by Jordan Rivet
“What if someone sneaks on board?”
“I shall verify their identity after every stop. I am sworn to protect the princess and her companions.”
“But what if—”
“Lady Wendel, how are you faring?” Mica cut in, hoping to spare the poor man any further interrogation.
“Hello, Princess.” Lady Wendel curtsied stiffly. “I am as well as can be expected.”
“Princess Jessamyn, it is an honor to serve you.” The soldier snapped to attention and saluted. “I am Captain Able Karson.”
“At ease, Captain Karson.” Mica acknowledged the salute, which made her feel a little homesick. “Is everything ready for our departure?”
“Yes, Princess. As I was telling Lady Wendel, in addition to your escort on the Arrow, a rotation of Shields will be posted on the Silk Goddess to defend you at all times, and your Muscle oarsmen are trained combatants.”
“I pray there will be no need to fight,” Mica said.
“If there is, we will not falter.”
Mica met the captain’s eyes, and they shared a brief moment of understanding. Emperor Styl had personally informed Captain Karson that his men might be called upon to put down a rebellion in the Twins if his daughter’s conciliation efforts failed. They couldn’t let on that they were fully aware of the threats they faced in the West, but both knew this was no simple escort assignment.
“We are in your hands, Captain,” Mica said.
Karson saluted again. “Then you have no reason to fear, my princess.”
Mica smiled. She had forgotten what it was like to be around soldiers, with their crisp movements and plainspoken ways.
“I have assigned an Elite Blur fighter to serve at your side with your personal guard,” Karson said. “He will be here in a moment. I sent him to run up the waterfront to check for ambushes.”
“Ambushes?” Wendel said sharply.
“We can never be too cautious, my lady.”
“I am sure we will be well taken care of,” Mica said. “These are my personal Shields, Banner and Rider, and this is my cultural advisor, Myn Irondier. Banner should be your first point of contact for all security matters.”
“Yes, Princess.” Captain Karson nodded at Banner, who stood beside the real Jessamyn, attempting to look in every direction at once. Rider appeared more interested in the ship full of soldiers waiting beside their own. The men had gathered on deck to get a look at the princess they’d be escorting around the empire over the next few weeks. Mica scanned their faces, memorizing as many details as she could: square jaws, cropped hair, young and confident eyes.
How many of those soldiers had been posted to Stonefoss, where her family lived? Talents from all over the empire went to the base on Amber Island to defend their homeland from the dread armies of Obsidian. As the only person in her family with the impersonation Talent, Mica had ended up on a different path. She still wanted to serve the empire, but that was turning out to be more complicated than she had expected.
Jessamyn was tapping her foot again, and Mica knew she should return to her noble guests, but she lingered beside the gangway, learning the faces of the soldiers peering down at her. She wished she could ensure their safety somehow.
“Are you a Talent as well, Captain Karson?”
“Yes, Princess. I am a Shield, trained to position myself to protect my men in battle.”
“And us, I hope,” muttered Lady Wendel.
“Of course, my lady. My men will—” Karson looked up as a gust of wind ruffled his uniform. “Ah, here is your Blur Elite now.”
The Blur fighter halted at his side, arm already raised in salute.
“All is well along the coast, Captain.”
It was Mica’s brother Emir.
Chapter Seven
Mica barely stopped herself from throwing her arms around her brother’s neck. She made a strangled sound as Captain Karson introduced Emir Grayson, a member of an Elite Blur division based out of Stonefoss Infantry Base. The second-oldest Grayson looked tall and handsome in his uniform, which had a patch embroidered with a winged pair of boots to indicate his status. He was lean and strong, with hazel eyes like Mica’s, and his close-cropped hair was dark like their father’s. Mica hadn’t heard that Emir had been promoted to the Elite division. And now he had been assigned to her!
“It is an honor to serve,” Emir said.
“Thank you.” Mica swallowed a lump in her throat as she acknowledged his salute. She was so proud of him. “I hope you won’t be in any danger in my service, Soldier Grayson.”
