Bron had searched for Ursula when King Artemus brought the men home. He’d found her in the farmer’s village beside his, and it took him more courage than heading into battle to return the ring. She’d cursed him, saying he’d killed her one true love and his scar would never completely heal. True to her word, the scar burned in the sun and chilled in the evening air.
Another battle with more carnage, more death, loomed.
“Here you are.” The barmaid Lisha pushed a plate of steaming pork and mutton dumplings with brown gravy in front of him. “Enjoy.”
“My thanks to you.” Bron picked up his fork.
“Oh, and one more thing.” She dug into her apron and pulled out a small silver flask etched with a filigreed pattern on the front. “Courtesy of Tarle.” She placed the flask on the table beside him.
Bron studied the glinting silver, running his hands along the grooves in the pattern. He admired the beauty and craftsmanship. “I have no need for this. I do not drink.”
“It’s a gift. Take it. You’ll find a use for it.” The barmaid leaned on his table, exposing her neckline and robust chest. “Is there anything else I can fetch for you?”
“No, ma’am.” Bron cut a piece of meat with the side of his fork. He expected her to tend to the other tables, but she leaned on his as if she planned to stay. Bron wished for the company of his soldiers. Eating alone wasn’t such a good idea anymore.
Her fingers trailed along his arm. “Tell me, do you have a sweetheart pining away for you back in Ebonvale?”
Bron couldn’t lie to this young woman. “I do not.”
She inched up closer and her fingertips left small halos of heat on the shoulder of his armor. “A man strong and honest-gazed as you should have women in droves surrounding him.”
Bron pulled away and took a draught from his mug. “Duty keeps me from love.”
Her chubby face scrunched up in sadness. She could be pretty when she dropped her seductress façade. “Pray tell, why ever is that so?”
Bron paused. If he gave her a shadow of a reply, she’d hound him all night long. He took a bite of bread, thinking upon his words.
The barmaid chewed on her bottom lip.
The bread had no flavor. Nothing could compare to Danika’s kisses. He breathed in. “There is only one woman for me, and I cannot have her.”
Lisha gasped and put slender fingers over her pouty mouth. “Parted by death?”
“Nay.” Bron turned toward her. He’d never opened up to a stranger before. “Bound by duty.”
The barmaid pursed her lips and gave him a scolding look. “Not a valid excuse, soldier.” She placed her hands on her wide hips. “Love transcends all worldly trappings. If you truly loved her, you’d find a way.”
She turned around and tended to the next table, her sly eyes and seductive facade returning.
Bron waited for her to come back to his table to explain further, for she’d made him out to be a fool. His empty plate sat on his table and his mug sat dry until the last soldiers had made their way back to the docks.
A saying his father used to mutter on occasions when his mother threw him out to sleep with the pigs came back to him:
Wise advice comes when you least expect it, but when you need it most.
Chapter 26
Voyage
Hazy sunlight trickled through the gossamer canopy surrounding Danika’s bed. She reached to the light. Was she back in Ebonvale? Her heart surged with hope, soaring lighter than it had in months. Bron would be calling out orders on the training fields and Muriel would be waiting to serve her breakfast with all the latest gossip from the last courtroom ball.
She pulled the window fabric back, revealing a never-ending glittering sea. Seagulls cawed, riding white-crested waves, and the tang of salty brine hung in the humid air. The floor swayed underneath her feet as a wave hit the bow, spraying her nightgown with icy droplets. Danika placed her hand over her heart.
Valorian’s boat.
Last night’s dinner.
She had to tell Bron she was safe.
Bron wouldn’t approve of her riding in Valorian’s boat. To throw away the minstrel’s offer would tempt the demons of fate, though. They needed their protection.
Danika washed herself in a small porcelain basin, then turned to the chest of gowns. Each one had been fitted to hang perfectly over her slender frame. Lace, velvet, pearls and intricate brocade were only some of the many adornments. Valorian had exquisite taste and had spared no expense.
