by Ree Soesbee
“Steadfast Isaye. Loyal Isaye. Always playing the part of the devoted Krytan. You fooled my father, and you nearly fooled me.” Scorn dripped from every word. “How easily you were discovered.”
“Don’t you dare hurt him!” Isaye bristled. She pushed forward. The Seraph’s weapons drove into her skin, forcing her to step back again. As blood stained her linen shirt, Tenzin’s hands flexed, reaching automatically for a weapon that was no longer at his side. Behind her, Cobiah’s face darkened, making the connection. Tenzin was younger than Isaye, yes . . . but he was old enough.
“Be still, both of you.” Bronn clenched his hands around the iron chain of his manacles. “Your actions bring even more danger to the child.”
“Listen to your gargantuan friend, Isaye,” Edair said quietly. “None of us want to endanger the boy. Isn’t that right, Commodore?”
All around them, the nobles of Divinity’s Reach stood in rapt attention, captivated and perhaps fearful of the scene playing out before them. Women pressed their hands to silk bodices, and men questioned the king with their eyes, afraid to say anything that might draw the prince’s attention. The Balthazar’s Trident rocked gently in the water, lanterns swaying from the balcony, casting mercurial shadows from wall to wall. Cobiah set his mouth in a grim line, understanding the threat implicit in the prince’s words.
“This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed, Cobiah. Not here and not in Lion’s Arch.” The prince smiled victoriously. “I give you my word of honor. Not a hair on the child’s head will be harmed . . . so long as you cooperate.” Resting easily on the throne, Edair straightened the sleeves of his golden doublet in smug satisfaction. “You’ll tell me about those defenses, you’ll order the Lionguard to stand down, and furthermore, you’ll sign a formal treaty acknowledging Krytan rulership of Lion’s Arch.
“I’ll give you a little time to reconsider your answer, Cobiah.” Edair’s smile broadened. “Take them to the brig.”
The prince snapped his fingers, and the Seraph around the room stiffened to attention. “Give the prisoners water and allow them eight hours’ rest. If they haven’t come to their senses at the end of that time . . .” He eyed the group thoughtfully. “I’ll be forced to do something rash.” Isaye let out a soft moan. Bronn and Grymm bristled, but the Seraph guard jabbed them warningly, and the norn held in their retorts. For his part, Cobiah met the prince’s eyes with a steady, hateful gaze.
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Livia said, stepping in quickly. “Allow us to be your hand.” She nodded to the Shining Blade holding Dane, and the man nodded at her unspoken command. Without a word, he turned and carried the boy away. Isaye made a soft sound and stepped after them, but Tenzin caught her arm and pulled her back.
“They won’t hurt him,” Tenzin told her quietly. “Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.”
Cobiah wished he’d been the one to say it. Gritting his teeth, he watched as the guard in blue carried the little boy away. Livia strode down the stairs toward the gathered prisoners. “I’ll escort them personally. You are relieved.” Four more Shining Blade, one of them the dark-haired guard who had been stationed at the door when they arrived, surrounded the group of prisoners. The Seraph marines stepped back, but not without a few more taunting pokes at their hostages. Livia gestured, and her agents led the captives from the stateroom.
The brig of the Balthazar’s Trident was on her lowest deck, beneath the cold waterline. They were pushed into small chambers with the curve of the ship’s hull on one side and iron bars on the other. Cobiah could tell at a glance that the hull here was reinforced lest any prisoners take out their rage on the boards, trying to sink the ship or drown themselves in the attempt. There were no cots or furniture in any of the cells, only a small tin chamber pot with a lid. A faint dusting of straw covered the floor, musty with dampness. The Shining Blade locked each of the five prisoners into a separate cage, removing the manacles from Isaye, Cobiah, and Tenzin. They left the chains on the norn. Livia simply stood in the hold outside the brig cells and watched as they were shoved inside and the doors locked behind them.
After the other Shining Blade left the hold, Livia paused as though she might say something. With a shrug and a sigh, she appeared to decide against it. Her heels made a distinctive clicking sound as she headed up the long rise of stairs. The door to the hold slammed shut behind her.
