allies than his mother ever did.
But after years of constant warnings, after being told over and over again that the world was not a safe place for someone like him, the ease with which he went about his travels and conducted his meetings irked him more than he thought possible. Tempted as he was to believe that his mother’s power had made the world safer for him and for his family, he couldn’t help but be disturbed by it. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the calm before the storm.
Riffin hopped out of his carriage and glanced up at the palace he called home, sighing as he rubbed at the kink in his neck, feeling that familiar comfort that came when familiarity was within his sights. The night was cold and dark, illuminated only by the stars and a small sliver of the moon in the sky above them. A chilling breeze brushed against him, as well as the Capital’s walls, causing a howling that was less than welcoming.
Looking to the front door of the palace, rather than open for him right away, the guard descended the steps promptly. Riffin’s brows furrowed together and he remained rooted in his spot, trying to decipher the look on the man’s face as he walked as though he were being dragged down by the burden of whatever news he brought.
“Her Majesty requires your presence in the throne room,” he said.
The shortness of his words, the summon to see his mother in the dead of night, was enough to send his heart racing. He marched past the guard and up the steps. Running his fingers through his hair, adjusting the collar on his coat and smoothing everything out, he did his best to make himself look presentable before reaching the throne room.
“You asked to see me?”
The looks on his parents faces were unmistakable. His mother’s gaze remained affixed to the floor. His father’s mouth opened and, yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. The silence lingered longer than he could stand.
His mind started to race with countless possibilities, each one worse than the last. His heart rattled against his ribcage and, try as he might, the silence caused his breathing to still.
“What happened?” he asked, advancing on them.
His mother pursed her lips together, a momentary flash of sympathy crossing her features. “Malia never made it to Azura,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Riffin asked. Looking to each of them, nothing on their faces betrayed any more information than he had been given. They were not wearing black. There hadn’t been a shipwreck. There hadn’t been a death. “What happened? Where is she?”
“We don’t know yet,” his father replied. “If it’s the weather, we have yet to hear about it from our search party. If it’s something else, if somebody seized the ship, and her, then we’ve yet to hear about it.
Riffin felt his knees shaking, verging on unable to support him any longer. “What are we doing about this?” he asked, breathlessly.
“There’s very little we can do for the moment,” his father said. “So long as we don’t know what’s happened there’s no action we can take.”
His eyes still wide, struggling against the blow that had just been delivered with the news, “And how close are we to finding out?”
“Azura has been informed of a missing ship,” his mother replied. “Traders out on duty know to report anything they see or hear to the nearest port. This information is of utmost importance and will be brought to us as soon as possible.”
“It’s been ten days,” Riffin declared. “If they haven’t seen anything yet then what are the chances that...” He cut himself off, recoiling as his own words revealed to him thoughts he much rather would not have had. The way his mother and father loo
ked away from him, at nothing in particular, told him that he was right. If they had yet to find anything, if none of them had seen anything, then they never would.
“Gyles says there were countless ships in our waters the day she travelled,” his mother started. “None of them encountered bad weather.”
Riffin shook his head, shrugging his shoulders with eyes wide open, the figures of both his parents blurring into the background. “Then what could’ve happened?” he asked.
“We don’t know yet,” his father reiterated.
“But you have known about this for days!” Riffin growled. “The journey to Azura isn’t long! It wouldn’t have taken any more than two days to receive word of this! Why was I not informed?”
“You were away on duties,” his mother said.
“Fuck duty!” Riffin shouted. “My wife could be dead and you sent no word!” He pulled himself back and bit the inside of his cheek until the familiar taste of copper flooded his mouth. “What about my children?” he asked, throwing his hands up at his sides. “Has something you haven’t told me befallen them?”
His mother resisted rolling her eyes, looking elsewhere, “The children are fine,” she said.
Riffin inhaled sharply, scoffing, “Of course they are,” he said. “Had they not been, you would’ve sent word right away, summoning me back to make more precious heirs!”
His mother reclined in her seat, saying nothing. She, too, had the habit of biting her tongue. The hour was late. The exhaustion was clear on all their faces. They had stayed up, waiting for him to arrive to give him the news—a cold comfort, he thought.
“Try to get some rest,” his father started, speaking quietly, “and we’ll discuss this in the morning.”
His mouth fell open, a short gasp escaping him. Rest? Were they mad? How could rest be even remotely possible? How could they tell him this and then expect him to rest?
He turned on his heel and walked out without another word. Thane, who had stood behind him, listening in silence, followed him with quick steps that echoed throughout the corridors.
His feet led him to the nursery and the guards posted at the doors slinked away to let him through. The servant who sat beside the cradles, needle and thread in hand, shot to her feet and excused herself as he entered.
The children were fine, just as his mother had said. Sound asleep in their cradles, barely any space between the two, they were none-the-wiser to the world around them.
They were as beautiful as he remembered, small and delicate, just as they were the day they were born. She had laboured so hard, endured so much, bringing them into this world. The relief that had flooded her face when they arrived, the joy that lit up her eyes as they were placed in their arms, all came back to him, accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest.
Tears stung the back of his eyes as their forms blurred in front of him. He stuck his knuckle of his index finger between his teeth, keeping himself from crying out.
Strong familiar hands took him by the shoulders, pulling him back, away from the cradles. He dropped himself into the chair beside them, placing his face in his hands and pressing his fingertips against his eyes as he sobbed.
