The Sky Weaver

by Kristen Ciccarelli

  “Hungry, princess?”

  Safire’s stomach growled in response, and she cursed her body for giving her away so easily.

  Eris studied her. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Hoisting herself onto the table, she lifted the platter lid to reveal a stale-looking loaf of bread, a lump that looked something like pickled herring, and an apple.

  “The captain has your keys.” She nodded to the manacles keeping Safire’s wrists bound to the ceiling. “So I’ll have to feed you.”

  That sounded terribly humiliating. But Safire’s stomach was pinched with hunger. So she said nothing as Eris pushed herself to her feet, ripping the stale bread and dunking it in the wine to moisten it.

  Eris stepped up to her, raising an eyebrow.

  With her hands locked at her temples, Safire opened her mouth, glaring as she did.

  “If you bite me,” Eris said as she put the wine-soaked bread between Safire’s lips, “you will regret it.”

  Safire chewed the bread. When she swallowed, Eris did it again. And again.

  The wine began to warm her. After going so long without food, Safire’s thoughts soon turned fuzzy at the edges.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she whispered the next time Eris stepped back to feed her.

  Eris smiled a little but said nothing. Just lifted the next wine-drenched piece of bread to Safire’s lips.

  Safire opened her mouth. Eris pushed it in, her fingers brushing against Safire’s lips this time. Her touch was like a spark, and Safire sucked in her lower lip protectively.

  “I went to Firefall today.”

  Safire stopped chewing. What? That was impossible. The ship hadn’t changed course. As far as Safire could tell, they were still in the middle of the Silver Sea. Nowhere near the coastal city of Firefall.

  “You lied,” said Eris, her gaze lifting to Safire’s. “Your cousin left weeks ago.”

  Safire swallowed, her appetite suddenly lost. She steeled herself for some kind of blow. A retaliatory lash of frustration.

  Instead, Eris asked, “Why would you lie?” She lowered her hands, her gaze searching Safire’s. “I told you he’d kill you if you lied.”

  She seemed actually puzzled about this. As if she couldn’t understand why someone would risk her life for someone else.

  “If I told you the truth,” Safire said, “you’d be hunting her down and dragging her back to that monster you call a captain. Of course I lied.”

  Eris opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. She was silent a moment, looking to the porthole, which had grown dark.

  “I promised Jemsin I’d locate the Namsara by tonight.” She returned to the platter and tore off another piece of bread. “You need to tell me where she is. Now.”

  Safire said nothing.

  Eris gritted her teeth. “If you don’t give me the information I need, I’ll have no choice but to march you straight to the captain’s cabin.”

  Safire looked away—but not out of defiance. Eris sounded genuinely frightened for her. As if she didn’t want Safire hurt by Jemsin. As if she cared.

  Don’t be fooled.

  Safire remembered the deal Eris made with Jemsin back in the Thirsty Craw. Asha was the key to whatever kept Eris bound to the pirate captain. Her fear for Safire’s life was feigned—a ploy to make Safire play into her hands, luring Asha into the clutches of a monster. All so Eris could go free.

  “Never,” murmured Safire, her hatred for this despicable girl burning bright within her.

  Annoyance flashed across Eris’s face. “All right, then.” She started to pace. “Let’s say you don’t tell me. Let’s say you wait for your chance and manage to escape tonight—which you won’t. Where will you go, princess? You’re in the middle of the Silver Sea.” She started ticking points off her fingers. “You don’t know which way land is. You’ve never sailed a ship. I’m willing to bet you can’t even swim.”

  Safire kept her face carefully neutral. The last two things were true. But she did know where land was, thanks to the compass in her pocket.

  “You really want me to march you into Jemsin’s cabin right now?”

  Safire lifted her chin, staring Eris straight in the eye.

  “You really think I’ll put Asha in danger to save myself?” The mere thought of it disgusted Safire. “You are deplorable.”

  The air grew cold at those words. Eris’s expression hardened.

  This is it, she thought. The moment Eris unlocked her chains and handed her over to Jemsin.

