Eternal Gambit

by St Clare, Kelly

  . . . She’d dallied too long.

  “Same spot,” she told him. “It might not be tomorrow or the next day. I don’t know when I’ll have another chance.”

  The king stood and dipped his head, showing a flash of his former, regal self. “I shall be waiting. And, Mistress Pirate, please do not tell my son that I’m here.”

  Snorting, Ebba shook her head, not deigning to answer him. Picking up her ruffled skirt, she hurried back along the stream to the boulder path at a fast clip. A furtive glance told her the passage platform was still empty. A second glance at the perched cave told her every single one of her fathers was standing in a row watching her. Sink her, that wasn’t good. But they’d understand when they heard what she’d discovered.

  Her heart sank, though, recalling Montcroix’s last request.

  Caspian’s father was in hell.

  And Ebba couldn’t be sure if the knowledge would hinder or help him. Certainly, hearing the news would upset him for a time. In equal measures, Caspian seemed to uphold and detest his father, craving his praise while simultaneously realizing his father’s morals didn’t align with his own.

  Would telling Caspian help him understand his father’s praise wasn’t needed? Or would it push her friend to question and hate himself even further? The prince took his duty seriously. He’d been willing to die for his people. There had to be some family pride attached to that. A family pride that would be ripped away if she voiced the truth.

  Jeers and laughter echoed toward her from above, and Ebba wrenched to a halt, crouching behind a rock that didn’t begin to hide her as she scanned the cliffs. The voices grew louder.

  Time to run!

  Hands fisted in waves of material, Ebba pumped her legs as hard as she could. She wasn’t far from the larger boulders that could hide her. She risked another look at the cliffs and inhaled sharply. The pirates had spilled out from the crevice onto the passage platform overlooking the cavern.

  Ebba slowed to an inching pace, not wanting the rapid movement of her bright dress to attract their attention. The boulders were still on the smallish side but better than nothing. She slid between them, pausing behind each one, waiting for a handful of nail-biting seconds for shouts of discovery.

  She couldn’t make it all the way back to the cave like this. She was too far away.

  “Where’ve ye been today?” someone shouted far overhead.

  Ebba squeaked and plastered herself to the nearest boulder. But . . . that was Peg-leg’s voice. Unlocking enough to move her head, she glanced up toward the cave perch.

  Peg-leg was facing the passage platform where the tainted pirates stood. “Aye, I’m talkin’ to ye, ye ugly bunch of evil buggers. Never saw a bunch ‘o pirates who were harder on the eyes.”

  Ebba grinned as Stubby joined in, yelling across the cavern.

  They were distracting the pirates.

  Rising on tiptoes, she checked to confirm all of the tainted pirates were looking farther west at the cave. Ebba then ran between the rocks, hugging their shadows as much as possible.

  She didn’t stop until reaching the larger boulders she’d successfully hidden behind on the way to the stream. Her father’s shouts cut off abruptly. She must be out of their sight.

  Unfortunately, if Ebba couldn’t control her breathing—which vaguely resembled that of a birthing cow—the tainted might find her anyway.

  One hand to her ribs, the other one to her forehead, she stumbled down the worn path, trying to focus on not missing the smaller path to the cave. The last thing she needed was to miss it and accidentally stagger into the shipwreck clearing. The earlier dizziness was back after her sprint through the rocks. Ebba groaned, blinking furiously to bring the ground before her into focus.

  Thankfully, she didn’t miss the cave path.

  Once around the first curve of the smaller walkway, Ebba was forced to stop and hug a boulder to remain upright. What if the tainted pirates came down here instead of returning to the ship?

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Ebba pulled at the sides of the corset, scratching at the slippery material in an attempt to pull it away from her body. She twisted, reaching behind, but couldn’t seek purchase on the tight knots and laces aligned with her spine.

  Bright dots spotted her vision.

  “Viva?”

  Footsteps pounded toward her, but at least she recognized Jagger’s voice.

  She fell to her knees, forehead on the boulder.

  Hands reached for her. “Viva, what’s wrong?” Jagger said, spinning her around. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

  Her vision tunneled to his frantic expression.

