Eternal Gambit

by St Clare, Kelly

  “Ye flamin’ well knew?” Stubby yelled at him.

  Her fathers erupted into a furious argument at her back.

  While certain that Caspian was trying to blame her for the crappy way he currently felt, there were things she could’ve done better. Half she could put down to naivety, the rest to a misguided attempt to protect her friend. But on a ship, the only way everyone got along was if wrongs were righted. They’d gone through crazy things together and had come out the other side. To not give him an opportunity to make amends wouldn’t be right.

  As her fathers quietened, she said, “Ye’ve heard my opinion on how things lay between us recent-like, Caspian. And I ain’t goin’ to repeat what I said then. I can see ye’re hurtin’; I’m sorrier than ye know to see it and to have caused it, in part. But I won’t apologize for feelin’ anythin’ other than what I do. Ye can’t hold me to the vision o’ us ye’ve had in yer head.”

  Caspian opened his mouth.

  “I ain’t done,” she interrupted with a scowl. She was livid, absolutely furious that Caspian had concealed so much from her. He’d used the amare to force out her true feelings about him. Without her permission.

  “Ye’ve called yerself my friend for months,” she said, looking up at him. “And despite what’s happened o’ late, I hope we can find a common ground in future days. But I’ll tell ye now, Cosmo—”

  He flinched at her use of the name he’d once used.

  “—when ye next speak to me, ye better have a damn good apology for what ye did. Because no friend would do such a thing without my knowin’. When ye win, I’m happy for ye. When ye’re beaten, I want to cry or rage with you. I told ye that I might be in love with someone for the very first time. I told ye I didn’t know what to do, and instead o’ comin’ clean about usin’ the amare, ye told me not to trust what it was tellin’ me. Ye man’pulated me, hopin’ that I would change my mind, Caspian, when ye could’ve helped. And it was all for naught. When I held veritas today, it confirmed everythin’ I feel. I do love Jagger. In the end, I didn’t need yer help, but I sure would’ve liked to know ye could put yer feelings aside to cel’brate mine.”

  Jagger approached her, but Ebba stepped back, hands raised.

  “And ye can sod off, too,” she told him. “If ye saw that happenin’, ye should’ve said sumpin’. I ain’t part o’ a game, Jagger. Don’t treat me like I am again.” She took one step to the cave and paused in the shadows. “But thank ye for savin’ my life.”

  She’d just bloody-sodding-blasted-well blurted out about loving Jagger to the whole of hell.

  Ebba stormed into the cave, sick of the very sight of men—pirate, royals, and otherwise.

  Fifteen

  Ebba guzzled back some water and chewed on a dried strand of seaweed. Their food box of the day had arrived not long ago.

  “How did you sleep?” Barrels asked, the first to join her out on the ledge the next morning.

  “Sucky,” she said. “Too much fightin’ yest’rday. It don’t sit well.”

  Barrels picked up some seaweed, nose wrinkled. “Yes, I rather agree.” He slid his gaze to her. “I do apologize for nearly killing you.”

  Ebba snorted. “No mind. I’m right glad the others found me, though.” She was still in Jagger’s tunic and the crimson skirt. The combination was a lot more comfortable. Maybe even a seven out of ten.

  “This is what Mutinous does best, you know,” Barrels mused aloud. “Turn people on each other.”

  She cut a glance at him. Her fathers had turned on each other—and Jagger. Jagger and Caspian were fighting. She was fighting with both of them. Cannon had threatened her fathers’ lives, and then she’d hidden that from her parents, which led to an argument. And Ebba assumed he’d dug at cracks in Caspian and Jagger yesterday. “Aye, I s’pose he is at that. The pressure o’ the situ’tion doesn’t help any.”

  “No.” Barrels beckoned for the waterskin. “It’s different from last time, I admit. His siege is less violent.”

  That very thing had been bothering her. “In all o’ yer stories, there was always that el’ment o’ nastiness. I can see that in him now, but all yer stories had horrible gruesome acts in them. Grubby was hit, Locks dragged over the deck, Peg-leg’s leg hacked off, Plank’s wife was murdered. I haven’t seen any o’ that—aside from him killin’ Pockmark, who he knew would come back anyhow. It’s too di’ferent from the person ye all knew. Why is he goin’ out o’ his way to keep us safe?”

