by Jordan Rivet
Not daring to look at the real Jessamyn, Mica hurried below and marched toward her cabin, Caleb and Emir close on her heels. She ushered them inside and slammed the door.
“Okay,” she began.
Before she could get another word out, Caleb had pushed her back against the wall. He held her in place, not hard enough to hurt her, but she couldn’t move or fight.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“Caleb—”
“Did you kill her? Strike it all. I knew there was something different about you. Have you been working for Ober all this time?”
“No! I’ve always been on the princess’s side.” She struggled against him, her features shifting. “Let me go!”
“Mica?” Emir said. “Is that you? Let go of her!”
He started forward, reaching for his sword, but Caleb grabbed him by the uniform and held him back, suddenly Muscle strong. Emir gaped at the young lord.
“What happened to Jessamyn?” Caleb’s grip on Mica’s shoulder had strengthened too, and he was nearly lifting her off her feet. Now it hurt. “If you’ve harmed her—”
Mica filled her lungs and shouted in his face. “Put. Me. Down.”
Abruptly, Caleb noticed that his hands had become far stronger than normal. He released her at once and took a step back, letting Emir go too.
“I’m sorry. I—”
The door burst open so violently it cracked against the wall. The three of them spun to face it, reaching for steel.
“Don’t you dare hurt her, you big dumb oaf!” The real Jessamyn stood on the threshold, her eyes blazing above her veil. “You’re going to ruin everything.”
Caleb stared. “Jessamyn? You’re alive?”
“Of course I’m alive.” She marched into the cabin, Banner close behind her. “For an occasional Blur, Caleb, you can be remarkably slow.”
“But—”
“Shut the door, Banner,” the princess said. “See that no one listens in.”
The Shield guard obliged, though he needed to hold the door closed from the outside because the latch was cracked. Jessamyn had hurled it open so hard she might have been a Muscle herself.
She faced the three of them, her gaze thunderous. “I have never seen such bumbling in my entire life. Honestly, I’m surrounded by incompetents.”
“Jessa,” Caleb said. “I thought you’d been murdered and replaced. Why did you tell me your Mimic quit?” He looked down at Mica, and his face fell. “Were you trying to avoid me? You could have just said you weren’t—”
“No,” Mica said. “This isn’t about—”
“Mica, is that really you?” her brother interrupted. “You work for the princess herself?”
“Now isn’t a good time, Emir,” Mica said.
“That’s right, Emir,” Jessamyn said. “I am not done with your shipwreck of a sister. How hard is it to keep a simple secret, Micathea?”
“They were going to run off to Timbral because—”
“I am not deaf,” Jessamyn snapped. “I heard it all, as did every other person on that deck. Now Lady Ingrid will be asking why these two thunderheads were so interested in my Impersonator, and why I felt the need to pull them down into my cabin to speak in secret. It will take me weeks to recover from this catastrophe even if she isn’t an imposter. Think if even more nobles had been on deck!”
Caleb threw up his hands, motions blurring slightly. “But why is Mica pretending—?”
“Because of this!”
Jessamyn yanked off her cap and veil, silencing him at once. The full extent of her disfigurement was suddenly illuminated in the light flooding from the porthole. The melted skin, the red patches, the shorn hair.
“Jessa,” Caleb said after a moment of shocked stillness. “How?”
“Your darling of an uncle,” Jessamyn said. She looked oddly satisfied at the horror on her friend’s face. She did love to get a reaction out of people. “He replaced my energy tonic with a particularly nasty poison. We managed to stop it from killing me, but you can see why it was expedient for Micathea to take on the role of imposter.”
“Expedient? Jessa, this is grounds to declare war on Timbral and have Ober executed. Why in all the Windfast are you hiding it?”
“That’s what I keep saying,” Mica said.
Jessamyn whirled toward her. “Are you princess here or me? I will not have my decisions questioned, especially after you’ve made such a mess of things.”
“I’m sure you have your reasons not to announce it at court,” Caleb said. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
“Caleb,” Jessamyn began. “You are my dearest friend.”