  “Her lips be blue,” he gasped, hands searching her for injury. “Is she faintin’?”

  Ebba gasped for air, only managing a weak inhale. “I ain’t goin’ to faint,” she slurred.

  “It’s her corset,” Caspian said urgently. “It’s too tight. Rip it off.”

  Well, he’d probably know the most about corsets. But her skull stuck on Jagger’s comment. “I ain’t faintin’,” she insisted. “Faintin’ be stupid.”

  And then Ebba knew no more.

  Fourteen

  Jagger was angry; that was her first cognizant thought. Ebba brought a hand to her forehead and groaned. She had a skull full of pain.

  “Ye did her corset so tight she couldn’t breathe!” Jagger was yelling. “She couldn’t reach the laces, ye fool. Ye nearly killed her!”

  Ebba peeled back an eyelid, reasonably certain from her prone position, general nausea, and—she glanced down—where was her corset? She’d bloody fainted like a nincompoop.

  She’d never live it down.

  “Shh, she’s waking,” Caspian said, leaning over her.

  Not waking. Already awake. Ebba sat, forcing Caspian back on his haunches. Jagger had Barrels pinned against a wall. Three of her fathers hovered on the point of intervening while the others were gathered around her with Caspian.

  “What’s this racket about then?” she croaked, wincing as the act of talking sent a spear of white-hot agony into her temple.

  Jagger whirled away from Barrels, pushing between Plank and Stubby to reach her. He sank down by her side. “We found ye half-dead down the path. If we hadn’t found ye, ye’d be dead already. Yer lips were blue—”

  How was it that she’d nearly suffocated and Jagger was the one who needed reassurance? Ebba let herself fall against his chest. Then she frowned. His chest was bare, and hers was covered with a tunic. Her corset was gone. Those details weren’t worrying, but the transition from one garment to the next certainly had her wondering what Caspian and Jagger had seen. Though she had been wearing the off-the-shoulder blouse on underneath. Was that still on?

  Jagger wrapped his arms around her and sighed. “Ye nearly died, Viva.”

  “Aye, but it all worked out. The heat got to me, and I had to run from Cannon’s crew.”

  His silver eyes hardened. “Don’t try to make him feel better. He laced ye too tight.”

  Ebba pulled away. In her peripheries, she could see Barrels hovering like some kicked dog. “It was too hot. And I had to run,” she ground out, setting her jaw after.

  Jagger rolled his eyes, and Ebba took that as a sign he felt better.

  “Mistress Pirate, are you okay? You’re still very pale,” Caspian said.

  “I don’t feel too flash, I’ll grant ye.”

  His amber eyes were warm and showed true concern. But right now, they only served to remind her of his father.

  “Why were ye down there by the stream?” Stubby asked, passing her a waterskin. “Ye bloody ran off.”

  Ebba ripped the cork off with her teeth and spat it away, guzzling at the contents. Never in her life had she been so thirsty. Passing the skin back, she answered, “Aye, well, I saw sumpin’ with veritas I wanted to check out. So I went down to the stream and—”

  “Ye were speakin’ to someone. We could see.”

  She shot a look at Peg-leg. How mu
ch had they seen? A beat later, she realized they couldn’t have possibly recognized Montcroix from up here. “Aye,” she replied. “I did.”

  Jagger was watching her closely.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Locks said. “Ye’re tellin’ me ye saw sumpin’ with the sword and never breathed a word o’ it? That’s aside from sneakin’ off without tellin’ us where ye’d gone. How do ye think we felt when we came out here to an empty ledge?”

  Ebba’s cheeks warmed. When put like that, her actions sounded a bit . . . careless. “I didn’t say anythin’ because I wanted to see if it was worth mentionin’ first.”

  “What did you see?” Caspian asked.

  Yer father. “A glow on the damned side o’ the stream.”

  “Ye didn’t think that was worth sharin’?” Stubby asked.

  The silence on the ledge was thick. And it stuck in her gullet. “I didn’t want any o’ ye rushin’ off to the stream.”

  “Ye think we want ye doin’ that?” Locks shouted.