Tenzin sighed, leaning back in his cell. “We have to escape.”
“Escape?” Grymm rumbled. His voice was gruffer than his garrulous brother’s, lower and rusty sounding, as if he did not choose to talk often. “Strange words, coming from you, Krytan. Isaye is implicated in treason. Myself, my brother, and the commodore are prisoners of the state. But you . . . I can’t figure out why you’re here. To spy on us, perhaps?”
Tenzin shot the norn a nasty look, rubbing his wrists where the manacles had chafed the skin raw. “I’m loyal to Kryta, yes. But not to Edair. Truth be told, I was hoping Princess Emilane would be Baede’s heir. When he chose Edair . . .” Tenzin shook his head. “My father was right. Power makes you crazy.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Grymm said, pressing him.
The Krytan lowered his head. “I asked for the post of first mate aboard the Nomad when I heard Edair was planning to blockade Lion’s Arch.” Tenzin shoved a lock of brown hair away from his eyes. “While I respect Captain Isaye greatly, my father was my hero. He died to protect the city of Lion’s Arch. I won’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”
Cobiah tried to tame his jealousy, focus his mind on the problem, but his thoughts kept leaping to dark places. Great respect for Captain Isaye? Cobiah had seen the warmth in Tenzin’s eyes. That didn’t come from sheer respect. Neither did a three-year-old child.
“So what do we do now?” Bronn asked, shaking the chain links of his manacles to see if he could find a weak spot. “Break out of the brig? Sneak into the prince’s quarters and fight him one-on-one? Capture that red-wrapped enchantress and demand an exchange of hostages? Swim to Lion’s Arch and warn the defense?” Cobiah noted that none of the norn’s options included “surrender and sign the treaty.” Bronn wasn’t even considering it. Why, then, was he?
Isaye slid heavily to a seat on the floor of her cell. “They have my son.”
The pain in her voice shot through Cobiah’s heart. Despite himself, he said, “There’s got to be a way to get the child out of here.”
“He’ll be more heavily guarded than the prince—and unlike Edair, the guards around the boy have no reason to care if he survives. They’ll kill him the moment we enter the room.” Grymm scowled. “Point us toward the princeling, Cobiah, and I’ll gladly join you. But I don’t want a child’s blood on my hands.”
“You’re right. I’ll think of something else,” Cobiah said dryly, sinking down onto the floor. The cell smelled like moldy straw and old bacon, somehow both familiar and disconcerting all at once.
Hours passed in relative silence. Through high portholes, Cobiah watched night turn into morning, dawning gray and dim with no hint of sun. Cobiah could hear the ocean lapping against the side of the boat, but he had nothing to mark the passage of time except the heavy snores of his companions.
Finally, a key clicked in the hatch to the deck above. The door opened, and there was movement on the stairs. It had certainly not been eight full hours—less than four, by his reasoning. This wasn’t the prince summoning them, unless Edair had grown impatient. Food, perhaps? Cobiah listened to the movement on the stairs as it approached, and his brow furrowed. The click-clack of heels upon the stairwell told him exactly who it was.
“Come to taunt us?” Cobiah asked as the woman in red entered the main room of the brig. “Where’s the fun in that, Livia?”
“Taunt you?” The exemplar carried no lantern, nor a torch. Instead, her delicate features were lit by the pale light of a necromancer’s ghost candle, the magical light illuminating the appeal of her curves. “How you misjudge me, Commodore.�
�� She reached up to close the hatch above her with one hand. The magical light hovered at her side, neither changing nor wavering as she walked slowly in front of their cells.
“What are you here for, then? I seriously doubt you’re here to help us.” Cobiah glared, trying not to be impressed by the woman’s beauty—or her obvious skill with magic.
She tossed her head, and the stripe of pale hair flowed against her high cheekbone like silk over porcelain. “In fact”—Livia’s dark lips curved into a smile—“I am.”
Isaye was already on her feet, her hands clenched into fists. “If you want to help us, give me my son and let us go.”
Livia’s eyes were shadowed. “No, my dear Isaye. There’s nothing I can do about your son. Prince Edair’s orders are very clear, and the boy is under heavy guard.”