“Am I?” Caleb looked between her and Mica. “I trusted you—both of you—with my own secret. And you couldn’t do the same?”
“The situation is delicate,” Jessamyn said.
“I know a thing or two about delicate situations.”
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. “We are about to make landfall in Pegasus Island, my princess,” Banner called through the door. “Shall I tell the captain to wait?”
“No, I’ll be right out.” Jessamyn’s eyes were still on Caleb. “Are we going to have a problem?”
“Are you asking me if I’ll betray you?” Caleb said. “Don’t answer that. Of course your secret is safe. May you thrive.” And he strode out of the cabin without looking at either of them.
Mica watched his slumped shoulders disappear down the corridor, wishing she could say something to justify the way they’d betrayed his trust. The man had experienced more than his fair share of betrayal lately. She could only hope no permanent damage had been done between them.
“Well, Micathea?” Jessamyn clapped her hands, making Mica jump. “Don’t you need to prepare for your reception?”
“Yes, Princess.” Mica quickly resumed Jessamyn’s face and reached for the outfit the princess had set out for their arrival in Pegasus.
Emir was still staring at her. “You’re really Mica acting as the Princess of Windfast? All the time?”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Mica said. “We can talk about it later.”
“I won’t.” Suddenly, Emir blurred forward and gathered her up in a hug. “It’s good to see you, Mica.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder, inhaling the earthy, leathery smell of home. “You too.”
“They are waiting, Micathea,” Jessamyn said.
Emir set her back on her feet, and he was out the door before the princess could yell at them again.
Chapter Ten
Pegasus Island was a rolling green land. Grassy pastures covered the hills as far as the eye could see, stretching all the way down to the water’s edge. White and gray sheep dotted the landscape, grazing on the tough sea grasses or being chased by black sheepdogs across the verdant hills.
The hills eventually gave way to a vast river. The delta broke up most of the southern coastline, with stretches of pungent marshland spreading between the river’s branches. West of the delta lay a sprawling city known as Carrow. The settlement had been the capital of Pegasus before the island kingdom joined with Amber, Winnow, Silverfell, and the smaller islands surrounding them to form the Windfast Empire.
Carrow was a city of thatched-roof houses and wooden towers. Many of the structures were built into the hills, making them blend in with the landscape. The air smelled of musk and fresh-cut grass, and it was noticeably cooler than in the Jewel Harbor.
Mica was in good spirits as she prepared to disembark in this gentle green land. Now that Caleb and Emir knew the truth, she felt certain she was almost finished with the imposter charade. Jessamyn would realize it wasn’t so bad for people to see her true face, and Mica would be free. They still had to catch the imposter Lord Ober had placed among her traveling companions, but it would be easier with Caleb and Emir’s help.
Mica grinned at the nobles assembled around her on deck, dressed in their finest, warmest clothes. The fake couldn’t hide for much longer.
&nb
sp; Ingrid was looking at Mica curiously, only half listening to Elana whispering in her ear. She clearly hadn’t forgotten the odd exchange she’d witnessed. Wendel stood on her toes at the railing, as if she wanted to leap overboard to get home sooner. Dolan was reviewing a piece of parchment that appeared to be a list of merchant contacts based in Carrow. Fritz was looking around, possibly searching for Caleb, who had retreated to his cabin instead of coming out on deck. And Riven was gazing at Lady Ingrid.
Interesting. None of them paid any attention to “Myn Irondier” at the princess’s side, which was all that mattered right now.
The Silk Goddess moored alongside a roughhewn dock, where a small welcoming party awaited the visitors from the capital. Pegasus Islanders crowded the waterfront, eager to get a glimpse of the future empress. The murmur of their voices mingled with the lowing of cattle and the sigh of the wind over the hills. Everyone was dressed in wool, giving the place a cozy, intimate feeling that was welcome after the opulent silks and jewels that had surrounded Mica for the past few months.
Captain Pol barked the final orders, and the sailors let down the gangway. The nobles disembarked one by one, all a little unsteady after a week at sea. They paused to regain their balance as the welcoming party approached.
