Ebba-Viva Fairisles: Stolen Princess (Pirates of Felicity Book 2)

by Kelly St Clare

  A second round of shaking and a slap did nothing to rouse him.

  Ebba dashed out of the room.

  “Get out o’ the way, or I’ll gut ye,” she snarled at Nikora. He shifted to let her pass. Ebba ran to the river, grabbing a bucket from outside another hut. Filling it, she rushed back as quickly as possible, the water slopping all over her cream night dress.

  Nikora didn’t try to prevent her passing the second time.

  The cries were terrible. The broken wail made her want to break into sobs just from hearing it. What was happening to him? This wasn’t any nightmare she’d seen before. And her fathers had a lot of them.

  Adjusting her grip on the bucket, Ebba threw the ice-cold water on Cosmo’s face.

  The screaming broke off almost immediately, and the Exosian sat bolt upright, spluttering. He wiped the water from his eyes and then gaped at his left arm.

  The bucket fell forgotten to the floor, and Ebba knelt by his side once more. “Cosmo, I’m sorry. Ye were havin’ a nightmare. I tried shaking ye, but ye weren’t wakin’.”

  He turned, seeing her with eyes not quite in the present. The taint was making him like this. This was what Verity meant about Cosmo becoming a slave to the darkness. Ebba knew it in her bones. If they didn’t get rid of the taint, he’d be trapped in his nightmare for good.

  Cosmo swallowed, his body shaking. “What happened? I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

  Of course his first thought was for her inconvenience.

  “Your quarters are not close by.” He frowned. “How loud was I?”

  I wish to die with dignity. “Nikora was passin’ by and heard ye. Thought it were a pig riflin’ around in the bush at first.” Ebba chuckled. “He came and got me to wake ye.”

  “That’s a relief.” Cosmo collapsed back to lay flat. “I’m sorry he had to come and get you. You said I wouldn’t wake?”

  “Maybe I’ve just always wanted to throw water on ye.”

  He gave a half-hearted laugh and fell quiet.

  Ebba leaned against the wall by his feet. “What did ye see in yer head?” Going through the siren’s nest had been a cruel awakening for her. Being alone in the shadows, responsible for the lives of her fathers, and hunted by evil . . . it made her see how sheltered she’d been in her life, and how much her fathers had protected her. Too much. In a way, the journey through Syraness had abolished the childish notion she’d held that, while with her fathers, everything would always be okay. She’d seen just how mortal she was, and how mortal her fathers were, and discovered that one mistake could have untold effects. Ebba had learned how much she could regret a single decision.

  But she’d never screamed like Cosmo had.

  Not like her leg was being ripped from her in slow motion. Not like someone was shooting bullet after bullet into her soul, making a thousand tiny holes until she was no more.

  “I saw. . . .” Cosmo choked. “I—” He began to shake violently again, and Ebba hurried to him, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders, careful not to jostle his wound. “Shh, Cosmo. Ye’re okay. Let’s talk o’ other things. Let’s talk about—”

  “Ebba, I want you to talk to your fathers.” He cut her off.

  She fell mute and he gripped her arms so tightly his nails were surely drawing blood. “Promise me you will. Please.”

  He lifted his fevered amber eyes to her and she jolted at the intensity within them.

  “I. . . .”

  “You must. They are your family, Ebba. Do not make my mistakes.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, but what could she say to someone tortured and shaking, other than what they wished to hear?

  “Aye, Cosmo.” She rocked him, dropping her head to his shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

  She felt the moment he began to droop into sleep once more. But he kept flinching awake every minute or so.

  “I confess I’m rather afraid to go back to sleep.” His weary chuckle was empty.

  The area behind her eyes burned. Ebba pushed him flat and took up a spot by his head, sitting against the wall as she began to stroke his russet curls. “I’ll stay right here, m’hearty. All through the night. If ye’re taken to any o’ the dark places, ye can be easier knowin’ I’m here with more ice-cold water.”

  He chuckled again, murmuring, “I don’t doubt it.”

  She waited until he was asleep before turning to where Nikora waited just outside the door. “Could ye please fetch me another bucket of water, Nikora? . . . Several o’ them.”