  “Nay,” Ebba yelled as her temper erupted. “But Mutinous threatened to chuck ye all over the other side to die and then kill yerself over and over in the boiling water, so I didn’t want ye anywhere near it!”

  That shut them up.

  She deflated at their looks of shock. “I should’ve told ye where I was goin’; that was shite o’ me.”

  Her fathers exchanged looks, and then Peg-leg nodded. “Aye, well, we supposed ye’d just run away because o’ the talk about love and safe sex.”

  They. Didn’t. Horror flooded her, and Ebba briefly contemplated pretending to faint to escape the mortifying moment. Or maybe she’d just kill them.

  Six fathers grinned back at her, and Ebba received their message loud and clear: now we be even. Caspian’s face was bright red. She refused to look at Jagger, feeling like everyone was waiting for her to do so.

  Jagger was merciful. “Ye spoke to someone then?”

  “Aye,” Ebba said, staring in the opposite direction. “He had a few tidbits to share.”

  “Can’t hardly trust a man in Davy Jones’, though,” Plank grunted, sitting down on a rock.

  Barrels shuffled closer, and Ebba looked at him. “Barrels, it ain’t yer fault. I didn’t know either. I felt fine to start, but the stream really was warm.”

  Stubby waved a hand in her face. “Oi. What’d the man say?”

  “Wait,” she blurted. “I want to know how the meetin’ with Cannon went.”

  Her fathers groaned.

  “He took me onto the ship,” Jagger said.

  Ebba’s eyes rounded, and she looked him over. “The ship be tainted. How do ye feel?”

  He shrugged. “Aye, all right, I s’pose. He didn’t take me below deck. Played me against Pockmark most o’ the time. Flattered me, asked me questions about bein’ immune, and then told me how we be alike.”

  “Ye ain’t like him,” she said fiercely.

  His lips quirked at her reply. “Glad to hear it.”

  Caspian spoke. “I stayed in the clearing while Jagger went with Cannon.”

  “That’s it?” she asked in confusion.

  He shared a glance with Jagger. “Not quite. The entire tainted crew was there, surrounding me in a circle. You can imagine the rest.”

  “Did they shout things at ye, Caspian?” she asked him.

  He straightened, the gold circlet in place on his head. “That they did. Comments about my father and my missing arm, mainly. My sisters. Then a long bout on my mother. My strength, or lack thereof. And then to top it all off, the likely fate of my people.”

  Ebba’s hands curled into fists.

  “When Pockmark and Cannon led me back, he was standin’ in the same exact spot as we’d left him,” Jagger said.

  “Ye’re okay?” she asked her friend, leaning in to squeeze his hand.

  He drew back out of her reach, saying harshly, “You need not handle me so delicately, Mistress Pirate.”

  Pulling back, Ebba did her best to swallow her hurt. Who did he think was there worrying about him back on Zol when he’d go off by himself for the entire day, or when a string of days went by without him uttering a word? If anyone was put in the middle of a heckling crowd who jeered at their most painful memories, she’d ask if they were okay.

  “She’s only askin’ after ye,” Jagger said sharply. “There ain’t no need to speak that way to her.”

  “Of course,” Caspian replied. “Because you’ve never uttered a harsh word to her in your life.”

  “While under the taint, aye. I wager half the pirates surroundin’ ye afore only said the things they did because o’ the taint.”

  “It must be convenient to blame the taint when you’re the immune. How would we even know what came from you and what didn’t?”

  Whoa, this was getting out of hand. Even if that same thought had long prevented her from relaxing around Jagger. “There ain’t no point in gettin’ angry over nothin’,” Ebba said, raising both hands. “Caspian didn’t mean what he said.”

  He stood in a burst, hands clenched into fists. “Yes, I did. Half the reason I can’t get over what has happened to me—my arm and losing my father and kingdom—is because I see it in your faces each day: the pity, the worry, the memory. Would that I could start afresh with people who didn’t know my past.”

  Ebba glanced at her fathers. They didn’t seem bothered but listened intently.

  Peg-leg spoke first. “I’d advise against givin’ the past that much power, lad. It can’t shape yer future days unless ye let it.”

  Caspian whirled on him, fury etched on his face. “And how do I do that? Tell me how!”

