by Jordan Rivet
Jessamyn’s lively mannerisms helped Mica obscure her genuine feelings. Her laughter took on a higher pitch, and her brown eyes flashed with manic energy as she focused on entertaining her noble guests—and identifying the imposter among them.
Mica’s first assumption had been that the Mimic was here to assassinate the princess, but three out of the four lords were candidates for Jessamyn’s hand in marriage. It was possible the imposter had something besides murder on the mind. Of course, if an assassination were carried out, Mica, not Jessamyn, would be the victim.
Mica avoided being alone with anyone as they left the waters off the Amber Coast and sailed across the Heart Sea. She and the nobles lounged in the sun, eating rare fruits and honey and playing little games to pass the time. The lords practiced fighting with wooden swords and knives, occasionally inviting soldiers over from the Arrow to join them in their exercises.
Lord Riven proved himself surprisingly adept with a blade, but he was no match for Caleb. He moved with an erratic sort of grace, occasionally speeding up or striking with extra force. Mica even heard Lord Riven compliment him once, a rarity for the arrogant lord.
Riven’s grudging approval was drowned out by the fawning attention Elana and Wendel paid to Caleb.
“He hardly breaks a sweat,” Wendel said one morning as they watched him spar with his man, Stievson, while Fritz, Riven, and a handful of sailors looked on.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing him sweat a little,” Elana said.
“And look at that fine pair of shoulders.” Wendel sighed. “If only he were a little taller.”
“Or you were a little shorter.”
Wendel ignored Elana’s dig, too busy admiring Caleb’s shoulders. His build was stocky but well proportioned. Mica figured he was exactly the right height.
The practice blades clacked together, and Caleb retreated, adjusting his steps to the rolling of the ship. He paused for one beat. Two. Then he advanced for another attack. As his sword swung up to meet Stievson’s, it suddenly moved so quickly the wooden blades shattered on impact.
Stievson laughed, and the two men went to grab new practice swords. Stievson knew about his liege’s condition. Mica studied the other lords to see if they were surprised, figuring Lord Ober’s Mimic likely knew about it too. Riven frowned, as if trying to work out exactly how that strike had gathered so much force. Fritz was busy sharpening the jeweled dagger he often carried, and he didn’t seem to have noticed the oddity. Lord Dolan was nowhere in sight.
“Caleb’s style is unique, isn’t it?” Wendel said. “My uncle and cousin will want to see him spar when we reach Pegasus.”
“I hope we get there soon,” Elana said. “Being at sea is so boring.”
“Shall we have some music, ladies?” Mica said quickly. “Perhaps those fine lords will join us for a dance when they’ve cleaned up.”
They filled their days with relaxation and gossip and their nights with dancing and dining. Mica looked for odd behaviors in her traveling companions, but she couldn’t tell if any inconsistencies were because she was used to seeing them at court. Spending time in such intimate quarters changed the dynamic.
Jessamyn reported her observations to Mica too, seeming to relish her role as a spy in the shadows.
“Ingrid and Elana are getting along,” she said one evening as they dressed for dinner in their shared cabin. “I don’t like it.”
“I heard them bickering over a card game an hour ago,” Mica said.
“Bickering, yes, but they aren’t as cold to each other as they used to be.”
“Do you think one of them is the imposter?”
“Perhaps.” Jessamyn fiddled with the stack of bracelets on her wrist. “Or maybe they are finally getting over their differences.”
“What happened between them, anyway?”
“Elana bought a villa in Winnow Bay that Ingrid has had her eye on for years. It finally became available, and Elana snatched it up while Ingrid was in Talon.”
Mica paused in the act of buttoning up one of Jessamyn’s warmer dresses. It was getting colder now that they were sailing north. “They’re enemies because of a house they don’t even live in most of the year?”
“That villa has some of the best views in the Bay,” Jessamyn said, “and it happens to be right next to one owned by Lord Riven and his family.”