“I am ready to face any perils, Your Highness.”
Mica smiled at his formal tone. “Then I’ll be glad to have you at my side.”
Jessamyn shifted her position in a rather emphatic way, and Mica stopped short of asking Emir about their family. It took a concerted effort to keep her hair from changing to its real color and her eyes from lightening to match Emir’s—even with Jessamyn’s glare blasting her like a sandstorm.
“We’d better be on our way, Captain Karson,” Mica said briskly, turning back to Emir’s commanding officer so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the princess. “There’s Lord Riven now.”
The nobleman had just galloped up on a black stallion, forcing the people still gathered along the waterfront to fling themselves out of his way. He dismounted and bowed before her.
“Princess Jessamyn, forgive me for my tardiness.” Riven had black hair, a thin nose, and a proud, chiseled face. He wore a black coat trimmed with silver details that made him look like an ancient night god.
“It’s quite all right.” Mica offered him a delicate hand. “I am glad you could join our little tour of the empire.”
“It will be more beautiful than ever for your presence.” As usual, little sincerity touched Lord Riven’s voice, and less showed in his eyes. “If I may say so, you become more gorgeous by the day.”
“Stop, my lord. You are making me blush.” Mica gave a high, false laugh, wishing she could morph into an old hag just to escape these sycophantic compliments. Riven was pure artifice. Mica had never seen even a hint of true emotion or personality from him. It felt ridiculous to exchange such empty words in front of the soldiers. “Shall we get underway?”
“As you wish, my princess.” Lord Riven bowed, giving his coat an extra flourish, and strutted off to greet the other ladies.
Riven had been a last-minute addition to their party. Jessamyn had originally invited Lord Nobu, who came from the Twins, but he had been called home when secession agitators looted his family’s manor house. Jessamyn worried that Nobu’s departure meant tensions were escalating too fast in Dwindlemire and Cray, but she’d been quick to invite another powerful—and unmarried—lord in his place.
Mica wondered if Emir recognized Lord Riven from her Assignment Ceremony back in Redbridge. Her brother had been intrigued when she was assigned to Jewel Harbor. Now, he kept stealing glances at the teeming city behind her, as if he wished he could explore before they set off. In other circumstances, Mica could have shown him around the capital city herself.
There was a sharp cough in her ear. “Princess?”
Mica started then swept away from her brother before Jessamyn could step on her toe again. She was eager to set sail. The sooner they finished with all the pomp and circumstance, the sooner she could talk to Emir without so many people looking on.
Mica gathered her entourage of guards, lords, ladies, and luggage carriers and boarded the Silk Goddess. The ship consisted of a lower main deck and a raised foredeck and stern deck. The masts, all hung about with sails and lines, took up most of the center of the ship. Suspended above the deck were two longboats, which could carry them to and from the ship in ports too narrow to admit the Silk Goddess’s broad hull.
A double line of sailors and oarsmen greeted them on the main deck, lined up as if waiting for a blessing. They wore matching white tunics that looked as if they had been specially made for the occasion, though th
eir faces weren’t quite as fresh and eager as the soldiers’.
The captain, a wiry, windblown type, had been talking with Lord Dolan by the forecastle.
“Dolan pays him for information,” Jessamyn whispered in Mica’s ear as the captain and nobleman rushed over to receive her. “Be wary of your words in his presence.”
“Understood.”
“Welcome aboard the Silk Goddess, Your Highness. Ladies.” The wiry man bowed deeply to Mica and her companions. “I am Captain Pol. You do my ship great honor with your presence.”
“Thank you, Captain. I am pleased to join you for this voyage. And thank you for your hospitality, Lord Dolan.” She gave the nobleman her hand for the shortest moment possible.
“Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to have you aboard my ship,” Lord Dolan said.
Jessamyn gave a faint snort.
Mica pulled loose from his clammy grasp and nodded at the sailors.
“I’m sure your men have work to do, Captain Pol. You needn’t stand on ceremony on my account.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” Captain Pol bowed again then snapped his spindly fingers. The sailors rushed back to their work, preparing to cast off.
