by Kyra Gregory
“So, because of this, I’m going,” Jared sighed, mustering what courage he yet had to be parted from his wife. “Whether you like it or not.”
Riffin smirked. They took each other’s arm in a gesture of friendship, clapping each other on the shoulder. Truth be told, it was good to be surrounded by more allies as the prospect of sailing into enemy territory weighed on him.
The doors of the palace opened, gaining their attention. The Queen gripped at the skirts of her dress as she made her way down the steps, surveying all of Riffin’s preparations. Riffin met her at the bottom with a sigh, expectant. She extended her hand, running her fingers through his hair. She sucked in a deep breath, “Stay safe,” she said. “There’s no harm in using your heart, so long as you also use your head.”
Riffin shifted his weight, hanging his head before meeting her gaze again, “Can you trust me to do that?” he asked.
A short smile, feeble in appearance, flickered onto her lips. “Would I be letting you go if I couldn’t?” she asked.
It was his turn to smile, warmed by her words. “Even if this goes against your will?” he asked.
She pulled her hand back, sighing, “You’ll be forced to make your own decisions one day,” she said. “How can I expect you to make them then if you’re not allowed to make them now?” There was a pang of fear, immediate but fleeting. His mother opened her mouth to say something else, only for her to shake her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Go. Bring her home.”
Even with her blessing, something forced him to linger. After years of being taught about what it meant to rule, what sacrifices needed to be made, that duty always had to win out over the heart, he never thought that doing the contrary would suddenly scare him so much. After all the time he spent begging her to change her mind, he never realised how unnatural it must’ve been for her to concede this. Watching his mother go back on everything she ever taught him—it left more of an impression on him than he thought possible.
His mother lifted her head up high and took on the stance of a Queen, and no longer that of a mother. She folded her arms over her chest, turning on her heel, “Go,” she commanded, “and leave Ludorum to me.”
Riffin shook all thoughts of his mother from his mind and mounted his horse once she was gone. “Look lively, people,” he sighed. “We need to make it to the docks before nightfall.”
Chapter 21
“FOOL!”
Malia’s eyes darted in the direction of Cisco’s youngest child, Helvia, at the sound of the brazen insult and slap that followed. She was small and insignificant when stood in front of a servant girl three times her age but her glare as she stood with her hands on her hips rivalled that of her soft-spoken senior. “Helvia,” Malia hissed, gaining the young girl’s attention. “That is no way to treat someone,” she said. She couldn’t help but grit her teeth together, keeping herself from saying more.
The servant girl gaped to her. Behind the tears brimming in her eyes, her shock at being defended was clear. She recoiled in horror when Helvia turned her attention away from her and stomped her feet as she approached Malia. Helvia’s eyes were much like her father’s; in the space of a heartbeat, they transformed from containing a softness to being flooded with contempt.
Helvia stopped short of her. Her clenched fists were popped onto her hips and her shoulders were square as she faced her. "You're not my mother," she said, leaning into her. "You don't get to tell me what to do!"
Malia recoiled. Then, she couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her—it lasted for only a second but it was the most laughter she'd had in some time. She couldn't believe a child to be so disrespectful. The sound of her laughter shocked the room, as much as herself. The servant girl's stared at her with wide eyes in response, while that of Helvia was to strike her hard across the face with an unspeakable rage.
Malia couldn't deny the temptation to strike her back—the tingle in her hand, luring her to do so, was difficult to ignore. But she reminded herself that Helvia was a child and she was the result of her upbringing. Instead, she pursed her lips together and allowed the sting in her cheek to dissipate without a word.
As Helvia walked away, dragging the servant girl along with her, she couldn't help but wonder about her own children. They weren't old enough to remember her, she thought. She wondered if they would be raised by a new wife—if they would only know her as their mother or if her memory would live on in some way. She couldn't help but hope, if they were raised to know her, that they would never treat another in this way. She’d have liked to believe she could’ve had a hand in raising them to be more welcoming of a new addition to their family, only she knew that she wasn’t in their lives long enough to have such an influence. In a few weeks, she would’ve spent more time with Cisco’s children than she would’ve done with her own.
Everything the children did stuck out in her mind. They made her think of her own—it was the only thing that kept her alive. She thought of them often. She wondered if they were babbling or if they still spent most of their time sleeping. She wondered if they were able to sit upright and if they were able to crawl. They were all the little milestones she thought she would be there to see, and she couldn't help but wonder who was there to witness them in her stead.
She hoped Riffin was with them, if no one else. She hoped he could delight in their progress for the both of them, coddle them and cherish them as much as she would.
The bitterness in a child as young as Helvia left more of an impression on her than most, a thought prevalent in her mind even after supper that evening.
Stood in the bed chambers she shared with Cisco, she avoided the sight of her own reflection as she took off her earrings and placed them onto the dressing table. They were about all she had left from her time in the palace. She was surprised they hadn't been taken from her to fund the rebellion—everything else had been. “Your daughter is a bully,” Malia said, matter-of-factly. “She struck one of the servants across the face when the ribbon on her dress wasn’t tied to her liking.”
