by Claire Luana
“Of course,” he replied, letting his hands linger for a moment. Or was she imagining it?
“Shall we?” Wren said, breaking the spell.
They circled to the back of the wagon and began unloading crates.
“Oof, these are heavy,” Olivia said, pulling a crate off the wagon.
“Here, allow me,” Dash said, taking it from her as easily as a pillow.
Olivia nodded, retrieving a smaller crate for herself. She headed down the dock behind Dash and the others, trying to ignore how finely his uniform cut over his muscled form.
Callidus was arguing with the ship’s captain on deck, a dangerous-looking man who was gesturing towards the rest of them, with Callidus hissing in his face.
Olivia frowned and wondered what they could possibly be arguing about. Perhaps gold. She’d lost her cool with a vendor or two in her day when haggling over prices. Maybe the captain was trying to demand a higher price. It was important to get the best price for the emperor.
With a furious grunt, the captain, a dark-haired man with a silver earring, gestured to the end of the ship as they stepped off the gangplank onto the deck. “You can stack the cargo in the hold back there. The men can show you.”
They followed a sailor down several teetering staircases into the dark hold of the vessel, where goods and barrels were piled against the walls. The man pointed to the far end and vanished into the low lantern light of the hallway. “Dash,” Wren said. “Why don’t you go with Callidus to grab more crates? We can arrange these ones down here.”
“You sure you’ve got these?” Dash asked, setting his crate down.
“Definitely,” Wren said sweetly. “Thanks for your help.”
Dash grinned at Olivia as he passed by, and she found herself smiling back, her heart trilling within her. He was definitely flirting with her.
Olivia shuffled to the corner of the hold, dropping the crate with a crash, narrowly missing her foot. “I wish you hadn’t sent Dash away,” Olivia said. “What’s in these confections, rocks?”
“Sure seems like it,” Lennon said, moving behind Olivia to drop his own crate on top of hers.
Wren let out a stilted laugh. And then grabbed her.
Olivia froze in her shock as Wren clamped an iron hand over her face, another arm around her waist. Despite her frail appearance, the girl was startlingly strong.
“Wren!” Olivia tried to protest through the cloth her friend was holding over her nose and mouth. It had a sickly-sweet smell. She couldn’t breathe with it over her face. Olivia struggled, trying to shimmy out of Wren’s grip. What in the Beekeeper’s name was Wren doing?
Olivia’s head swam and her flailing became more desperate. Across the dark space of the hold she saw Thom grappling with Lennon. Olivia realized too late what was happening. Wren and Thom were betraying them. But why, she didn’t know.
Olivia redoubled her efforts to break free, bucking like a wildcat, smashing her elbow into Wren’s stomach.
Wren grunted in pain and her iron grip loosened.
Black was closing in on her vision now, but Olivia struggled against it, trying to push it back with clawing fingers. She wrenched out of Wren’s arms only to find that her legs were lost to her—they weren’t functioning at all.
Wren caught her before she hit the floor, lowering her to the sticky wooden slats of the hold. “It’ll be all right, Olivia. I promise,” Wren said. Her voice sounded distant—underwater.
Lies! A furious tear escaped the corner of Olivia’s eye as she blinked rapidly, trying to fight the growing blackness. But it was a fight she couldn’t win. The darkness swallowed her whole.
Olivia was down. Thank the Beekeeper. Wren let out a shaky sigh, pushing her hair from her face just in time to see Lennon rear back and punch Thom in the face.
Thom dropped like a felled tree, his hands to his face while Lennon hissed, sprinting towards the far end of the hold.
“Wait!” Wren said, tripping over Olivia’s unconscious body to follow. Lennon stumbled up the stairs, running towards the freedom of the night air.
“It’s for your own good!” Wren said as she raced after him. “Stop him!” Wren shouted as she leaped through the open door onto the deck, past a shocked sailor holding a coil of line.
Lennon was already across the deck and onto the gangplank. No, no, no. If she didn’t stop him, he could call the Cedar Guard—or worse, the Aprican Legion—and lead them straight here.