The lord governor of Pegasus, Lady Wendel’s uncle Gordon, was the first to greet them. He was a robust man with a red face, jowls, and thick black hair.
“Princess Jessamyn! So good to see you again!” He pumped Mica’s hand up and down so hard her teeth rattled. His jolly manner more closely resembled that of a country innkeeper than a direct descendant of the ancient Pegasus kings. “It has been too long since you last graced our shores.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Mica said. “I am ever so pleased to be back.”
“It’s a shame your imperial father couldn’t make it. He enjoyed our locally brewed ale a great deal on his last visit.”
“He sends his regards,” Mica said, trying to picture the grave Emperor Styl drinking ale with this ebullient man. “He was sorry not to see you at the anniversary ball.”
“Alas, I couldn’t leave in the midst of shearing season, but I hope my niece represented us well.”
Lord Gordon gave Wendel an affectionate squeeze around the shoulders, and she beamed at him. Mica sincerely hoped this wasn’t an imposter faking such a warm homecoming.
“Lady Wendel is a delight to have at court.”
“That is good to . . .” Lord Gordon trailed off as the HIMS Arrow sailed up to the mooring beside the Silk Goddess. The galleon looked even bigger from the docks, dwarfing the other ships in Carrow’s small harbor.
“Our escort,” Mica explained. “Captain Karson wishes to resupply in Carrow before heading out to scout the Northern Channel ahead of the next stage of our voyage.”
“A wise decision,” Lord Gordon said, though he didn’t look especially happy to have a warship in his harbor. “We have had reports of unusual activity in the Channel.”
Mica and Jessamyn exchanged glances.
“What kind of unusual activity?”
“There will be time to discuss it over supper. Come along.” Lord Gordon swept his arms wide to take in the entire party. “We have prepared a roast to welcome you to our hall. Join us to break bread and drink ale!”
“Break bread and drink ale!” Wendel echoed.
The other members of the welcoming party, many of them sharing Wendel’s dark hair and height, repeated the call as they surged forward to greet their guests.
“Break bread and drink ale!”
The group strolled from the dock to a broad, grassy avenue leading into the middle of the sprawling city. Faces gathered at the windows of the earthen dwellings to watch them pass. Though interested in the princess’s arrival, the people seemed less frantic and excitable than in Jewel Harbor. Mica already felt more at home here, despite the hints of trouble to come. She walked alongside Lady Wendel, while Lord Gordon fell back to chat with the lords. He congratulated Fritz on his upcoming wedding with a hearty thump on the back. Dolan hovered on his other side, eager to begin discussing his business interests in Carrow. Ingrid and Elana followed more slowly, as if they couldn’t bear to part with the luxurious ship. Elana’s sharp nose wrinkled, and she whispered something about the stench of sheep. Ingrid snickered in response.
Wendel ignored their derision, extolling the virtues of Pegasus wool as they continued through the city on foot.
“Pegasus wool is softer than any other variety. We treat it with potions to keep it from being too scratchy.”
“Is that right?” Mica was pretty sure Jessamyn knew all this information already, but that didn’t dissuade Lady Wendel from promoting her home’s primary export.
“Yes, my princess. Pegasus wool blankets are a must for every manor house and cold palace hall. We dye the wool to be—”
“Wendel!”
Mica breathed a sigh of relief as the tall noblewoman’s recitation was interrupted. A man galloped toward them on a fine black stallion, onlookers parting before him like sheep. The Shield guards stepped forward as the stranger charged, but they fell back at a word from Lord Gordon.
“My oldest son and heir,” he said, a note of pride creeping into his voice. “Making an entrance as usual.”
“Late as usual,” Wendel said.
The newcomer pulled up just short of the group, his horse’s hooves kicking up dirt and clumps of grass. He vaulted off the horse and joined them in a few long strides, immediately sweeping his cousin into a hug. He was one of the tallest men Mica had ever seen, making even Lady Wendel look petite. He had long black hair pulled back in a tail, rugged features, and a deep tan. He wore simple woolen clothes that wouldn’t be out of place in a country inn.