  Instead, Eris kept feeding her—the bread, the fish, the apple. All of it. Only this time, she did it in silence, her eyes stormy, her lips pressed into a hard line.

  When the only things left on the platter were herring bones and an apple core, Eris covered it up. “You have until morning to change your mind,” she said, as she crossed the room to the bed, taking the lamp with her.

  Safire frowned. Huh?

  “I convinced Jemsin to give you until sunrise to think things over.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question,” she said. “Maybe because I’m too tired to watch him take those eyes of yours tonight.”

  Unlacing her shirt, Eris tugged it off, giving Safire a full view of her tapered waist, the gentle flare of her hips, and the light dusting of freckles across her shoulders.

  Safire suddenly felt very warm.

  Too much wine, she thought, looking away as Eris pulled on a loose, oversize shirt.

  “Storm’s coming,” Eris said. “Wake me if you feel sick.” Sinking into the bed, she tugged off her boots, then her trousers. “I don’t want you puking your guts up all over my floor.”

  She didn’t wait for Safire’s answer. Just blew out the flame in the lamp, lay back in the bed, and turned over.

  Safire waited for her breathing to deepen, then even out. When it finally did, when she knew the girl was good and truly asleep, she unlocked her manacles and, without looking back, silently slipped from the room.

  Pirate thieves weren’t the only ones good at picking locks.

  Twelve

  The boat creaked and groaned as Safire stumbled up the narrow hall. For every step she took, she paused to press her palm to the damp wall, steadying herself as the rocking boat threw her off balance.

  The steps were wet. When she emerged onto the deck, she realized why. Rain lashed her face and arms, soaking her clothes and collecting on her eyelashes. Lightning brightened the angry clouds above, giving Safire a momentary view of the deck, which was clear of crew. Only a single man stood watch, facing the sea, his back to her.

  Beneath the dim light of the deck lamps, Safire made her way to the starboard side, where the rowboat was kept. Her clothes clung to her. Her teeth clattered with cold. The ship rocked, and a wave rolled over the deck, submerging it completely, soaking Safire up to her knees and nearly knocking her over.

  Thinking this was it, that they were going under, she lunged for the side and clung on.

  But the ship rose up, unfazed, and soon the deck was clear of water.

  When the lightning flashed again, instead of reaching for the rowboat, Safire caught sight of the waves below. Huge and black, they crashed against the hull of the ship, high as the palace walls.

  Safire’s stomach rolled over itself. She forced the queasy feeling down as her grip on the wet wood tightened.

  What am I doing?

  Safire couldn’t swim. She’d never rowed a boat before in her life, never mind in the middle of a storm. She reached into her pocket, touching the smooth glass face of the compass she’d stolen, trying to find her courage.

  I must warn Asha, she thought. And this might be my only chance.

  She had the compass. She knew the scrin was somewhere in the Star Isles, and the Star Isles were northwest. All she needed was to climb into the rowboat, lower it down . . .

  Again, lightning flashed.

  Safire stood frozen in fear as she stared into the inky chaos below.


  Count to three, she told herself. On three, you’re going to get into the boat, then cut the ropes.

  Safire swiped at her rain-soaked eyes.

  One . . .

  She sucked in a breath.

  Two . . .

  She bent her knees, ready to spring over the side.

  Three!

  Before she could jump, a hand clamped around her arm, fingers digging in hard.

  “Are you out of your damned mind?”

  Safire’s spine straightened.

  “Turn around.” Eris’s voice battled the rain. “Nice and slow.”

  Safire kept one hand on the wood so that the rocking ship didn’t pitch her overboard, then did as she was told.

  In the dim light of the oil lamp overhead, Safire found Eris standing before her, pale hair slicked against her face, rain running down her skin. She had the stolen throwing knife in her hand, pointed at Safire’s chest.

  Safire pressed herself up against the ship’s side, waiting for Eris to haul her back into that room.

  Instead, Eris let go of her arm. Stepping in close, her gaze bored into Safire’s. Something had changed in her. Earlier Eris had been weary and worn, but now she seemed wide awake.

  Her green eyes seemed brighter. Her skin luminous as starlight. Her smile dangerous.

