He gently pried the tunic from her hands and laced up the top to cover his marred skin. “The trip here was three and a half days,” he reminded her. “And another two and a half days have passed since. Jagger seemed to be under the impression I only had two weeks to live. That leaves about eight days by my count.”
She stared at him. How could he be so calm about that?
“You came here to steal our most sacred object,” the chief seethed.
Barrels’ reprimand, ‘inside voices,’ came to mind. Ebba scowled at the thought. “Now that we know ye’re so fond o’ it, we won’t steal it. Like I said, we only need it for a scant bit.”
The chief clenched his hands into fists. He spun away, hurling words at his wife. “I told you she was more pirate than our daughter. She has no mana left.”
Ebba opened her mouth, and Cosmo reached up to cover it. “Time to gracefully retreat,” he whispered to her with a pointed expression. “To fight another day,” he added.
As he tugged her out of the communal hut, leaving the shouting chief behind, Ebba looked down where Cosmo’s hand intertwined with hers.
To fight another day, he’d said.
But he had less than eight left.
Fourteen
“Where are ye takin’ me?” Ebba asked as Cosmo led her behind the communal hut.
“All the sleeping huts are in front of the communal hut, but from what I can tell, everything else is kept behind it . . . including,” he said with a wave of his hand, “your fathers.”
Her stomach tightened.
“—Ebba-Viva—”
“—Little nymph—”
“—Come here, lass. Let us explain—”
“Why did ye bring me here,” she demanded, rounding on Cosmo.
He stuttered, “I thought you’d want to see them. To listen to their side.”
Ebba turned back to the communal hut, but not before she caught sight of all six of her ex-crewmembers pressed up against a latticed prison wall, looking desperate and dirty.
“We’re right sorry. Please talk to us,” Grubby called.
Her heart twisted at the guttural pleading in their voices. But as much as Ebba yearned for a magical reason to clear her fathers of all guilt, the heavy weight in her gut told her there wasn’t one to be had. And right now, she didn’t want to hear anything else.
“Ye thought wrong,” she said to Cosmo in a cold voice, striding away.
He didn’t attempt to come after her.
A warrior around her age waited back around the front of the communal hut. He was brown, like her, and his coarse black hair was swept back to reveal a high forehead, sculpted lips, and the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. They appeared brighter because of his deep-brown skin, perhaps. He wore his beaded skirt like it could fall off and it wouldn’t bother him, which she found oddly intriguing. Would he just keep on walking in the nude like it was business as usual? The warrior held his greenstone-and-wood spear like he knew how to use it.
“You are not allowed back there,” he said in a heavily accented voice.
“Aye, try to stop me,” she shot back.
He smiled easily, lazily, shifting his spear from side to side. “No, Rangatira. I would not try to stop you. But I would ask that you let me be by your side when venturing beyond the marae.” He shifted his eyes to glance back at the communal room.
“Are they still in a mess over the purgium?” Ebba asked, peering at the communal house—the marae.
He lifted a shoulder. “Ae.”
Ae. It was almost like ‘aye.’ “Does ae mean yes?”
He nodded, eyes twinkling. “Ae,” he said.
The warrior was handsome in an exotic, half-naked kind of way. Ebba’s face felt rather warm. She could hear Cosmo walking up behind her. “Care to show me around the joint, spear man?” she asked.
He laughed, a husky, raw sound that made the corners of her mouth twitch. “Aye,” he said, mocking her lightly. “But please, call me Nikora.”
There was no way she could mimic the way he rolled his r’s. She wasn’t even sure her tongue moved that way. “Knee-core-rah,” she tried.
He grimaced, but his eyes didn’t lose their twinkle. “We will practice on our walk. This way, Rangatira.”
Rangatira either meant ‘stolen’ or ‘princess.’ She suspected the latter. “Can ye not call me that?” she asked. “Ebba’ll do.”
He bowed his head, hand on heart. “For me, and for this place, I must call you by your respected name. That is Rangatira.”
