The captain shoved his face against the deck and Bron swung, slicing one of the two tentacles. The appendage released its hold and slithered back into the foamy waters.
Bron cut at the second tentacle, careful not to injure the captain’s leg. The fishy flesh slithered away, half torn.
“I thought I was going under.” The captain panted on the deck as he lay on his back.
Relief and shock flowed over Bron as he forced himself up. “Did you not know? The captain must stay with his ship.” He pulled the captain with him. “Can you steer us out of here?”
The captain eyed the deck, half tangled in tentacles as the men loaded cannons and shot into the water blindly. “I’ll try.”
“I’ll guard you.” Bron cemented his feet in front of the helm. He chanced a glance at their sister ship, thinking of Danika. The Destiny bobbed closer to them, dropping anchor instead of sailing away.
The minstrels must have lost their minds. Their music failed to have any effect on the sea beast, and their fighting skills were less than desirable. What did they mean to accomplish?
Perhaps they knew destiny tied their fate to the Fortune’s. Without the steel of the Royal Guard, Danika would have no triumph at Scalehaven. Her life, the minstrels’ lives and the safety of Ebonvale depended on him and his army and they on them. Both sides were duty bound.
Pressure tightened around his ankle as a tentacle coiled up his calf. Bron raised his sword to slice the appendage, and another one stuck to his arm with suction cups, holding his sword in place. Before he could react, a tentacle thick as an aging blackwood shot from the railing and knocked him off his feet. He hit the deck hard, air stolen from his lungs. As he struggled to rise, the thick tentacle wrapped around his chest, bending his armor as the leviathan pulled him to sea.
Bron breathed in, his chest pushing against his armor as he filled his lungs. Metal armor sank like boulders in water. The beast dragged him to his death.
He wished he could have told her how he truly felt.
Bron tightened his grip on his sword even as the tentacle cut off circulation to his fingers. He’d fight to the death before he lay in such an abysmal, watery grave. He may still have time.
A silver blade arced above him, glinting brightly in the sun. The blade hacked the smaller tentacles first, then cut through the large one, hitting the deck with a thunk. The force of the lunge embedded the blade deep into the wood, splintering the plank. Stunned, Bron shielded his eyes from the sun as a slight figure knelt beside him. Two bright green eyes shone from the helmet’s visor.
It could not be.
“Are you all right?” Danika’s voice spoke to his heart.
Had he died in the beast’s grasp and awakened in heaven?
“Are you hurt? For Helena’s Sword, speak!”
“I am unharmed.” Bron’s voice came out wispy with awe and disbelief. How dare she risk her life to save his? “How did you travel to this ship?”
“Rope.” Danika raised her visor and a smile stretched. “I convinced Valorian to steer closer. Though, I must say, I will not be auditioning for the festival acrobats when we return. Now get up! There is a battle to fight.”
Bron took her hand and they stood. Danika yanked her sword from the deck and swung the blade in front of her, testing the arc of the edge. Her eyes were fierce emeralds. “This blade will still fight true.”
Tentacles slithered toward them, and the starboard side of the ship looked more like an overgrown weed garden than a deck. “Come, let us clean this mess.” Bron lunged forward. They fought side by side, clearing a path through the tangle.
The boat groaned and started to tip as the tentacles pulled the masts toward the water. Bron leaned backward, trying not to slip. “Find something to hold onto!” He snaked his arm through the railing of the stairway leading to the helm. Danika skidded, and he grabbed her hand as boxes, netting, and other supplies slipped into the sea.
Beneath them, the oily hump emerged, water raining off the slimy surface as the neck rose and uncoiled. A massive headdress of leathery fins framed a long toothy jaw and white eyes with no pupils. The beast towered over them, seawater and slime dripping on their armor in goopy streaks. Bron licked salt from his lips. Was it from the spray of the sea or his sweat?
“It’s a leviathan.” Danika whispered as she dangled from Bron’s hand. “A distant cousin of the wyverns. I thought them to be myths.”
