by Kyra Gregory
She had jumped off ships countless times in her life. It was a skill that her father had taught her. It had delighted her in the past, full of jovial laughter, but not this time.
As she made contact, the surface of the water felt like solid ground. Frightful as the sensation was, she dived deeper, opening her eyes and taking in what little she could of the depths below her before she used all her strength to swim away from the ship’s shadowy figure.
Suddenly, the world around her trembled and she gasped, clapping her hands over her ears as the waters around her sloshed with the ferocity of an explosion from above.
Unable to hold her breath any longer, she made her way to the surface, all the while moving further and further away. Breaking the surface of the water, feeling the sting of heat against her cheeks, she knew that the sun wasn’t the sole cause of it.
Unable to help herself, she looked back as the ship she had just been standing on only minutes ago had erupted into flames. As the fire grew, the mast seemed to be holding on by just a splinter, with the white sails alight and billowing in the breeze, filling the once clear skies with black smoke. Planks of wood covered in golden flames landed on the surface of the water, rocking side-to-side with the lull of the waves.
She gasped. A hand clenched around her ankle and dragged her beneath the depths once more. She kicked over and over again, bubbles floating from her mouth to the surface as she struggled to hold her breath and keep from crying out.
The figure beneath the water was a familiar one. A guard who had stood beside her cell door for hours upon hours, his face distorted with both anger and from being scorched by the flames. His lips formed a cruel snarl as he struggled to take hold of her, his hands now clenching around her wrists.
Certain she wouldn’t be able to survive much longer, she snatched the short sword from his hip and plunged it into his neck without a moment’s thought.
Blood clouded the water in front of her as she pulled the sword from his throat and shrugged him off of her. His strength quickly withered away and she kicked her feet until she reached the surface of the water.
Gasping for breath in the smoke-thickened air, her hands dyed with blood, she ran her fingers through her hair. It was then, forcing her eyes to adjust to the view in front of her, that her wrist was seized in another vice-like grip.
Chapter 22
REFUSING TO GIVE UP now, not when she’d endured so much as it was, Malia gasped and struggled to tug her wrist away. Quickly, her other arm was seized and she was pulled from the water. Lying on her back, feeling the warmth run through her, she squinted in the sunlight and choked on the smoke.
It wasn’t long before the figure on top of her became clear and her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Her mouth opened to greet him with excitement but the sudden intake of breath caught in the back of her throat, causing her to cough. Riffin drew her into his arms and, as she laid her head against his chest, she felt him chuckle in between the kisses he pressed to her forehead.
Before long, her feet touched the deck of a ship once more. Raking the hair out of her face and wiping the salt water from her eyes, she took in her surroundings. Never had she thought she’d be so grateful to see the Lionessan uniform in such abundance. She jumped at the sight of something moving towards her at speed, recoiling. She blinked, clearing her vision, before she felt her heart ache within her chest.
Her father hurried towards her and threw his arms around her. Never had she wanted his embrace as much as she did in this moment. “You’re safe now,” he whispered.
A sob caught in the back of her throat and her hands clung to his coat. She almost couldn’t believe it. So long had she spent away from home, away from her loved ones, giving up on ever seeing them again… She hoped, so desperately, that he was right.
When her father pulled away, he placed a hand on her shoulder and moved to usher her into the Captain’s quarters.
Confused as to why she was being whisked away so quickly, she found his reason to insist coming up the side of the ship. What remained of her captors had been brought up onto the deck, forced onto their knees before her husband. Seeing them there, she refused to take a step further, rooting herself on the spot.
“We had no quarrel with you,” Riffin said, a snarl on his lips, “not until the moment you took my wife.”
“Nor did we hold quarrel with you,” Cisco retorted, “just the men you call your allies.”
Malia noted the look of anger on her husband’s face. Something had happened with Ludorum, she was certain. Perhaps they had withheld him from her, perhaps they’d truly had a hand in all of this. Whatever it was, she knew she couldn’t expect any form of justice from them.
With every intention of joining her husband, Thane stepped in behind her, shrugging out of his coat and helping her into it. Eager as she was to greet her childhood friend, she was far too focused on her enemy for that. Squeezing his hand tightly, her silent gratitude, she walked away to face the man that’d held her captive.
For weeks she had done her best to contain her fear and anguish. The moment she was in Riffin’s arms, and then her father’s, she’d finally allowed that fear to pour out of her. Now, standing before her captor, she reeled it all in once more. She refused to allow him the satisfaction that he might’ve somehow broken her. That this man, nothing more than a rebel, was capable of leaving his marks on a future Queen. “I must thank you,” she said, “for you have taught me plenty in the last few weeks.”
Cisco’s brows furrowed together, confusion flickering in his eyes, all the while brimming with arrogance.
“People would like to think I’m…incapable of learning all that would be required of me,” she said. She bit the inside of her cheek, “But that’s not true,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot.” She turned to her husband, her real husband, pulling the sword from his side. A flash of surprise and concern crossed his features for a moment, concerns which she quickly quelled with the adamance in her eyes.