She groaned aloud. “Show me around then, afore I change my mind.”
Ignoring Cosmo’s presence behind her, Ebba trailed after the unknown tribesman.
“Ye run a tight ship, I’ll give ye that,” Ebba grudgingly admitted, sitting on a log beside Nikora. He seemed okay, despite his adamancy in calling her princess and his tendency to treat her as though she was made of something fragile.
She swatted his hand away as he tried to help her stand. Was this some cultural thing? Why would she require help standing? He made to grab her elbow instead, and she dug the joint into his stomach . . . which was harder than it looked. Ebba cradled her arm, eyeing his torso. Her cheeks warmed for the umpteenth time.
He’d brought her to an area beside a trickling stream. The bubbling water was pretty, she’d admit. The kind of place she’d come to be at peace, much like the tip of the bowsprit, or the crow’s nest on Felicity.
Was this where she belonged? On land? She’d always been so sure she’d be on the sea until she died.
“What do we have here?” A silken voice slid into the small clearing by the trickling stream. Jagger leaned against the red-brown trunk of a tree behind them. How long had he been watching for? He was messing with something in his hands, chipping at a piece of wood.
“I am showing Rangatira Ebba the tribal grounds,” Nikora answered, eyes narrowing on the pirate.
Ebba’s ears lifted. Rangatira Ebba. A step in the right direction.
“Aye, I can see that,” said Jagger. He blew on the piece of wood and surveyed it before rotating the piece and chipping away with his dagger again.
“I ain’t seein’ how that be yer concern.” Ebba scowled.
“It’s dinnertime,” he replied calmly. “Ye’ve been gone for hours. Cosmo won’t stop prattlin’ on about ye. I thought ye’d be wantin’ to spend more time with him—before the end.”
Ebba stood and approached him, curious as to what he was carving. “Fat lot you care if I do or don’t. Don’t pretend ye’ve kept within two feet of Cosmo for any longer than five seconds.”
“Is this man a threat, Rangatira?” Nikora asked, stepping forward, spear in hand.
Great. They were back to rusty-tiara. “Nay, Nikora. He ain’t no threat at all.” She glanced between them, wondering who would win.
Jagger whispered to her as she passed by. “I would.”
How—? “I don’t know what ye’re talkin’ about.”
“Ye’re a terrible liar.” He fell into step beside her on the worn path through the trees. “In reply to yer comment, I do keep close to Cosmo.”
She peered sideways at him.
“How else would I watch him slowly die?”
“Ye’re all twisted and messed up inside, Jagger. Has anyone ever told ye that?” She meant every word, just as he’d meant every word he’d spoken.
His feet faltered.
“What’s that, anyway?” Ebba jabbed a thumb at the wood in his hand. She really wanted to see it.
He studied the wood, a wrinkle between his brows. “. . . A carving. To pass the time.”
“Can I see?” she asked casually. Knowing Jagger, he was probably carving a likeness of Davy Jones.
He slid her a look and smiled. “Nay.” He slid the partially completed carving into the waistband of his beaded skirt. She scowled, and his smile widened to a grin.
They entered the housing area. A few warriors leaned against the trees there. They nodded at Ni
kora, whom she’d entirely forgotten was with them. The warriors had to be scouts. Had the chief always had the tribal lands guarded? Or just since the pirates stole their child in the night?
“They’ll make ye a tribe member tomorrow night,” Jagger said, taking in the feathers in her hair. He didn’t look like he was sold on them. Ebba had been considering stealing them when she left.
“Aye,” she said after a pause.
“Is that what ye want?”
Uneasiness stirred in her gut. “Haven’t thought about it.”
“Ye may want to,” he said. “And ye may wish to find out what becomin’ a female of the tribe be involvin’. They don’t have a third pirate option here, a female is what ye’d be.”
They climbed the marae steps side by side. She hadn’t considered that. Ebba hadn’t expected that she’d have to alter anything fundamental if she chose to stay on, even if she wasn’t sure what her fundamental self was right now. “Why don’t ye tell me then?”
