by Alex Lidell
Abandoning the night shirt I’ve spent entirely too much time in, I stuff myself into the shirt and breeches thrown to me. Women in Felielle seldom forgo skirts or dresses, but Aaron’s addition to my wardrobe is distinctly feminine despite the pant design. Flattering dark blue velvet with gold stitching matched with a ruffled silk shirt, all brought together by a wide sash around my waist. I open my mouth to ask about the clothes, but seeing that he is all but bouncing with impatience, wisely stick to the matter at hand. “What’s going on?”
“A meeting,” Aaron says, checking the corridor before motioning me out after him. He closes the door before Bear can follow, ignoring the dog’s indignant woof from inside the room. “One that you do not want to miss.”
I frown. “Who wishes to see me?”
“No one does.” Pulling my arm, Aaron ushers me into the servants’ corridors, twisting and winding our way into increasingly dubious passages. It’s all I can do to keep up until we stop at a spot made remarkable only by a lack of proper light and a multitude of cracks.
“What—” I start to say, only to have Aaron’s hand cover my mouth.
“We are right above the royal meeting room,” Aaron whispers into my ear as he fishes a pair of old drinking glasses from one of the shadows and holds them against a sizable crack. “The same one you made your grand declaration in.”
“And?”
“And, you can hear everything that’s said in that room from here—Tam and I found the spot as boys, when we needed to know his parents’ plans. Now, if I’m not mistaken, all your parents are talking about something you very much want to hear.”
Feeling more than a little foolish, I press my ear against one of the glasses as instructed and close my eyes. A moment later, Mother’s distinctive voice touches my ears.
“We’ve discussed this, Hallord. Nile’s Gift is too dangerous and unpredictable for sea. I do not see why we are revisiting covered ground.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, the situation has changed,” King Hallord says with exaggerated patience. “The Felielle people see Nile’s control of the schooner as a divine message. Felielle’s armada demands she sail.”
“It wasn’t a divine message, Hallord,” Mother insists. “And if you can’t find a way to explain it to your subjects, I will.”
My jaw tightens as I long to shake sense into my mother. Luckily, King Hallord seems to be of similar mind.
“We are in the midst of a war, madam,” Hallord snaps. “If believing the Goddess chose Nile to guide Felielle to victory will embolden my people, then that is what I shall sing.”
“She’s my child, not your symbol,” Mother retorts.
“Nile is a weapon.” My father’s low, hard voice enters the conversation. “One whose strength we are just now comprehending. If the girl is strong enough to right a capsizing ship and move a schooner against the current, it isn’t something we ignore in the middle of an armed conflict. The resources of the archipelago have given Lyron an advantage, but there is a difference between stanching the bleeding and saving the patient. There is more to do.”
“We agreed—” Mother starts again, but now it’s King Hallord who cuts her off.
“Things changed, madam. The Felielle people expect her at a helm, and so does the Diante Admiralty.”
I jerk away from my listening post and squeeze Aaron’s arm hard enough to bruise. “What are they talking about?” I hiss into his ear.
“A letter from some Diante admiral arrived for you a few days ago. It was sent to Ashing originally and just made it over. Their Majesties thought opening it on your behalf would be…prudent.”
The flash of anger rolling through me makes it difficult to pay attention, and I force myself to calm down before returning to the conversation.
“To Hallord’s point,” says Father, “the question isn’t whether we will oblige the Diante Empire’s invitation, the question is only which flag Nile sails under to get there. As Admiral Addus’s letter requests the presence of Captain Nile of Ashing, we should respect his preference.”
“Nile will shortly be a princess of Felielle,” King Hallord insists. “She must sail under Felielle colors.”
“Felielle has never had a female captain,” Father scoffs. “We will offend the Diante.”
“If I recall,” says Hallord, “she isn’t in the Ashing navy. Hasn’t been since that Faithful disaster.”
Aaron tugs on my arm, pulling me away from the listening spot. “They’ll be at this for hours, no doubt. We need to go before our absence is noted. Either way, I believe it is safe to say you will be returning to sea.”
I’m speechless as we return to the civilized part of the palace, and I follow Aaron blindly for several minutes before realizing that we are not returning to the sickroom but heading to Tamiath’s personal suite. Now that I think about it, the outfit Aaron brought seemed much too festive for crawling in dusty passages.
“Where are we going?” I ask Aaron, stopping in the middle of a wide corridor.
“To see Tam,” he answers innocently.
“Aaron…”
He raises his hands in surrender. “He—we—have a wedding gift for you. And just now, I think Tamiath has more strength to hurt me than you do, so I am keeping my silence.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow Aaron to Tam’s rooms to find a small round table set for two. An embroidered purple tablecloth, two covered and steaming plates, a pair of glasses, and an unopened bottle of wine sit cozily together. Tamiath himself is bent over his work desk at the other end of the room.
Without looking up from a slew of spread-out papers, he waves us over. “What do you think?” he says, sliding one of the sheets toward me. “These are rough, but with only two days’ notice—”
“Storms.” The word escapes me in a half whisper as I examine the gorgeous cross section of what promises to be a weatherly frigate. “What is this beauty?”