She picked up an amber gown with a tight bodice wrapped in satin ribbons. What would Bron think of her, strutting around like a harlot in Valorian’s dresses aboard his ship?
No, one slap in the face was quite enough. Danika folded the garment and stashed the gown back in the chest. As much as the metal weighed her down and the sun beat down in waves of heat, she chose her armor. Perhaps the heavy metal would hold in her wild heart.
Danika emerged from the dark cabin into bright morning light. Around her, the crew untied the rigging and minstrels sang songs to bless their voyage and raise morale. They nodded as she passed, never missing a beat.
Valorian stood on the helm with a dark-haired older man with a thick beard wearing a blue captain’s hat with a feather through the side. Valorian waved to her, and Danika nodded in return. At least the captain busied him for now.
She walked across the boat and scanned the dock. Soldiers loaded their equipment, along with weapons, from the pier to the second boat, the Fortune. Bron stood surveying the operations with his usual straight-backed stance. He’d polished his armor since the attack, and the metal gleamed like a nobleman’s silverware in the morning sun.
If he saw her on the deck of Valorian’s ship, he did nothing to solicit her company.
It was now or never.
Would he realize her true intentions? Or would her betrayal tear them apart? Ebonvale hung on a harried thread. She had to take the risk. Danika walked the plank to the pier, passing by minstrels carrying bushels of fruits and vegetables and cages of poultry on deck. She marched down the dock, saluting the soldiers she passed.
Bron bowed as she approached, hiding any expression that may have crossed his face. “Princess.”
Too many soldiers hovered to speak with him on any personal level. “Chief of Arms.”
He straightened, and his eyes softened. “Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough.”
“The decks of the Destiny provide safe refuge then?”
Danika stiffened. Of course he knew which boat she’d slept on. He was her bodyguard, after all. “A refuge, no.”
Bron quirked an eyebrow, and she tried to be careful not to overstep Valorian’s generous gifts. “How can one find refuge with such a momentous battle looming? As for safety, the ship is secure. In fact, I dismissed the minstrel bodyguards Valorian offered.”
A smile curled on Bron’s lips. “Chances are, if a wyvern dove from the sky, you’d be saving them.”
Danika matched his sly grin. “We’ll see about that. Did you find adequate accommodations last night for you and the men?”
“More than adequate.” Bron put a hand on the armor plate covering his hard abs. “My stomach is still full.”
She shifted, wishing she could have joined him. Due to her dinner companion, she hadn’t eaten much last night, and her stomach gurgled with the thought of food.
His features grew somber as he nodded to Valorian’s boat. “So, you’ve made your choice then?”
The question caught her off guard. Of what exactly did he inquire? Did she choose the boat or the man? She sucked in her lips, thinking of an appropriate answer with so many soldiers and minstrels around.
“For now, this arrangement is most beneficial to the kingdom.”
Bron’s brow raised and his eyes bore into hers. Did she see a flash of hope? “For now?”
“Aye.” She nodded and leaned toward him. “No one knows what this battle will bring. We must make amends if we a
re ever to stand united.”
A minstrel walked in front of them, trailing a cart of extra instruments filled with flutes, fiddles and a tambourine.
“A wise choice, Princess.” Bron’s gaze returned to surveying his troops. Along the dock, Valorian parted with the captain and waved to her.
She bowed to Bron. “Duty calls.”
Bron’s face showed no emotion as he scanned the dock. He didn’t even look back to her to say goodbye.
This may be the last time she spoke to him before Scalehaven. Flustered, anger brimming, she turned to walk back to Valorian’s ship. Fine. Pretend nothing had happened between them. Was she that easy to forget?
Bron’s velvety voice followed her on the wind. “I hope it won’t keep you forever.”
She gasped and her heart sputtered before beating wildly. Every muscle in her neck itched to whirl around and study Bron’s face.
Valorian watched her approach from the stern with a pleasant smile stretched across his lips. Under Valorian’s gaze she could do nothing of the sort.
She tensed her fingers into fists and kept walking.
Had her imagination run away?
