Bound by Birthright

by Janeal Falor

  “This will be wonderful,” Jocelyn beams. “I admit I was fearful when Constance said we’d get off at the port. I’ve heard stories about it that make my skin crawl. It’s one of the few places I haven’t traveled to yet, but never wanted to. I feel so much better about our safety with more men accompanying us.”

  Emeline glowers at her. “I for one think we should stay on this boat. We’re comfortable here, and it will only be a few more days to Amara. Just think of all the danger we could meet by walking there.”

  “I’m confident Constance is making a good decision,” I say. “The boat needs repair, and we don’t know how long that will take. Plus, the pirates could still be there waiting. I know it’s best to have an escort in Port Varas, and we’ll have four. Once we’re out of the port, the rest of the way should be relatively boring with no one chasing us. Maybe we’ll even get a carriage or horses so we don’t have to walk, though I’m looking forward to the prospect. It’ll be a nice change.”

  Emeline glances at the floor before leaving the cabin. I hope I wasn’t too short with her. And maybe she is right. I know she would be if it wasn’t for the pirates, but with them around, we need to get as far as we possibly can.

  I stand to go after her, but Jocelyn says, “My lady, perhaps it’s best if you’d let her go. Sometimes the best thing for thinking is time alone.”

  “You’re right. I’ll be glad when this journey is over with. Though I must say I’m enjoying the adventure compared to my normally dull life.”

  Jocelyn grins. As long as we all remain safe, this journey will be more than worth it.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  The sea air swirls around our small group as we head down the dock. Everyone is here except Jon and Abner, who will meet us later. A dozen or so boats are in the process of loading or unloading cargo around us. Sailors scamper about, most disappearing in the direction of the closest pub. Uneasy glares come from the elves as we pass by, the worst of which are aimed at Jocelyn, Robert, and me—still in my human guise.

  I can’t determine if it’s because we’re human or because we’re here. I’m thinking it’s both but leaning more toward our race. I knew malcontent existed between our races, but I didn’t realize how much distrust existed among my own people. For some foolish reason, I always thought the fault lay with the humans.

  The setting sun casts an eerie red glow across the town square. We quicken our pace as insults are shouted our way. The faint aroma of roast mutton from a nearby booth clings to the air, making my stomach growl. I didn’t take the time to eat before we left. Perhaps it was a mistake.

  Robert places his hand on the small of my back as he scouts the townspeople buying their goods. Warmth spreads throughout me as I follow his gaze. The cobblestone street remains clean through the town square, save for an elf who drops his packages at the sight of us.

  I cringe. “I’m sorry about the treatment you’re receiving, Robert.”

  He glances at me, confusion rolling out of his brown eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

  How thickheaded of me. I might as well tell him I’m an elf. “I suppose I’m used to the behavior.”

  He tightens his lips into a grim line. “You shouldn’t have to be used to this. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  My heart flutters at his words, and I move to walk closer to him. Stewart, who is leading the group, sets a more vigorous pace. The air tingles with apprehension as we make our way through several more stalls until we leave the square and come upon stone houses. Elves stand whispering inside their shadowed doorways. When they meet my gaze, their eyes harden.

  While Robert’s touch is warming, the glares are like ice against my soul. If these elves are so upset about a small group of humans, how will they react when I marry Prince Phillip? With the extra thoughts to burden me like a pack of rocks, I watch the houses give way to dingy shacks. The cobblestone path ends, leaving only a dusty lane.

  Farther down the way, we follow Stewart into an alley. The sinister heavens release their water, the consequences of my earlier spell manifesting. Not the best time for us to get soaked. The houses around us are dark. Other than our footsteps, the pattering rain is the only sound in this area of Port Varas.

  Stewart leads us to some barrels and crates behind one of the houses. Hidden by the abandoned house, we get drenched in the rain while the two males converse a few feet from us in hushed tones.

  “‘You’re sure Jon and Abner knew what time to meet us?” Stewart asks.

