by Rebecca Rode
I slid behind the door and yanked it partially closed. The heavily gilded wooden door cracked and flung toward me with the force of the strikes, but I held the handle firm. Then I shoved it hard. It caught two pirates in the face. They threw their hands around now-bleeding noses and stumbled backward as I whirled to face the other two. I had to adjust my stance, but thankfully my sleeves had both torn, allowing for the movement I needed.
“Watch those axes, Carn,” a pirate called out from across the room, one of Aden’s former guards. The man in front of me stepped back, placing distance between us with sword raised.
Shouts sounded from where Aden and Rasmus fought, pulling my attention away. Rasmus wore a fresh cut on his cheek. The khral’s guards stood by, waiting for orders to engage, not caring that interference would invalidate the duel’s results. There were no townspeople waiting around to help Aden.
The battle still raged near the doors, but there were far more bodies than before. Many children would be orphaned today.
Then the pirates were upon me. I managed to block one set of hands but missed the second. The closest curved his fingers around my throat and slammed my head against the heavy door. Pain exploded in my skull.
I was being lifted off my feet. Something tugged at the axe in my right hand. I tightened my grip.
A cry from Aden sent a surge of alertness through me. The second pirate ripped the axe from my left hand. I swung the weapon in my right, throwing my entire body into it.
The pirate’s eyes widened as the blade made contact with his head.
I hit the floor, scooped up my other weapon, and sprinted past the collapsing man as his partner stared in horror. Belza was where we’d left him, still watching the fight. His shoulders were even more square from behind, bulky and thick from every angle. This man had torn nearly everything I loved from me. Now he threatened what remained.
I swung my axe.
Clang. Something hard met my strike, sending a jolt of pain up to my elbows. One of the guards I’d left at the doors had caught up just in time and thrown his sword up in defense of the captain. Another pirate wrapped his arms around me, holding my own arms in place as my axes were ripped away. This time, I felt something cold against my temple. A pistol.
Belza turned around at the commotion. He wore no surprise at the sight of his men wrestling me into submission. He stalked toward us like a giant cat, still gripping his long cutlass. Then he stopped to look down upon me. So tall.
“Intriguing, this one,” he said. “My men say you’re also the lass who stole the young prince.”
“I’m Captain Garrow’s daughter,” I hissed. “I survived your attack, and I’m going to avenge his death.”
“His daughter?” He outright laughed now. The crew joined in, then cut off abruptly when he stopped. “Ah. That’s why you look familiar. Interesting that the man who claimed honesty and morals turned out to be the biggest liar of us all.”
I’d once thought the same thing, but hearing it from this man’s filthy lips made me wish I’d swung my axe a little faster. “He left piracy to protect the woman he loved. I’d say that’s a moral thing to do.”
He laughed again, louder this time. “Who, his wife? She’s more pirate than he ever was.”
My breath hitched. What? He was wrong. He had to be. “My mum is a lady.”
“Nara is pirate and lady both. Served me for years before leaving with that fool Garrow. She soon learned what a coward he was and came running back. I took her in out of kindness.”
I gaped at him. The man was bloody mad. “You lie.”
“Do I? Saw yer mum last a few months back, just before she returned to that dull house of hers in Ellegran.”
He knew where she lived. Could it be true? Had Mum left my father and me for… Captain Belza?
I wasn’t meant for this life, she’d said. My dreams lie elsewhere.
I’d assumed she’d run off to marry some rich lord worthy of her station. It had never, ever occurred to me that the life she resented was the safe, quiet one my father offered. He had said Belza fancied her once, hadn’t he?
Nay. I refused to believe such a thing of her, no matter how I despised the woman. “Surely you think of someone else. My mum wouldn’t be foolish enough to join a crew full of impostors.”
The crew chuckled again. Another cry came from across the room. Aden had been injured. The fighting resumed immediately, but it couldn’t last long. I had to kill Belza before that duel ended.