“Then you can’t help us.” Isaye turned away bitterly.
“You don’t agree with what’s going on,” Cobiah guessed. He stood and walked to face Livia through the iron bars of his cell. “If you did, you wouldn’t be here.” Cobiah pressed his luck, relying on instinct to gauge the woman’s reaction. “You’re older than the prince. You were alive when the sea swallowed Lion’s Arch. Hell, you might have even been in the city at the time, in the king’s palace. You were probably with him when King Baede and the others were whisked away while the city was destroyed around you. You know what I know . . . you know how dangerous Orr really is.
“I . . .” She paused, sizing him up.
“Don’t play games with me. You’re not the kind who sits in pretty throne rooms and tells yourself the world turns on your whim. You’ve been alive for a very long time, haven’t you? I’d be willing to bet you saw Port Stalwart destroyed; or other agents of the Shining Blade did, and they reported to you. You’ve seen the monsters that sail those Dead Ships. That’s why you’re here.”
Livia nodded. A faint smile touched her elegant lips. “You’re quite right, Commodore. I do know Orr better than most. Some years ago, I came into possession of an artifact of great power, a remnant of that lost civilization. A scepter. I’ve spent many years studying it. Yes, I know what Orrian magic could do when Orr was alive.” The smile faded, and Livia’s stance took on a greater posture of authority. “I can guess what it is like now that they are undead . . . and under the command of an Elder Dragon.”
“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” Cobiah wrapped his hands around the bars and leaned toward her. “Give him control of Lion’s Arch? That would be akin to handing the entire nation of Kryta to the undead. Possibly all of Tyria!” His voice shook with intensity. “You’ve got to convince Edair that he’s wrong.”
“I have attempted to discuss these matters with my prince, but Edair is not a practitioner of the magical arts. He is a warrior. Furthermore, he is very young and utterly convinced of his superiority based on the success of his conflicts with the charr.” Livia shrugged, the movement rippling appealingly across her sleek form. “If I cannot convince Edair of the truth, then I must protect him from his errors.”
“That’s why she’s here,” Tenzin surmised quickly. “The Shining Blade’s oath is to the throne . . . but it’s very specific. Her oath is to ensure that the royal line continues to rule. I’ve heard rumors that the Shining Blade doesn’t care who sits on the throne, so long as it is a descendant of Salma the Good. They ensure that Kryta and the line of Salma continue. Shining Blade can’t let Kryta fall to Orr . . . but they can support an alternate heir to the throne.” Tenzin looked back and forth from Cobiah to the figure in red.
“Essentially correct, Colonel Moran.” Livia nodded courteously, as if they were in a formal courtroom and not standing in a ship’s brig. “I take my oath very seriously, and I am loyal to Prince Edair . . . but my primary loyalty is to Kryta and the Salmaic dynasty. Prince Edair is the inheritor of the throne, and I support him as such. However, I will not allow his pride to doom the country. But . . . he is only the heir, and a prince. Thus, he does not yet have the authority to countermand orders given to me by a king.”
“You still have orders from King Baede.” Isaye grasped her meaning first. She looked up, a faint hope lighting in her eyes.
“Correct. Edair rushed to take Lion’s Arch immediately upon his father’s death. It is his plan to be coronated in Lion’s Arch. That is where all the kings and queens of Kryta have been elevated, since the days of Queen Salma the Good. He doesn’t plan to be the first to change that tradition.”
“He’s a prideful snot, isn’t he?” Grymm rumbled under his breath.
“What were King Baede’s orders?” Cobiah asked.
Livia paused before she answered. Her eyes flicked to Isaye, then back to Cobiah. “Some years ago, King Baede began plans of his own to invade your city, Commodore Marriner. It was his intent to recapture Lion’s Arch. However, his mind was changed when Lady Isaye sent him notes . . . documentation . . . proof that your forces were uniquely capable of defending this port against the Dead Ships. King Baede had more than enough militia to invade and seize your city. Because of the information Isaye provided, he abandoned those plans.”