  “Yes. We should have met them back in the market. I don’t know what kept them. I should go find them.” Robert’s voice is full of worry.

  This can’t be good at all. Where could they possibly be? What if those glares from the elves turned into something more?

  “I’ll go find them,” Stewart says. “It’ll be safer for me to travel through the city. Besides, I’ve been here before. I’ll be able to track them down.”

  Robert follows Stewart’s apprehensive gaze to me. “I’ll make certain the women are safe while you’re gone.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be back shortly.” Stewart gives me a nod and goes back down the alley, staying in the shadows.

  Robert inches closer to me, his presence warming in the cold, wet rain. Constance stands tense, scowling at him as if he might attack at any moment.

  “Stewart will find the men I sent out earlier,” Robert says, ignoring her wary gaze. “I know you still don’t know me, but Stewart trusts me. Go ahead and sit. We’ll stay out of this rain plaguing us as best we can.”

  Once I move next to the wall and sit on a crate, the other women follow. Constance peeks into the bag holding the scroll I found in the cave and readjusts the contents to keep them from getting wet, I’d guess. Then she pulls out some hard tack and hands it out to everyone—Robert last.

  We eat as the pouring minutes tick by. We stand in the shadows of a building. The rain pours harder, creating large pools of water in the muddy lane. Still no sign of Stewart. We were supposed to meet the other sailors an hour ago. Worry drips from me like the rain around us.

  A shuffle from the street makes everyone’s muscles tense. I peek over one of the crates to find a colossal man with an elf. Fear twists in my chest.

  “Captain Smythe,” I whisper to the others. “What is he doing here?”

  Robert shakes his head, furrowing his brow. Constance shoots me a warning look, though what she’s warning me against this time, I’m uncertain. I ignore her and stretch over the crates for a second look.

  “They’re leaving. I think we should follow them. There’s something odd about this,” I say.

  “No,” Robert and Constance whisper at the same time, but they’re too late. I’m already off. They follow after me, Constance tutting at me. I turn and shake my head. Captain Smythe is already fading from view.

  “We have to find out what’s going on.” I look pointedly at Constance.

  She narrows her eyes—she doesn’t like this at all—but she nods. Guilt floods me for using the command in such a situation as this, but I have to know what he’s up to.

  While we work to catch up without being detected, Robert mutters, “This is madness.”

  I cringe. I agree with him but keep moving forward. We stay as far behind the captain as we dare so we may remain undetected. Jocelyn and Emeline follow even farther behind. After several minutes, Captain Smythe and the elf enter a house. Keeping our footsteps light, we hover by the house, getting soaked.

  A candle is lit, casting a dim light from the paneless window beside us. Inside, the two talk and drink, their mugs sloshing over the sound of rain when they slam them down. Their voices carry through the window. Constance motions for everyone to stand still and silent. The two voices speak casually at first, talking of looting and women, but then the conversation shifts topics.

  “There were humans and elves o
n this ship, you say?” Captain Smythe asks. “Together?”

  The second, gruffer voice answers. “Aye. Strangest thing. Don’t happen much the last few years. The one human girl was sure putty, though, at least for a human. Purtiest one I’ve ever seen.”

  “Huh.”

  “Let’s get on with this business before anyone sees me. Hate to get caught with a ruffian the likes of you.”

  “Ha ha ha.” Sarcasm laces the fake laugh.

  “Er… I meant, a fine gentleman like yourself.”

  “If you’re quite finished, I want the ship that just came into port. We want more of it than the merchandise. I want the woman, too.” Jocelyn grabs my arm, as the pirate continued. “I will pay an extra two hundred gold coins for her.”

  An uncomfortably long moment passes before the second voice replies, “I’m not so sure. I hate enough giving yah the ship, but people? That’s another business entirely.”

  A booming crash comes from the house, followed by Captain Smythe’s cursing. “You’ll do as I say, or every elf will know of your dirty-handed business.”

