“Hello.” He bows awkwardly, his large ears sticking out even more as his hair sweeps forward.
“Phipps.” I offer him my hand. “How have you been?”
“Oh, good, good,” he says, pumping my hand up and down.
From behind him, a short figure peeks out.
Phipps motions behind him, and the person steps forward. “I’d like you to meet my younger brother, Lenny.”
Lenny looks to be about thirteen or fourteen and has the same lopsided grin accented by lips that are just a little too big for his face. Scraggily hair down to his shoulders does nothing to hide ears as big as his brother’s.
“I didn’t know you had another sibling,” I say.
“Well”—Phipps ducks his eyes—“my maw didn’t think he was ready to go to sea, but with . . . with . . .” He trails off, as if having trouble getting the words out.
Lenny gently nudges Phipps’s shoulder and nods encouragingly.
Phipps laughs nervously and swallows. He nods down at his brother, and after a few moments his smile returns, though it seems forced. “It was finally time for him to get his sea legs.”
Lenny bows rigidly at the waist, and I notice one of his coat arms swing forward, empty.
Phipps notices where my gaze has gone. “He was born a little differently.”
Lenny grabs Phipps’s elbow, tugging on his brother’s sleeve without taking his bright eyes from me.
“Oh, and he can’t speak.” He then holds his hands up defensively. “But don’t you think for a minute he can’t hold his own. One time, Thipps and I were backed into a corner by these guys who thought we’d cheated them at a game of Lavender Luck, and Lenny showed up out of nowhere and took all three of the guys down.”
Lenny nods proudly, standing a little straighter.
“Oh, and he makes a great lookout,” Phipps continues. “He’s got eyes like a hawk. Nothing escapes his notice.” He leans in closer, his eyebrows rising upward. “He can even get secrets out of a person with just a look.”
“I’m sure he’ll be a wonderful addition to the Royal Armada,” I say.
“Oh, he will,” Phipps answers. “I’ve really taken him under my wing. Taught him everything I know.” He throws his chest out and his shoulders back as though I should be pinning a medal on him.
I laugh. “If you’ve taken him under your wing, I expect you’ve already got some scheme dreamed up.”
Lenny winks at me, his grin getting wider.
“That means yes,” Phipps supplies.
“Just make sure you don’t get rich too quick,” I supply. “That doesn’t always turn out well.”
Phipps waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, we’ll be rich for years to come.”
I eye him. Now I really am worried he is going to try to steal the chandeliers. And he might not look who’s standing beneath before cutting them down. On our recent voyage, he and his twin brother, Thipps, were renowned for how quickly they could come up with some money-making scheme.
Phipps eyes the crowd around us and then leans in closer. “It’s not often the likes of me is invited to the palace, so I’m going to find a rich woman here to marry.”
Lenny vigorously nods.
I laugh. “Good luck with that.”
Lenny nudges his brother again.
Phipps swats him away. “I’ll ask her.” He clears his throat and leans in again, his eyes shifting around nervously as though it would be disastrous to be overheard. “Are there any you’d recommend? Ones with heavy pockets?”
I cast my eyes around the room.
I spot Lady Alyona. She’s only a few years older than me and has one of those angelic faces that makes you believe she’s the sweetest person in the room. But she’s not. She was the first one to openly suggest Hettie was in on her father’s plot to overthrow my father. She’d suggested Hettie be locked up until we could ascertain her loyalty. Hettie had pulled her sword and nearly chased Lady Alyona from the hall before we stopped her.
I’d like to see that snake get a little of what’s coming to her.
Lady Alyona is surrounded by her gaggle of other rich ladies, who hang on every word she says.
It’s probably not the nicest thing I’ve ever done, but I point Phipps directly toward her. “She’s very rich.”
Phipps’s mouth curls upward, and he gives me a miniature salute before waltzing off.
Lenny at least has the courtesy to offer another bow.