* * * *
They rode white waves out to sea. The wind blew in their favor, filling their masts with violent gusts ushering them to their destiny. Danika stood on the railing wearing the least revealing gown from Valorian’s chest. With all the minstrels around, she felt like a statue amongst villagers in her gleaming metal. Better to fit in for the time being. When they reached Scalehaven she’d don her armor once again.
Her gaze wandered to Bron’s boat as the wooden warrior carved into the bow cut through the waters beside them. The distance between them was so close, yet uncrossable. Her castle had suffocated her from time to time, but the deck of a ship imprisoned her. Already, the sides pressed in with sea-filled horizons all around.
There was no sign of the armored Chief of Arms. Danika smiled to herself, remembering how he avoided all quests beyond the boundaries of land. He never did like boats.
“A brilliant day for a journey, is it not?” Valorian placed both hands on the railing beside her. Instead of gazing at their sister ship, his eyes strayed to Danika.
She stepped away from the rail. Better not to let Bron see her mingling with Valorian. “It would be, if we weren’t heading into battle.” And if she stood on the other ship. The cramped quarters made it almost impossible to avoid the minstrel.
Valorian followed her around the deck to the other side where the wind whipped fiercely. “You doubt our victory?”
“I fear what I must sacrifice to win.” Danika looked away. Had she spoken out loud? She hadn’t meant to open up so deeply.
“My dear.” Valorian spread his hand across the deck. Minstrels sang an old ballad of a battle long past and triumphantly won, and the captain stood at the helm, searching the sea. “Every man on this boat will meet their end, either in battle, by sickness, or in the deathly grip of old age.”
He placed his arm around her and pulled her close, blocking the wind. “Nothing is forever. We must enjoy the days we have together and content ourselves, knowing our sacrifice is for both our kingdoms.”
Danika allowed Valorian to hold her, even though his arms provided small comfort. If he spoke the truth, her time with Bron had come and gone, and she’d squandered it.
“Are you a realist then?” She had trouble believing a man who created words from thin air would plant his feet firmly in reality. In a way, Valorian was a shrewd, courageous man. Danika longed for Bron’s idealistic bravery.
“I don’t imagine what’s not there, if that’s your meaning.” Valorian’s voice was steady, almost stern.
Danika froze against him. Could he feel her cool disposition like a dead fish in his arms? She danced around the subject. “Do you see our victory?”
“I see the possibility, aye.”
Danika eased back in his arms. “That bodes well.”
Valorian buried his face in her hair. His voice turned wistful. “If we both survive this battle and emerge victorious, what will the future bring?”
A minstrel’s voice from the lower deck wafted up on the wind. He sang of a great and mighty love transcending the conventions of court. Interesting choice.
Danika knew he’d broach this topic eventually, and she had an answer ready to give. “An alliance between our kingdoms, strengthened by the fact warriors and minstrels fought side by side.”
“Is that all?” He took her hand. His voice deepened as his thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. “I can think of another way to strengthen our ties.”
Men shouted from the sister ship. Queasiness overtook Danika, and her knees weakened as distress spread throughout her gut. She turned to the captain of the ship who pointed to the sea off the bow. “Call to arms!”
Minstrels raced around them, and Danika clutched Valorian’s arm. “What’s the matter?”
Valorian placed his hands on her shoulders. “Go back to your room. Allow me to handle this.”
Before she could respond, a tentacle burst from the surface just feet away from the sister ship. Suction cups as wide as her arm spread as the tentacle unfurled and moved toward the bow.
Valorian pushed her toward the cabin. “Go!”
Danika stumbled forward in shock. Then she remembered her armor. Helena’s Sword! The one day she didn’t wear it! She followed Valorian’s order to return to her cabin, but with the intention to reemerge.
Around her, the minstrels began a deep, low hum, vibrating deep in her gut. They were preparing for battle.
Danika burst through the doors to her cabin with her dress already half untied. She tore the back open and leaped from the fine fabric. The tentacle had been heading straight for Bron’s boat. Could she reach him in time?