She turned back to her captor, now a captive himself. “I learnt from my mother,” she said, “that the most certain way to annul a marriage, is if one of you is dead.”
“I have children,” Cisco blurted.
Malia remembered them well—they were no reason for sympathy. She shrugged her shoulders, cold and indifferent, “So do I,” she said. Knowing that he had no regard for her own life, she ended his, piercing his throat with a quick jab of the sword. Blood spurted and poured down his chest and, soon enough, his body dropped, lifeless, against the deck.
She handed the sword back to Riffin, paying one last glance over her shoulder, before turning the page on that dreaded chapter in her life.
The eagerness to return home was impossible to quell and, the closer they got, the more it seemed to grow. Nonetheless, she was no longer filled with agitation. No longer was she jittery and restless, her mind and body truly unable to rest. Instead of dwelling upon it, she allowed herself to slip into her husband’s embracing arms. He didn’t ask questions but he understood.
He knew and, going by the the way he touched her, he didn’t seem to care. He held her close and brushed his hands along her arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks and neck, willing her to forget it all. The relief he carried matched her own and, lulled by the gentle sway of the ship, sea spray tickling her features, she felt as though she was finally at peace.
***
The sea was an uncertain place. No matter how many times a route is taken, no matter how strong the ship travelled upon is, anything can happen. Even so, the journey back home was smooth.
No ship dared venture towards them as they remained a fleet of twenty. Over time, that fleet dwindled in numbers as Deros Bonomo’s ships returned to the Evradian port they left from, papers forged to account for their time away from his territory in Ludorum. As they made their way along the coast of Evrad, others soon went their separate ways, starting on their journey back to Azura at Jared’s command. The rest made their return to Lionessa.
Touching land was euphoric after so much time spent at sea, and so much time spent so very far away from home.
Sitting beside her, holding her hand tight within his, Riffin watched as the strength slowly faded from his wife’s features as their carriage made its way through the gate of the Lionessan Capital. She pursed her lips together, sucking in a deep breath. Her fingers clenched within his and she looked to him, putting on her best smile. It spoke so much, most of all of her joy to be back.
The carriage came to a stop and all calm seemed to fade away as she cast a glance out his window. A gasp escaped her and she leapt from her seat, stepping out of the carriage. Her features broke and tears poured down her cheeks at the sight of those waiting for their arrival.
“Mother,” she cried. She threw her arms around her in a single swoop, clutching at her dearly. Sobbing into her mother’s shoulder, allowing herself to be embraced and swayed ever so gently, she was just like a child. She was precisely that—unable to be forced into being anything other than the girl she still was.
Jared soon joined them, embracing them both, kissing their heads and drawing them into his chest. Relief was finally awash over his own features. Although he may have been glad his journey saw to the safety of his daughter, he never truly looked more contented than he had in this moment, knowing that the two greatest loves in his life were safe and reunited.
His father descended the steps and Riffin approached, slowly at first, his eyes captivated by the tearful reunion. His father clapped a hand on his shoulder, a smile growing on his lips, “It’s good to see you back,” he whispered.
Riffin smiled, hanging his head as the words he knew he needed to speak weighed on him—they had done throughout this entire journey. “I never thanked you,” he said. His father cocked his head to one side, puzzled. “For what you did,” he said, “standing up to mother like that.”
His father shifted his weight, shaking his head, “Your mother is bound by duty,” he said. “And, though she would love to act in favour of family, she cannot always do it.” Riffin smirked, nodding. He understood. Painful as it was for him, he knew her pain must’ve been far greater.
Riffin sighed, then followed his father’s momentary gaze. He looked over his shoulder, watching as Thane reached for trunks of belongings on their carriage. Riffin looked around quickly, only to find that nobody was there to welcome him home. “His father is with the Queen?” he asked. His father hummed in agreement. “And his mother?” he asked. “Did she not see it fit to greet him?”
His father looked at him, brows furrowing together in confusion, “His mother has left for Evrad,” he said.
Riffin recoiled, taking steps backwards, moving in Thane’s direction, “When?” he asked.
“A little over a month ago,” his father replied, softly.
Riffin looked back. Thane’s features were pained, not just with the physical ache and exhaustion of their travels. No, the pain ran deeper than that. It was different. Riffin came to an abrupt stop. How could he not have known? Because he’d never been told. Because he’d never asked. Because he was so involved in his schemes to get his wife back that he’d never, not for a second, thought to consider what his best friend was going through. He reckoned Thane liked it that way, not having to talk about it. He indulged him, he did everything he asked, out of loyalty and devotion, and out of a need for distraction.
As his father approached him, greeting him with a smile and extended hand, he thanked him. The smile on Thane’s face was polite, soft and kind, embarrassed by his superior’s words of gratitude. It was when his father drew him in for an embrace, an embrace that lingered for a moment longer than it should’ve, that the pain all his friend had endured, all that he’d been unaware of, hit him.
