The Darathi Vorsi Prince (Song of the Swords Book 0)

by Tameri Etherton

  “Where do we look for such a man?” Her voice came out no more than a whisper.

  “I have a feeling he will find us.”Myrddin took her hand in his.“The trick will be in knowing when he does.”

  Three days later, with Lliandra’s blessing, the small group left Talaith’s harbor aboard a fine vessel. Their good-byes had been brief, their saddlebags packed with only essentials. Faelara glanced at the crowd gathered along the docks, waving farewell to the sailors who manned the ship. Baehlon stood off to the side, his face like a storm about to break. He’d accepted the empress’s command to marry Micah without so much as an argument. It was his duty, he’d said. He was the Lady of Light’s Champion and Protector—how could he say no?

  Faelara hadn’t cried in front of him. Instead, she had steeled herself against the anguish his words caused. She knew he loved her, but he loved their empress more.

  She would never forgive him.

  Chapter 8

  RHOANE gazed at the strangers’faces without seeing them. They’d come to say farewell to loved ones, but he had no one in the crowd who waved to him. Off to the side, he saw the knight he’d first met at the gates of the palace, Sir Baehlon. His expression spoke of suppressed rage, and Rhoane wondered at the cause. The man’s eyes were fixed on a spot to Rhoane’s left.

  On Faelara. Her face was a study in restraint. She was being brave, but beneath her calm demeanor, he sensed a fury equal to Baehlon’s.

  “Fine day for a voyage.” Myrddin clapped Rhoane on the shoulder and chuckled genially as he strode away. He bent to say a few words to Faelara, who nodded in answer, her glare never leaving the dock, and then the mage ambled off.

  The ship lurched, and Rhoane’s stomach did several flips. He left the railing to find a comfortable place to endure the horrors of the trip. Baehlon had said sailing was like riding a horse, but this was nothing like being on horseback. The sway of decking beneath one’s feet, the constant shifting of water tossing the ship, it was a special kind of torture.

  He climbed down the steep ladder that led to where they kept the horses below decks. His stallion nickered when he approached, a wild look in his eyes.

  “Easy, boy. They tell me this will get easier.”He petted Luc’s muzzle and neck, smoothing out his fine grey coat.“You are a desert creature and I from the forest. This is unnatural for both of us. But we shall overcome, yes?”

  He spent a good portion of the day with the livestock, grooming Luc and the other horses when he became bored. Their coats shone in the dim light of his drossfire globes. A lad arrived some time later to feed the beasts, and Rhoane assisted. Wordlessly, they tossed flakes of hay to the horses, dinner scraps to the pigs and goats.

  When they’d finished, the lad thanked Rhoane.“You best be gettin’upstairs. The cap’n will get sure sore if you aren’t at the table when supper’s ready.”

  On his way to the main cabin, Rhoane heard a scuffle down a darkened hallway, followed by the muffled cry of a woman. He turned toward the sound, his hand reaching for his sword, but it was locked in a chest in his room. Captain’s orders—no weapons allowed on his ship.

  He crept silently down the corridor, one hand traced along the wall, the other in front of him. A loud cry, followed by a slap, had him running blindly in the dark. A glowing orb filled with his ShantiMari sprang forth and bobbed before him, lighting a pace or two of the cramped space. He turned a corner, and there, a man tangled with a woman. Light from a nearby cabin lit his profile, but Rhoane didn’t recognize him. The woman, however, he did.

  “Faelara!”he called, and the man froze in his attack. He turned to face Rhoane, his cheeks reddened with scratches, his throat dripping blood. She’d fought the man with the bravery of an arena combatant.“Get off her, you trollop’s cur.”

  Rhoane grasped the man’s shirt and tore him from Faelara. His fist smashed into the attacker’s nose, and fresh blood poured over his lips. A knee connected with Rhoane’s privates, which knocked him backward and gave the man enough space to run off in the opposite direction.

  Rhoane wheezed a moment, his head dizzy with pain. Faelara gasped as well, her hands clinging to her torn gown. Rhoane pushed aside his discomfort and rose to face her.“Are you hurt?” He scanned her face and body, noting bruises around her neck, scratches to her chest and arms.