I catch the boy’s gaze when he straightens, and Phipps was right; there is something intense in his eyes. Something that makes you feel truly seen for the first time in a long while. Something that hints Lenny has spent his whole life observing those around him and knows more than he lets on.
As a result, I can’t help but ask, “How is Phipps really doing?” I keep my voice low even though Phipps is searching for a way to interrupt the circle of women and not paying us any attention.
Lenny’s eyes follow my own. They linger on his brother, making me wonder if their mother’s agreeing to send Lenny out wasn’t so much his need to get his sea legs but instead her wanting her son watching over his brother after a devastating loss.
When Lenny finally looks back at me, he gives me sort of a twisted half smile, noncommittally moving his head side to side.
“Good days and bad days?” I venture.
Lenny nods.
My stomach clenches. I wish there was something I could do to ease the boys’ pain. My head shouts that if I’d been a better leader, Thipps wouldn’t have died in the first place. I close my eyes and shake the thought away. You can’t change the past. Only the future. Queen Teragram had written that as well. And that is what I am going to do as I lead Lagonia.
I lightly rest my hand on Lenny’s boney shoulder. “I’m sorry about Thipps. If there’s anything I can do for you or your family, let me know.”
Lenny offers a small smile in answer.
“And keep an eye on Phipps for me,” I say.
He winks and then nods to where Phipps has somehow managed to weasel his way into the women’s circle.
I laugh. “You better go help him.”
Lenny raises his eyebrows and nods as if he’s used to having to assist his brother in many similar situations. And I’m sure he has—I just pray he can help him get through the loss of Thipps.
I leave Phipps to his brother as I duck through the crowd, looking for Royce again.
Instead, I find Rhat gathering his meal. He’s actually taken one of the decorative silver platters and piled it with different cuisines. Pastries with flaky crusts filled with honey-roasted nuts rest atop lightly browned fish fillets. Purple octopus tentacles dangle over the side, and every free spot is filled with grapes or olives in a variety of colors.
He always has had an interesting appetite.
“Princess.” Rhat bows without losing a single olive from the platter. I wish I was half so good at keeping my crown steady on my head.
I sigh. I’ve told him at least four times to call me Kora, like he did on ship, but he never does. I think only a direct order from Royce would get him to stop using my title.
“Do you know where Hettie is?” he asks. He scans the room, and I know if she’d been here, he would’ve already found her.
She didn’t come. She didn’t want the prying eyes of the kingdom, the eyes of Lady Lucar and Lady Alyona, constantly judging her, looking for hints she really was part of the gold theft—that she wanted to be the next queen.
My cousin has been avoiding all appearances since the incident with Lady Alyona. She’s even been avoiding me.
Hettie has taken up sword fighting instead, practicing with the guards and with Rhat. It seems to help. Some.
Though I worry about her. Especially since Rhat will be leaving with Royce in the morning. I don’t want Hettie to turn into the same outcast I once was, when rumors stalking me down hallways controlled my entire existence.
I want her to talk to me, but I can’t force it. Every ti
me I find time to check in on her, she’s either out practicing or pretends she’s sleeping. But that doesn’t hide the sniffles and sobs I sometimes catch before I knock.
“She’s not here,” I say to Rhat.
A flash of disappointment streaks across his face. We both thought that if anything could get her out of her room, it would be the reinstatement ceremony.
He groans. “She’ll return when she’s ready.”
I softly touch his arm. “She will. We’ll make sure of it. I’ll watch over her while you’re gone.” I resolve to check on her more often once Rhat leaves, to show her she doesn’t need to keep everything locked inside.
Although I half suspect she might attempt to sneak onto Rhat’s ship before it leaves. And I’m not sure I’d stop her if that’s what she wants, if that’s what she thinks would help. I myself have wanted to escape from prying eyes on more than one occasion since being back.
He nods. “Thank you.”
“Have you seen Royce?” I ask.