  “You believe there’s something more sinister in his lack of physicality?”

  She borrowed King Montcroix’s reasoning. “Why wouldn’t he seek revenge by taintin’ us then? Or by throwin’ us to the damned side o’ the river to be killed? Why isn’t he hurtin’ any o’ ye like he did afore? He hates the six o’ ye. He as much told me. So why is he helpin’ us?”

  Barrels hummed, staring at the fish in the stone box before covering his nose and mouth to lean away. “I confess I’ve just been so glad he hasn’t hurt us yet that I haven’t thought of the oddness of his behavior. But you’re right, my dear.”

  “The man at the stream said that Cannon told damned that if they remain on that side, he’ll free them all from the Locker.” They knew Cannon wished to be free of Davy Jones’, but she’d never actually thought he could get out. Ebba had kind of assumed the pillars would come for the root parts, and Cannon would slip the cylinders out of the barrier the same way the food came in and out.

  Mutinous Cannon had some way to leave hell. And that plan had something to do with why he’d taken such pains to keep her crew—and the damned—free of taint. It had to.

  She just had no idea what.

  “Barrels,” she said, jerking upright. “Cannon be tainted. If he can get out, so can all o’ ye.”

  “It would appear so.” Her father circled his shoulders with a moan.

  Ebba got to her feet and paced. “But we’re gettin’ there,” she said eagerly. “The man across the river said the wind howls every six hours.”

  “Yes, four times the last two days.”

  She knew Barrels would count. “And he said the damned reg’nerate with the wind.”

  Barrels frowned. “Is the wind magic?”

  She’d seen a goat-man speak and men turn into seals. The magical status of the wind in hell was the least of her worries, especially when the queen wind sprite had been her pet. “But those who are killed reg’nerate by the entrance to the Locker, which ain’t ideal.”

  “This man was a wealth of information, it seems.”

  He sounded slightly suspicious. Not of her but of the man. “Aye, we best take his words with a grain o’ salt. But I said I’d head back and meet him when I’m next able.”

  “You think he knows more?”

  Ebba shrugged a shoulder. “I said if he didn’t have sumpin’ good, I wouldn’t be comin’ back a third time.”

  “You do us proud when you stick up for yourself,” Barrels suddenly said, patting her hand. “Despite our shock over the amare and whatnot, we were all behind your speech to young Caspian.”

  The term ‘whatnot’ likely encompassed all references to kissing, which Ebba was glad for. “Thank ye,” she said. “I was goin’ to tell ye yest’rday, but—”

  Barrels smiled faintly. “We sabotaged you. Plank did warn us how it would go. So, you’re in love.” He frowned. “That must have been a strange transition.”

  Ebba blew out a breath. “It was. The a’traction part was fine. But the love part overwhelmed me. Could’ve done without that for a bit.”

  “And what does Jagger say on the matter o’ love?”

  Ebba scowled. “Not enough, that’s what. A whole heap of pirate nothin’. I’ve tried to reel him in three times, and he just won’t take the bait.” And last night she’d gone and shouted out her love for him for all of Davy Jones’ to hear.

  “Perhaps he’s nervous; you’re quite a creature to behold. As your father, I’m biased, but you are entirely your own person, Ebba. Y
ou exude a joy that is contagious. Even with your worst face on, you manage to capture hearts. That might be intimidating to a person who has not known happiness in a long time.”

  “Is that why Jagger won’t whatnot with me?” she wondered aloud.

  Barrels winced. “As to that, I’d rather remain . . . unaware. Unless you need advice.”

  “Don’t hurt yerself, Barrels,” she said, snorting. “I’ll go to whoever peeved me off most recent if I need help. That’s most likely to be Stubby or Peg-leg.”

  She chuckled with her father.

  Barrels stared past her. “Look, there they go to the entrance again. Another group of tainted.”

  “They go every day,” Ebba said. “The man told me.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Did he know why?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll head down to the stream once the tainted pirates get back to the ship. I don’t want to risk a repeat o’ yest’rday.”