  She’d caught a few hours of sleep here and there, but most of the night saw her tightening her resolve to do two things: talk to her fathers and to Aroha.

  If her supposed mother didn’t hand over the purgium, Ebba was going to have a full grown-up tantrum and burn this place to the ground to find it. It’d make her revenge after her fathers left her on the ship look like child’s play. Cosmo didn’t deserve this end, and she’d grow tentacles before sitting back and watching it happen.

  With her pirate background, Ebba’s first guess was that Aroha kept the purgium on her, or in her quarters. The beaded skirts made the first of these assumptions easy to disprove. The second? If the talk with the woman didn’t go well, that would be the next port of call.

  “You stayed here all night?” Cosmo yawned.

  She focused on him. Dark circles, rather like the ones Jagger had worn for a while, marred the area beneath his usually warm eyes. His skin was pale with exhaustion as though sleep hadn’t done anything to revive him. “Aye. And I’ll do so until we get the purgium for ye,” she said firmly.

  He didn’t waste time trying to politely decline—that scared her most of all.

  “Thank you, Ebba. There are not many who would do that for me.”

  “Then ye had the wrong kind o’ people in yer life,” she said. “But ye can change that when we get you better. Now, no offense, but ye need to be washin’, and then we’ll go eat. If ye want me to go to see me fathers so badly, I’m draggin’ ye with me.”

  She left him to wash and went to retrieve her beaded skirt thing, nodding at Nikora. He walked one step behind her and to the right.

  “Ye are a caring woman,” he observed. “And loyal.”

  “Call me that one more time, and I’ll shove my cutlass down yer gullet first chance I get.” When she got it back.

  He tripped over the end of his spear. “You do not like the term woman?” he said in confusion.

  “No, call me a. . . .” Ebba scowled. “Just don’t be callin’ me anythin’. How about that?”

  “If you become our princess, I have asked your father to formally court you.”

  Ebba ran up the steps of her hut. “I don’t have a father. Bye.” She leaned against the inside wall, sagging when she heard his retreating footsteps. Shite. That was close. This was why she didn’t wear damn dresses. People got all sorts of silly, male ideas. Not that she didn’t like looking at pretty males like Nikora sometimes, but sheesh. Strings.

  She fastened her beaded hoop over her night dress, grumbling when it sagged at the front. How did Aroha get it nice and tight? Oh well. Using the material strip from yesterday, Ebba twisted the top half of her dreads into a knot atop her head and only put in the greenstone sticks, leaving the feathers lying haphazardly on the wooden floor.

  Pausing a few steps from the entranceway, Ebba took a deep breath. Today, she had things to accomplish.

  A glance around the crowded marae when she arrived told her Cosmo wasn’t done washing. Ebba pushed to the front of the line and grabbed a warm orange vegetable about the size of her fist. She munched on it, pleasantly surprised by the flavor—like a sweet version of a potato. Searching the room again, she discovered Aroha wasn’t here either.

  “Where be the cryin’ woman?” Ebba asked as she approached the chief.

  His whole body tensed. “You will call her mother.”

  Ebba took another mouthful of potato and stared at him.

  He sighed. “She is busy
organizing your welcoming ceremony tonight.” The chief sounded so forlorn, Ebba snorted, spraying a few flecks of the orange vegetable on his leg.

  “Ye don’t like me one bit, do ye?” Ebba chuckled, eyeing the spot where the platter of orange vegetables sat, quickly emptying.

  “You don’t like me, either,” he said.

  They smirked at each other. It felt almost nice to share their mutual dislike of one another.

  “What are these called?” she asked, holding up the last bite of hers.

  “Kumara,” he answered.

  Koo-marr-ah. She abandoned him, running to the kumara platter and snatching the last one before an old lady could. “Gotta be quick,” she quipped.

  Neither Cosmo nor Aroha had arrived by the time she finished the second potato. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

  Leaving the marae, she spotted Aroha immediately on the path to the river. “Oi!” Ebba called. “Ah-roar-ha.” Jogging, she soon caught up with the tribeswoman. “Hey, I wanted to talk to ye about the purgium. I really need it. What’s it goin’ to take to get a few seconds alone with the thing?”

