by Rebecca Rode
Paval nodded. “Perhaps that’s what he needs from you right now. Trust him even when the rest of the world doesn’t. Especially then. That’s something few others can give.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “A word of advice. Good and bad aren’t as clear as they want you to think. Most of us lie somewhere in between. Now get going before we both get an earful from the captain.”
The watch bells rang just after I’d delivered my father’s breakfast. Gentle sunlight glistened on puddles that’d collected on the deck during the night’s rain. The watch hadn’t gotten to sweeping the puddles off yet, and they didn’t seem to notice them as they headed for the stairs with tired, glassy eyes.
Marley stood at the helm, steering the ship’s massive wheel with one bony arm. He swayed like he needed an entire pot of coffee to himself. I knew a bit about navigation—every sailor knew the basics—but I wasn’t allowed to take the helm. Father hadn’t forgiven me for the East Sea incident, when I’d torn a sail by forcing the ship into the wind. Never mind that I repaired it myself.
A figure stood against the rail, staring at the coarse water as if deep in thought. Aden’s curly hair was all tousled, his shirt open below the collar, and his stance almost relaxed. If it weren’t for his pale skin and smooth hands, he would have easily passed for a sailor.
I was about to speak when he pulled a worn piece of parchment from his pocket. He opened it, holding the edges tight against the wind, and scanned its contents.
I cocked an eyebrow. Besides his ridiculous clothing and his gold, that parchment was likely the only thing Aden had brought with him. My feet inched closer almost of their own accord, angling myself behind him. I couldn’t quite read it from this angle. Just a little farther—
My shadow fell across the parchment.
Aden folded it hastily and shoved it into his pocket, then turned toward me with a tired smile. “Morning.”
“What’s that?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Nothing pressing. Sleep well?”
I never slept well after stealing from the crew, even just a few coppers. I noted the bags under his eyes with satisfaction. He hadn’t slept well either. “Shame that Kemp didn’t put a knife in you during the night.”
He chuckled. “I was surprised myself. I love sleeping on the hard wood floor with the rats. It’s like a back massage all night long. So, what will it be today, the galley? I’m getting good at pot scrubbing. Or maybe sealing the ropes?”
“Rigging or line, not ropes,” I mumbled. “And we only seal the lines at port. You don’t want to climb them when they’re covered with tar.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He fell silent. My gaze dropped again to his chest where his shirt fell open. I’d have to convince him to keep it fastened, or he’d become a distraction I didn’t need right now.
I turned to a coil, clearing my throat. “Lines and rigging basics first. Now, we mostly use the same two knots over and over, but they aren’t hard to learn. The hard part is getting them tight enough that they’ll hold yet release when you pull them right.”
He hefted the coil. “It’s heavier than it looks.”
I grabbed the rod we used for practice and showed him a square knot, which he learned quickly. The lansing knot was harder, and it took him several tries to get it right. I stood back to let him practice. He kept trying to use his arm strength. It wasn’t until I showed him how to use his weight that the knot was pulled decently tight.
“So, Lane,” he said as he tried again. “Tell me how you pass the time off watch. Do you have a favorite book?” He wrapped the last end around itself and tucked it in, then stood back to admire his work.
I snickered, stepping over to his knot. I gave it a sharp tug, and it pulled apart in one swift movement, recoiling onto the deck. “Again.”
“It’s what we do in cities, Lane. Make conversation. Learn about each other and ask questions.” He hesitated a moment before taking the line.
I felt heat where his fingers brushed mine. “Then choose a different question.”
His eyes widened a bit. “Oh. I assumed you—I mean, I’ve heard a lot of sailors can’t—”
“I read.” Few sailors could. Most were here because of their lack of education, and I’d quickly realized that reading wasn’t a popular subject among the crew. I hid the scholar part of me like I hid the girl I truly was.