  Caspian walked out of the cave, stumbling slightly when he saw her. Her father glanced between them and stood with a groan. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  “I’m too tired to fight today,” Ebba announced when Barrels disappeared into the cave.

  Caspian sat in the same spot on the ledge where her father had been. “So am I. I was tossing all night, thinking on what you said.”

  She didn’t answer. Though, in truth, she’d pondered his words too.

  “I acted like a prize idiot,” he said with a sigh. “Growing up, I would look at lovers consumed by jealous rage and laugh, wondering how someone could ever forget themselves enough to lose their dignity in such a way. Jealousy always seemed to stem from a person’s insecurity. Whether a person was made to feel insecure by their partner or whether that person was insecure within themselves.”

  Caspian looked at her. “I’ve been acting like a jealous fool. And I acted that way and did the things I did because I am insecure.”

  His honesty made her want to wince. If only because he’d laid himself completely bare.

  “The way I feel about myself has led me to do cruel things to someone I profess to care deeply for.” He closed his eyes. “I have acted in a way I have always loathed. I’ve acted like my father. And that, more than anything, is a call for me to address my weaknesses, as Jagger put my situation last night.”

  Ebba didn’t dare interrupt.

  He continued after a breath. “There is one more thing I must apologize for. I’m sorry for using your kind-heartedness against you. Not only did I use the amare on you without your permission,” he said, red creeping up his jaw, “I also used the concern you felt over my welfare to keep you close even when you told me about loving Jagger.” Caspian glanced down to where he picked at a loose thread on his slops. “Maybe not in so many words, but playing to your empathy like that was pitiable. I felt, and still feel, like a coward for doing it. I want you to know that no matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us, you are not responsible for my future. I want you to know that I have loved you with all my heart for months but that I hope, in time, there will be easiness between us again.”

  The words were hard to hear. And she’d think more on them in private. “As far as an apology goes, it’s one of the better ones I’ve heard,” she said.

  Caspian smiled, eyes uncertain.

  “Ye’re forgiven,” Ebba announced. “And I want ye to know that I heard yer words about treatin’ ye with pity, like ye’re dainty after losin’ so much.”

  He ran a hand through his russet curls. “Sorry, I didn’t really mean that. Those were old wounds coming up. You’ve always treated me the same as everyone else. I was just lashing out.”

  “Well, I be glad o’ that. But I want to share sumpin’ with ye. No one else knows just yet. I was goin’ to keep it to myself, but it be yer decision to make, really.”

  “Should I be nervous about this?” he asked, the smile sliding off his face.

  Ebba pursed her lips. “There ain’t no good way to say this, so I’ll just out with it. Yer father be in hell. Just across the stream.”

  Caspian’s lips moved wordlessly.

  “He’s the man I talked to yesterday. I think he was the glow I saw. Maybe the sword r’cognized him or sumpin’? The glow was either him or the next part, anyway, and I can’t see that Cannon would leave the part over with the damned if so. . . .” Ebba trailed off, realizing she was rambling.

  Caspian stood, walking several steps toward the cave before turning back. “My. . . .” He blanched. “He’ll spend eternity here? He really was a bad person?”

  “Few people are wholly bad, Caspian. When I looked at the damned while holdin’ the sword, most o’ the people there had some level o’ glow to them. I’d say yer father was just a little more bad than he was good.” And he’s a bastard.

  Ebba stood. “Anyway, I’ll be goin’ to see him again. He was king for a long time and wants a part in savin’ ye.”

  Caspian looked up at that. “Saving me?”

  “All o’ his questions were about yer welfare,” she admitted. “He hardly wanted to speak o’ anythin’ else.”

  “He was never a good parent,” Caspian said, staring at his hands. “My mother was the sole nurturing presence. In her company, my father wasn’t so cold, but when she died, it was like what little warmth he’d possessed died with her.”

  “How did yer mother pass?” Ebba asked.