Wren ran down the gangplank after them, almost bowling into Callidus, who was hurrying up the other way.
“What—?” he shouted, but she couldn’t stop. If she stopped she’d lose him. Lennon was scrambling up onto the driver’s bench of the wagon.
Lennon snapped the reins and the horses leaped forward as Wren caught up, grasping desperately onto the other side of the wagon, hauling herself up with raw strength she hadn’t known she possessed. She half-flopped on Dash’s unconscious body, slumped on the other half of the driver’s bench. At least Callidus had managed to take out his target.
“Len—” she began, but he was ready for her. As she pushed up off of Dash, he released a savage kick that connected directly with her breastbone. The world slowed as the breath whooshed from her lungs, and she began to fall backwards, reeling through the open air towards the hard cobblestones below.
Her arms windmilled, grasping for anything she could find to keep her from falling. She connected with Dash’s belt and clung to it desperately. But it only served to pull Dash’s unconscious body off the bench, sending them both tumbling in a pile of arms and legs onto the hard ground below.
Light exploded in Wren’s vision as she hit the ground. Her head cracked against the stones and her lungs felt like they had been rolled over by the carriage itself. Next to her, Dash stirred, letting out a groan. She tried to push to a seated position, but the world spun around her as fireworks exploded inside her head.
“Come on.” Callidus appeared at her side, kneeling, pulling her up by her armpits.
She moaned in pain, but with his help, she got her feet under her. “Lennon,” she managed.
“He’s gone. We need to go now. He’ll be reporting us to the legionnaires as soon as he finds someone. We need to be far from here when he does.”
Getting back to the ship and up the gangplank took all of Wren’s energy. Callidus lowered her gently against the rest of their crates that had been abandoned on the deck. Thom stood with horror on his face, no doubt watching Lennon gallop away into the night.
“Wren, I’m so sorry—” he began, but Rizio cut him off with a shout. “You flaming fools! This half-cocked scheme of yours will get us all killed. We’ll have the Apricans upon us in minutes!”
“I suggest we be gone by then,” Callidus said, his voice as cold as ice. “I’ll double what we agreed for payment.”
“Double it?” Rizio barked. “You should quadruple it!” But he stormed away, shouting at his sailors. The men had seemed to anticipate the command, as they had already thrown off the lines securing the Black Jasmine to the dock and were hoisting the sails.
“Are you all right?” Callidus asked, cradling Wren’s head in his hands, opening her eyes wide to look in them.
“I’ll live,” she croaked. She could hardly see through the pain that drummed in her head.
“What a disaster.” Callidus hung his head. “We never should have tried to bring the others with us.”
“We got Olivia,” Thom offered, standing over them with his shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets.
Wren softened. “It was a mad plan. At least we’re on the boat without Dash killing us. Nice job, Callidus.”
“We’re away from the dock,” Thom said, seemingly desperate for some bit of positive news that they could attach to. “I bet—” But his words were cut off by a bloodcurdling cry, followed by a flurry of blue that crashed into him like a ton of bricks.
Dash staggered to his feet, his hair askew, his eyes wild and unfocused. The man had
leaped from the dock to the boat!
Dash pulled his sword from its sheath with an ominous ring. “By order of the emperor...” He stumbled. Clearly, the combination of the drug Callidus had given him and the tumble from the carriage was still affecting him. He tried again as Thom scooted away from his swinging blade. “By order of Emperor Evander, I hereby arrest you.” He pointed his sword at Callidus, who shied back a step. “I am commandeering this vessel.”
In two swift steps, Rizio appeared behind the legionnaire and cracked him over the back of his head with the pommel of his dagger. “Commandeer this.”
Dash’s eyes rolled back in his head and he began to sway on his feet. He careened forward into the nearby rail, which did little to forestall his forward progress. He promptly pitched over the side of the ship, falling with a splash into the inky water below.
A moment of shocked silence hung over them.