Cobiah’s mind raced. “That was why you were meeting with the Krytans?” he asked Isaye, numbly aware that she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
She nodded, a small, sorrowing movement. “I discovered Baede’s plans. I couldn’t let him invade Lion’s Arch, but I also didn’t want to tell the council. Either way, I would have started a war. Taking Baede your notes was the only way to make sure he understood the threat Orr represented. The number of vessels they’d destroyed; the great lengths we were going to, ensuring that our city had a chance against those Dead Ships. I had to prove to him that Lion’s Arch—as it was, with the united forces of all races of Tyria—was vital to keeping Kryta safe. Baede would never have been able to arrange charr engineering to enhance the fort at Claw Island or convince the asuran colleges to enchant ships against Orrian fire.
“After he read your journals, King Baede agreed with me.” Isaye kept her eyes low, twisting her fingers back and forth in her lap. “He told his army to stand down and leave Lion’s Arch alone.”
“Well . . . damn,” Cobiah said ruefully. It didn’t answer all of his questions, but the explanation put an entirely different spin on Isaye’s activity—and the man she’d been meeting in the inn room that day. The thought of all the lost years, the distance between them . . . “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked more softly, forgetting for a moment that there were other people in the room.
“You were right.” She shrugged. “I was betraying Lion’s Arch. I turned your notes over to Kryta, and Baede might have used that information to attack the city. I had to take that risk.” Isaye looked up, temper sparking in her eyes again. “Anyway, I wasn’t exactly eager to explain myself to someone who called me a grog-snarfing murellow.” Cobiah heard Bronn snicker from the floor of his cell, the sound quickly cut off by Grymm’s elbow through the bars into his brother’s ribs.
With an impatient tap of her heel against the wooden floor, Livia broke in. “I hope I’m not interrupting this touching scene, but there’s still the matter of your release to consider.” All eyes turned toward the exemplar again. Livia crossed the hold and reached to take a key ring from its hook on the wall, sliding her fingers lightly against the cold iron in contemplation.
Suddenly, a bell began to ring out on the upper decks, its strident clatter echoing even this deep into the hold. The Balthazar’s Trident began to shift, and Cobiah could hear the crew rushing to unfurl the sails and man the rudder, shouting as heavy boots thumped on the boards over their heads. “What’s going on?” Cobiah gripped the bars of his cell more tightly. The norn, quick to respond to the sounds of battle, rose to their feet with grim frowns.
“It’s begun.” Livia spoke more quickly now. She looked up toward the sound of storming boots. “One hour ago, our spotter on the crow’s nest noted a fleet of red-masted ships approaching from the south.”
“Dwayna’s mercy,”
Cobiah breathed, listening to the shouts and thuds above. “The Orrians are taking advantage of the blockade. The Dead Ships are coming.” The others fell into silence as the chill of Cobiah’s words struck them all.
Grimly, Livia stalked toward the iron bars, the keys in her hand jingling softly. “King Baede’s orders were that Lion’s Arch must be kept sacrosanct so that the combined might of all the races can gather under one flag to fight against Tyria’s greatest enemy: Orr.” As she unlocked each cell, she continued. “Edair does not have the knowledge to fight them off, Commodore. You do.
“Go to the Nomad and lead our defense. You must find some way to fight them off, or Lion’s Arch—and Kryta—will fall to the forces of Orr.”
“I’m not leaving without my son!” Isaye pushed past Livia as soon as her cell door was open. The exemplar grabbed her arm, jerking the dark-haired woman back with an iron grip.
“Yes, you are.” The exemplar’s tone brooked no argument. Seeing the fire in Isaye’s eyes, Livia continued more gently. “The Trident will be the most protected vessel in our armada. Prince Edair is no hero. He will not be at the forefront of the battle.”
“He’s a coward, you mean,” Isaye snapped.
Livia narrowed her eyes, choosing to ignore the insult. “Your son will be fine. If the city falls, he will return to Divinity’s Reach with us, and I will personally ensure his safety. But if you are ever to see him again, we must trust one another.” Livia let go of Isaye’s arm with a narrow smile. “Are we agreed?”
Isaye bit her lip and managed a nod of agreement.