Tam’s gaze flickers to me and away. “Your new ship. Their Majesties can debate what colors you sail under as long as they wish, but there is no reason to delay the commission of the ship you’ll be sailing on.”
I trace the drawing with my fingers, words abandoning me until… “You knew?” I glare at Tamiath, who has the decency to look sheepish even while grinning. “You could have told me about the Diante letter.”
“I could have,” he agrees readily. “But I thought this would be more amusing.” His voice softens. “Do you like the plans?”
Launching myself at Tam, I throw my arms around his shoulders and plant a kiss on his cheek. Aaron chuckles behind me. A moment later, a second set of arms wraps around my middle, closing me in a circle of beautiful men.
Of course, someone knocks.
We separate, and Tam sits himself back at his worktable while Aaron piously answers the door. My gaze meets Domenic’s, and my breath catches.
“Begging your pardon, Your Highnesses,” Domenic says with a bow. “I will come back at a better time.”
“Not at all, Mr. Dana,” Tam calls over his shoulder. “You are here at the right place and time. I appreciate you answering my summons so efficiently. Have you what I requested?”
Domenic tenses, his fingers brushing mine for a single uncomfortable moment before he strides up to Tam and pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of a worn brown jacket. Brown, not guardsman’s purple. “My letter of resignation from Her Highness’s guard,” Domenic says, looking only at Tamiath. “Effective immediately, as you instructed.”
The joy of the past hour dissolves to an icy mist. Domenic was supposed to stay until the wedding, and that’s not for weeks yet. And what’s this about Tam’s instruction?
I clamp my hand over Domenic’s wrist, stilling his arm midmotion. “Wait,” I tell him before turning to Tam. “Explain.”
Tam pivots in his chair. “There is little to explain, Nile,” he says, opening his palms. “Mr. Dana was in charge of your security when Rima kidnapped you. It’s rather plain that this is not a
post he is suited for. I requested a resignation.”
My face darkens.
The corner of Tamiath’s mouth twitches. “Feel free to refuse the resignation if you think it best, Nile,” he says mildly. “I thought that a first officer’s commission aboard your new ship might suit Mr. Dana’s skill set better, but the choice is yours, of course.”
My eyes widen.
Domenic shudders and rolls back his shoulders. My stomach sinks as the miserable look on his face gives away his coming words. He can’t accept a commission, not aboard my ship.
Tam beats him to the punch. “What do you say, Mr. Dana, will you accept a commission on my brother’s ship? It will be a great deal of work to get her seaworthy, and most of it would fall on your shoulders, I fear—though I understand that Mr. Catsper and Mr. Kederic should be arriving shortly to lend a hand.”
Domenic’s brows pull together in confusion. “Your brother?”
Tamiath rises and holds his hand out to Aaron, who clasps it intimately, the men’s fingers twining together. “Explain it to him, Nile,” Tam calls as the two head for the door. They separate before opening it, and Aaron falls in behind Tam—the perfect image of a dutiful aide. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“What just happened?” Domenic asks as we are left alone in the privacy of Tamiath’s rooms. His focus is riveted to the spot where Tam and Aaron had clasped hands.
I stare at the same spot, my heart galloping. The risk my brothers took for my happiness and the immense sea of possibility that now opens before Domenic and me is both awesome and terrifying. Reaching out, I tentatively brush my hand against Domenic’s calloused skin. “Let’s speak over dinner,” I whisper in the silence.
The story continues in TIDES Book 3. Join Alex’s crew to be the first to know when the book releases! >
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About the Author
Alex Lidell is an Amazon bestselling author of AIR AND ASH (Danger Bearing Press, 2017) and an Amazon Breakout Novel Awards finalist author of THE CADET OF TILDOR (Penguin, 2013). She is an avid horseback rider, a (bad) hockey player, and an ice-cream addict. Born in Russia, Alex learned English in elementary school, where a thoughtful librarian placed a copy of Tamora Pierce’s ALANNA in Alex’s hands. In addition to becoming the first English book Alex read for fun, ALANNA started Alex’s life long love for YA fantasy books. Alex is represented by Leigh Feldman of Leigh Feldman Literary. She lives in Washington, DC. Join Alex's newsletter for news, bonus content and sneak peeks:
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Acknowledgments
TIDES was made possible by the amazing team of authors, editors, friends, and family who made the journey with me. A special shout-out to my critique partner, Marieke Nijkamp, who followed TIDES’s creation chapter by chapter; Rachel E. Carter, who guided my journey; Jenn Stark, whose wisdom morphed TIDES into a series; my agent, Leigh Feldman, who kept me writing; editors Mollie Traver and Linda Ingmanson, who manned the plotting helm; the Lucky 13s, who are always there; the amazing writers in the AYAA forum; and to my mom, who is the most awesome mom ever.
Also by Alex Lidell
TIDES
FIRST COMMAND (Prequel Novella)
AIR AND ASH (TIDES Book I)
WAR AND WIND (TIDES Book II)
Untitled (TIDES Book III)
TILDOR
THE CADET OF TILDOR
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