  “Nothing a bit of salve and wine won’t cure.”

  “He did not—?”

  “No, thanks to you. Had you been but a few minutes later, I’m afraid he might’ve succeeded.”

  Rhoane glared at the darkened hallway.“What are you doing here, alone?”

  “I came to fetch a shawl. I have no idea where he came from. One moment I’m unlocking my cabin; the next, he was on me like a starved crellion and I a tender doe.”

  “Get changed, and I will escort you to dinner. After we dine, I will find this man and make certain he does not bother you again.”

  “Thank you, Rhoane, but I’m fine. Really.” Her rapid pulse beating beneath the fragile skin of her neck and the slightly acrid smell of perspiration gave away the lie.

  “We must tell the captain.”

  “Please don’t. He didn’t want to take us on his ship. He said women were bad luck, and if you tell him one of his crew attacked me, he’ll believe I seduced the young man. He’s of the old way and thinks women belong on shore servicing their husbands, not out adventuring.”

  “He is a fool,” Rhoane grumbled.

  “Agreed. Wait here. I won’t be a moment.”

  She returned wearing a different gown with a high neckline, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. None of the scratches or bruises could be seen. By the time they found the main cabin and their seats at the table, soup had already been served. The captain gave Rhoane a saucy wink but reserved his contempt for Faelara. Throughout the meal, he made lewd comments about a woman being aboard his ship and how best they could make use of her services.

  Myrddin met Rhoane’s glare and gave a slight shake of his head. After dinner, the men joined the captain in his private quarters to dice and play cards. Faelara was not allowed to accompany them, so Rhoane chose to stay with her above deck.

  On their way out of the cabin, Rhoane pulled Myrddin to the side.“Faelara is not safe aboard this ship. She was attacked, and only by the grace of our gods did I find her before the cur took her maidenhead. Either you or I must guard her at all times.”

  Myrddin’s blue eyes held none of the mirth they usually did.“I was afraid of something like this happening. Leave it to me. I’ll put a ward on her. If someone so much as touches her, you and I will know.” He took Faelara by the elbow and led her up the stairs to the main deck. Rhoane followed.

  They argued briefly before Faelara gave her acceptance. The hair on Rhoane’s forearms rose when Myrddin placed the ward. Myrddin’s ShantiMari was ancient. Much older than any Eleri’s. It prickled against Rhoane’s skin and scratched against his own power. Myrddin gave them both a command to be alert and cautious, then left to join the captain and his men.

  Tears glittered in Faelara’s eyes when she finally turned to face Rhoane.“How could you tell him? He’s my father’s closest friend. Once he learns of the attack, he’ll insist I come home.”

  The ship pitched slightly, and Rhoane gripped the railing like a man clinging to the side of a cliff.“Be angry if you will, but I cannot live with myself if you are harmed.”

  The ship tilted again, and his stomach churned violently.

  “You are positively green, Rhoane. Have you never sailed before?”

  “Never. Nor had I seen the ocean before reaching Talaith.”

  “May I?”She reached toward his forehead and he blanched.“And now you’re white as a snowdrop. Honestly, are you always this fidgety around women?”Her hand hovered close to his face.“I only want to ease your seasickness. Nothing more.”She snorted in an unladylike manner.“Trust me, I’m not looking for a beau at the moment. If ever.” He gave a quick nod toward her fingers and s
he lightly touched his cool skin. Instantly, warmth spread through him, settling his stomach and calming his anxious pulse.

  Her ShantiMari was infused with caring, like his mother’s had been.“Thank you, Lady Faelara.” He took a half-step back, to end their connection.

  Her eyes narrowed and she tapped a finger to her lips.“You don’t trust women, do you?”

  “Some yes, most no.”

  Her spontaneous laughter bounced across the empty deck.“I appreciate your honesty. I meant what I said. I do not want a lover, a husband, a tryst. I know you are committed to the Eirielle and I will respect that. I do hope someday you will trust me.”She took his arm and skillfully changed the subject.“I suppose this trip is new for both of us. I’ve been aboard ships going from Talaith to Paderau, but never on the ocean. It helps if you keep your knees flexible to sway with the rocking.”