“Oh, right. Ingrid has been eyeing him for a while, hasn’t she?”
“Like a hawk,” Jessamyn said.
“Elana doesn’t seem interested in him, though.” Mica resumed her work on the buttons. There had to be at least a thousand of them on this dress. “And he has been eyeing you. I don’t get why they’d be fighting for Lord Riven’s affections.”
“Who said anything about his affections? Elana doesn’t want the link between Talon and northern Amber Island to strengthen.” Jessamyn gestured to the large map of the Windfast Empire that hung on the cabin wall. “She thinks they’ll impose tariffs on the trade route between their lands if they were to marry.”
“Isn’t Ingrid still in love with Riven, though?”
“What in the Windfast does love have to do with this?”
Mica blinked. “It—never mind. So Elana didn’t want Ingrid and Riven becoming friendlier on their visits to Winnow Bay, so she snatched up the villa. And now Ingrid hates her for it?”
“Yes. And then Ingrid spread some rather nasty rumors about Elana’s behavior in that villa, which is why Elana hates Ingrid. Before, it was just business.”
Mica rubbed her nose, making it hawkish like Ingrid’s then sharp like Elana’s. “But now they’re getting along?”
“I heard them having a perfectly amiable conversation this morning when no one else was around,” Jessamyn said. “They were talking about seagulls. Imagine! I wonder if some of their rivalry has been an act of late.”
“Or one of them is an imposter who can’t quite pull off the right level of animosity.”
“Or that.”
“Well, I’ll keep an eye on them,” Mica said.
“Good. And see that you pay a bit more attention to Lord Riven at dinner tonight. I’ll see how Ingrid reacts. If she’s the real Ingrid, she won’t like it.”
“I thought you said this wasn’t about love.”
“The dispute between Elana and Ingrid isn’t about love. But Ingrid’s affections for Riven are almost certainly genuine, poor girl.”
“Why—”
“Shouldn’t you be finished dressing by now?” Jessamyn snapped. “We can’t sit around gossiping like ninnies all night.”
“Yes, Princess.”
Mica pulled back her dark-red hair and hurried to the cabin door, bracing herself for another evening of duplicitous socializing. She paused at the door.
“Princess?”
Jessamyn gave a longsuffering sigh. “What is it now, Micathea?”
“Do you want to marry for love?”
For a moment, there was no sound but the creaking of the ship.
When Jessamyn answered at last, her voice was soft. “My life has never been about what I want.”
“Do you love any—”
“Quickly now,” Jessamyn said before she could finish the question. “Our guests are waiting.”
Mica obeyed, unable to suppress a burst of sympathy for Jessamyn. Their relationship was strained at times, but Mica wanted the princess to have a chance at happiness. They both knew what it was like to put aside their personal feelings in the name of duty.
But as they sailed toward dangers unknown, getting no closer to identifying their imposter, they faced bigger problems.
* * *
“Ships are being raided in the Northern Channel, Your Highness.” Captain Karson had come aboard the Silk Goddess to deliver his regular report. Every day, he sent Blur scouts out from the Arrow to speed across the water in light skips, rowing as fast as they ran, and survey the route ahead. Karson relayed what they said to Mica, standing in the shade of a longboat hanging above the deck o
f the Goddess. Only Myn Irondier was permitted to listen in on these private conferences.
“Most of the activity is centered between Cray and Silverfell, but at least one ship encountered trouble near Pegasus.”
Mica checked to make sure the others weren’t listening.
“Who is responsible?”
“We don’t know yet,” Captain Karson said. “I suggest we alter our route through the Heart Sea and approach Silverfell from the south. We could sail upriver to reach the city and avoid entering the Northern Channel at all.”
“That would require skipping our stop in Pegasus, would it not?”
Across the deck, Wendel looked up, as if she could sense they were discussing her home even though she was nowhere near them.
“That’s correct,” Captain Karson said. “I believe it’s the safest option.”