My father owned six actual leather-bound books, and I’d read each one many times. At night, of course, when nobody but Father could see. They were about wind currents, trade, and vessel construction mostly. He didn’t know I’d stolen his copy of A Maritime History of the World. I hoped he never found out. Father hated Elena the Conqueror as much as any other Hughen did. He flatly refused to discuss her. I’d never questioned why until lately.
Aden smirked. “How am I supposed to make small talk if you don’t cooperate?”
“Why talk small when there are so many big things to discuss?”
He sighed, then eyed the line like it was a snake before trying again. After a couple of attempts where he looped the wrong end, I realized talking helped him focus. I finally gave in. “How many books do you own?”
Aden paused. “I—uh, own quite a few. Well, my father does.” He tugged on the end and handed it to me.
I pulled. Tighter, but not quite there. “And you’ve read them all?”
“The library is huge. I’ve only read a small percentage of them. Now I feel like a fool for bringing it up in the first place.”
“What are they about?”
“History and politics, mostly. My favorite is the Pyrian farmer legend. Do you know it?”
“Nay.”
He seemed surprised. “Well, it was hundreds of years ago. The farmer’s kingdom was attacked, and he rushed to the palace, only to find the king’s daughter being held captive. He freed her and persuaded the other farmers to fight. They won the kingdom back. He married the princess, and they crowned him king. That was the beginning of the Parrish Empire.”
“Sounds like a hundred other tales.” I shrugged. “Now, if a peasant girl rescued a captive prince? That’s interesting.”
He set the rope down on his lap and turned to look at me thoughtfully. Our eyes locked like two ships engaged in battle. At first I didn’t dare pull my gaze away, and then I realized I didn’t want to. I hadn’t noticed how thick his eyelashes were before, nor how perfectly his cheeks met his jawline.
“A peasant girl,” he said softly. “That’s a tale you don’t often hear.”
Someone laughed across the deck, making me jump. Then the moment was gone.
“Try again,” I snapped, irritated that I’d briefly lost my wits.
Aden grinned and slid his hand back to the rope. Then he jerked it away and stared at his palm. I caught a glimpse of blood.
“Careful,” I said. “Rough line’ll give you slivers right easy. Here, let me.” I grabbed his hand to examine the wound. I pinched the sliver between my fingers. Not the biggest I’d seen, but pretty deep. I kept my nails short, so it took several tries before it finally came out. Then I hesitated. There was something odd about his palm. An indentation. I brushed my fingers against it, then recoiled when I realized what it was.
“Thanks,” he said, and yanked his hand away. He wore a strange expression on his face.
“You handle a blade.”
A pause. “Of course. Why is that surprising?”
I shrugged, unsure why it bothered me. “Seems odd when you have thousands of soldiers to fight for you.”
“As do our enemies. Sometimes a nation’s peace comes down to its leaders’ strength in battle. I’ve been training since I was two.” He nodded to the axes at my waist. “How about you? I’m guessing those aren’t exactly decorative.”
I gave my axes a pat. “Sharp as a needle, both.”
“Interesting choice of weapon for a captain’s boy. I thought axes were…”
“A pirate weapon?”
“Ill
egal. Hughen blacksmiths don’t make them these days. Haven’t since Elena’s beheading, when her axe was destroyed.”
“We aren’t in Hughen anymore.”
“No,” he muttered, rubbing absently at his stubble-lined chin. “We aren’t.”
I stood back, a new realization dawning. “You’ve never left your country before.”
He frowned and pretended to examine the knot in his hand.
Lands. What kind of ruler never left his home? “How are you supposed to guide a country when you can’t compare it to the outside world?”
“I’m not supposed to lead anything,” he said quickly. “That’s up to my older brother, Mael. My role is to protect the king, the crown prince, and our country. None of that has ever required traveling elsewhere.”
“Until now. Does Mael have something to do with this important quest of yours?”
He sighed, long and slow. “Look, I shouldn’t have even told you that much. I know what you’re trying to do, but there’s too much at risk to continue this discussion.”