  She seemed . . . more than human.

  Safire should have been thinking of the best way to get that knife out of her hand. Instead, she couldn’t look away.

  What are you?

  Eris glanced over Safire’s shoulder, to the rowboat, then the waves beyond it. “That storm will crush you, princess.” She looked back at Safire like one would at a child who’d just attempted something utterly foolish.

  As if she found the escape attempt cute.

  Indignation blazed through Safire. She flipped out the blade in her boot, planning to kick, grab her knife, then vault herself into the rowboat.

  Before she could do any of those things, a deep and growling voice interrupted.

  “How touching.”

  Eris stiffened.

  Safire glanced up, over Eris’s shoulder, to find three figures standing on the deck. In the light of the oil lamps, she could just make out a young man and two women.

  Other than Eris, Safire hadn’t noticed any women on Jemsin’s crew. She looked to the man standing on night watch and found him struggling with one of the invading pirates. Before he could alert the crew below, he suddenly dropped to the deck and out of Safire’s view—dead or unconscious, she couldn’t say which.

  “Drop the knife.”

  Eris’s gaze held Safire’s, a warning in her eyes as she did as he commanded, letting go of Safire’s knife. It clattered to the wooden planks and when the ship surged again, went skittering across the deck.

  It was when Eris stepped away, turning to face the three newcomers, that Safire saw the massive black silhouette, looming beyond the deck on the leeward side.

  Another ship?

  Safire looked from the second ship to the young man now standing directly before her.

  “So nice to see you alive, Kor,” said Eris. “Where’d you get the ship?”

  “From a well-wisher,” said the one called Kor. Turning to one of the young women beside him, he said: “Find it.” The girl nodded, then disappeared down the steps leading into the darkened galley. She emerged a moment later with what looked like a spindle. The one Safire found earlier under Eris’s pillow.

  At the sight of it, Eris’s whole body went rigid.

  Safire suddenly remembered the day of her first encounter with the legendary Death Dancer. Eris had been disguised as a soldat then. The two of them collided, and she’d dropped her spindle. Not knowing who she was then, Safire picked it up and handed it back to her.

  Kor cocked his head, studying Safire in the light of the lamps. Safire studied him back. He was missing one ear and his wet hair was pulled back in a braid. His face bore what looked like fresh burn scars, red and blistered, and he held himself rigidly, his mouth a tight grimace, as if every breath caused him pain. It made Safire wonder if there were other wounds hidden beneath his clothes.

  The boat rocked suddenly, and Safire nearly slipped. Her knife slid slowly across the deck and out of reach.

  “Grab her,” said Kor. He turned to Eris. “I’ll take care of this fiend.”

  It was clear Kor hadn’t come for Safire; he’d come for Eris. Maybe, if Safire could convince him that Eris was her enemy, too, that she and Kor were on the same side, he would let her go. So when the pirates descended on her, Safire didn’t put up a fight. Just let the two girls force her across the deck, to the leeward side, where one of them laid a wooden board down across the gap from this ship to the next. The space between the two vessels was the length of three horses, while the wooden board itself was no wider than Safire’s boot.

  “You first,” said a voice at Safire’s ear just before they shoved her forward.

  Her hands clutched the damp wood. It was slick beneath her skin.

  Safire stared down into the ravenous waves and swallowed hard.

  “Nice and easy,” said Eris, whose hands were bound in front of her now. Kor had a fistful of her blond hair in one hand, a dagger pressed to her neck with the other. Eris stared at Safire. “One step at a time.”

  Safire climbed onto the board.

  The boat rocked and groaned, and Safire nearly fell backward. She threw her arms out and fought for balance, doing exactly as Eris said: taking one small step at a time. She thought of Asha. How she needed to survive this so she could warn her. How she needed to just get to the other ship.

  The rain lashed. The waves roared. The ships rose and fell with the waves. Her foot slipped more than once; and more than once, she thought she was going to fall. But every time, she found her balance. And then the other ship’s deck was beneath her, and there were hands grabbing her, and she was so relieved to still be alive, she didn’t care that their touch burned like fire. Didn’t care when they dragged her belowdecks and threw her to the floor so hard, pain laced through her knees.