Chapter 27
A Heroine’s Rise
A loud horn wailed, like the cry of an ancient beast after predators stole its young. Bron woke from a hazy dream, and the remnants clouded his mind. He’d played Knights and Wizards with Hule, whittling away each piece until only six remained. On his side stood his queen, his king and one knight. On Hule’s side stood his queen, his king and a bishop. They danced upon the board like figures sliding across the ballroom in court. Every move locked them in a duel that could not be won without Bron sacrificing his queen. He could not part with her.
Bron cleared his head of game pieces. His battle horn. He’d given the alarm to the man with watch duty, ordering him to blow the call if under attack.
He stood and grabbed his helmet, slipping it over his clean-shaven head. His sword was already sheathed at his side. He never slept without it.
Shouts rang out above him, sending adrenaline flowing through his veins. Bron leaped up the steps to the deck and emerged into chaos.
Men ran across the deck, shouting orders while a cannon fired at a shiny lump the size of a hillock protruding from the sea. The man beside him screamed as he rose off his feet and over Bron’s head. A giant tentacle wrapped around the soldier’s torso, squeezing slowly as the fishy flesh wound around him.
Bron climbed the steps to the upper deck and leaped into the air, slicing his sword over his head and through the meaty flesh. The tentacle and the man fell to the deck in a wet lump. Bron ran to his side, recognizing Eli Wilkins, second regiment of the Royal Guard. He’d recruited him only a year ago from Oaten’s Dell. Pulling the dead end of the tentacle off him, Bron checked his pulse.
Eli moaned and his eyelids fluttered.
“Are you all right, soldier?”
“Yes.” Eli coughed, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Around them, three more tentacles sprang from the sea, probing the rigging. Bron needed to get back to the battle.
“Do you think you can stand?”
“Yes, sir.” Fear welled in the man’s eyes and Bron wondered where his training had failed. If these men were afraid of a sea beast, how would they react to a swarming horde of fire-breathing worms?
He helped the man stand. “Get to the infirmary below.”
Bron released Eli and brought up his sword. Soldiers swiped at the tentacles, cutting some in half. For every one they felled, three more sprang up. The air hummed with the minstrel’s song as the sound changed pitch from a low growl to a high shriek. Had they gone mad? Whatever the minstrel’s were doing, Bron wasn’t going to wait until their song worked.
The captain stood at the wheel, turning the ship away as tentacles reached toward him.
Bron sprinted toward the helm. If he lost the captain, he’d have to steer the boat to Scalehaven. The warrior had as much experience steering ships as he had wearing women’s gowns.
A tentacle closed on his arm, and he swiped the wet flesh in half with his sword. More wiggled on the deck at his feet and he jumped over them as the tendrils tangled in the netting, pulling at their supplies. One soldier, a cityman from Brimmore named Ale Cleary, writhed on his back, a tentacle wrapped around his neck. Bron’s first instinct was to help him, but the captain was more important.
Three tentacles wrapped around the captain’s left arm and both ankles. He held onto the steering wheel with white knuckles, his grip slipping.
“Hold on, Captain!” Bron threw his dagger as he took the stairs two at a time. The dagger sliced through the tentacle on the Captain’s arm as the ones around his ankles slowly climbed his legs. He lost his grip and fell, slipping along the deck toward the railing. Bron dove forward on his stomach and skidded across the deck. He grabbed the man’s hands with both of his and gave him a stare so strong, it should have held him in place all by itself. “Hold on.”
The captain winked in relief. “I’m not letting go.”
“You’d better not.” Bron gritted his teeth as he heaved. They locked in place, just like the Knights and Wizards game in his dream. Only this time there could be no stalemate. He could not overpower the pull of the sea beast. He’d have to find another way.
“Hurry!” The captain kicked at the tentacles as they traveled up his back to his neck.
Bron transferred all of the captain’s weight to one hand. As his muscles bunched with the strain, he sat up slowly and drew his sword. “Duck!”
Minstrel's Serenade Page 19