Riffin crept into the nursery that afternoon, told that Malia was there. Sat on one of the couches, holding both of their daughters in her arms, they rested against her as they slept. He took a seat on the arm of the couch, smiling as he overlooked the three peaceful expressions.
“The’ve grown so much,” she whispered. They had, even in just the time he’d been away. “I can barely carry them both at once anymore.” He lowered himself to sit down beside her, reaching for one of his slumbering daughters. “No,” she said, “I will manage.” He smiled. He knew what she meant. She’d endured and she had managed, in the wake of a terrifying ordeal—she would manage this as well. “Even with a third,” she added, eventually.
Riffin recoiled, watching as she stood. “What do you mean?” he asked.
She placed each of the children into their cradles, drawing their blankets over them before turning to face him. “I thought it unusual,” she said, “getting seasick for the first time in my life.” She met his gaze, faced with more questions. “I felt it on the way to Azura,” she said. “I thought about writing as soon as I arrived, though decided it would probably be best to wait, just in case, knowing my mother’s misfortunes could easily befall me too.”
Riffin leaned forward in his seat, squinting in the golden-lit room to make out her distant features.
“I was grateful for it,” she said, suddenly. “It put my mind at ease that...I couldn’t carry my captor’s child so long as...”
Riffin shot to his feet. He captured her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers, cutting off her words and her thoughts. “You’re safe now,” he whispered. “I promise.”
She nodded firmly, a smile on her lips. She needed no reminding. She knew it.
“We will wait a while longer,” he said, struggling to come to terms with it, “until it’s safe to announce.”
She shook her head, grabbing the hand that cupped her face and pressing her lips to his palm. “If we wait too long, people will think it’s not yours,” she said.
His nostrils flared. He couldn’t care less for what the people would think and hadn’t the mind to consider it. “Spoken like a future Queen,” he whispered. She laughed, hanging her head in embarrassment. “We will wait until my mother returns,” he said.
Slowly, she nodded, agreeing, and, eventually, placed her head against his chest and released a restful sigh.
Chapter 23
THERE WAS CALM ACROSS the palace over the next few days and, for the most part, everything had returned to how it was before Riffin left. Except for his mother. She had yet to return—yet to write. She hadn’t been in Ludorum long, his father insisted. She’d sent word of her intentions to visit ahead and, by the time she was ready to make the journey, Riffin had already been gone a week.
“My cousin is a difficult man to please,” his father had said. “The man’s anger cannot be quelled in just a day—there’ll be negotiations in order to appease him.”
He was sure he was right. Even so, he didn’t miss the signs of worry on his father’s face each time a messenger came in and there was no news to be heard from his wife.
There were no such concerns in the nursery, however. There, Jared and Kara often sat on the couch, resting against each other, as they conversed with their daughter. Their grandchildren played on the soft, white furs that’d been laid out across the nursery floor, babbling beside each other.
Walking around the room, taking it all in, Riffin found peace in having most of his family together. Peace had been restored and his children knew nothing of the complicated world that’d stripped their mother from them.
As at peace as he should be at a time like this, Riffin still had one thing left on his mind—Thane.
“I hope he can find happiness,” Malia mused in a quiet voice.
Riffin hung his head, agreeing in silence.
“Before we married,” she started, breaking through his thoughts, “I asked him if the disagreement towards our union was great enough that I should re-consider—I feared, rightly so, that moves would be made against us and against your family.”
He considered,
for a moment, the notion of never having married her. It would’ve spared her so much. He looked up to meet her gaze and realised she didn’t consider it the same way he did—to her, the horrors of the past were just that. Even after everything that’d happened, she didn’t look back on that decision with as much regret as he suddenly did.
“He told me to be grateful for the fact that I could marry for love,” she whispered. “It’s a bold thing to say—a thing from the heart. To have seen what marrying for love did to both of his parents and...still advise it—it’s good that a part of him still believes.”
Riffin nodded in agreement. But that was Thane—it was him as he’d always been. He would advise as those around him wished but he would never undertake anything that would put his heart in a position to be compromised—that was never a risk he was willing to take. Thane believed his mind, and heart, was only destined to fulfil his duty, to follow in his father’s footsteps—to keep Riffin’s family in power.
There was a soft knock on the nursery door before it opened. Thane searched the room, his eyes falling on Riffin, “You called?” he asked, approaching.
Riffin smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he lured him to the window. He picked up a chalice and poured out a drink, handing it to him in silence.
Thane smiled out of gratitude, taking it from him as he turned his attentions elsewhere. He took in the same sights that Riffin found joy in—sights of care-free innocence from the children, the smiles and laughter of the family on the couch.
“You did this,” Riffin whispered.
Thane’s brows twitched, confusion growing, but he didn’t tear his eyes away, unable to do so. “It is with your efforts that this was able to happen,” he said. “My family has been saved because of you. It’s whole again because of you, and all your efforts and devotion.”