“Unfortunately, they are not.” Bron tightened his grip on her hand as if his courage alone could save them.
The leviathan hissed and opened its jaws, dipping its head toward them. Its scales were paler than the wyverns’, reflecting an oily blue, which turned to silver in the angle of the sun. Danika raised her sword, arm shaking.
Would she be safer dangling from his arm under the leviathan’s jaws or dropped into the sea? She’d never forgive him, but at least then she’d have the slim chance of swimming back to the minstrel’s ship.
She shouldn’t have deserted Valorian and risked her life to save Bron. He and Danika had grown too close, developing feelings running too deep, risking everything he’d sworn to protect.
He must abandon this dream before it was too late.
The leviathan smacked its jaws above them. It might already be too late. Bron had to release her, but his hand wouldn’t let go.
Around them, the low, droning hum separated into harmony. The sound resonated in perfect chords, harmonies building upon each other, to create a cathedral of sound. The notes changed, growing farther apart, and the collective song wailed with dissonance. The sound reminded Bron of a thousand cries of suffering. Were the minstrels truly mad? Or did they sing their own funeral ballad?
The beast shrieked and whipped its head back and forth as if the tones shot daggers through the membranes covering the earholes. The tentacles loosened, retreating across the deck as the beast released the ship. The deck pitched backward and Bron slammed into the stairway as the Fortune rocked upright once again.
The leviathan disappeared into the dark waters, leaving a trail of sea foam in its wake. A fountain of water and bubbles shot up from the surface as it expelled its breath. A mournful cry, deeper than a whale’s call, echoed over the sea.
“They did it.” Danika lay on the deck beside him, propping herself up with an elbow as Bron released her hand.
“Did what?” Fog covered Bron’s mind. All he could think of was pure, comforting silence in the dissonance still pinging in his head.
“Found a chord ugly enough to drive the beast away.” Danika shouted above the din and stood.
Bron felt as though a storm had battered his body and soul. His breastplate was bent in where the tentacle had gripped, cutting into the sides of his chest. Disappointment outweighed his relief. He wanted to be the victor, not the one saved. He’d underestimated the minstrels’ power. Once again, Valorian had saved his life.
Bron sat up, leaning on the railing for support. “We should return you to your ship, my lady.” Perhaps she was safer there than he’d thought.
“Not a chance.” Danika wiped slime from her armor and threw the sludge overboard like poison.
Bron blinked in confusion. Had she lost reason?
Danika winked. “I told you, no more acrobatics. You know how I despise ropes.” She walked away, helping the healers tend to the soldiers.
Bron sat back with his legs sprawled before him. He knew her better. She’d never mentioned a fear of ropes before. In fact, he’d caught her sneaking out at night to swing across the chasm between her tower and the main building, hanging on the laundry ropes.
She wanted to be close to him. Bron had allowed his feelings to reach too far, endangering the very kingdom they sought to protect. The barmaid was wrong. He could not sacrifice duty for love.
Bron stood, swearing to himself he’d adhere to his sworn oaths and do whatever he could to gain victory. With the minstrels’ magic song, they’d won this battle, but another, far greater clash loomed. Black vo
lcanoes topped with smoke, oozing lava red as blood claimed the horizon. Scalehaven tempted him. Bron stared at his destiny with determination and acceptance.
“Thank goodness you’ve alive, sir.” His first in command, Recktus Fairhaven, bowed before him. His long, black hair dripped as though he’d taken a plunge into the sea and someone had fished him out.
“Yes, it appears luck is on both our sides.” He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Good to see you, my friend.”
“There are many casualties, sir. The soldiers are wondering if we are to go back.”
Go back? Returning home empty-handed wasn’t an option. Bron took a deep breath. “Rally the troops we have left. We go to battle tomorrow at dawn.”
“Yes, sir.” The solider saluted him with a grim expression. He jogged toward shouts of triumph coming from the main deck.
As Bron’s father liked to say, someone had beaten him to the mead barrel.