Cisco paused, glancing over his shoulder, “She is a Princess in her own right here,” he said.
Malia scoffed, “I was a Princess for a year,” she said, “and, even then, I never struck anyone.”
Cisco approached her with slow, languid steps. She avoided his gaze initially, bracing herself before she would have to breathe the same air as him. He stopped in front of her, licking his lips.
She bit her tongue and her nostrils flared the longer he looked into her eyes. She could feel him in the depths of her soul, cold and heartless, like steel chains against warm flesh. They constricted around her in a vice-like grip, stifling her breathing and causing her stomach to churn. She felt her rage growing, the flames of anger fanned each time he laid his hands on her, “For you, I could make an exception,” she said. The way he made her feel caused her blood to boil in anger; retaliating was the only way to offset it. What could he possibly do in return? Make her suffer? So much as sharing a bed with him already succeeded at that. Would he kill her? She doubted it; he found too much joy in having a wife for that. The least she could do was make it difficult for him.
He leaned into her and, when she made no move to close the gap between them, he grabbed her face in his hand and then forced his lips over hers.
Never in her life did she imagine she would know the kisses of a man who wasn’t Riffin. Cisco’s kisses left her feeling as cold as ice—Riffin’s sent a flame through every single fibre of her being, igniting all of her senses.
In the seconds leading up to their first kiss, Malia thought she would die in the silence and stillness between her and Riffin. When his lips touched hers, she immediately felt herself warmed and loved. As they grew, so did their kisses, with fire and rapture running through her in ways she’d never imagined before.
Try as he might, Cisco could never replicate that—nor would she ever want him to. She didn’t care if she lived the rest of her life miserable and full of spi
te; she’d never relent to the man who had taken everything from her.
***
Not once in his life had Riffin spent such a long period of time at sea. As Heir to the throne, much unneeded risk was taken out of his life and journeys by ship were nothing more than a means of necessary travel.
He wasn’t sure if he could blame the sea, rocking the ship from side-to-side, for the uneasy feeling that he carried with him in the pit of his stomach for the next few weeks. The journey was long and rife with extreme weather changes, from storms that needed avoiding, to hours of little wind in their sails to propel them further along their course. There was more than a few close calls, some of which he was able to avoid and, others, which he could not.
“It’s any wonder how your mother let you come at all,” Jared remarked one night from across his desk in the Captain’s quarters.
Riffin had shrugged his shoulders. He had understood it. “She has more heirs to her throne now,” he’d said. “They may be only months old, lying in cradles, but they are heirs nonetheless. I have no doubt she would make them her own, should anything happen to me.” He’d cocked his head back, leaning into his chair. It was the way their world worked. All concept of emotion was put aside in favour of reason. As quickly as he would have left, his mother would’ve appointed regents for the young children; his father would be first, there was not a doubt in his mind, and, should anything befall him, his sister would likely be given the role.
Riffin stood aboard the deck with the island within his sight. He approached Jared, standing beside him, “Have you been here before?” he asked.
Jared nodded curtly and, by the look in his eyes, he seemed to travel back to that time, “There was nothing and no one back then,” he said. “It wasn’t very habitable, mostly used by crews for the careening of ships away from busy trade routes.”
“Crews?” he asked. “So you mean pirates?”
Jared’s nostrils flared and he nodded, “Most traders wouldn’t venture this far off, for any reason,” he said. “When your ships are property of investors, you don’t take unnecessary risks. Hostilities between Azura and Ludorum usually kept Azurian navies away but a Ludorum navy ship was occasional.”
Riffin shifted his weight, casting his gaze to the distant tower on the island. “Today,” he started, “there’s no such thing as an unnecessary risk.”
Jared looked at him out of the corner of his eye, confusion evident on his brow.
“Do whatever you must to get Malia back,” Riffin said. “Risk one ship, two ships, risk them all—except the one that gets us out of here before Ludorum turns up.”
Jared smirked. He took a moment, lifting the spyglass back up to his eye. “I always knew I had no need to worry,” he whispered. He lowered it and returned his attention to Riffin. “I knew you would always do everything you could for her.”
Riffin felt his features beginning to burn. Touched as he was, he swallowed the lump in the back of his throat—now wasn’t the time. “Tell me that when we have her back,” he said before leaving his side.
***
Malia woke with a start as the door to her room flew open, slamming against the wall and bringing pieces of stone crumbling to the ground. Two of Cisco’s men stormed in, their eyes dark and filled with determination. “Come with us,” one of the men said.
Malia pulled the blanket up to her chest, sitting there in just her nightgown as one of the men retrieved her shoes and threw them at her. “What’s happening?” she asked. She was grabbed by the arm before long, pulled out of bed and refused an answer to her question.
Neither of the two men made any move to answer her, waiting on her to slip into her shoes before ushering her in the direction of the door. The war that Cisco intended to wage on Ludoum’s King was only in its early days of inception, with much to be planned and plenty yet to be discussed with the rest of the men he conspired with. There was only one other thing she could imagine leading to this.