“Impostor? I’m as real as they come.” The captain’s grin widened. “I was there for all of it—Elena’s victories, losses, her doubts. I was the son who stayed, the one who refused to abandon her. When she died, I was the one who carried her legend. My brother deserved the coward’s death he received. You were there for that part, as I recall.”
My lungs strained for air, but there was none to be had.
The room spun about me, and a distant nausea swelled inside. I’d heard wrong. My father and Belza were old friends, not brothers. Absolute madness. Because if that were true, it meant…
Captain Garrow of the Majesty was Elena’s son.
Belza hadn’t simply taken Elena’s cause as his own. He’d inherited it from his mother. My father and Belza’s quarrel had never been about the Majesty. Father’s fate was sealed the moment he rejected his brother’s plan of revenge.
I was Elena the Conqueror’s granddaughter.
I had her legacy, her very blood running through my veins. The revelation should have excited me. All I felt was a numb deadness inside.
“But… but Father is Hughen, and you’re from Messau.”
“A simple stretch of the truth, girl. Naamon was born in Hughen waters and I off the coast of Messau. It wasn’t the first lie our mother concocted to protect us, nor the last.” Belza chuckled, running his hand across my half-styled hair. Then I realized he was pulling out the comb. Trusses of unbound hair fell into my eyes, and I blinked them free.
“Only three of these exist,” he continued. “All gifts from Elena to her children. I demanded that Naamon return his, but he said it was lost.”
I didn’t have time to ask who had the third. Belza only examined the comb for a moment, then dropped it to the ground and crushed it under his massive boot.
My breath stilled. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the twisted metal and its shattered jewels. The comb. Of course. It had never been a gift for Mum. He’d kept it for me.
Now it, along with everything else, was gone.
“Garrow wasn’t always a coward,” Belza continued. “He fought in a few battles before Nara muddled his head and he stole my ship. He always knew he’d pay for that someday. Don’t tell me he didn’t.”
You hide our daughter away, but I would present her to the world, Mum’s missive had read. She deserves to walk with her head high, to take pride in who she is.
“But enough of the past,” Belza declared. “Our victory is nearly here. My men say you’ve a hand for combat, girl. This—fighting for kingdoms and thrones—is below someone of your bloodline. Serve me and take your father’s place. This is the life you were meant to live.” He looked past me to the duel. “Or I suppose you can join the boy in death.”
I glanced at Aden. He was tiring, his movements growing slower. He held his own, but he’d switched to the defensive. Rasmus, however, looked exhilarated. He was within moments of his goal.
Captain Belza wanted me to be a pirate. He had offered me a place on his crew. I was too stunned to laugh.
“Royals are all the same,” Belza said, gesturing to the dueling men. “Children. Even your precious little prince, fighting over land and resources and who gets what. One moment he’s begging for your protection, the next he’s ordering your execution.”
I bared my teeth, fighting against the arms that held me. “You dare talk to me about executions? You murdered my father.”
“An end he chose for himself, not the one I wanted for him. You, though—you have potential. We
will conquer those who hate you. Your name will be feared across the Four Lands. Join us and take up your grandmother’s cause or die with a weak king who never intended to keep you anyway.”
I refused to accept his words, however true they felt. Captain Belza was pure evil, the cause of so much terror and pain. He would have slaughtered me by now were it not for my bloodline. I was an opportunity and little more.
What are you to Aden? a tiny voice whispered. It awakened my earlier doubts all over again.
Movement behind the captain caught my eye. Magie? She breathed hard as if she’d been running. Or fighting, by the blood on her blouse. She extended her hands, making the motion of something tall and narrow. An axe? Then she raised a finger and crept away.
“The oath,” Belza snapped. “Or death. I’ll have your choice now.”
The pistol at my head tightened. I detected the faint smell of gunpowder. My mind raced, scrambling for more time. “You’re wrong if you think employing me would give your cause credibility. Elena wanted to save the world, not defeat it.”
