“I’m afraid the castle will be talking of you for quite some time,” he said.
If that were the case, they didn’t have nearly enough to do. “Where be yer father’s treasury?” she asked.
“Fourth floor, at the very end of the hall.” He slipped his hand into his shining boots in a graceful swoop and straightened, pressing something into her hand. “This is the key. There will be a guard, but I’ve arranged for him to be taken care of.”
That sounded far too ominous for Caspian. “He won’t be back while I’m there, will he?” She’d have to stick the guard in the gullet, if so. “And where’s Sally? I’ll need her help to carry one o’ the cylinders.”
Caspian hesitated. “Sally has her own chambers on the third floor.”
Wait. “Did ye say she has her own chambers? Like a cage?”
Caspian blanched and bowed over her hand as they re-entered the throng of the ballroom. “Mistress Fairisles, should all go well tonight, I do believe it will be some time before we see each other again.”
Heart sinking, Ebba took him in.
There had been a gap in her life since Caspian left. He didn’t even know the details of what had happened to her on Malice. Ebba found herself desperately wanting to tell him everything. He’d understand the horror she’d gone through. The subject seemed more approachable with him as her peer than it did with her fathers. There was no time, however, and Ebba wasn’t sure there would ever be time with how different their lives were. Ebba watched him sadly, saying, “I’ll miss ye sorely, Caspian. It just doesn’t feel right when ye ain’t around.”
He smiled sadly, peering over to where couples twirled in time to music. “I’ll miss you, too, Mistress Fairisles.” His face shadowed. “More than you know. And . . . I-I know such thoughts are not in your mind, but I regretted not telling you how I felt at Kentro, and I promised I wouldn’t make the same mistake when I saw you again.”
Ebba’s mouth went bone dry at his serious expression, and her stomach erupted in sudden nerves.
“For a while now, I’ve wished we could be more than friends,” he said, darting a look at her lips. “If ye were ever open to such notions, I’d rather hoped to have the honor of courtin’ ye.”
He was speaking like a pirate, so Ebba knew not to laugh. But court her? She didn’t know what that meant. However, she didn’t have to know what it meant—the ‘more than friends’ part was crystal clear.
“Ye’re attracted to my body?” Ebba croaked, mind awhirl.
His color deepened, and he rushed to say, “Well, yes, but it’s more than that. You don’t need to say anything. I know that’s not how you see other people. I just wanted you to know I feel romantically for you, in case a long time goes by before we’re together again. I just . . . wanted you to know.”
She should say something, but not a single word rose to her lips. She stared at him.
A few heavy seconds ticked by, and then the prince dropped his gaze and pressed a lingering kiss to her hand, causing an elderly woman who stood close by to nearly expire on the spot.
“Fair well, won’t you, Mistress Pirate?” he whispered.
Nineteen
Marigold had spent two hours going through the layout of the castle with Ebba, regularly lapsing into descriptions of the curtains and chaises. The living quarters of the castle wrapped around three sides of the rectangular courtyard—the last side being the guarded entrance they’d first been marched through. The castle had six levels, each accessible via a grand staircase, which wound all the way to the top.
Ebba needed to get to the third level to save Sally, and to the fourth level to find the dynami and the purgium.
She puffed up the stone stairs in her cumbersome dress, past the first and second levels, nodding at the few servants and guests she encountered. A guard marched past her, and Ebba held her breath, but no one seemed to think her out of place. She continued climbing and then stood at the top of the stairs on the middle of the third level, looking left and right while catching her breath. Caspian had said Sally had her own chambers. Left or right?
Caspian had also said a whole heap of other things that included the word romantic. But he was right about one thing. They likely wouldn’t see each other for a long time, and Ebba would need at least that long to mull over his confession and decide what to do with it. She couldn’t deny that his words had excited her on some level. And also couldn’t deny that those were the words she’d wanted to hear on Kentro before he left. But doing something with that knowledge was where things got tricky. And her identity had just recently been in crisis; Ebba wasn’t eager for another one so soon.