Jagger’s face hardened as he glanced over his shoulder at their shadow. “Why don’t ye ask Nikora here? I’m sure he has no vested int’rest at all in the matter and will be tellin’ ye the absolute truth.”
With that, Jagger left her staring after him in the entranceway of the marae.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Fairisles.” Cosmo handed her a plate of fruit.
She smiled and took the breakfast offering. He’d been forgiven ten minutes after taking her to the prison hut. With a whole night now passed from their squabble, there was no trace of anger at him left within her. Her temper was quick to the rise, but usually quick to go. There were only two times she could recall being blazing angry without an end in sight. Once when her fathers left her on Maltu, and then right now, in the wake of their concealment of her origins. The thing was, Ebba got over her hurts pretty well. Terrible things happened, then they became bad memories, and then they faded to the background. But when the hurt was enough, and when the pain didn’t leave her, like now, she couldn’t pretend everything was okay. She didn’t possess whatever it was that allowed people to hide sadness and pain—whatever Jagger had.
How could anyone get over being lied to their entire life? Was she just supposed to wait and see if things got better? If so, what happened in the meantime?
“I assumed you’d want to see them.” He looked baffled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand why you don’t wish to.”
Ebba gave a cursory glance around the crowd in the marae. No one was close enough to hear if she spoke quietly. The proximity of living here surprised her. On Maltu, and in the villages of Pleo, Neos, and Kentro, the people lived one family to a house, and their houses were usually in organized rows. It might be several miles walk from house to places where food and the like could be purchased. This tribe didn’t seem to purchase anything. They shared. The similarity of this to how she’d lived on Felicity made her uncomfortable. When tribe life and pirate life blurred together, it became harder to put them into two separate groups. Barrels would be the one she’d usually go to in order to clear up this confusion, but. . . .
Ebba cleared her throat, shoving the thought away.
“They broke everythin’,” she answered Cosmo.
Cosmo observed her, unspeaking as he studied the problem. Thinking too much like he always did. His amber eyes fixed on her with their usual disturbing intensity. “They broke your trust after they broke it once before. They tried to conceal their mistake and lied to you. You don’t wish to forgive them this time. Or don’t feel like you can?”
She swallowed and dipped her head once in a tiny nod, glad she didn’t need to try to put everything she felt into words. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Cosmo. I thought I knew after they left me at Maltu. I was to be a pirate forever. I’ve never questioned otherwise since then. Not once. But now—”
“Ebba-Viva,” he said. “I can’t truly understand what you’re going through right now, and I know that. But those six men are your family. They have cared for you and guided you. You love them. I can’t accept that once your hurt fades, you would still wish them out of your life.”
Heat rose up her throat, but she stayed mute because he was dying.
“You’re still a pirate. You’re Ebba-Viva Wobbles Fairisles. A girl who throws herself across the rigging during storms and says whatever is on her mind. That is who you are, and as lovely as the dress and feathers are, I wonder if you could be happy as princess to a people.” He closed his eyes. “I wonder if it is within you to sacrifice freedom for duty. You are a bird, mistress. Some people can bide quite well in servitude, but you are not a person to ever be caged.”
He looked down, his eyes resting on her hand in his. That had been real pain in his voice just now. “Is that how ye feel, Cosmo?” she asked softly. “Like ye were caged back on the mainland?”
He lifted his brows. “One day, before the end, I shall tell you.”
“There won’t be an end,” Ebba said fiercely. “I have a plan.”
A smile played on his lips. “I see. What is your plan?”
“Become the princess, and then tell them to give me the purgium. Easy.” She wouldn’t join the tribe for herself, but she would do it for her friend.
Cosmo laughed, looking at the ground. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“How else would it work? Ye can’t tell me the prince never said, ‘Do this, do that.’ Though he did seem a weak sod.”