  The second man’s scream fills the air with a pain that’s almost tangible. Jocelyn whimpers and squeezes my arm tighter. Robert drapes his arm across my back and pats the girl’s shoulder. I mouth a thank you to him. He nods, angst visible in his golden brown eyes. Our gazes break apart when the screaming fades.

  “Yes, yes. Whatever you want. Please donna hurt me. I’ll have my men nab her when they hold up the ship. If she goes off shore, I’ll have her followed. If she’s already left, I know someone who can track her.”

  “That’s more like it.” Captain Smythe’s voice sends chills up my arms even more than the rain is already doing. “I’ll send one of my men to help you bring back the girl. The usual with the merchandise, and make it snappy. There’s somewhere I need to be.”

  “Yes, Capin’.”

  With that, the candle is blown out, and the two voices fade out of the house into the night. Jocelyn’s white hand still grips me. It’s probably going to leave a bruise, but all I can feel is a sick sort of numbness.

  Robert looks from Constance to me uneasily, and then removes his arm from Jocelyn’s shoulder and my back. I miss the warmth that he brought.

  “We should head back,” he says.

  This time, I don’t bother protesting. Of course, I don’t point out I was right to protest the first time. We make our way back to the dilapidated house in silence. Jocelyn continues to cling to me. Why she picks me and not Constance is a mystery. The part of me that isn’t used to being touched wants to pry her off me, but another part—a stronger, better part—wishes there was more I could do for her than let her hold my arm.

  When we get back to the crates, Stewart isn’t waiting for us.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  Constance purses her lips and shakes her head. Which is worse? Waiting longer and not knowing what’s going on, or going in search of him? Now more than ever, it’s imperative that we get a move on. Before I can make up my mind what to do, Stewart appears, followed by the men he was sent after. I ease back against the house.

  In a hushed voice, Robert relates what transpired while Stewart was gone. The rain feels heavier, coming so hard it’s no longer drops but a full sheet of water. Robert’s voice is full of concern. He keeps running his hand through his hair.

  Stewart glances at me, as if to make certain I haven’t been whisked away by Captain Smythe. “Change of plans,” he says, when Robert is done. “We must leave at once, even though your men weren’t able to acquire all the supplies. I assume you want to return to the ship and warn them?”

  “I’ll send Jon or Abner,” Robert replies. “We’ll still escort you to Amara. You have a greater need of us than the ship.” He gives me a pointed look.

  “I think we should go back, Robert,” Abner says. “They’ll be fine. They know their own country. Let’s return.”

  “I gave them my word. You can go and warn the others. Jon and I will continue onward.”

  Abner scowls. “If you’re going, I’m going as well. Send Jon back. I’ll help you with these elves.”

  Stewart straightens to his full height, his tall frame several inches above Abner’s. “We don’t need the likes of you coming with us.” His strong arms tense, poised as if ready to strike.

  Constance rises, easing Stewart with her presence, though her face is filled with rage.

  Robert slides in between the boiling sides, arms outstretched between them.

  “We don’t need this. There are enough problems going around, without us adding to them. Abner, you can come with us if—and only if—you’ll be more tolerant of those not like you.”

  Abner nods his head in agreement, but his fists remain clenched.

  Robert continues. “Can you agree to this, Stewart?”

  Stewart nods and eases, and Constance’s harsh gaze shifts from him to Robert. Emeline and Jocelyn keep quiet and reserved.

  “Jon, go and tell the captain of their danger. Make certain he knows Abner and I will still be meeting up with you in Amara.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a nod, Jon heads down the alleyway, looking around warily as he goes, and then he disappears from sight.

  “Now,” Robert says, “what are we going to do about supplies? Should we try to get them or move on without them?”

  “We should leave without them,” I say.

  “She’s right,” Stewart says. “There’s too much danger here, and we’ll be able to get supplies at Ilwen Farms. It’s on the way, and I know someone there who will help us.”