Outside, she was placed on the back of a horse and led down to the shores of the island. Just peeking above the horizon, she could make out twenty to thirty ships, all making their way towards the island.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to keep the excitement from welling up inside of her. It could be nothing—the ships were too far to discern whether they were allies or enemies. They could very well be from Ludorum, come to quash the rebellion before it could truly start.
Scanning the beach, there were upwards of a hundred men and women. They hadn’t taken a fighting stance, nor had they let their guard down. Shoving her by the shoulder, she was forced to sit in the sand and being largely ignored from that moment on worked in her favour.
It gave her time to think and to take in her surroundings. Nobody watched her too closely, not for the moment. If the men on those ships proved to be from Ludorum, or from Lionessa, Evrad or Azura, they could use her as a human shield—attack, and lose someone of value. Were it Ludorum alone, Malia could see them attacking regardless—King Niles had little qualms for her life, with or without Queen Sybelle as an ally. He would have his men attack and quash the rebellion at any cost, then spin lies to the Lionessan Court as to how he tried to save the Prince's wife. He would be forgiven, no doubt, because Lionessa preferred to have allies than enemies.
No—if those ships were from Ludurom, she would have to see to her own survival.
Should the ships attack, she could run back to the shambles that was the Cisco home further inland. Getting herself away from an open battlefield was the most she could do and, should Ludorum be the victors, she could barter her way back to Lionessa with promises of a Queen's reward.
Three men left the sand on a jolly boat, rowing so far out to sea that she could barely see them any longer as she squinted beneath the scorching sun. Scouts or messengers—whatever Cisco called them—they were sent to discern what they were up against.
Plans needed to change quickly when she was seized by the back of her arm, dragged back onto her feet. With the ships fast approaching and a messenger returning to the sands, Cisco’s men appeared to bolt into action, taking orders from the man himself. She scuttled across the sands to keep up with the man who rushed along, stumbling repeatedly along the way.
She was picked off her feet when she was knee-deep in the water without another word, placed into a jolly boat and shoved into a seat.
“It would appear the young Prince got his way,” Cisco remarked, seating himself beside her.
Malia glanced over her shoulder at the fleet and her heart began to race. Was it really him? Had he really come for her? They closed the distance between them far too slowly for her liking and, in the end, she was nowhere near enough to answer her questions. She was ushered up onto the deck of one of Cisco’s ships, forced to take a seat again—with two guards posted beside her this time.
Soon, she heard a call and, before long, a man in Lionessan uniform made his way up onto the ship. The guard acted as a messenger and, as Cisco busied himself, reading the letter that was handed to him, the guard met her gaze. A small smile, faint and unassuming, appeared on his lips. His eyes were soft, gentle, and held a glimmer of something she couldn’t put into words. She was going to be saved. He wanted her to know that. She wanted to smile back, to laugh and to let the relief overwhelm her and ease the tension that kept her body taut and expectant for the next blow of defeat.
The guard left before long. In the interim, the silence that had developed between the two opposing sides, Cisco turned to her. His gaze on her was hardened—ice cold. She watched as he swallowed a lump forming in the back of his throat.
“It’s a shame to see you go,” he remarked, void of the feeling that’d been clear on his face only seconds earlier.
She couldn’t say the same, though it intrigued her to know that her body warming his bed and her sitting at his table had touched him.
“Let me see her,” came a command across the waters. That familiar voice caused shivers to run down her spine and fo
r her heart to flutter. A flash of excitement ignited within her chest. There was no helping the smile that crept onto her lips. Her eyes stung as her frustrations and despair slowly melted away. She didn’t care that she was pushed, nudged further in the direction of the front-facing side of the ship. She pursed her lips together and did her utmost to force her tears to a stop, breathing a short sigh of relief.
It wasn’t long before terms were agreed. They would sail the ship further forward, acting as the midway point. She would be placed upon it and they could retrieve their gold.
It wasn’t long before she was ushered into a boat, sat between eight men and Cisco. They leered at her, smirks on their lips. Cisco, however, didn’t look as keen as he should’ve. The thought of getting what he wanted weighed on him somehow.
It didn’t matter, she thought. She needn’t care for very much longer. She was going home. She was returning to her husband’s arms. The very thought was enough to bring tears to her eyes again, her heart pounding and her insides buzzing with excitement.
When her feet hit the deck, she looked around. There was one man there—it was hardly the makings of an elaborate rescue. She didn’t recognise him but he was quick to meet her gaze with his soft brown eyes. Then, they darkened and became more severe in the company of her captors.
“As we have agreed,” he started. He bent over a large chest, undoing the latches before prying it open with a grunt. “Fifty-thousand gold coins,” he said, “and ten ships.”
The men crouched in front of the chest, fingering the gold coins, scooping them into the palms of their hands before letting them fall back into the chest, delighted by the clinking sound they made.
It was when they were preoccupied that the man on deck met her gaze again, flashing it to the edge of the ship behind her.
Then she understood. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she nodded. She backed away slowly, then, as her foot came in contact with the side of the ship, she climbed up the side and leapt off it and into the water below.