  Safire counted the pirates in the room, assessed them for weapons, and found the exits. Then she kept her eyes on her captors. She needed to do everything she could to stay alive. If she wanted to convince these pirates she was on their side, she needed to first be compliant.

  So she stayed on her knees, biding her time.

  They threw Eris down beside her. The girl’s palms hit the floor with a smack and she shook out her hair, sending rain flying.

  They were in a long room—half the length of the ship—and on both sides were wide windows streaked with rain. Torches burned every few feet, keeping the room lit.

  On the deck above them, someone gave the order to depart.

  It seemed odd to Safire that these pirates had boarded Jemsin’s ship, stolen only one of his crew—plus a hostage—then left as quickly as they’d come.

  Why?

  The sound of booted footsteps made Eris flinch beside her. Safire glanced over to find the girl staring at the floor, her gaze boring into the wood beneath her. As if she were trying to think her way out of this.

  “Who are they?” Safire whispered.

  “Pirates,” Eris whispered back.

  Helpful, thought Safire. “What do they want?”

  And why haven’t you escaped already?

  She thought of Eris on that last night back in Firgaard: there one moment, gone the next. However she’d eluded Safire that night, surely Eris could elude these pirates the same way?

  Eris didn’t answer. Because at that moment, the boots stopped directly before her. Eris’s jaw clenched just before she looked up.

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” Kor said. He held the spindle in his hand, squeezing it so hard, Safire was sure he’d snap it in half. “After you torched my ship and ran?”

  Safire didn’t like the way he looked at Eris. She’d seen that same look before, in another man’s eyes. Possessive and rave
nous.

  “Honestly,” said Eris, holding his gaze, “I was thinking you might be dead.”

  Kor’s face darkened. He handed the spindle to one of the pirates beside him, wincing from some hidden pain, then grabbed a fistful of Eris’s hair. Looking to Safire, he said, “Is this her? The trollop you were with in Firgaard?”

  Safire felt all the gazes in the room turn to her.

  With them came a sharp realization.

  What? she thought, instantly appalled. “No,” she said. “Gods, no.” She looked to Eris, her wet shirt clinging to her thin frame, tendrils of wheat-colored hair plastered to her pale skin. “Not in a hundred years.”

  Eris refused to meet her gaze.

  “You two looked awfully cozy on Jemsin’s deck. Didn’t you think so, Rain? Lila?”

  Safire looked to the first girl—tall and muscular with a nest of red hair and a bird tattoo on her forearm.

  “Very cozy,” said Rain, staring hard.

  The girl named Lila crossed her arms and smirked at Safire. “Coziest pair I ever saw.”

  Safire needed to make it clear she was in no way associated with the criminal beside her.

  “I was trying to escape,” she told them, shaking her head in disgust. “She kidnapped me. Then tortured me. She would have watched Jemsin kill me tomorrow if you hadn’t boarded his ship and taken us hostage.”

  Rain and Lila exchanged glances.

  The boat suddenly dipped and Safire’s stomach lurched.

  “Come on, Kor,” said Eris, kneeling now, her back straight as she stared at him. “You really think I’m the kind of girl who goes in for spoiled princesses?”

  A strange silence bled through the room as eyes met.

  “Is that true?” Kor demanded, staring Safire down. “You’re a princess?”

  Safire caught Eris’s gaze, which was sharp as a honed blade.

  “I’m not—” she said.

  “She’s the dragon king’s cousin,” Eris interrupted her.

  Safire glared.

  Eris ignored it, continuing. “Jemsin found her spying and took her prisoner.”

  “Really.” Kor’s gaze slid over Safire, studying her bright blue eyes and tanned skin. He was comparing her, no doubt, to what he knew of the king’s line. Of draksor complexions in general. But Safire had never looked like her cousins. Had never looked like anyone in the palace. She didn’t fit there—a fact she’d spent her life being constantly reminded of. A fact she could clearly see in Kor’s eyes.