  He glanced at her. “Childbirth. Though I was seven years old at the time, something about her death never seemed right. To my memory, she died a long time after Sierra arrived. Still, I was just a child then, and what do I know of such things?” Caspian tilted his head up to the cavern ceiling high overhead. “With his children, looking back, I suppose my father was as affectionate as he could be, but it never felt like love. Maybe he thought he was showing more than he actually did or that we’d understand and read between the lines. My sisters never had an issue with him. But I began to resent his cold treatment. And I began to look outward to what he was doing. I looked at the poor in the streets and at the death tolls of the mineworkers. I looked at the bursting prisons and the skeletons hanging in the cages. Each week, I walked amongst the rich of Exosia, and I did not feel one with them. Everywhere I looked, I saw lies and coldness, and I hated my father more.”

  “So ye ran,” Ebba whispered, glancing at the cave. Barrels must’ve told the others to wait because otherwise, they’d have a bloody audience again.

  “I ran, and you know the rest,” he said. “I discovered I could not shirk my duty. I returned. And before the end I saw my father’s love for me. If I had never seen it, I would not be so tortured, I think.”

  Ebba watched him. “Why does that torture ye?”

  “Because I was content to dislike him. And then I had occasion to doubt my former opinion, yet there was not time to figure it out one way or another.”

  “Ye have the chance now.”

  Caspian answered drily, “I have the answer already. My father is in hell.”

  Was that answer enough? “Ye can love and dislike someone at the same time,” Ebba said, thinking of the moment she found out her fathers had lied. “It’s confusin’, but ye can love yer father as family while dislikin’ parts of him, too. The parts that don’t sit right with ye. I guess ye can also even like parts o’ him at the same time as well.”

  With a weary sigh, Caspian rubbed his temples. “I have no doubt you’re right, Ebba. But I’m afraid I might need time to digest this.”

  Ebba nodded. “Ye don’t need to come today. Ye don’t need to go tomorrow even. It’s up to ye.”

  Caspian dropped his hands, eyes dark and troubled. Her stomach twisted. No matter what he said, she would feel responsible for any of his downfalls. That was just who she was.

  “Thank you, Ebba. I mean it,” he said softly.

  “Don’t mention it,” she replied, secretly hoping she’d done the right thing.

  Sixteen

  Ebba waited down at the north
ern end of the stream, huddled against the cliff face. “Hurry up, ye royal-lubber bastard.”

  She wasn’t kept waiting long. True to his word, King Montcroix stepped out of the moaning masses and crouched on the opposite bank.

  “You came back,” he said.

  “Clear-like. Any news?”

  The king clenched his jaw. Whether at her tone or the situation, she couldn’t tell.

  “Another group returned today. I listened to them as they walked by the stream. There were multiple mentions of the number four,” he told her.

  Four. The first time, they’d held up two fingers. What did the numbers mean? “Any guesses?”

  Montcroix shook his head. “My son. He doesn’t know I’m here, correct?”

  “Nay, I told him all. He be decidin’ if ye’re worth seein’.” She regretted her words. Montcroix lowered his head, caving in on himself as though stabbed. “I just told him a couple o’ hours ago, though. He’s got a lot o’ doubt when it comes to ye.”

  “I know,” Montcroix whispered.

  Dammit, she wasn’t going to feel sorry for him. He was here for a reason. Though, if she hadn’t met the thunderbird, she’d be more inclined to think the sorting process a fair one.

  “What else ye got?” Ebba hissed across the bubbling water.

  “Cannon needs your crew untainted to get out of here.”

  “Aye, we figured as much. Anythin’ else? Or have I wasted my time comin’ here?”

  The king’s eyes widened.

  For a second, Ebba thought it was at her tough-but-fair attitude. Then Jagger’s voice slid over her shoulders, eliciting a shiver.

  “Ye can’t expect too much from the likes o’ him, can ye, Viva?”

  Montcroix’s brows slammed together. “You brought someone else?”

  Shite.

  Ebba turned, greeting Jagger quietly. “Ahoy.”

  Considering the king had killed both of Jagger’s parents, she expected the anger-fueled glare. The ferocity of it still made her flinch. So busy thinking of Caspian, she hadn’t stopped to consider the person she accidentally loved.