“Risk?” I blurted. “You know nothing of risk. Wherever you’re going, whatever it is that’s so urgent for you, you risk nothing. Gold will buy you protection and silence and anything else you want. We’re the ones who nearly lost the ship and our livelihood on that dock.”
“I’m not taking a vacation here,” he snapped. “This is bigger than me or your precious ship.”
Several men looked over from their work. I forced my shoulders to relax and lowered my voice. “I don’t care who you are, Aden. This precious ship is all that stands between you and miles of seawater. Insult it again, and you’ll find yourself swimming with jardrakes, wishing the pirates would save you.”
He watched me for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “I know you resent me, and I understand. But my situation here is precarious enough. We can’t be seen arguing for three straight weeks. Can’t we agree to pretend to get along?”
“I thought I was doing that quite well.” I slapped the line onto the rail and threw together a hasty knot. It was perfect.
He gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not just protecting myself here, all right? I just want this voyage to go smoothly.” He set himself to untying what I’d done. It took him a satisfyingly long time to loosen.
Pretend to get along. I’d been pretending for over a decade. It had always been me and my father against the world—protecting each other, protecting the ship that had become our lives. With one secret, I’d allowed Aden to yank us apart. “If you’re so innocent and noble, why are you asking Paval questions about my father’s past?”
He pursed his lips. “I’m no spy, if that’s what you’re implying. I was just curious.”
“Then stop being curious. I know what you hope to find, and my father is not a bloody pirate.”
“Maybe not now, but he could have been once.”
I thought about what Paval had said, and frowned. “Stop trying to find trouble where there isn’t any. There are no pirates here, nor will there be. Belza will have a knife in his back before the month is out. We’re too far north for island pirates, and Elena the Conqueror and her crew are long dead.”
His gaze leveled on me. “The way you talk about Elena the Pirate, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d stolen a ship or two yourself.”
I dropped the line, gaping at him in disbelief. Had he just accused me of being a Jilly?
Of course he had. He was Eurion’s son, no matter how friendly he sometimes acted. Even Father could see it. I’d been a fool to let my guard down so easily when I knew better.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You know nothing of me or my family, so don’t pretend you do.” My voice was ice-cold.
“Fair enough.” He shook his head and returned to his work, fighting a smile.
“What?”
“At least I know how you really feel about Elena. You had me worried.”
My father emerged from his cabin just then, cutting off my angry reply. He scanned the men’s work and frowned at the puddles that hadn’t been swept yet. I turned away, telling myself that my warming cheeks had nothing to do with Aden and everything to do with Father catching us together.
Aden may have known nothing about my family, but thanks to Father, I didn’t know all that much either.
Aden finished the knot and stood back for inspection. But there was a shadow across his face as well, and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. Good. Better for us both to know our places.
I nodded. “Now release it and start again.”
I swung my axe at half speed, arcing at shoulder level. The freshly polished blade gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. I rounded my shoulder to avoid an invisible strike and brought the second axe up to cover my head. A sharp exhale, then a quick slash downward followed by a spin at full speed. I finished with a slow, controlled bow toward the sea.
Barrie clapped. “Well done.”
I could have fallen on my face, and Barrie would have said the exact same thing. I grinned anyway and wiped the sweaty axe handles on my shirt. This was normally where Paval stepped in to give me pointers, but he had declined to come. Aden hadn’t shown either, though I wasn’t sure what I would have done if he had. Was it possible to ignore the piercing eyes of a prince while wielding a pirate weapon with any degree of skill? He already suspected Father, and he’d made it clear that suspicion extended to me.
Even without Aden, my forms had felt choppy and unfocused today. It wasn’t fair how the presence of a single person could shift everything in my world out of place. In quiet moments between watches, when I usually felt relaxed, I now found myself tense and alert, expecting a familiar pair of shoulders and that irritating smile to appear at any moment. Worse was the mixture of relief and disappointment that followed when he didn’t.