  “I will endeavor to remember that. Thank you.” He squeezed her fingers as they rested upon his sleeve. Nothing more needed to be said. He relaxed, knowing he and Faelara would be friends.

  They passed several bells in genial conversation. Rhoane told Faelara about his trials with the Ullans; she entertained him with tales of her childhood. Her mother had died when she was very young, and Brandt raised her alone. Curious by nature, Faelara often helped her father with his odd experiments, even adding to a design he’d made to study the stars. She’d gotten the idea from Myrddin’s magnifying spectacles. Her father spent bells upon bells studying the stars, always asking what was beyond the glittering swaths of sky.

  Rhoane stared at the twinkling lights. He’d never wondered whether anything lived beyond them, believing everything he knew and loved lived among the trees of the Narthvier. He’d been naïve then, an innocent boy, but no longer. If there were ships that could sail upon the sea, and giants who fought because their laird ordered it, what else was there to discover? The stars gave no answers, but opened up the possibility of many more questions.

  When Faelara stopped trying to hide her yawns, Rhoane escorted her to her cabin, stopping first at his own. He searched through his belongings until he found two palm-sized daggers. Not quite throwing knives, but deadly enough.

  “I want you to keep these with you at all times. Tomorrow, I will show you how to use them. We will also train with a sword in hand-to-hand combat. If you insist on accompanying me, these are my terms.”

  Faelara held the daggers on her open palms. A slight shake gave away her nerves.“I will do as you ask, but you must also teach me your ways of healing. Not just Eleri. I wish to know all there is about Ullan healers, as well. I have a feeling being a skilled healer will come in handy around you.”

  Rhoane suppressed a grimace.“Of the former, I will. Of the latter, I am afraid I did not actively participate in Ullan healing.”At her questioning glance, he explained,“Ullans use coupling to heal. They believe it releases power through channels not otherwise accessible.”

  “Oh.”A furious blush darkened her pale cheeks.“That’s too bad for both of us.”She laughed at his stricken look.“I’m jesting with you, Rhoane. I know you’re promised to another, and I would never do anything to compromise your oath. But it does make me think you should learn to at least flirt. You’re much too serious and stiff around women. Loosen up a little. Flirting is a great way to get information. Trust me.” Her devilish grin contrasted beautifully with her youthful innocence.

  “Since there is no need to flirt here, we will focus on weapons training first.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Prince Rhoane. Flirting is not just limited to the opposite gender. But there is plenty of time to teach you the finer art of seduction.”Her yawn could wake a vorlock from his slumber.“I’m exhausted. If you will?” She stepped into the cramped hallway, and Rhoane followed to her cabin.

  Once she was safely inside, he prowled the quiet ship in search of the man who had attacked his new friend. He found the wretch hiding in the storage hull, curled against a barrel of ale. He knelt in front of the sleeping man for a long time, debating his next move. If he killed him, the captain would think the ship haunted due to Faelara’s presence. Plus, killing him would be a mercy.

  After securing the man’s wrists and ankles to make certain he couldn’t leave, Rhoane set out for the captain’s quarters. The sun would be up soon, and he didn’t have time to waste.

  When the morning watch arrived on deck early the next morning, they found a very inebriated deckhand, naked except for the captain’s coat, wrapped around a snoring sow.

  THAT night after dinner, Rhoane led Faelara to the captain’s quarters, where the other men were already engaged in their entertainments. When the pair entered, the captain bellowed for Faelara to leave, but Rhoane held firm. He would not allow the man to punish her simply because she was a woman. He’d seen plenty of females who could outwit, outmaneuver, and outwork men. Playing cards should be no different.

  Faelara settled into a seat opposite Myrddin, her nervousness carefully hidden beneath a friendly exterior. Rhoane watched her as he and the others were dealt a hand of cards. A slight tremble to her fingertips, repeated biting of her lower lip, and an octave-higher speech were the only signs of her discomfort. She’d argued when he’d first proposed the scheme, but in the end, he’d won by stating if she didn’t take a stand, the captain would continue to view women as little more than harlots bred for men’s carnal desires.