Lord Dolan greeted Lord Riven—his rival for the princess’s affection—with a stiff mask of politeness, and the two began discussing their various impressive holdings. Mica took the opportunity to escape to the railing of the ship, where she would bid Jewel Harbor a final farewell.
The other lords and ladies gathered beside her, their bodyguards posted unobtrusively behind them. Mica almost called Emir up so he could get a better look at the city from the water. He was sure to be as impressed as she had been by this chaotic place.
The city shone like crystal in the morning light, the rooftops rising in layer upon layer to the shining dome of the Silver Palace. A multitude of colorfully painted walls, glimmering windows, and mismatched flags filled the little island to bursting. People watched their departure from a hundred windows and balconies. Handkerchiefs flew wild on the breeze, sending them on their way with a revolution of color. A thousand faces looked up at them from the docks, the features impossible to catalogue.
For a moment, Mica thought she saw a certain gangly young redhead with a meager beard, but he was gone when she looked again. She touched the note in her belt.
Trumpets blared, and cries of farewell rose from the crowds as the Silk Goddess and the Arrow pulled away from their moorings. The nobles who hadn’t been invited on the voyage waved them off with sour expressions, annoyed at having to arrange their own transportation to the wedding. They flounced off to their fine carriages almost immediately. But the common people remained to watch the two great ships set sail.
On impulse, Mica let her hair loose from her braid. Her white gown and flowing red tresses would stand out against the broad blue sky, leaving a strong impression in the memories of her people. If Mica had her way, she would be invisible again by the time she returned.
As the Silk Goddess pulled into the center of the harbor, the babble of the crowds gradually subsided. Soon the creaking of the wooden ship and the gentle slap of water against the hull overtook the city noises. Jewel Harbor slipped away, its teetering towers blending together except for that bright-silver dome. The smells of refuse and sweat faded too, replaced by pitch, timber, and salt. They might be sailing toward dangers unknown, but Mica could already breathe a little easier.
Before long, all they could see to the right was the distant coast of Amber Island, its steep cliffs and quiet seaside towns rolling along beside them. To the left was the hulking form of their warship escort and the endless green ocean.
The nobles quickly tired of the views and dispersed to explore the ship. Jessamyn went below, no doubt to make sure all the supplies she had ordered were present.
As soon as no one was watching her too closely, Mica withdrew Peet’s note from her belt.
Princess Jessamyn,
I have just learned from a trusted source that one of the nobles on your ship is an imposter. I do not know which lord or lady it is, but the Mimic is an associate of Lord Ober. Please take care.
Your loyal servant.
Mica quickly ripped the parchment into tiny pieces and let them fly loose on the breeze. The tiny white shreds disappeared in the waves like stars in a predawn sky. Heart racing, she gripped the wooden railing until her palms ached.
So there was an imposter in their midst. She had little doubt what their goal must be. Ober had tried to assassinate the princess before. He would surely try again.
So much for breathing easier.
“Are you well, Princess Jessamyn?”
Mica looked up into the face of her brother, who had come up beside her. She wanted to tell Emir about this new threat, but Elana, Ingrid, and Riven were standing only a few paces away.
Someone’s always watching.
She scanned the decks. Caleb and Fritz were chatting amiably with Wendel over by the mast, and Dolan was giving instructions to the ship’s steward in the stern. One of those seven nobles was an imposter. One of those nobles wanted the real princess dead. Which meant Mica had a target on her back for as long as she wore this face.
Emir cleared his throat. “Princess Jessamyn?”
“I am quite well, thank you.” Mica forced herself to adopt her most breezy tone. “That’s enough watching the coastline for me. This is a holiday excursion. Let us bring out the food and wine!”
Chapter Eight
The nobles would not sacrifice their usual comforts while at sea. They each had private cabins aboard the Silk Goddess, and the hold overflowed with fine food, wine, and the silverware and crystal with which to enjoy them. A lounge area with crimson cushions and warm blankets had been set up on the foredeck, where they could enjoy the sea views in comfort. Jessamyn wanted the voyage to feel fanciful and special. Austerity would be unacceptable for her guests.
