by Ashley Nixon
Before she could move away, Barren grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave yet...please.”
She stared at him for a moment and then relaxed, sitting back down on the bed.
“It was not your fault that Jonathan died,” he tried to comfort her, but he knew nothing he said would work. People had been trying to tell him his father’s death wasn’t his fault for years and he still blamed himself.
“I could have exposed you in the courtyard,” Larkin said quietly. “Or stayed where I was supposed to…now look what’s happened.”
A pang of sadness shot through Barren.
“Life has happened, Larkin. Your regret will not change Jonathan’s fate.”
“You should have handed me over. What good am I to you, anyway?”
“Why are you suddenly treating yourself as an object?” Barren narrowed his eyes.
“It’s just…I don’t have a place here.”
“How do you know that?” Barren paused so she could answer, but silence filled the room. “Larkin, it’s not shameful to run from responsibility. Sometimes we do what our heart tells us because reason isn’t worth listening to.”
“But that is how you justify avenging your father’s death,” said Larkin. “And it doesn’t make sense!”
Barren’s eyes grew dark. “What do you want me to say?” She didn’t respond. “Why are you fighting me?”
“I have to!” she cried angrily. “I have to because if I don’t, I’ll never go back! Don’t you understand? I don’t want to go back!”
Larkin was suddenly overwhelmed with tears. Barren wasn’t sure why, but he instinctively reached out and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist him, instead she rested against his bandaged chest, weeping. Her body shivered against his, and he had no words of comfort. It wasn’t up to him to decide whether or not this life suited her best—that was her decision. Even if she did not marry his brother, her undying loyalty to her father would keep her in Maris.
He buried his head in her hair, taking a deep breath.
“Well, this wasn’t unexpected at all,” came a voice from the door.
Leaf stared at the two, his eyes bright with amusement and a smirk lingering on his lips. Larkin moved away from Barren quickly, brushing tears from her face. She stood. “I will leave you two.”
Neither Leaf nor Barren objected, but even if they had, she would have been out the door before they could utter a word of protest.
After she left, Leaf raised a brow. “You are going to be in trouble.”
Barren ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, letting his head fall into the pillows.
“No, she will not be separated from William,” said Barren. He looked away from the Elf, not feeling like being lectured.
“I think she already is,” said Leaf.
Leaf handed Barren a cup that smelled of mint.
“Have you decided what Larkin will do while you are searching for this bloodstone?”
Barren took a slow drink of the mixture. It was bitter, but warmed him instantly and the clamminess left his body. “I cannot take her back to Maris, and her presence here has already proven to be detrimental. She’s a liability either way.”
“Well you are still responsible for her well-being,” said Leaf. “If you take her with you, you have to make sure she behaves in a way that doesn’t expose your crew.”
That might turn out to be harder than it sounded, considering Larkin did everything in her power to defy every order Barren gave—it started with Jonathan Kingsley, and continued during the attack on Silver Crest. Searching for the bloodstone was bound to offer more conflict between them.
“I worry those privateers will return,” Barren said.
“If they do, at least the pirates will be prepared. Since the attack, they have worked to rebuild their ships, and the blacksmith has set to fashioning more weapons.”
Barren was still concerned. He knew the pirates would fight, but this was their home—there were women and children here, and privateers would only see pirates.
“My ship was left abandoned, you know,” Barren said. “There is little chance those privateers could have found us so easily.”
“Are you saying someone has betrayed you?” Leaf asked, and he paused, though Barren knew he had thought the same thing. “Larkin, perhaps?”
“It has put me on my guard,” said Barren. “As far as Larkin being responsible, I do not believe so. She could not live with herself if she had been the cause of Jonathan’s death.”
“Speaking of Jonathan, now that you are awake, we can bury him,” said Leaf. “Alex wants to leave as soon as you’re well.”
“When will I be well?”
“Soon,” the Elf said with a smile. “You’ve been sleeping for about two days.”
Barren gulped the rest of the mixture down. “How long was Larkin here?”
“She slept in here,” said Leaf. “She wouldn’t leave your side. She was very worried about you, and I think she felt bad because this is the second time you have risked your life to save her. Interesting that you would sacrifice so much for a woman you fight with all the time.”
“If she dies, the blood is on my hands,” said Barren. “People already think I killed her and look how they are reacting.”
“Well, you didn’t know Tetherion had a revolt on his hands the first time you saved her and with all this fighting, I would have thought you would have been glad to be rid of her.”
Barren glared at the Elf.
“I’m just saying…if your interest doesn’t lie with her, you are doing more harm than good.” Leaf moved toward the door. “You’ll feel sleepy soon. Don’t fight it.”
With that, the Elf left, and Barren leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. He hated when Leaf slipped him sleeping draughts. It seemed counter-productive for him to have to sleep since he had just awakened from a two-day coma, but Barren knew sleep was the only thing that would heal him. Instead of feeling angry, he closed his eyes and accepted the drowsiness.
***
The pirates stood on the rocky hill behind the McCloud house. The rush of the Orient against the base of the hill created a harmonious backdrop for the funeral—it was what Jonathan would have wanted.