Chapter 16
GROWING UP IN AZURA, Malia knew a world that was full of colour. The golden sands of the shores, while striking in their own right, were a stark contrast to the glistening translucent water that came with the tide. The radiant blues and greens of the water were striking in themselves but, as they bore the reflection of the sunrise and sunset, the dark night skies peppered with stars and a iridescent moon, the sight of it was captivating. When the world around her was dark, Malia knew that something was wrong.
Malia grimaced against the pain in her head, the discomfort coming second only to the griping pan in her abdomen and the sloshing of the contents of her stomach. She peeled her eyelids open and, despite the darkness, closed them again with a hiss.
The damp in the air was enough to drown her, each breath a struggle as her lungs felt weighted by liquid. The temptation to go back to her childhood was great. She recalled holding her breath the first time, learning how to swim. Even that sensation paled in comparison to the suffocation that came with breathing in this place. She heard someone shuffle in the distance, something rustling against the floors. She could feel her heart racing, thudding louder than everything else as her mind scrambled to make sense of her surroundings. A key disengaged in a lock, the sound of it ringing out, echoing against the walls.
“The sedative will wear off in a matter of hours,” a voice said, eerily close.
Malia gasped at the sound of it, a shallow, sharp breath that felt like a knife to the heart. She forced her eyes open and they began to burn as she focused on the figure that loomed over her. She couldn’t make out much. It was too dark and a light in the distance did little to illuminate him or soothe the stinging of her eyes. “Who are you?” she asked.
The figure shifted above her and she tried to scurry backwards, her shoulder immediately hitting a cold stone wall.
“My name is Cisco Terri,” he said. His voice was gentle—almost insincerely so.
Malia scrunched her eyes shut before blinking to regain her vision as she racked her brain. She had sat through countless meals through which news from across the lands was recited for the Queen and for those closest to her to hear. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall it—the name wasn’t familiar, no matter how much she searched the back of her mind.
“Where am I?” she asked. Try as she might to keep her fear from showing, she couldn’t help the crack in her voice—she despised herself for it.
“Nowhere you would know,” he replied, a touch of amusement in his tone. “Theosina,” he said.
“Do you know where that is?” he asked, intrigued.
“No,” Malia lied. Theosina—an island, if it could be called that, south west of Ludorum, cut off from the mainland by a birth of about fifty nautical miles, out of the way of most major trade routes. She knew exactly where she was and it wasn’t anywhere good. She lifted her hands to her eyes; they were heavy, weighted by a chain of metal that dangled and struck her in the chest—shackled.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “Daughter of pirates, I’m told,” he declared. “I imagine a girl such as yourself need never know of your parents quests across open waters, what with having earned the Queen’s spoils.”
A shiver ran down Malia’s spine. He knew who she was. All temptation to think that this was random, that her being there was without intention, was quickly dashed.
“Can’t say I know much else about you,” he said. “Your Queen didn’t seem to make much of a show of you to her people—makes me wonder if she thought you weren’t a favourable match for her son.”
A smile twitched at the corner’s of Malia’s lips. It hurt, a sharp flash of pain crossing her features. “Should I be offended?” she asked.
The man chuckled. “I hear you don’t have much favour with the people,” he said. “I hear you’re considered too common to be the wife of a future king, but too good to be given away to any old noble.”
Malia bit her tongue, forcing it between her molars. She could barely breathe. Speaking seemed to be laborious. If she was going to do it, it would have to be to her own advantage.
“It’s a problem,” he said, “if you’re not liked, you see?”
Gradually, Malia’s vision began to clear. She rested her head against the wall behind her. Her eyes remained glazed over with a thin haze, blurring much of her surroundings, and the man’s appearance, from her. “Why is that?” she asked. She already knew why. Ransom. She was of no use to anyone if the people they thought to ransom her to were unlikely to care whether she was alive or dead.
“The family you have married into is an ally of my King,” he said. “Petitions to my King for what we desire have gone unanswered thus far. One can only hope that, having you here, he reconsiders our terms.”
Malia scoffed, “What terms?” she asked.
> The man seemed to give it a moment of thought, filling the silence with a hum. “He will not grant us our independence,” he said, “so, if that is too much to ask for, we will fight for it.”
She couldn’t help it. A smirk twitched onto her lips. “By angering him? By angering those who could be your allies?” she asked.
He scoffed, “Queen Sybelle would be no ally of ours,” he said. “Great powers concern themselves with other great powers.”
“Then why risk your lives fighting two great powers?” she asked. She would roll her eyes if she could. His plan was absurd.
“They will not fight,” he said. “Not if they value your life.”
Malia smiled. His features shifted into focus ever so slightly. He wasn’t a handsome man, in his fifties, maybe sixties, she thought. With greying hair and a growing peppered beard, he looked at her with dark eyes and a smirk on his thin lips. “As you said, I’m not very well-liked,” she countered.
“You’re still worth enough,” he said. “Families as powerful as yours will need heirs. Rulers always go to war for their heirs.”
There was truth in that. Of course, he failed to realise how easily she could be replaced. It was then that it struck her; they thought that she wasn’t easily replaced. She laughed inwardly at the thought that he did not consider her being replaceable and, yet, she thought him too intelligent for that never to have dawned on him.
With a growing dread, she realised—her daughters. He thought her daughters were on that ship. Her face grew hotter. Her vision, no longer clouded by whatever she had been drugged with, was soon glazed over with something else; anger. She wasn’t the target. Her daughters were. They’d hoped they would be with her.
Rather than let her anger show, she inclined her head, casting her gaze elsewhere, “Tell me,” she said, stifling her emotions, “what am I worth?” she asked.