Danika stood at the helm, addressing the survivors. She’d taken off her helmet, and her golden hair glowed in the noonday sun. In her battle armor, she looked more beautiful and glorious than in any courtly gown. His heart sped.
As much as he feared for her safety he knew there was no escaping the wyverns either here or back in Ebonvale. If they failed, there’d be no kingdom to return to. Danika had been right to come. She embodied everything good and true in Ebonvale, and today she gave his troops hope. She’d trained like any soldier and had the courage of a true warrior. Why not have her fight for her kingdom if she wished it? But, he couldn’t have her risking her life for his, or leaving Valorian unguarded.
Bron would do everything in his power to keep her safe, even if it meant sacrificing his life, his love.
At least he’d have her beside him one last time.
Chapter 28
Song of Power
The minstrels took no chances. They sang their foul song throughout the night and Danika tossed and turned in the spare bed in the captain’s chambers, wishing she could clog her ears with seaweed. She’d left all of her elegant nightgowns on Valorian’s ship, and she sweated in her undergarments, kicking the thick sheets to her ankles.
Ironically, she preferred to sweat on the Fortune’s hay-strewn mattress than sleep in luxury on Valorian’s ship. Bron lay only two rooms away and the beat of his heart came through the walls, calling to her.
Danika thought back to their quest to Darkenbite, when she’d slept an arm’s length away. Why hadn’t she reached out to him at least once? Why had it taken her this long to realize the shape of her heart?
Valorian.
He was why. Even if they succeeded in this quest and returned home victorious, Valorian would be waiting. Only a fool would tempt fate by rejecting the House of Song’s union and leave her kingdom vulnerable and alone. First, the army of Sill plagued Ebonvale and now the wyverns of Scalehaven. What would rise up next to fight them? Could she handle a new threat with Ebonvale’s army alone?
Her legs kicked at the sheets anxiously. She longed to ramble through her mother’s grove of cherrywoods in Ebonvale’s orchards outside the castle. A night like this needed a long walk to tire the useless wanderings of her mind.
Danika shot up and wrapped the sheets around her in a robe. The salty, wet decks of the Fortune would have to do.
The night air singed her eyes as she emerged under the stars. A foul, sulfurous stench blew from Scalehaven. The volcanoes’ hulking shadows claimed the horizon, their fiery wrath lighting the southern sky in a reddish haze. Thunderous cracks echoed around her. The volcanoes stirred as if sensing their presence.
The captain stood as lookout, staring toward Scalehaven with determination set in his shoulders. He chewed on the end of a pipe, sending puffs of smoke into the air. Danika passed him unnoticed. She climbed the slick steps to the lower deck. All the rigging lay abandoned and the boat creaked with the pull of the current. The minstrels’ song from their sister ship gave the night a haunted air.
One figure stood on the stern, watching the distant horizon from whence they came. The tall proud stance and the square shoulders were a permanent fixture in her memory.
Bron.
She should know by now he never slept on the eve of battle.
She longed to go to him and have him hold her in his strong arms. She could use his comfort at such a dark time, but her logical mind screamed for her to sneak back to the cabin. He could not give her what she sought. Or should not. Yet Danika stayed, her feet firmly planted on the deck as if a force beyond her control held her still.
“A foreboding night, is it not, Princess?” Bron’s voice wafted back to her and she stiffened.
How could he know? She’d walked as silent as a ghost.
Bron turned, and the glow of the lava from the horizon behind her illuminated his square features and wide lips in an evocative glow. “I can smell your perfume on the wind.” His lips curled. “Never spray strawberry mist before sneaking up on a foe.”
Danika grinned and teased him with a narrowing of her eyes. “Are you a foe?”
“Only to my own inclinations.” He shifted his gaze to the wake of their boat.
“Of what do you speak?” Danika stepped toward him, aware of her thin sheet covering her bare breasts. She pulled the fabric tighter against her body so the wind didn’t steal it away, leaving her naked. She wouldn’t want that.
“I would see Ebonvale live on in health and prosperity. Yet, I would sacrifice anything to ensure your safety, Princess.”