Rhat cranes his neck around. He motions his head to the right. “He’s talking to some noble or another. I’m sure he’ll be grateful if you rescue him.”
I head in the direction he indicated and find Royce surrounded by a crowd of nobles in their finery. Red jackets imprinted with black. Green jackets patterned with blue wave designs. Dresses in reds and pinks and whites, each with a stitched design, swirl around Royce.
His head whips back and forth as they scramble to get his attention. One clasps his shoulder and asks his opinion on weather conditions for merchant ships. Another lady forces her hand into his, waiting for him to kiss it as she asks if he’ll attend her dinner party next week. As if she didn’t already know he is leaving tomorrow.
I clear my throat.
Royce’s eyes meet mine over the crowd. He visibly relaxes.
There’s grumbling as he excuses himself from the group.
He takes my hand and kisses it, sending a tingling up my arm. “Princess.”
I can’t help but smile.
I tug Royce toward the balcony doors overlooking one of the small courtyards, not caring what the crowd thinks of our abrupt departure.
The balcony is tucked away so no one can see out onto it, and it’s deserted as I suspected it would be. None of the nobles want to risk missing any gossip or not being seen in their finery by the crowds.
Royce loosens his shirt collar and takes off his jacket, tossing it onto the balcony ledge. “It was like fighting off ten Temptresses at once in there. Everyone wanted to get their claws in me.”
“Sick of being a captain already?” I tease.
Royce rolls his eyes and sits on the ledge, next to the jacket. “I’ve been at sea so long I’ve forgotten what it’s like back on land.”
I sit down beside him. “Well, you’ll have three months free of those people.”
A silence falls between us as the reality he’s leaving sets in.
I duck my head.
“It’ll only be three months,” he says quietly. “It’ll pass quickly.” He wraps his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He doesn’t smell like the open ocean anymore. Just like soap and freshly laundered clothes.
“Are you sure?” I don’t risk raising my head to look at him. I’m not asking if it’ll pass quickly. I’m asking if it’ll only be three months. Which he clearly senses.
I’ve seen the way he stiffens around the nobles, the way he walks quickly through the palace, the way he tries to avoid drawing too much attention to himself.
He takes one of my hands in his. “I feel out of place here . . . I’m not used to all the eyes staring at me. It’s not like that at sea.”
My heart sinks. I’ve been dreading hearing those words since I asked my father to reinstate him.
He pulls my cheek up to look at him. “But Kora, if you can face it, then so can I.”
“Are you sure you want to, that you want this to be your life?”
He takes my hands in his. “Kora . . .” He cuts off as a strange screeching noise slices through the air.
I stare out over the balcony railing into the dusty courtyard clogged with carriages and horses from the nobles who’d come to watch the ceremony. Several horses throw their heads back and others stamp their feet as something glints off their bridles.
A red light sparks near the closed gates built into the palace wall. It’s too red and too erratic for a lantern.
I’m just about to ask Royce what it is when the front gates burst apart, a jumbled mess of melted and twisted metal where the lock had been. Hinges squeal as the remaining fragments are ripped from their moorings and tossed into the courtyard. They clatter to the ground, sending horses reeling.
Carriage drivers leap from their seats, but instead of running to calm their animals, they scatter into the shadows.
A burly man waltzes through where the gate once was. Behind him, something moves in the shadows.
The man takes a quick look around, but just as the flame of his body had drawn my eye, the slight glow of early morning sunlight hitting my golden skin draws his.
“There she is.” The man points a finger as red as burning coal at me. “Kill her.”
CHAPTER 2
Behind the man, a group of satyrs rushes in. The hairy half-human, half-goat creatures stand at least a foot taller than any person I’ve ever seen. And it’s hard to see any of their humanity between the thick coating of dark hair that covers their bodies and the twisted horns shooting out of their heads.