Hiking up her skirts, and wincing at the growing pinch of her shoes, Ebba set off to the left, opening chamber doors at random.
“Sorry,” she muttered to a man dressing in front of a mirror.
He smiled at her. At the ruby charm. Sink her, if Ebba didn’t have self-esteem to spare, the ruby charm might dig away at her after too long. Were people seriously so susceptible to the polished look she’d been given by Verity? Landlubber logic just didn’t make sense to her.
Ebba slammed the door shut and continued down the left wing of the level without success. “Where are ye, Sal?” Ebba knew that the wind sprite had a few cards up her sleeve. She was strong, and had a glowing white light that kept evil magic away. But Sally was her friend, and Ebba couldn’t help worrying about her.
Retracing her steps to the grand stairway, Ebba continued past it down the right wing, flinging open the doors. She muttered a hasty apology to a barely clad couple who were in the act of drinking tea. Thankfully, most of the guests appeared to be below, enjoying the festivities.
Ebba threw open the final door at the end of the wing, and scanned the chamber.
The room was large, and where the other chambers on this level had seemed standard with their canopy beds, trunks, and wardrobes, this room belonged to someone special. The canopy of the bed was a sheer white, and the bed itself was filled with gold and silver cushions that Ebba thought she could sink into forever. Stately pedestals sat at intervals with gold cushions atop them, and the same sheer white material from the canopy was strung throughout the rafters of the room, giving it a light, relaxed feel.
Voices sounded from behind her.
Ebba slipped into the room, pressing the door closed. She swept material out of her face as she ventured farther into the chamber, and her eyes fell on a golden platter perched on a large window seat.
As she watched, a tiny hand reached out from behind a propped silver cushion to snag a green grape.
Ebba gasped. “Sal.”
The hand froze and slowly retreated.
Ebba frowned. “Sal?” How many tiny hands were there in Exosia? But if the tiny hand belonged to the sprite, why was she hiding?
Ebba took three striding steps to the window seat and plucked the silver cushion away.
Sally fell flat on her back.
“I found ye!” Ebba said, grinning.
The wind sprite sat, rubbing the back of her head, and glared upward.
“Ain’t ye happy to see me?” Ebba’s grin faded as she ran her eyes over the sprite.
Sally was dressed in a white toga with a golden circlet about her head. Her gut bulged out of the dress. “Wow, Sal. Ye’ve packed a few on. It’s only been two days since I saw ye. Have you been eatin’ the whole time?”
Sally rolled onto her front with difficulty, struggling to her hands and knees before standing.
“Wait.” Ebba’s hands flew to the charm about her neck. “How do ye know it’s me?”
The sprite rolled her eyes and pointed at the charm, holding her thumb and forefinger close together. Then she pointed at herself and held her hands far apart.
“Yer magic be stronger than the charm?”
Sally shrugged and casually inspected her nails.
That seemed like an aye. Ebba glanced around. “Have ye just been in this room then? There be windows. Sal . . . ye could’ve gotten free.”
There were many windows to the room. One of them was even propped open. Sally had wings—though whether they worked with the sprite’s new weight was anyone’s guess.
Ebba fingered the ruby necklace, and Sally’s eyes tracked the movement, the perplexed frown she’d worn cleared. Ebba removed the necklace, though certain the sprite could see through the soothsayer’s magic regardless. “Sal,” she whispered. “Why didn’t ye come for us?”
Sally gestured around the room, and at the platter of food. With a self-depreciating shrug, the sprite pointed to the corner, at what appeared to be a pink champagne fountain.
Red crept up Ebba’s neck. “Ye left us in the cages because there be a champagne fountain in yer room?”
Sally shook her head, pointing to the floor and then holding her hands up either side of her head, murmuring in a high-pitched voice. She mimicked unlocking a door with a key.
“Ye knew Cosmo would get us a key?”
Sally pursed her lips and then shrugged again.
What did that mean? “And so ye stayed here with yer champagne fountain and yer grapes instead o’ liftin’ a finger to help?” The king had ordered boiling oil to be poured on the crew of Felicity. They’d had to jump into a canal filled with crocodiles. She was wearing a dress.