  Aroha had looked momentarily joyful to see her, but the joy was gone faster than a gold coin in a shady tavern. “No. I forbid you to ask of it again.”

  Who did she think she was? “I can see ye feel obliged-like to keep it safe. So, here be my solution. Ye give me a hint, and if someone asks if ye gave it to me, ye’ll be able to say with all honesty, ye have no flamin’ idea what grog they’re snortin’.”

  “The purgium is our mana,” the woman said, over-pronouncing each word. “It is our soul, our purpose for being. We must guard it by whatever means necessary.”

  Ebba stopped and reached for her mother. She looked into her eyes. “Nikora showed me where it is.”

  Aroha’s face went blank before disbelief fluttered across it. The woman really was beautiful when she wasn’t crying. Moss-green eyes and a large mouth that rested perfectly on her face. Her lips were ruby red, and her cheeks flushed with the same color. Her body shape was light and graceful—elegant, like a strong gust could blow her down. That was how Ebba knew she must physically take after the chief. She’d stood through many a strong gust.

  “Nikora has not shown you anything, daughter. Neither will he. One day, when you show us you are tribe in here. . . .” she rested a hand on Ebba’s heart, “. . . then we will share the knowledge of the purgium with you.”

  “Any chance o’ that bein’ in the next six days?”

  Aroha’s face shadowed. “I am sorry for your friend. His eyes are kind. It is not the first time we have been forced to make a choice for the people over ourselves. Please understand.”

  “Nothin’ that demands ye give up yer child or let yer friends die be worth guardin’. Are ye sure that ye know what ye’re doin’?”

  With that, Ebba spun around, being careful not to grin until she was clear of Aroha’s sight.

  Pillage occasionally liked to steal Ebba’s beads and jewelry and hide them all over the ship. When he did, Ebba would crouch in front of him and ask him where they were. Without fail, his eyes would always dart to the hiding place before he began licking a paw in disinterest.

  For that one second, when Aroha feared Nikora had told her the location, her eyes had darted to the communal hut, the marae.

  Ebba strode away, deep in thought. Nikora’s tour yesterday . . . he’d only shown her the land in front of the communal hut. He’d avoided the area behind it. Ebba had welcomed this because going behind there meant seeing her fathers. But with Aroha glancing that way just now as well. . . .

  Was there another reason he’d avoided showing her anything that sat behind the marae?

  “Next time ye want to leave him, make sure he ain’t in the damn river,” Jagger growled. “I got drenched savin’ him.”

  Jagger had his shoulder under Cosmo’s right arm, supporting him. Ebba held back a grin. It must be sticking in his gullet fierce-like that he’d had to save the Exosian.

  Taking Jagger’s place, Ebba jerked her head. “Go away with ye then. I have it from here.”

  “Where are ye goin’?”

  “To see me fathers.”

  Jagger huffed. “Well, I’m most of the way there already.”

  She grinned again, safe in the knowledge he couldn’t see it. “Ye had a real good wash then, Cosmo?”

  He smiled faintly, leaning on her far too much to reassure her that last night was a one off. “Yes, Mistress Fairisles. Am I to understand we’re going to speak to your fathers?”

  “Aye,” she grumbled, quelling her nerves. “I also have some other stuff I thought I may check out while we’re there.”

  “Oh?”

  Ebba glanced at Jagger and back at Cosmo. “Aye.”

  Jagger groaned. “It’s obvious ye mean to search for the purgium.”

  ‘How do ye know I’m lookin’ for the purgium?” Ebba demanded.

  “Ye’ve shouted it about three times since we’ve been here.” He glared at her around Cosmo. “Ye’re goin’ to get us all spiked if ye try. It be their sacred object, ye eejit. They’d kill entire races to keep it safe, and themselves. They won’t blink afore slittin’ yer throat, or that of yer fathers, or this waste o’ air ye’re carryin’.”

  Cosmo was frowning. “Maybe Jagger is right.”

  “Ye ain’t a waste of air,” Ebba immediately countered.

  “No, not that,” he replied. “This is too dangerous. We should just leave without it. Retrieving the purgium isn’t worth more lives.”