“The prince was tied tighter than most. If anything, he wasn’t able to make many demands at all. Everything had a rule, a regulation, and a person to please. I don’t see why it would be any different for you. For instance, from my observations, it seems like your mother, Aroha,” he broke off with an apologetic look at Ebba, “appears to be the spiritual leader of these people, the chief is the battle leader. He defers to her judgment, whether because of position or love, I’m yet unsure. When you mentioned the purgium this morning, the chief huffed and puffed the marae down, but Aroha’s face was the unyielding one. If we are to convince anyone to give it to us, it will need to be her.”
Ebba put a finger against her lips as she stared, in deep thought, at the woman across the room.
“But,” Cosmo stressed, “I’m saying this all hypothetically. I won’t let you tie yourself to a role you may regret on the off-chance you may change the tribe’s willingness to save an outsider.”
“Ye’re too weak to stop me doin’ anythin’. And Jagger be an outsider.”
“Jagger is accepted.”
She smiled at her friend. “I accept ye.”
His eyes softened. “While I appreciate that more than you know, my sentiments are the same.”
Damn fancy words they were. “Ye can’t be expectin’ me to believe ye wish to die in seven days.” His cool acceptance was making her angry.
Cosmo avoided her gaze. “No. I do not wish to die. I don’t feel ready. Though such things happen to young people often, I never thought something of the like would befall me. I am young, yes, but I have regrets, things I wish to rectify before the end. And things I wish to experience.” His gaze rested on Ebba. “I wish to die with dignity, without succumbing to the nightmares which have started plaguing me again. And more than that, when I pass, I do not wish to leave the few people I care for in a worse condition. Please do not join the tribe for a dying man, Mistress Fairisles. If you do such a thing, do it only for yourself.”
She must get her blubbering tendencies from Aroha. Ebba pinched herself hard. “Ye aren’t goin’ to die, Cosmo.” She narrowed her eyes on her mother across the room. “Not on my watch.”
Fifteen
Screams of terror ripped through the night, jerking Ebba from the warm depths of sleep. Whatever caused the sound wasn’t far away from where she slept alone in the same raised hut Aroha had shown her to yesterday.
She shivered and nestled further in her blankets and peered into the shadows of the otherwise empty room as the screams went on. What had that person been forced to en
dure to make them scream that way?
The man howled again, and Ebba sat up, straining to hear.
The voice seemed kind of familiar.
The next scream gave her confirmation and she bolted for the entrance. It sounded as though someone was driving burning skewers into Cosmo’s flesh: a wailing, sobbing, rawness combined into one heart-wrenching sound that even the most hardened pirate would have difficulty remaining impassive to. If the tribespeople were hurting him, she’d kill them.
Ebba didn’t know where he slept. She didn’t have to. The screams were a beacon. Most of the people in the surrounding huts were awake; they’d crept from their beds to listen to the horror, drawing their children close to their sides. Some of them stood before the doorway carvings, muttering to themselves in low voices.
The screams became louder until, finally, she skidded to a stop in front of a hut close to the riverside.
Nikora, the young warrior who had shown her around, stood there with his spear. He blocked her path when she made to push past.
“I cannot let you enter, Rangatira,” he said, voice firm.
Another attempt to push past him proved unsuccessful. “Why not?”
“You are a single woman. It is not done.”
Seriously?
Ebba widened her eyes over the warrior’s shoulder as though someone crept up behind him, and dodged around Nikora when he turned to look. Oldest trick in the sea.
She sprinted up the steps into the raised hut, stomach in a tight knot from the continued screams. Blinking to bring the dark room into focus, Ebba squinted until she located a thrashing Cosmo in the far corner.
“Cosmo,” she said, falling to her knees beside him. “Wake up. It be a dream.”
He moaned, clutching his head, but didn’t wake—not even when she shook him.
Ebba ripped back his tunic and gasped at the black mark. “No, no, no.” The black tendrils were splayed out over the outer part of his chest, stretching their malicious, curling tips more than halfway toward his heart.
Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2) Page 16