Aden was probably helping in the galley again, hounding Paval with his questions. I mentally chided myself for not warning Paval about him yesterday. He needed to know that Aden wasn’t what he seemed.
I snorted at that. The problem was, Aden was exactly what he seemed.
“Done already?” Barrie asked, sounding disappointed.
“Too hot,” I lied.
Barrie eyed my axes hungrily. “Last time, you said you’d be thinking about teaching me. We have a few minutes before watch.”
I’d completely forgotten. The thought of someone else touching my axes gave my stomach an odd little flip, just as it always did. I hesitated. “Barrie…”
He scowled and shook his head. “Don’t be worrying about it. Aden said he’d teach me a card game anyway.” He stalked toward the stairs, his shoulders slumped.
With a heavy sigh, I watched him go. Barrie had no knife, couldn’t swing a blade without dropping it, and shot a musket about as well as a blind squirrel. Maybe he would take to axes like he had nothing else. But that meant sharing them during a battle, which I most certainly couldn’t do. I wasn’t sure I could hand them over even now. My axes felt like… an extension of myself. Loaning them out wasn’t as casual a thing as Barrie supposed. Not when I kept every piece of myself hidden tight, guarded with a rigid hand.
An idea struck. I couldn’t use Aden’s seashell buttons for Kemp’s payment, but I could trade them in Ellegran. Surely the market would have a suitable pair of axes for Barrie.
Smiling, I wrapped the blades, slipped into the cabin, and stowed them carefully in the storage chest. As I moved to close the lid, I caught sight of the history book resting on top of the pile and paused. The next watch would begin soon, which meant I should scrounge for what remained of the midday meal. But I found myself picking up the book and flipping to a familiar page. The story of Elena’s death had become legend, a tale of warning for rebellious children. The last page held a sketch I’d spent long hours studying.
The Hughen king—Aden’s father—stood with his fist pumped to the sky in victory. The pirate Elena’s body lay at his feet. It wasn’t t
rue to life, as she’d been beheaded, after all, and her head was clearly attached here. I liked to think the illustrator had done it out of respect for the woman who’d almost succeeded in uniting the Four Lands.
“Elena the Pirate, indeed,” I muttered. Aden’s title made her sound like every other greedy thief who sailed the seas. But Elena the Conqueror described her as exactly what she was: a revolutionary with a plan. A woman who meant to tear the world apart and put it back together her own way. What had ignited that desire in her so long ago? What had driven her to win or die trying?
Had she begun her career by stealing coins from her crew members’ boots?
Disturbed by the thought, I stroked the illustration with my thumb. It smeared the ink ever so slightly, smudging Elena’s features to a smoky gray. Had she truly been as evil as Hughens believed, or had she simply meant to improve the world? Maybe Paval was right, and she lived somewhere in between.
I turned my attention to the king standing above her. It was his imposing stance, fist to the sky, that captured my interest. Like he meant to draw the attention of the gods themselves in challenge. That part seemed accurate enough.
I examined his face, looking for Aden in his features, but saw no distinct similarities. The artist had given the man a prominent nose and powerful build, but that was common in illustrations. For all I knew, the artist had only imagined what the dreadful scene had looked like. Even more unfortunate, there were no likenesses of any other crew members in the background. Not that I could have distinguished a younger version of Father from the others anyway.
His name wasn’t on the list, I stubbornly told myself. Paval was right that I knew my father better than anyone, but I resented his implication that there was more to the story. If Father was a pirate, I would have seen it in his eyes long ago. Despite that, a single thought doubled back, no matter how I resisted it.
Had Father’s name been absent because he wasn’t a pirate… or because he hadn’t been caught?
The next few days passed quickly. Dennis had a man in the nest both day and night despite seeing no sign of ships, Hughen or pirate. The fact that Aden was right about Varnen both relieved and irritated me, and having my favorite spot taken made me itch for solitude. When I offered to take a watch up there, Dennis only scowled and said to worry about my own duties.