Mica weighed this news carefully. She trusted Captain Karson’s judgment. The Shield soldier had so far conducted himself with impressive professionalism. He knew the risks they faced, and he wouldn’t want to take the emperor’s daughter into danger if the turbulence in the West continued to escalate.
And if someone’s attacking ships now, it could mean—
Jessamyn gave a demure cough, reminding Mica that it wasn’t actually her decision.
“My princess,” Jessamyn said. “It would offend local Pegasus custom to go back on our word after accepting an invitation.”
Mica nodded in understanding. “Myn makes a good point. We cannot alter our course, Captain. Can I trust you to be vigilant as we traverse the Northern Channel?”
“Always, my princess.”
“Good.” She glanced at Jessamyn, whose veil was twitching as if she was trying to communicate something else. “I want to know who these raiders are, Captain. Send a team of your best men to scout the Channel while we fulfill our diplomatic obligations in Pegasus. See if you can get your hands on a hostage.”
“It will be done, Princess.” Karson saluted and marched off to board the small boat that would return him to his own ship.
“Very good, Micathea,” Jessamyn murmured when he was out of earshot. “You may learn to read my mind yet.”
“Why is it so important to go to Pegasus?”
“I refuse to be scared away by a few troublemakers,” Jessamyn said. “The Northern Channel is part of my empire. We won’t solve any problems by taking detours.”
“Let’s hope Captain Karson can get us a hostage, then,” Mica said.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Mica wished she could read Jessamyn’s mind. It would certainly make her job easier. On the other hand, the more indispensable she became to the princess, the harder it would be to break away when the time came.
Mica had not forgotten her other mission. She used her few spare moments—and the detailed map of the empire in Captain Pol’s cabin—to learn more about her candidates for the barren fortress. Timbral Castle and the lighthouse in the Pebble Islands were both in remote settings, and they could easily host Ober’s experiments without drawing too much attention. Her search couldn’t truly begin until she caught the imposter on the Goddess, though. Jessamyn’s identity had to remain hidden while a murderer traveled in their midst.
Mica had another, more enjoyable mission to occupy her as they crossed the endless swells of the Heart Sea: getting her brother to talk about their family. The real Jessamyn would never make small talk with a random Blur soldier in the Silver Palace, but it was easier to arrange casual interactions on the Silk Goddess.
“Excuse me, Soldier Grayson, would you be so kind as to settle a disagreement?”
She was lounging on the crimson deck cushions with Ingrid when she called to her brother. It had grown colder during their week at sea, and they were wrapped in thick blankets to protect them from the chill.
Emir had been watching Caleb and Fritz practice their sword forms down on the starboard deck, but he appeared at her side at once. “How can I help, Your Highness?”
“I have been telling Lady Ingrid here that more Talent soldiers ordinarily reside at Stonefoss Base than at Ironhall on Talon.”
“Nonsense.” Lady Ingrid sat up. The wind blew her black hair around her face in wisps, softening her hawkish features despite her indignant expression. “Ironhall is the most important base in the entirety of the Windfast.”
“Its location is vital to the empire’s defenses, of course,” Mica said. “I don’t mean to disparage your homeland, Lady Ingrid. Stonefoss simply has more men.”
“That’s correct, Your Highness,” Emir said. “Stonefoss has about ten percent more soldiers than Ironhall, and a higher proportion of them are Talents.”
“Because of the Talent residence program,” Mica said. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Emir remained straight-backed and unintimidated as he spoke to the future empress and her companion. “Stonefoss offers extra housing benefits for Talents who marry each other. The goal is to encourage them to produce more Talents.”
Mica smiled. “Are you from Stonefoss originally, Soldier Grayson?”
“I am. I grew up in one of the Talent houses, along with my siblings.”
“Tell me about them.” Mica spotted Jessamyn speaking to Banner over by the mast. She hadn’t been hovering as much lately, trusting Mica not to mess up every conversation, but she edged closer now. Mica wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders and leaned toward Emir, wanting to hear as much as possible about her family before the princess interrupted. “Please.”