  They’d reached the prison hut during their argument. Eventually they got too close to the hut for her to ignore the people ahead. Raising her chin, Ebba stared at her fathers, who were completely silent as they stared back. She should’ve been using the time to prepare a string of insults to hurl at their heads. Now she didn’t know what to say.

  She glared at Jagger for no other reason than it gave her something to do.

  He met her glare and, with a smirk, took Cosmo from her and rested him on a stump.

  The bugger had taken her barrier too.

  “What do ye want?” she asked her fathers, belatedly realizing that didn’t make sense.

  The fathers exchanged one of their silent group looks, a thing she’d always loved and found amusing. Not anymore. That was how they kept secrets from her.

  They’d silently nominated Barrels. He stepped forward. “Ebba. Thank you for coming to see us.”

  “I’m only here because Cosmo made me.” A pirate truth, but they didn’t have to know that. Cosmo might have given her pride a reason to be here, but Ebba was ready to hear their excuses now.

  Her fathers flinched in unison.

  Barrels flicked a grateful glance at the russet-haired man. “You must have questions for us.”

  “Not really. I know all I need to know.”

  “She needs to hear your side,” Cosmo said softly. “Tell her. Or you will lose her. And nothing is worth that.”

  Barrels fixed his eyes on the ground and spoke. “We were different people back then, Ebba. We sailed under Mutinous Cannon, who was more monster than pirate. He had a way of getting under a man’s skin.” He paused. “A way of breaking us all, in ways so devious. . . Before long on his ship, a person didn’t feel remorse anymore. We all stopped recognizing bad from good.” He met Ebba’s eyes. The rest of her fathers were dead quiet, stuck in the despondent place the name Mutinous Cannon always took them. “Mutinous sent the six of us to take the chief’s baby daughter hostage nearly eighteen years ago. He dearly wanted something the tribes possessed.”

  “The purgium?” Ebba cut in abruptly.

  Barrels blinked. “That makes perfect sense, though we weren’t aware what the object was back then. We didn’t care, just that Mutinous had ordered it done. We snuck in and—”

  “Slit all throats in yer path,” she said.

  Barrels closed his eyes and breathed. “Yes.”

  Peg-leg clasped him on the s
houlder and took over. “We waited until the chief’s wife was away; the chief was out on a hunting trip already. We’d watched him and most of the warriors leave. Then we took ye and split for a small ship that was part o’ Cannon’s fleet. We did it. As ordered. We had the baby, and we sent the message as planned, and then. . . .” His voice choked.

  “What?” Ebba asked brusquely.

  He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Then, lass, we fell headfirst into the deck in love with ye.”

  Plank stood. “Such beautiful green eyes. The reddest lips I ever did see. So small.”

  “Yer toes were so small,” Grubby said, tears staining his cheeks. The others looked worse for wear, but Grubby was the worst. The last few days would’ve wreaked havoc on his nerves.

  “When ye cried, ye made these tiny little fists,” Locks added, smiling.

  “And didn’t yer cry just make us feel like a giant hole were inside o’ us,” Stubby said quietly. “I would’ve shifted an island to make ye stop cryin’. Made me feel like I was the worst person alive. . . Still does.” His voice faded with a crack. He recovered and whispered, “Still would move an island to make ye stop, too.”

  Barrels dashed away a tear. “We knew in one day we couldn’t give you to Mutinous. Not ever. It took another two days for us to decide that we couldn’t bear to be without you. It took another four days to formulate a plan to leave behind Mutinous Cannon and the men we’d become. We swore, on that seventh day, to be the fathers you needed us to be, and to always strive to be deserving of the peace you’d brought into our lives from the moment you woke on board the ship and looked into our forgotten souls with those eyes of yours, so full of life.”

  Ebba was barely holding herself together. “Ye stole me from this life, and ye never had the bollocks to tell me. That be why I can’t stand to look at ye. Why did ye never say?” She stuttered on the words. “Why did ye never tell me I wasn’t a pirate, or that ye knew who my parents were? I thought one o’ ye might be my real father.”

  “What?” Stubby asked, baffled.

  How had they never known she thought that? In the end, that was the tipping point.