The sprite flew over to the fountain, her wings working double time. Sally waded into the bubbling basin, under the cascade of champagne, and tipped her head back, gulping the bubbling drink back.
The heat in Ebba’s cheeks flared as the sprite stood fully under the waterfall of alcohol and began to wash.
“Ye flamin’ addict! Ye abandoned the crew for a soddin’ drink?” Ebba shouted, lunging for the sprite.
Sally squeaked, and in her bid to escape, she slipped, disappearing under the surface. Tiny arms flailing, she managed to drag herself to the curved lip of the fountain and heaved herself over the side. Ebba’s hands clutched at thin air, and she jumped after Sally as the sprite took flight. “Ye shite o’ a pet.”
The air chilled. Sal turned back, and her eyes narrowed.
“That’s right,” Ebba said, puffing. “A pet.”
Clanging footsteps sounded down the hall, and both Ebba and the wind sprite locked glances. Sally flew at Ebba, hands flung out in a pushing motion. Ebba lurched backward to escape her waving limbs.
Sally stopped and pointed behind the bed. The clanging footsteps grew louder.
“Ye want me to hide?” Ebba asked, already crouching.
She didn’t answer, zipping back to her perch by the platter a scant second before the door was opened. Jolting, Ebba remembered the charm and threw the necklace back on.
“Lady Athena,” a soldier greeted Sally.
Athena? Terrible name for a pet. Ebba raised her head to peek over the cushions littering the bed.
Sally waved regally at the soldier.
“The king would like to introduce you to his guests, if you are agreeable.”
The wind sprite appeared to ponder the request at great length before lurching to her feet. She waited imperiously as the soldier held out a purple cushion with golden tassels. Ebba simmered as the tiny woman stepped onto the cushion, and the soldier returned to the door and disappeared, wind sprite in tow.
They’d been swinging from cages, riding on crocodiles, and been scratching to survive for two days, and Sally had been in the lap of luxury, gorging herself on cheese, grapes, and pink champagne while being displayed like a prize animal for the king’s guests.
Ebba should have paid more attention to the sprite’s drinking problem. Things would be changing when they got back to Felicity. If the sprite was willing to mend her ways, Ebba would think about allowing her back on the ship, but not without a damn good apology. That was if Sally could be torn away from her champagne fountain.
When the clanging footsteps disappeared, Ebba stood and dusted her dress off, reaching up to check the necklace was in place before cracking open the chamber door.
The coast was clear.
Ebba returned to the stairwell and climbed to the next level, the fourth floor. Marigold had told her the king slept on this level. She assumed Caspian and his sisters did, too. A quick detour to gawk at Caspian’s room was tempting, but Ebba’s fathers would be sweating barnacles right now. She had to be as quick as possible.
The prince had said he’d handle the soldier outside the treasury. A wary peek around the corner of the stairwell proved him right. The level was empty.
Sally had been in the chamber on the right, so Ebba set off this way first, obeying her gut. Superstitions were a thing where she came from. Ebba hobbled as quickly as she could and, upon reaching the end, pressed her ear against the heavy wooden entrance.
Nothing.
Ebba tried the handle, but the door didn’t budge. Recalling the key, she dug into the top of her dress and drew out the gold object Caspian had palmed off to her. She inserted the key in the lock, relieved when it opened as easily as Stubby’s brandy bottles when the music was playing.
With a quick glance back the way she’d come, Ebba cracked open the treasury door and slipped inside, releasing a slow breath as she closed the door behind her.
She turned to inspect the room, and her jaw dropped open. “Well would ye call me Bonny and whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”
Cabinets and shelves occupied every space in the chamber, rows and rows of them. And every cabinet and shelf was filled with a countless, jumbling arrangement of sparkling treasures; a pirate’s dream.
“This might take a while.”
She picked up a mosaic vase and replaced it. Was all this stuff precious? Silver and gold glinted from every corner. Gems sparkled wherever she looked. Crossed weapons covered the walls, one huge sword outdoing them all.