Mica played the charming hostess as they left the capital farther behind. She picnicked on deck with the seven nobles, all of whom seemed in good spirits—with good reason. The princess had specially chosen them to be her companions on her tour of the empire, which would raise their status substantially in the eyes of their peers.
“Let’s have a toast to our effervescent princess!” Lord Dolan called, raising a glass to them all. “And to the prettiest ship on the Windfast seas!”
“To the Silk Goddess!” Fritz cried. “May she carry us safely west!”
“The Silk Goddess and Princess Jessamyn!”
As the nobles celebrated their fortune, Mica contemplated how to work out which one was the imposter. Lord Ober’s Mimic had selected one of these men or women to replace—and perhaps murder. Mica doubted she would spot flaws in the imposter’s appearance. She was certain Ober would only hire a highly skilled Mimic. She would have to scrutinize their actions, their words, their moods. She would seek out discrepancies in the little snippets of information that only the true individuals could know. And she would have to do it fast. This journey would be perilous enough without an assassin in their midst.
At least no one paid any attention to Myn Irondier the cultural advisor, apart from a few glances at the disfigurement visible above her veil. Jessamyn was free to walk the ship in safety, Banner close by her side, while Mica entertained her noble traveling companions.
The hours glided by as swiftly as the water beneath their hull. When it grew dark, the steward lit candle lanterns around the lounge, and the lords and ladies dined beneath the stars. Attendants rushed back and forth, bringing hot chowder, bread, olives, mature cheeses, fresh oysters, and bottle after bottle of wine. The mood became festive with little prompting. The lords and ladies told stories and enthusiastically discussed the destinations they’d visit on their voyage. The careful sophistication they cultivated at the imperial court faded bit by bit.
Mica kept a close watch for the enemy in their midst, trying not to relax despite the crisp breeze in her hair, the warm food in he
r belly, and the sea rolling gently beneath her.
This isn’t a holiday for you, she reminded herself. You are on an assignment.
Amber Island slipped past, almost invisible beyond the ring of light. They would be sailing north up the Amber Coast for two days before veering to the west and crossing the Heart Sea to Pegasus Island, where Lady Wendel’s family lived.
“I hope the weather will cooperate,” Lady Wendel said as she lounged at Mica’s side, slurping oysters from their shells. “I can take you all riding in the countryside.”
“I’d love that,” Mica said. “I’ve heard the Pegasus countryside is stunning.”
“Don’t you remember your last visit?” Lady Wendel sounded hurt. “My cousin Aren chased us through a pasture, pretending to be a lion, and you fell into a pile of sheep dung.”
Mica suppressed a chuckle at the image of pretty little Princess Jessamyn covered in dung. She had neglected to share that memory.
“Forgive me. I forgot all about that delightful incident.”
“My cousin will be happy to see you again,” Wendel said. “Aren hasn’t visited court in a long time. He doesn’t like feeling confined in the big city.”
“I am looking forward to the wide-open spaces ever so much.” Mica raised her drink to Lady Wendel. “To Pegasus!”
The noblewoman smiled. “I just can’t wait to be home.”
Their glasses clinked, and Wendel drank deeply. Mica only pretended to sip her own wine, studying Wendel over the crystal rim.
She looks like herself so far. Wendel’s mannerisms were the same as always, and even her newly crooked nose was the right shape. Mica would have to verify the details about her cousin with Jessamyn later.
This is harder than I thought.
She called for more wine for all the nobles, hoping some feature would slip or some stray phrase would betray the imposter. But Elana still simpered. Ingrid still made biting remarks. Riven still talked about his accomplishments. Mica was most worried about Caleb and Fritz, who were her favorites among the seven. They acted as easygoing as ever, and she dearly hoped that meant Ober’s Mimic hadn’t gotten to them.