“Jon was a good man and a dedicated crewman,” Cove’s voice was deep, and when he spoke, he kept his head up; he wasn’t afraid to let everyone see his grief. “I took him in, introduced him to this world—something I do not regret, despite his end.”
Those words rang with bitterness in Larkin’s ears. How could Cove say such a thing? What had Jonathan fought for that was worth his life? Larkin tried to keep her tears at bay, but a man she’d known all her life was now buried deep, lifeless and cold.
Everyone crowded around a freshly stacked mound of rocks. Larkin had watched from the window as Cove, Leaf, and the twins dug the grave, settled Jonathan’s body in the bed, and piled dirt and rocks upon him. It had been raining the whole time—and even now the clouds above were thick and threatening. Thunder rumbled deep within them.
Cove walked to the head of Jonathan’s grave, a sword between his hands. He drove it into the ground—in place of a cross, he would have his blade. The Ambassador kept his hand on the hilt; he bowed his head and closed his eyes in a silent memorial of his lost comrade. After a moment, he stepped away from the mound and left silently. The others soon followed suit, until all who remained were Larkin and Barren.
Larkin stepped forward and kneeled on the wet ground. A thin mist was all around her, shrouding her body. She could feel Barren watching her closely. She wasn’t sure why he stayed behind. Maybe Jonathan’s death had frightened him; maybe he realized how close he had come to this—because he had been close, and Larkin had been so frightened for Barren’s life, it never occurred to her that anyone else might have perished in that moment of terror.
But Jonathan had, and without any final words. And worse yet, was that Jonathan had lost his life at the hands of men her father had sent to reclaim her, all so he cou
ld carry out his plans with William. Perhaps the best thing that had come out of Barren’s kidnapping was the truth about her fiancé and father.
“What will they tell his family?”
“That he was lost at sea,” said Barren. He stood solemnly behind her, his arm in a sling.
“Is that fair to his family?”
“Life isn’t fair,” said Barren. “It’s the best comfort we can give.”
She turned to look at him; raindrops ran down her face, and in the dullness of the day, her eyes were bright. She wore a grey cloak, the hood covering her head. “You’ve done this before?”
Barren nodded. Many other men had died far from their homes, and many families never knew the truth—that their husband or father was a pirate who had fought to keep the sea free from privateers. Died because the government they worked for killed them.
“Jonathan wouldn’t have wanted to die in Arcarum. He died for something he believed in. We all want that.”
“But what good did his death produce? The privateers are still out there.”
“You must not think he died in vain merely because you do not understand the world he was a part of.”
“I understand it!” Larkin’s cheeks were red with anger, but Barren smiled at her sympathetically.
“Then understand this: pirates will always have an enemy. If not privateers, something worse. Our world is the sea, and we only fight to protect our right to sail it. We all hope to die fighting to protect what we love. Jonathan was no different.”
Barren chuckled. “But until I die, I won’t stop fighting for it. Why do you think I so ardently want your fiancé dead? I owe it to my father to avenge his death, but I also owe it to the people of Silver Crest.”
It was as if he mentioned William deliberately—an attempt to remind her she didn’t belong, or maybe that she belonged to another. But no matter how much she resented her engagement, she would never want Barren to take William’s life.
The look in Barren’s eyes told her he knew what she was thinking. He turned to leave her.
“Barren!” she called, and he paused stiffly. For a moment she wasn’t sure he would turn around, but he did and she scrambled to her feet. “Can we agree to something?”
He was guarded for a moment. “I won’t promise anything.”
“Don’t mention William. Do not mention him as my fiancé, or your wish to kill him. Nothing.”
“He wants to be king, Larkin, and we’re setting out to fight him, how am I supposed to do that?”
“I just don’t want you to call him my fiancé. I don’t want to hear how adamantly you want him dead. Please. I can take it from anyone else, but I can’t stand it from you. All William ever did was talk about how he wanted you dead. Don’t be like him, Barren.”
She knew he was angry—she could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t turn away. At last he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “But you must also do me a favor.”
“What is that?”
“Trust me.”
Barren’s gaze was serious, but Larkin smiled. “I trust you now. You did save my life twice.”
“Oh, you’d think once would be enough!”
Larkin laughed a little. “You are a pirate! What am I to trust about that?”
“You are only to trust in that,” he said. “It is the one thing I will always be loyal to.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the wind picked up, making raindrops crash into them. The temperature was dropping steadily.
“Come,” said Barren. “We need to get inside before we catch colds. That’s all we need—Leaf scolding us for something like that.”
“I think you’re more afraid of colds than dying.”
Barren chuckled, but remained silent, and together they walked back to the McCloud house.
It was early morning. The day was getting lighter, but the sun had not risen yet. Larkin sat on the floor of her room with her legs crossed, packing clothes Mary had given her. Now that Jonathan was buried and Barren healed enough to rise, they would begin their journey to the bloodstone. Cove had tried unsuccessfully to determine William’s whereabouts through the Network. Barren said that meant he hadn’t actually come to port yet.