Ebba tore her eyes away from the sword and began working through the room systematically. Gilded frames. Emerald ring. Stuffed monkey. This room was full of heirlooms, ripe for plunder. She eyed a jade snake with diamond eyes at the end of the first wall. That would go for a pretty penny at the Kentro market. Her crew were steal-traders, after all. Fulfilling the stealing half of their occupation was tempting.
But she wasn’t here for that. There had to be at least twenty rows in this treasure chest; searching the place would take forever. How long would the guard be away for?
Her eyes shot to the huge sword on the wall again. Why did it twinkle so much? She drifted in that direction for a better look. In a chamber full of gleaming finery, the sword was the shiniest object by far and was displayed as a central piece of the collection. The weapon had to be really important.
Really expensive, too.
Ebba stood beneath the blade and reached up on tip-toes, leaning on a carved box to push herself a little higher.
She only managed to graze the sword with her fingertips, but the flashing edges beckoned to her. Ebba searched and located a box of solid ivory with inlaid sapphires. Grunting, she shifted it beneath the sword, and climbed on top. She reached higher and pushed to extract the blade from the hooks it sat upon. Ebba needed a closer look.
Her fathers wouldn’t want her to waste time inspecting the shiny sword while all their lives were on the line, but Ebba gritted her teeth and took hold of the hilt anyway.
“We love you, Ebba-Viva Wobbles Fairisles,” said a much younger Barrels. “Don’t you ever forget it. We love you more than life itself.”
Ebba gasped, entirely focused on the vision of Barrels in her head. Utter surety of her fathers’ love for her spread unchecked through her chest, to her very toes. A soft smile quirked her lips before she frowned at the mistimed emotion. Ebba stared at her hand on the sword’s hilt and jolted as a second vision flashed across her skull.
“I’ll kill anyone who harms ye, lass,” a brown-haired Locks said with a snarl. His patch was in place, the thin scars covered his cheeks, and his emerald eye was ablaze, but there were far fewer wrinkles around his eyes.
With a yell, Ebba jerked her hand away from the sword. �
�Slithering sirens!”
But the sword didn’t land back on its hooks. The weapon came away from the wall with a ringing slide, and she shouted in earnest, throwing her body clear of the sharp weapon. The sword collided with a vase and a gilded frame, and the shatter and ring burst throughout the treasury. Ebba wasn’t so worried about that as she frantically windmilled her arms, perched precariously on the very corner of the ivory box. Too precariously.
With a wordless shout, Ebba aborted the box and twisted in the air to land gracefully on her feet.
Or so she planned.
The heel of her buckled shoes slipped. Ebba catapulted back into the cabinet behind, sliding down the heavy furniture to the floor in a heap. She froze as the cabinet that broke her fall creaked. Spinning on her back, Ebba’s eyes widened as the cabinet began to tilt. And tilt. Until the cabinet was tipping past the point of no return.
“Nay, don’t do that,” she whispered.
Ebba leaped to her feet, clutching the sides of her face as the cabinet tumbled into the cabinet behind it. The second cabinet toppled into a third and then a fourth. Glass smashed, gems were scattered, and heavy furniture fell with belly-deep groans and the boom of wood on stone.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the last of the cabinets plummeted to its echoing doom.
“Shite,” she mumbled, cracking open a moss-green eye. “Ye bloody eejit, Ebba. All for a shiny sword.” Were there guards running her way right now?
Ebba whirled frantically.
Where was the sword? When she’d touched the weapon, she’d seen. . . . What had she seen? Either the last few days were catching up with her, or the sword had just shown her two memories with her fathers. They’d been visibly younger, but more than that was what she’d felt—their love. When she’d touched the sword just now, Ebba was completely certain of her parents’ devotion. Even now she felt the glow of their adoration in her heart.
Ebba turned away from the devastation she’d caused and scanned the area for the blade, but her eyes fell instead on a shiny cylinder—tarnished silver but for the pearly sheen that swirled under its surface.
Pillars of Six Page 17