Two satyrs separate from the group, leaping over carriages and launching into the palace walls while the man leads the rest against the guards streaming down the palace steps. He melts the sword of the nearest guard with his bare hand while his other hand reaches up and burns through the guard’s armor as if it isn’t even there. The guard’s gurgled cry cuts off as the man scorches through his throat.
I swallow down vomit.
“Get back,” Royce cries, pulling me away from the ledge. The satyrs make quick work of slamming their human-like fingers tipped with pointed claws into the palace walls and climbing toward us. Marble shatters as the claws latch into the balcony railing and the creatures heave themselves over.
Their hooves make a terrifying clack against the floor as they advance, and the stench of dirt and matted hair becomes overwhelming.
Royce pulls his sword, and I skitter behind him, weaponless.
One satyr snarls, revealing jagged black teeth as it clambers toward Royce.
The other one huffs through its wide nostrils and runs toward me, head bent low so I fear I’ll be impaled by its horns. I duck out of the way as the horns rake through the wall at my back instead, sending shards of stone clattering down around me.
I scramble across the debris toward the other side of the balcony.
Over the pounding of my heart, I hear Royce’s sword clang again and again against the satyr’s sharp nails as it blocks his blows.
The second satyr turns quickly and swipes at me. Sharp claws catch on my skirt, ripping the fabric as I lurch to the side. My crown clatters to the floor just before I smash into the balcony. I land on my stomach, and pain radiates through my ribs and arms.
It takes a moment for me to get air back into my lungs, but I’m already crawling. Because there, a few paces in front of me, is Royce’s jacket. The gold tassels on the shoulders gleam encouragingly, but as I scramble toward it, a rough hand closes around my ankle, dragging me backward.
I scream and grope at the balcony floor, hoping to catch on some crack, some hole, anything to give me leverage against the creature’s hold. I find nothing.
The satyr whips me backward, flinging me into the wall, and I land in a heap on my hands and knees. I curl into myself. My lungs ache so much I can barely catch my breath, but something tells me to move.
Move or die.
I throw myself to the side, rolling away just as the satyr pounces where my body had been. It lets out a nasty sno
rt and turns after me.
But I don’t stop. I crawl across the debris, not caring that jagged wreckage punctures straight through the thin fabric of my gloves and digs into the skin inside.
Just as my fingers close around the jacket fabric, the satyr’s hooves land on either side of me, shaking the entire balcony. I roll over, clutching the jacket to my chest like a shield, and I whip off a glove.
The satyr snarls down at me, sending spittle against my face. It raises a claw, ready to strike.
I fumble with the jacket without taking my eyes from the satyr’s. Where is that tassle?
A claw strikes forward.
There.
A chill passes through me as I absorb the gold from one of the tassels—an ability I developed after my father failed to cleanse everything he’d turned to gold after the god Dionysus cursed him.
My hand snakes out, wrapping around the satyr’s ankle. Before I can even feel the coarse hair poke my skin, the creature turns to gold, its claws inches from my chest.
I fall back against the balcony floor and let out a sigh that sends an ache through my chest. But I don’t have time to register the pain. I turn just in time to see Royce pull his blade from a satyr’s throat. The creature collapses to its knees and falls face-first onto the floor. Black blood leaks from its wound.
“Are you okay?” Royce asks, rushing over.
I nod, and he helps pull me carefully from underneath the metallic satyr. I wince at the movement. I’m going to be covered in bruises and scratches tomorrow, and my ribs feel like they’re on fire.
I lean out over the balcony, my back groaning in protest. The man from the courtyard is nowhere to be seen. Only a trail of dead guards, some of them still smoldering, remain.
“We have to stop that man,” I say. “He’s in the palace.” I pick up the jacket and rush back toward the great hall with Royce at my heels.
Sucking in air through the pain, I cry out, “Guards, secure the hall,” just as the doors at the far end of the room crash open, a hole blazing through the wood.
A Curse of Gold Page 2