In the three days of quiet, there had been a lot of turmoil for Larkin. She had attempted to come to terms with the fact that her father had agreed to let privateers come after her, wrestled with the loss of Jonathan and a tense fear of losing Barren. The last one was still surprising to her, but she chalked the feeling up to the fact that she’d come to learn a lot about Barren in the past week—not only from his words, but from his crewmates, and even the people he interacted with in Silver Crest. Slowly, she was stringing together the story of Barren Reed, but that was only complicating her feelings.
Larkin jumped when a knock sounded at her door.
“Come in!”
Barren opened the door. His right arm still in a sling, he held a sword in his left.
“Can you fight left handed?” She suddenly realized if they ran into trouble, Barren might not be able to help.
The pirate smirked. “We’ll see. Here, take this.”
He extended the blade to her. She stared at it and then at Barren. He was giving her a weapon out of trust; she knew that, even if he didn’t say it.
“Are you not afraid I’ll kill you?”
Barren laughed. “I’m convinced you couldn’t kill anyone, harm maybe.” He paused. “I will need your skill if we come into trouble.”
Larkin repressed the will to smile. “You realize you just admitted that I am as good as you with a sword, right?”
He shrugged. “You can hold your own. If you would have had a sword against those privateers, maybe this would never have happened to me,” he gestured to his injured shoulder and then paused. “And I can blame myself for that, because your sword is in the Orient off the coast of Maris. So here.”
She took the blade in her hands, staring down at it in amazement.
“Where did you get this?” It was sterling—delicate and beautiful with a green emerald at the top. She looked at Barren as he rubbed the back of his neck, almost too embarrassed to speak.
“I had it made for you.” Larkin wasn’t sure what to say. “It is a gift...an apology, if you will.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Oh, there’s one more thing.” Barren pulled from his pocket the crimson scarf she had worn the night of the engagement party. “It washed up on shore. One of the twins found it.”
Larkin grasped the fabric, shuttering as she did. It seemed so long ago since the night she’d worn it. It was a reminder of the life that was waiting for her when this whirlwind adventure was over, and surprisingly, she didn’t know how to feel about that.
Barren cleared his throat. “We will depart soon, make sure you are downstairs within the next hour.” He closed the door behind him.
***
Mary was a mess, seeing everyone leave. She wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions—her red face and eyes told everyone she had been crying. She packed nearly everything in her pantry for the pirates and prepared their water canteens. The blacksmith gave them several new swords, all of which they were thankful for. Because most of the ships, including Jonathan’s Slayer, had been destroyed by Christopher and William’s men, Cove had sent for one of his vessels from Arcarum, and it arrived sometime in the night. The Vasa now graced the shoreline of Silver Crest—its massive white sails were a bright beacon against the dull gray of the horizon.
The pirates moved supplies up the boarding ramp quickly. Barren stood on the dock, staring at the ship. It was a beautiful creation—intricate in its woodwork with detailed spirals carved along the rail, awash in gold. The cabin and main hold were all lined in ebony wood, which caused the white sails to stand out like stars against the night. In contrast to the black, the hull of the ship was a rich rosewood. It was unbelievably fancy, and Barren almost mourned what would become of it on this journey.
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��We’ve got to leave sometime, you know,” said Cove from behind him. “You can’t just stand here forever.”
Barren looked at the Ambassador. He wasn’t sure how Cove managed to be both pirate and politician, but he was highly respected in both worlds. Perhaps it was because he never took advantage of his power—he was always kind and generous, but also deadly. No one ever messed with Cove without reaping what they sowed.
“I know,” said the pirate quietly. He still didn’t move. He cleared his throat. “It’s just so nice.”
Cove chuckled. “Come on.” He took the bag of clothes and food Barren was holding. “Let me show you to your quarters.”
A crease appeared between Barren’s brows. “This is your ship, Albatross. You are captain.”
The Ambassador shook his head. “No, I gave this ship to you—treat her well. She is the best I have.”
As was Cove’s nature, he did not let Barren protest. He turned away from him immediately. Barren followed, knowing it would be rude not to, and that he’d have to board soon anyway. They made their way up the plank and onto the deck of the ship. Their crews were busy organizing the cargo. Sam was already at the helm, his hands on the spindles of the wheel—he was excited to steer this vessel. Seamus set to work inspecting the cannons below deck. It would take him a good hour to get around to all of them. Datherious and Natherious were up in the sails, and Slay was making his way to the crow’s nest.
Cove opened the door to the captain’s cabin and stepped aside for Barren to enter. He couldn’t move any further into the room—his jaw was on the floor. These were the nicest quarters he had ever had, and the biggest. There were three windows on either side of the room. On the left, a desk of solid wood sat. A map of the Orient was already stretched across it. At the center of the room was a large four-poster bed. Rich red fabric made a canopy above it and silk blankets covered the mattress. Barren didn’t want to sleep in it—it was much too fancy.
“I don’t need this, Cove,” Barren moved into the room. “I’m a simple man.”
“You can get used to it,” said the Ambassador. He dropped Barren’s bag on the floor. “Besides, you’ll need a comfortable place to sleep to recover from your wounds.”