Thom was the first to break it, racing to the rail to lean over and peer at where the legionnaire’s sky-blue coat was visible in the water below. Thom looked back at them all. “Isn’t someone going to help him?”
Rizio shrugged.
“He’s going to drown,” Thom said, looking from Callidus to Wren, who was still having trouble with the world not blurring into two or three versions of itself.
“He doesn’t deserve to die!” Thom said, his hands up in disbelief. “No one. Seriously?”
“It’s unfortunate—” Callidus began. But Thom was already vaulting over the railing, taking the long leap into the water below.
Chapter 16
Trick outdid himself with dinner that night. Lucas and Trick had retrieved a few dozen clams from the little beach on the island, which Trick promptly sautéed in a sauce of garlic and butter with chopped potatoes. Trick had opened one of the bottles of crisp white wine that had been sitting, forgotten, in the house’s cellar. He steamed fresh dandelion greens Ella had collected and cut up the last of the fresh sourdough bread. They used it to sop up the delicious sauce from their plates until every morsel was gone.
When they were finished, they all leaned back, bellies big from the meal, the candles burning low. Lucas was loath to disturb the peace of the moment, even though questions were burning in his mind. Needing to be answered. Finally he broke down. “We should talk about the Falconer’s letter.”
Ella crossed her arms before her chest, her eyes flashing. “What have you decided?”
Lucas recoiled. She was so sharp now, all edges and points. There seemed to be little he could say that didn’t raise her ire. “I haven’t decided anything. It’s all of our decision.”
“It may affect Ella and me, but it’ll be your life, Lucas,” Trick said. “You’re the one who has to choose in the end.”
Lucas shook his head. “I’m making it all of our decision. We all agree or we don’t do it. We’re all the family we have left. I’m not doing anything to jeopardize that.”
“Okay. But...do you want to be king?” Trick asked softly.
His brother had his own special type of sharpness too—an ability to cut right to the heart of things—to the truth you weren’t yet ready to face. And that was it. The Falconer was raising a rebellion. To put Lucas on the throne. The man wanted him to return to Maradis to claim his rightful place as King of Alesia.
“No,” Lucas admitted. “I don’t.”
“Then say no,” Trick suggested.
“But it’s not that simple, is it?” said Lucas. “Because I don’t want to just abandon Alesia to the Apricans. I don’t want to give up. We got out of the city to be safe for a time. We never intended to stay away forever. Did we?” In truth, their flight from the city had been such a hurried thing, they hadn’t had time to think of the future. There had been no plans in place. There still weren’t.
“You always were too noble for your own good,” Ella said, downing the rest of her wine. “How do we even know we can trust this Falconer? It could be an Aprican plot to lure us out of hiding so they can kill us.”
Trick shook his head. “If they knew where to send us a letter, they’d waste no time coming for us. I trust Oban and his associates. They wouldn’t betray us to the emperor.”
“We still don’t know who the Falconer is, though. He could be a madman,” Ella protested. “Or completely full of shit. He could have no support and no resources.”
“It’s a risk, certainly,” Lucas agreed. “We’d be gambling our lives based on a promise in a letter from a man we don’t even know.”
Trick frowned, twisting his napkin. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound like a good bet, does it?”
“If we said no, what would we do?” Lucas asked. “I’ve been thinking about it. We can’t stay here. This island can’t sustain us indefinitely. Most of the Western Reaches are under Aprican control. Nova Navis feels too close for comfort. I’m sure the Apricans will be coming for the peninsula next. Centu or east into the Ferwald badlands would be our best bets.”
Ella wrinkled her nose. “I don’t fancy myself a fisherman’s wife, or living in a tent like a nomad.”
“Neither have good climates for grapes,” Trick said. “It’d be hard for me to make a living.”
“It’d probably be too risky for you to hang your shingle as a winemaker anyway,” Lucas said. “Too recognizable. Same for me as an inspector.”
“We left the treasury behind in Maradis,” Ella said. “So how would we live?”
Silence fell over them.
