9. Reyna
Chapter nine
Reyna
“I have to admit,” Reyna called over the wind, the gentle swell of waves against the ship, and the panicked shouts of sailors left behind in Neolow, “it was remarkably easy to hijack this vessel. I expected more resistance taking the diarn’s private ship.”
A small part of her was immensely pleased that Serina had agreed to take the ship so quickly. There were six other options in the harbor, but the pirate clearly couldn’t resist sticking it to Diarn Arlon.
Which gave Reyna uninterrupted access to the diarn’s most mobile hiding spot.
Excellent.
“I know, right?” Serina laughed, perched confidently at the helm. The wind swept her long hair into a frenzy, and she tied it off with a piece of twine from around her wrist. Her bangs couldn’t be tamed, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spun on her heel, offering a charming wave at the constables in charge of Neolow’s pier.
The five sailors who’d just weighed this ship’s anchor—presumably to return it to Diarn Arlon—spluttered at them from the river’s surface. Three started swimming to the riverbank, while the other two tread freezing water in utter disbelief.
It had been surprisingly simple to shove them into the water one-by-one. Reyna was more skilled in combat, but Serina operated on raw determination and a dash of spontaneity, which proved to be a potent mix.
“We’re going to need a real crew for a ship this big, but I can get us to the next town, at least. As long as you help.” Serina jogged across the ship, fiddling with the lines on the foremast.
Reyna wrung her own hair out, tying it into a tight bun. The river had been ice-cold, and she shuddered in her wet clothing. Luckily, the exhilaration of theft kept her plenty warm. “Of course. Just give me a moment.” Reyna leaned against the aft railing, squinting at the constable’s ship further upriver. As predicted, Kianthe had guided it to shore, and it didn’t seem like anyone was hurt.
She waved at Kianthe, and far across the river, the mage waved back. On the shore, Bobbie was hunched over herself in apparent anguish.
“They’re okay,” Reyna said, pleased. “Well, Key is, at least. I think Bobbie’s having a harder time with this turn of events.”
For a brief moment, Serina seemed remorseful. She winced, then covered it with a firm set of her jaw. “Bobbie will survive. She has her precious job and her crochet needles and her stubborn pride, and that’s probably enough to put her to sleep at night.” Serina scoffed, tossing her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Here, stay at the helm and keep her steady while I handle the sails.”
Reyna took over, and Serina skipped down the staircase to unwind another line, releasing a third sail. This ship had two masts with at least seven huge sails, although some seemed too heavy to lift with one or two people. As a result, Serina was strategic about how she used them, pulling the smaller ones open so the wind could catch them. Reyna kept steady hold of the helm, aiming for the center of the river just in case.
She hadn’t realized the Nacean got this wide. Near Oslop, trees and mountains were visible on the opposite side of the river—far away, but still obvious, especially with the way the river separated in places. Even in Neolow, the river narrowed, which was why they’d built a ferry station on the east side for people to cross its width.
Here, even just a little further south, the Nacean widened to mimic an actual ocean. Already, the banks pulled away, leaving a huge open waterway for them to travel. It made Reyna feel very, very small.
After a few moments tying off several more lines, Serina called over her shoulder, “Thanks for helping me. I’m good, but if Arlon sunk his claws into me, I’m not sure anyone would see me for a while.”
“You don’t think he’d settle for a fine?” Reyna asked.
“I wonder sometimes if he’d settle for jail.”
Those words hung like a noose between them.
Serina breezed forward. She seemed overly cheery, almost too much. “Why’d you help me, anyway? Aside from the obvious lure of adventure.” She moved across the deck like she’d been sailing it every day of her life, but her confidence was belied by the way she avoided eye contact, the forced smile on her lips.
Reyna considered it for a moment, shrugging her cloak off to dry. The sun was warm, but the air was chilly, and she shivered again as the wind hit her damp skin. Swimming back to the docks hadn’t been the grandest part of Serina’s plan, but it was effective. Reyna took hold of the helm, and underneath her hands, the polished handles were smooth and sturdy.
“Simple. I needed a break from my fiancée’s jokes,” Reyna teased.
Visk had seemed very confused when she asked him not to retrieve Kianthe and Bobbie, and Reyna was lucky the griffon trusted her judgment. She didn’t want to make this easier on the constable, and a flying mount was nothing if not timesaving.
Still, it wasn’t hard to imagine Kianthe’s exasperation as Reyna abandoned her to live out a pirate adventure.
But that adventure warmed her veins, made her feel truly alive for the first time in two seasons. She hadn’t felt a thrill like this since hunting an assassin in Queen Tilaine’s crowded ballroom. Kianthe found adventure every time she left home—it literally came with her job title—so Reyna didn’t feel bad seizing a few moments in the sun herself.
Plus, she now had access to Diarn Arlon’s private vessel. And if the documents Feo dug up on the diarn were true, he had any number of hidden compartments on this ship.
She did regret insulting Kianthe’s jokes, though.
“That’s a lie,” she amended. “Key is hilarious. But if I tell her that, she’ll be insufferable.”