“She knew precisely what her goal would cost. Your grandmother was the most brutal woman who ever lived, girl. That’s the blood in your veins. That’s your legacy. Now speak the oath or feel my blade as your father did.” He raised his sword and placed the tip to the skin of my chest. It was cold.
“Laney!” Aden cried out.
My body felt suspended in midair. Fighting blurs moved around me, screams of pain slicing the air and bodies slamming to the floor. Was this how my father had felt, moments before his death? Had he also been torn between the many pieces of himself?
Nay. He’d been at peace, his decision made long ago. He’d chosen me. My own choice was made as well, though I hadn’t realized it until now.
I chose Aden. No matter the cost.
“I do carry the blood of a pirate,” I finally said. “But I’ll never join you. Laney Garrow serves under no one. If the Four Lands speak my name, it will be to praise how I defeated you—and every other man who threatens those I care about.”
Belza growled. He didn’t notice the axe handle sliding between his companion’s legs.
It wrenched upward, surprising the poor soul above it. He sank to the ground in pain and shock as Magie shoved the axes, sending them sliding along the intricate floor toward me. She scrambled away.
I was already moving. The man’s cry had surprised the one holding the pistol to my head, and I yanked an arm free to elbow him in the face. Before the pirates realized what had happened, I stood glaring at them in my torn and bloody dress, an axe gripped tightly in each hand, the windows overlooking the ocean at my back.
For the first time, Belza looked taken aback. He let his blade drop a few inches as he stared at me.
“She looks just like Elena,” a watching pirate muttered.
A yell turned me back to Aden. He grasped his arm, red blossoming and staining his shirt. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but it would cost him strength. Rasmus didn’t give him time to recover. He swung his blade down in a very Kempton-like maneuver, which Aden blocked with his sword just in time. Then another round of strikes began. It was all Aden could do to stop them. We were out of time.
Belza pushed through his men and halted a few feet away, his cutlass—the one he’d used to murder my father—held loosely in one hand. “If the girl wants a duel of her own, she’ll have it.” His men shuffled backward to give us space.
I set my feet in spear stance, both axes at the ready. Anger pulsed through my limbs. My father had defeated this man once. I had to find a way to do the same.
We struck simultaneously.
His blade hit my axe as we aimed for each other’s throats. He shoved my other blade aside with the hilt, cracking the handle and sending my left axe across the room. It crashed to the ground in two pieces. Then he threw another blow at my head.
Stunned to be left with a single axe so quickly, I blocked and redirected my axe toward his chest. He swept the handle aside with one massive arm and lifted the cutlass over his head, intending to slice me in half.
It was a pirate move, dramatic and definitive. I only had one axe and a small one at that. If we continued fighting like men, he would defeat me without question. I had to fight like a woman.
I spun just in time, feeling a burst of air from the blade as it swept past. Knowing he expected me to arc my axe downward in response, I lifted it over his head as I completed my spin, positioning myself behind him. A second later, my axe handle sat tight against his throat.
He coughed in surprise, letting his blade drop. Then he reached around to tear me off his back. I gripped the handle for my life, digging my elbows into his thick shoulders.
He stumbled toward the wall between the huge windows. Then he turned and smacked me against the wall. This loosened my grip, and I scrambled to regain my hold. Too late. He’d shaken me free, and a pirate had just tossed him his cutlass.
Something soft brushed my hand. Drapery?
I gave it a soft tug. The fabric was linen, not the canvas I was accustomed to, but it seemed sturdy enough. I wrapped it around my axe handle and waited for the strike.
The cutlass swung through the air sideways, straight for my throat. He intended to take my head.
Now.
I spun the opposite direction, barely dodging his strike, and circled around him again. This time it was the curtain I swept around his neck. I gave my wrapped axe a twist, tightening the fabric around his throat like a fancy blue scarf. A startled grunt escaped his mouth, but it was too late. I twisted my body toward the windows, pulling the pirate off balance.
“Captain, look out!” a voice shouted.
I hit the wall hard, but my aim was true. The captain’s momentum followed mine, sending him stumbling into the window.