  He looks to me for confirmation, and I give a slight nod.

  “To Ilwen Farms it is,” Robert says.

  The group is silent as we leave town. I’ll be happy not to return to Port Varas anytime soon. But as we continue on our journey, soaked to the bone, I can’t help but wonder what else could go wrong.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  “What can I do to help, Constance?” I ask.

  She raises her eyebrows and responds with a whisper, probably so the men can’t hear. “Don’t ask again.”

  I throw my hands up in the air. Of course I’m not used to helping, but I’m not used to doing nothing, either. With everyone else slaving away, it’s more than enough to make me willing to do a few chores. But no. Constance is having none of that.

  Rain continues falling mercilessly while I sit back on a stump, watching the men put together shelters for the night. They are simple, some thick canvas overhead to protect us from the rain while we sleep. Stewart and Robert fumble over the ropes. Or rather, Robert fumbles. Stewart can tie a rope without a problem, when Robert isn’t trying to help.

  Abner stands to the side, mouth puckered like he tasted something bad. More like he sees something he finds foul. True to his word though, he remains silent on the subject of elves.

  “Will it ever stop raining?” Emeline pulls out cooking supplies. “Two days should be more than an adequate consequence.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I think I went a bit overboard with my spell on the wind.”

  “I’ll agree to that. No one else makes it rain for this long when changing the weather.”

  “I—for one—like it,” Jocelyn chimes in, her blond hair darkened with moisture. “It smells wonderful. Everything feels so fresh and clean. I don’t mind being drenched all the time, though it did rain too hard the first night. This, though, is pure heaven.”

  I have to smile at the sight of her dancing in the rain, her face pointed toward the sky. She looks at me with a wide grin. I can’t help but feel something in that moment. Is this what it’s like to have a friend?

  “That’s enough playing for now.” Constance’s words are commanding but tinged with amusement. “Dinner needs started. Go find some firewood. Dry if you can. But stay close.”


  “Yes, ma’am.” Jocelyn scampers around the camp but remains in view.

  Constance and Emeline busy themselves making stew. Ever since Port Varas, we’ve been rationing our supplies carefully. Before that, even. I can’t remember the last good meal I had. At least Constance is still cooking.

  “I’m excited for dinner,” I say to her. “It’s amazing that you can find edible plants to stretch out food. I had no idea you had that kind of skill.”

  “I wish I could pick it up,” Emeline says while stirring the stew. “I’d love to be able to make meals like Constance.”

  “It won’t be as good tonight,” Constance says. “I don’t dare enhance the flavor more. The repercussion of losing some of the nutrients isn’t something we can afford any longer.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say. “I’m sure it will still be good.”

  “It smells delicious.” Emeline leans in closer to the pot in front of her.

  Constance pulls back her mouth in skepticism and shifts her attention back to a tuber she is cutting. The men are still setting up a shelter. Everyone else is working. Everyone but me.

  That’s it. If I’m not going to work, I don’t have to watch everyone else do so. I escape into the forested area. Heavily leafed branches swing at me as I walk past, spraying water. I’d grumble at the water if I wasn’t already so wet. I’m so saturated the continuing rain doesn’t make a difference.

  I stroll on, the damp grass springy beneath my footsteps. Not wanting to get too far from camp, I slow. An itch to remove my disguise fills me. The only break I’ve had since our flight from danger was during the dark of night, while everyone save for the person keeping watch was asleep and my head was covered in a shawl. The amount of time I’ve spent as a human is sizable. If I knew the consequences for this spell, it wouldn’t be so worrisome.

  Out of sight of the camp, I prepare myself for the pain that will accompany changing my face back to its original form when someone yells. Although I can’t understand what the voice is saying, fear leaps in my chest. I crouch down, ready to jump into action at the slightest movement. Sure, I don’t have my sword, but that doesn’t mean I can’t jab eyeballs with my fingers.