  A short time after their arrival, the atmosphere in the room relaxed. The more wine was poured, the looser the men’s tongues became. They joked about the deckhand and his companion. Some thought his punishment of serving out the remainder of their journey in the livestock holds was too lenient. These men had demanded the deckhand be castrated and tossed overboard for King Baldev to devour.

  Others in the room thought the punishment fair but cautioned against putting such a man in charge of the livestock. These quips got the most laughs out of the officers. Each time a comment was tossed forth, Faelara’s lips would loosen the tiniest bit, until she, too, laughed at the ridiculous scenarios the men created. She was soon bantering with them as if she’d grown up aboard the ship. By the end of the evening, she’d quite charmed each and every one of the men. Rhoane kept his surprise in check, but secretly studied the way she expertly wrapped their hearts around hers. If this was flirting, as she’d called it, he was indeed impressed. He could use more than a few lessons in the skill.

  On the fifth night of their journey, Rhoane tired of gaming with the others and ventured to the upper deck for some fresh air. The sea was especially ornery this night, tilting the ship from one side to the other until his insides wished to be outside. He gripped the railing, willing his gut to settle.

  “Perhaps if you did not fight it, you would feel better?”

  Rhoane swung around to see who had spoken, and the wine he’d drunk swirled dangerously close to making an exit.

  “Rock with the ship. Feel the waves beneath you.”Faelara stood a few paces from where he clung to the railing.“Relax your knees. Bend into the ship. Become one with the sea.”

  Rhoane shook out his legs, lessening the tension in them, and tried what she suggested. Rocking with the ship helped somewhat, but his stomach continued to roil.

  The ship pitched to the right, and he slammed against the rigging.“How much longer must we suffer on this damned vessel? I do not enjoy storms on land, much less so at sea.”

  “A few more days, I would imagine. Although, if you keep insulting the sea king, he might prolong your misery.”

  “So you believe in fables, Faelara? I would not have thought it.”

  Faelara leaned against the rail, her face upturned to the clouds. A spray of seawater dappled her skin, but she made no move to wipe it away.“I believe in all things, Prince Rhoane. Who is to say a fable is of any less value than a prophecy? Often, the two are closely related, but only those curious enough will uncover their meaning.”

  Rhoane scoffed. He’d heard enough about prophecies in his s
hort life to know they were nothing like children’s stories.“A fable is nothing more than empty words strung together to entertain the weak-minded.”

  The wind picked up and whipped their hair around their faces in a tempest. Faelara let her curls unfurl from their pins and spread her arms wide.“The problem with thinking you know everything is that someday you’ll discover you know nothing.”She smiled sweetly at him. Her pale skin shimmered in the moonlight as if she were graced with Glamour.“My father loves to remind me of this right before he proves I’m wrong.”

  “And are you trying to prove me wrong?”

  She turned to face him, her back to the ocean.“Whatever could you be wrong about, Prince Rhoane?”

  “You mock me.”

  “No, I just think you’ve lived a very isolated, one-sided life.”She returned to her study of the stars, then gazed at the water.“Do you swim, Your Highness?”

  He shifted his weight with a violent rock of the ship.“If you consider sitting in a tub of hot water swimming, then I excel at it.”

  Her laughter burst from her, as unexpected as thunder on a summer’s day.“Forgive me. I didn’t expect humor from you.”At Rhoane’s sharp look, she continued,“I feel at home in the water, sometimes more than on land. Did you know the Menurrans hold competitions each summer to see who is the best swimmer? I was thinking I might enter if we’re there for the celebrations.”

  Rhoane suppressed a shudder. Water deeper than his ankles had always frightened him. He could recall with excruciating detail the sensations of dread that crisscrossed his body each time he had to witness a purification. Knowing that he, too, would someday be submerged in Lan Gyllarelle gave him no comfort. Where the fear of water came from, he had no idea. He just knew he and any body of water were not allies.