“My parents are Talents, Your Highness,” Emir said, his formal tone softening. “I have three brothers and one sister. My older brother, Aden, is a Muscle. He has recently been given command of his unit. My younger brothers are Shields. My sister is an Impersonator who trained at the Academy in Redbridge.”
Mica pictured them all, sitting around their large pinewood table, sharing a modest meal of brown bread and roast pigeon. She could almost smell the aroma of leather and earth that permeated their home. The boys all lived in the barracks now, but they had made a point of coming over for dinner when Mica came home from the Academy on high days.
“And your parents?”
“A Muscle and a Blur. Both of them have served the empire for their entire lives.”
“The empire is grateful for it.” Mica swallowed a lump in her throat. “And your Shield brothers? Are they still—are they soldiers at Stonefoss too?”
“Yes. They get themselves in trouble sometimes, but they haven’t been kicked out of the army yet.”
Mica grinned. Wills and Rees were always cooking up tricks to play on each other—or on their brothers—knowing they wouldn’t be hurt if the older boys retaliated. The twins would be turning twenty later this year, but she still thought of them as rambunctious little boys. They had teased her mercilessly as children, but they’d knock down anyone outside the family who did the same. They’d once pushed a Muscle boy into a neck-deep manure pit for making fun of Mica’s less-than-elegant early impersonation attempts. The boy turned out to be the son of their father’s commanding officer, and only some quick thinking by Emir had saved him a demotion. Emir had run errands for the boy for an entire year in exchange for his silence.
“It must be wonderful to have so many siblings.”
“It is.” Emir seemed emboldened by Mica’s interest. “Your Highness, may I ask a question?”
“Of course, Soldier Grayson.”
“My sister was assigned to serve a noblewoman in Jewel Harbor. It has been months since we had a letter from her. Would you happen to know whom she serves?”
“Micathea?”
Mica jumped as a voice spoke her true name directly behind her. Caleb had come up from the starboard deck while she was speaking to Emir, and she hadn’t heard him approach.
“Is your sister’s name Micathea, Soldier Grayson?” Caleb asked.
“That’s right, my lord,” Emir said. “Do you know her?”
“I do. She
saved my life a few months back.”
“Mica did that?” Emir swelled with pride. Mica was too busy panicking to appreciate the moment.
“She quit her position almost two months ago,” Caleb said. “Are you saying you haven’t heard from her since then?”
“Wait. She quit?” Emir’s brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
“She must have had a good reason,” Mica snapped. She had to keep them from connecting the dots. She sat up, her blankets falling to the deck. “Oh, Lady Ingrid, isn’t it time for tea? Perhaps Soldier Grayson can fetch it.”
But Ingrid didn’t hear her, too interested in the exchange between the soldier and the lord. Jessamyn was glaring daggers across the deck at Mica, demanding her to contain the situation.
Caleb looked genuinely worried now. “Mica may have angered a powerful lord who is a known danger to Talents.”
“What?” Emir blurred to Caleb’s side, a hand on his sword. “Where is this lord?”
“Last I heard, he’s in Timbral,” Caleb said. “I’ll go there at once. If she has been taken because—”
“I am sure Micathea is fine!” Mica said shrilly. “None of you will be charging off to Timbral.”
Caleb spun toward her, and she could see the exact moment when realization struck him like a lightning bolt. The color drained out of his face, and his mouth opened wide. He didn’t just look shocked. He looked horrified.
This isn’t good.
Mica leapt up, her feet tangling in her discarded blanket. “Join me in my cabin, Lord Caleb,” she said. “Emir, you will attend us as well.”
Emir blinked at her for a second. She shouldn’t have used his first name, but she needed him to listen. She had to talk to these two in private before they ruined everything—or before the foolish young heroes charged off to Timbral together to rescue her.
Ingrid was watching the whole display with great interest, but there was nothing Mica could do about that now. She would explain later—somehow.