“You are my bodyguard. You swore to my father to protect me. What harm is there in that?”
“That is not all.” Bron’s hands tightened on the rail. “I also swore my undying loyalty to Ebonvale.”
“There’s no harm in that either.” Danika touched his arm. The armor felt cold to her fingers and she longed to feel the warmth of his skin.
“If I had to choose between the two, I’d choose you, Princess.”
“You won’t have to choose. Protecting me is protecting Ebonvale, for I am the only direct heir to the throne.”
“In all this, there is one thing I failed to protect you and Ebonvale against.”
“What threatens us both? The wyverns?”
“No.” He placed his hand on his breastplate where filigreed patterns of roses bloomed. “My heart.”
Danika’s heart sped and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. She’d been waiting for this moment for so long. A dizzying joy spread throughout her. She took his hand, hoping for some reaction. His fingers lay unmoving in her grasp.
“I had to tell you before the battle. I could not die without you knowing.”
She squeezed his hand and held his palm to her heart, his fingers grazing her left breast, alighting fire inside her. “You are not going to die. I will not let them harm you.”
With his other hand, he trailed a finger along her cheek, and she melted at his fleeting touch. Bron took both hands away and stepped back. “This is where I have failed, Princess. You must let me go. You and Valorian must live to see Ebonvale rebuild.”
Danika breathed in to object and Bron brought his finger to her lips, silencing her. “I know what rests on your lips, and I urge you not to say it. I failed to protect both our hearts.”
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “You failed at nothing.”
“If you are lost in battle, or if you are not united with Valorian, I have failed at everything I’ve sworn to do. You must keep both yourself and Valorian alive at all costs.”
Danika crossed her arms and looked away, her eyes stinging with more tears. “No. I cannot. If something happens to you…I fear I cannot live without you.”
Bron put both hands on her shoulders. His gaze implored. “You will and you must. I cannot have another day like today, where you desert the House of Song for your bodyguard. I beg you. If you do nothing for me ever again, do this one thing.” He bent his head, pressing his forehead against hers. He opened his mouth as if to kiss her, then drew back.
&nb
sp; Danika shook her head, unable to speak. Everything she wanted stood before her. Bron’s feelings were true and matched hers. Yet, she could not have him. The truth tore her apart.
He released her. “I expect no less, Princess.”
Before she could form a response he turned away, leaving her alone on the stern with Scalehaven’s hot breath breathing down her throat, threatening to take away the one man she loved.
* * * *
Dawn came swiftly and Danika rushed back to her cabin to change before the other soldiers spotted her roaming the decks in her sheet. Some icon of hope she’d represent looking like a wreck of a woman who’d just lost her only love. She doubted Helena ever looked so worn and despairing.
As she reached for her armor, something in the air changed. Danika froze, listening.
Silence.
The minstrels had ended their song, which could mean only one thing. They were too close to Scalehaven to risk the wyverns overhearing. She doubted the same vile chord would stall the fiery beasts. Unlike their distant leviathan cousins, the wyverns were too clever for a single sound to hearten their retreat. No doubt, the minstrels plotted which new tune to employ as she donned her armor.
Suddenly, she missed their twisted song. Without the sour turns of sound, she felt unprotected, naked to the wyverns’ threat. Danika washed the tears from her face and secured her helmet. Hopefully, they’d come up with something soon.
The deck bustled with activity when she reemerged in her armor. Soldiers packed travel bags and unloaded crates full of swords and spears. Some sharpened their weapons on a gray whetstone brought up from the belly of the ship. The first volcano in a chain of smaller islands towered over them, casting an ominous shadow on their ship. The air reeked of sulfur and exotic incense, making her nostrils itch. Some soldiers and many members of the crew had handkerchiefs tied around their mouths.
She dug into her travel bag and pulled out one of her mother’s old silken scarves. She’d brought the fabric for good luck, and as a reminder to contact Sybil when she returned. She tied the delicate, pink fabric around the lower half of her face. Would she return?
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