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, cursing his father, cursing the Apricans, cursing the whole damn situation.
“I don’t know. Ella, what do you want to do?” Lucas blew out a sigh. Ella seemed the most fragile among them right now. He didn’t want to make a decision that could break her.
Tears were shimmering in his sister’s eyes, her chin quivering. “I want things back how they were. I want Mother, I want Virgy, I want my books and my cat and my friends and this all to be a bad dream.” She shoved back from the table. “But I can’t have any of that. So I guess I don’t care.” She turned and stormed up the stairs.
“I think that went well,” Trick murmured.
Lucas loosed a shaky laugh, cradling his head in his hands. Poor Ella. In a way she’d lost the most. Because she’d lost her innocence, too. She’d had the bright incorrigible optimism of youth. And now she saw the world for what it really was.
“The truth is,” Trick said, “I want to go back to Maradis. It’s probably suicide, but it’s our home. There are people we care about there. There are people...I care about.”
Trick’s tone was wary and thin, and Lucas looked up at his brother, his inspector’s senses tingling.
“Who is she?” Lucas asked. He’d been a bad brother, if Trick had fallen for someone and Lucas hadn’t even known. The weeks before Maradis had fallen had been madness, but still. He should have made time.
Trick hesitated, spinning the base of his wine glass on the table. “You mean...who is he.”
Lucas’s eyes widened as the import of his brother’s words sank in.
Trick licked his lips and looked at Lucas, sitting as tense as a coiled wire.
Lucas softened, realizing the courage it must have taken his brother to share this piece of himself. Wishing Trick had felt safe to share it with Lucas a lot sooner. “Of course. Who is he?”
“Thom.” Trick rubbed the back of his head, looking away.
“From the Confectioner’s Guild?”
Trick nodded.
Lucas pondered, bringing Thom to mind. Trick and Thom had been held captive together at the orphanage; it made sense that they’d grown close. Become friends. And perhaps more. “Okay, I can see it. Tall. Cute freckles. Strong hands.” Lucas waggled his eyebrows.
Trick smacked his forehead in mortification. “Tell me you are not going to check out guys for me now.”
“Isn’t that my job as older brother? I need to screen these fellows and make sure they’re worthy of you.”
“Do no
t go all Inspector Imbris on him.” Trick pointed at Lucas threateningly, but he was fighting a smile.
“No promises,” Lucas said. “Does he...feel the same?”
The smile slipped from Trick’s face. “I’m not sure. Maybe? I didn’t have a chance to talk to him before everything happened.”
“He’d be a fool if he didn’t. You’re a catch.”
Trick rolled his eyes. “You have to say that because you’re my brother.”
“True. But I also happen to mean it.” Lucas softened. “I’m really happy for you, Trick.”
“Thanks, Lucas,” Trick said, and Lucas understood what he meant. For everything.
“Confectioner’s Guild, who knew?” Lucas joked. “They’ve got all the good ones.”
Trick nodded. “Apparently. Does this mean you’ve decided? We’re going back to Maradis?”
Had he decided? Lucas still didn’t want to be king. But perhaps he would, if it meant freeing the city he loved. Perhaps he could find a way to make it tolerable. At the least, he knew he had to go back. He couldn’t face a world—a future—where he never saw Wren again. Where he couldn’t see her mischievous smile, laugh at her wry sense of humor. He wanted strolls to the Farmer’s Market hand-in-hand and lazy Saturday mornings with coffee and pastries from Bitterbird Cafe. He wanted the heat of her mouth on his and the chill of her ridiculously icy fingertips curling against him for warmth. He wanted Wren. And he wanted Maradis.
“You’d be a good king,” Trick said. “More so because you don’t want it. Alesia would be lucky to have you.”
Lucas nodded, feeling the weight of the decision settle upon him. “So we’re going back to Maradis. To overthrow an Emperor.”
“And to find our confectioners,” Trick said with a grin.
Chapter 17
“Firena, get up.” Someone kicked Hale’s foot, which was hanging over the side of his bunk.