  Jagger sighed and got to his feet. He leaned over and picked Ebba bodily off the ground. All she could do was stare at him, cradled in his arms, as he walked over and deposited her on the seat next to Plank.

  The pirate returned to Caspian. “Ye use yer head. Sink me, ye’re s’posed to rule the bloody realm, and ye can’t even sort yerself out.” Jagger reached out and slapped the royal upside the head.

  Plank rested his hand on her knee when Ebba made to stand.

  “Leave them,” he breathed.

  Jagger circled Caspian. “Ye stand on yer own two feet. What do ye have? What can ye use? What do ye stand to lose and gain? Ye stop feelin’ like the damn world is against ye—because the world’ll be against ye until ye die. If ye go on that way, ye’ll never get anywhere.” He kicked the back of Caspian’s knee, shouting, “Ye’re in control of yerself. Find yer bloody power and stop whining. That’s how ye start over. These people have nothin’ to do with yer weaknesses. Ye’re seein’ what ye want to see. Ebba has nothin’ to do with those weaknesses either, so stop treatin’ her like shite because ye’re sulkin’.”

  Ebba groaned and lowered her face into her hands, peeking through her fingers.

  With a roar, Caspian lunged for Jagger.

  He tackled the pirate to the ground.

  “I ain’t watchin’ this,” Ebba muttered, standing and walking to the cave. They were acting like fools.

  “You touched her with the amare,” Caspian panted, straddling the pirate and throwing a punch with his right arm.

  Jagger blocked the hit.

  Stubby stepped forward. “He did what?”

  This wasn’t happening. Ebba veered back in a rush to smooth things over. “It was an accident. But that’s how I know what I feel for Jagger. The amare showed me.”

  Caspian leaped off Jagger and faced her. “But how do you know, Ebba? How do you know?”

  Because I touched the veritas and it confirmed it. The words stuck in her throat at the pain on her friend’s face.

  Peg-leg’s mouth was ajar. “Ye already love the swine?”

  Jagger had risen and wiped at his face. “Perhaps, Caspian, ye should tell Ebba about the time ye touched her with the amare. Ye’ve kept awful quiet about that.”

  That was ridiculous. Ebba almost laughed. Almost.

  She might’ve if Caspian hadn’t f
rozen at the remark.

  Her eyes oscillated between the pair. “That ain’t true.”

  Jagger stepped closer to Caspian. “At least when I did it, she knew she’d been touched.”

  The prince stood immediately before her and yet seemed able to look everywhere but at her face.

  She gasped. “It’s true? Did ye do that without my knowin’?” Ebba thought back but had absolutely no recollection of such a thing happening. “When?”

  Caspian turned his face away from her. “On the rowboat,” he muttered.

  There was so much wrong with that; Ebba didn’t know where to begin. “W-what did I do?”

  He turned farther away, and she reached out and took his wrist in an iron grip.

  “Ye don’t get to turn away from me,” she snapped. “Ye made me feel ter’ible for not feelin’ deeper regard for ye only two days ago. Not only that, when I told ye what the amare showed me, ye told me not to trust what it had said. Ye told me to wait until I knew for sure.”

  “You doubted it too,” he said, whirling back.

  “And ye could’ve cleared those doubts.” She withered. “Because ye already knew it worked, didn’t ye? What did I do when ye touched me with the amare?”

  She flung his arm away and waited, arms crossed.

  Caspian’s amber eyes were burning into her. Anger, regret, that lingering sadness, and guilt. She saw it all.

  His chest rose and fell quickly as he replied, “You turned to me and gave me the hugest and happiest smile I’d ever seen. You said you would always have my back.”

  Aye, she probably had. Because she loved him as a friend. He’d interpreted that to mean something else. Or wished it. “I’ve never felt more than friendship for ye,” she told him. “And I’ve been honest about that from the start.”

  “What about when you kissed me? That last kiss we shared, there was something there.”

  Locks spluttered. “She what?”

  Cods, this wasn’t happening. Ebba glanced at Jagger and saw his eyes were glittering. He’d seemed in control before.

  “She and Caspian have kissed,” Plank cut in, shrugging.