“Aren, you smell like a barn,” Wendel said.
“Why thank you, cousin. But I hear you’ve broken your nose. Are you sure my stench is that bad?”
“Oh, be nice.” Lady Wendel smacked him on the shoulder with one hand, trying to hide her newly crooked nose with the other.
Aren let out a laugh as broad and rolling as the hills around the city. “It suits you, Wenny. You shouldn’t hide a good battle scar.”
Mica stared. The lord and lady were acting like her soldier brothers. What happened to all the pomp of the nobility?
“You could have been on time to greet us, you know,” Wendel said as she dragged her cousin over to meet her traveling companions.
“I watched you sail in from the hilltop,” Lord Aren said. “That’s a mighty fancy ship.”
“What do you know of ships?” Wendel said. “You haven’t sailed in a decade.”
“Why would I want to do that? Even the finest ship is no match for a good horse.”
Lord Aren winked at Lady Wendel and turned to the rest of the nobles. “Welcome to Pegasus! Thank you for bringing my prodigal cousin home.”
He greeted everyone with hearty handshakes much like his father’s. As he made his way through the group, Mica distinctly heard Elana whisper to Ingrid, “He can bring me home anytime.”
The ladies were entranced, and Mica could see the appeal. Aren had a vigorous, outdoorsy manner, with just a hint of refinement that suggested he wouldn’t embarrass himself at the imperial court. As Aren clasped Lady Ingrid’s hand warmly, Lord Riven gave him a particularly cold and calculating glare.
Is that jealousy? Very interesting. Mica turned to catch Jessamyn’s eye and was surprised to see the princess staring intently at Lord Aren, her expression perplexed and maybe a little repulsed. Mica wondered if she was remembering when Aren had chased her into a pile of sheep dung.
Against all convention, the tall lord greeted Mica last. He looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye before sweeping into an elegant courtly bow.
“It’s a pleasure to see you thrive, Your Imperial Majesty. You will see I haven’t forgotten the bow you made me perfect on your last visit.”
The real Jessamyn snorted softly. Mica wasn’t sure what to m
ake of that, so she simply acknowledged the young lord with a regal nod.
“Thank you for your kind welcome, Lord Aren.”
Aren’s smile faded, as if that wasn’t the response he was expecting from the princess. Mica wondered if she should have said something more playful or biting. Jessamyn hadn’t filled her in on whatever history she had with Wendel’s cousin. Come to think of it, the princess had been decidedly vague about the man when she was educating Mica about the people she would meet in Carrow.
“Make haste, friends,” Lord Gordon called out over the babble surrounding his son. “The roast will get cold!”
They followed Wendel’s uncle to a large manor built into a grassy hill in the heart of Carrow. The smell of roast lamb and wood smoke welcomed them into the earthen hall. A fire was burning in the huge stone hearth at one end, and a wooden banquet table stretched most of its length. Wool blankets and cushions spread across the benches around it, many of them filled with more members of Lord Gordon’s sprawling family. They rose to greet the guests, calling out that it was time to “Break bread and drink ale!”
The food and warmth quickly overcame any reservations the nobles had about the rough setting. Soon, even Lord Riven was knocking back hefty portions of ale and digging in to the hearty country fare. Lord Dolan proposed trade deals left and right, apparently desperate to make this trip worthwhile now that the princess had stopped responding to his amorous advances. If he wasn’t going to be her consort by the end of this voyage, at least he would be richer.
Caleb still hadn’t joined them as the feast got underway. He must have had to lie down after that brief burst of Muscle strength during the tussle in the princess’s cabin. Mica had been surprised at his strong reaction, however unintentional, and it made her uneasy. The way he’d pushed her against the bulkhead wasn’t like the calm, easygoing young man she knew, and she couldn’t help thinking about the hints of madness that appeared in others with multiple Talents. Surely that particular side effect of Ober’s potion would have manifested by now if it was going to at all.
He was just alarmed. He’s perfectly sane.