It shattered.
Glass flew in slow motion as the captain hovered in midair, his eyes bulging in shock. His boots struck the bottom of the window as he grabbed at the fabric around his neck. His braid followed him out the window like a leash. There was a snap as the curtain ended and broke free, sending both axe and pirate plunging toward the ocean.
Then the scream came.
It sounded as inhuman as its master, a deep, wrenching cry. It faded into a distant sound. Then there was nothing except familiar waves far below.
The crew stood there, bewildered and stunned.
“Captain,” one man whispered. He reached the window and peered down the cliff toward the water. His companions followed him, staring downward in horror.
My feet were tarred to the floor. My body wasn’t my own, and it refused to respond to commands. All I could see were those shards of glass clinging to the windowpane where Belza had just stood. Small pieces littered the ground.
Shock held me captive, overwhelmed by sounds that shook my very soul. That inhuman scream, the pained cry of his men. Pistol blasts and metal against metal. It felt as if I lived two moments in one, two battles, two opposite endings. Both felt utterly unreal.
Captain Belza was dead. My father’s murderer, my uncle. A man who had mercilessly slaughtered an entire crew of men. His blade had sent hundreds of corpses into the sea, and thousands had suffered and died at his order. Now they had finally found justice. I had brought it to them.
But no pride swelled in my chest. Only a dull ache that said nothing had changed, not really. Belza’s death hadn’t restored a thing.
Fighting yielded a victor and a loser. I would always be both.
A grunt from across the room brought me back to the moment. Aden.
Still breathing hard, I sprinted toward Aden, leaping over bodies and dodging the soldiers fighting off the townspeople. A horn sounded from somewhere outside, long and low.
“Laney,” Aden breathed with relief as he blocked another strike. He managed to beat Rasmus back for a second of reprieve. He was soaked in sweat, and his upper sleeve was wet with blood. Then he turned to me. “Are you all—”
Rasmus ran him through.
Aden sucked in a gut-wrenching gasp and fell to his knees, eyes wide in horror. His face was ashen.
“Aden!” I shrieked.
Rasmus jerked at the sound of my voice, narrowing his eyes at me and gripping his bloody sword. Aden’s blood. It looked just like my father’s, dark and thick.
A body lying still on the deck.
Aden sucked in a painful breath as he struggled to remain upright on his knees. “I was distracted, Rasmus,” he managed through gritted teeth. “You disregard the rules of combat.”
“What rules?” Rasmus barked a laugh. “It’s against international trade laws to tax sea routes, yet that did not stop your father. It’s also illegal to mine ore in a neighboring country and smuggle it out, is it not? Or to send spies to my palace as your father did. He even sold me orphans stolen from your streets, defying his own slavery laws.”
His terrible accusations barely registered. Aden was down.
There was only one living person my battered heart felt connected to. I was about to lose him as well.
“My father didn’t deserve to die,” Aden gasped. Blood seeped from the wound in his side. His face was growing paler by the second. He would collapse any moment.
Rasmus circled Aden, swinging his sword in the air playfully. “Your father made a terrible king. Hughen hasn’t been a military power in decades. He only managed to win your freedom through trickery. Now that Hughen is back in Messaun hands, I’ll return it to the glory it should have boasted all along.”
Aden gritted his teeth. He swayed where he knelt, looking like he would pass out, but he drew in a long breath and raised his weapon with his good arm, clutching his wound with the other. “I’m not dead yet.”
Rasmus smiled. Then he lifted his sword.
“You can’t win, Rasmus,” I said quickly. “Captain Belza is dead and your men defeated. The townspeople have been mobilized. They’ll fight you, town by town, until you’re driven out of their land.”
The khral stared at me in confusion, then scanned the room. Only a few dozen guards and commoners remained, swinging their weapons and shouting. Most of the survivors had fled. The pirates had all gone, probably to search for their captain’s body in the bay. That or scouring the palace for valuables.