“Okay…” Serina grunted, yanking another line. She winced as it rubbed against the bandage on her left hand, but she didn’t release her hold. “That still doesn’t answer my question. You don’t know me. I thought you two were working with Bobbie before this.”
Skepticism lined her voice.
It was a valid concern. Reyna had only just met the pirate, but there were underlying influences at play.
So, she answered honestly. “I don’t trust Diarn Arlon.” Reyna twisted the helm just a bit, just enough to avoid a set of rapids on their left. “And I’m curious to get a second opinion. Ideally from someone who isn’t employed by him… and that seems difficult to find in his lands.”
She’d opened the floodgates. Serina tied off the lines almost angrily, eyes glinting like blue flames as she yanked the knots into submission. “Everyone is employed by him. Literally everyone. It started slowly, with his grandfather making deals with the farmers and merchants and sheriffs: ‘work for me, earn a consistent supply of food and income regardless of how much your lands yield.’ But in the contracts, he slipped in clauses that give him control of everything. Not governance , like most diarns practice. I’m talking total ownership.”
That was exactly how the Queendom operated. Ironic it was being replicated here, considering people in the Realm widely viewed the Queendom as antiquated in its policies and leadership. A monarchy, pressed against the meritocracy of Leonol, or the revered Council of Shepara.
It was murderously outdated.
“And that’s… bad.” Reyna kept her voice mild, neutral.
But her accent reminded Serina of just who she was speaking with. The pirate scrunched her face, like she was sorting through intense thoughts. “Look, okay. In the Queendom, your lords own the land, right? But they let their people, their citizens, farm it, and sell what they grow. The lords collect a tax, but otherwise they don’t interfere unless there’s a problem. Right?”
“Correct,” Reyna replied. She’d been a fly on the wall of many meetings where Queen Tilaine gauged tax collection and doled out punishments when lords weren’t meeting their quotas.
But for the most part, lords—like Wylan, the Queendom representative of Tawney—were left alone to manage local areas. In turn, the lords left their people alone, unless they were a special kind of vindictive.
Which, unfortunately, some were.
Reyna just didn’t expect that kind of thing from Diarn Arlon, who’d seemed sneaky, but mostly harmless until this point.
“Okay, so here, Diarn Arlon owns all the land. And the buildings. And the ships, and the livestock, and the crops. And we, as his citizens, are given a salary of his choosing based on what we can produce for his estate.”
“That’s… a curious choice.”
“’Curious’ is one word for it. So that party, the one where I exploded his precious buffet table?” Serina rolled her eyes in disgust, swiftly scaling a rope ladder to tug a few lines higher up. “That was to announce bonuses—extra coin—for his top earners. Farmers who happen to have very rich soil, or tools to harvest their crops faster. But they’re the ones making more money, and the rest of us are barely surviving on the salaries Arlon gives.”
Reyna frowned, holding the helm steady. “So, it’s not a tax. It’s the other way around. He takes everything, then doles out what he feels a town needs.”
“Mmm. And he’s not tracking birth rates, or droughts, or unusually cold seasons. Some towns are doing great. Some are starving, and he doesn’t give two shits about it.” Now Serina licked her finger, held it to the wind, and untied another line. A triangle-shaped sail attached to the bowsprit shifted slightly in response. “But,” she grunted, tying the line tight in its new location, “if we try to keep some of the food we grow to feed our families… he calls it ‘stealing’ and sends his constables to have a chat.”
Fury spiked in Reyna’s chest, but she reined it in, attempting to be logical about this. It was just one opinion. Still, it was shocking she’d never heard of this before: if this was happening, people had to know about it. Surely Feo, Tawney’s cunning diarn, would have mentioned it before sending them west.
“Wouldn’t the Council intervene if that were the case?” But the second she said it, Reyna knew it wasn’t true.
Serina quirked an eyebrow.
“Diarn Arlon is a council member.” Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose.
“The richest one, in fact. He’s the closest thing Shepara has to a king, and no one looks closely at how his people are living.” Serina set her jaw. “So, I became a pirate because it’s better than starving and better than serving as one of his constable lackeys. And yet, Bobbie calls me irrational.”
Reyna was afraid of this. Even in the Queendom, the lord may own the land, but the physical items citizens used to tend it were passed down through generations.
Granted, the Queendom’s lands weren’t rich to begin with—their main export was stone from various quarries, not crops from a bountiful river. Without Diarn Arlon’s supplies, the Queendom would struggle to feed its people.
Queen Tilaine spent many nights attempting to strong-arm Diarn Arlon and the Council into a finalized contract to ensure their food supply. It was only partially successful, and only because the Council couldn’t be seen causing a humanitarian crisis by refusing.
From high above the deck, Serina squinted upriver. “No one’s following us, so that’s a pleasant surprise. You can tie off the helm, if you’d like—I think we’re clear of any obstructions for a while.”
Across the river, another ship was heading north to Neolow, but they couldn’t know that this ship had been stolen. Reyna watched it carefully, but it seemed intent on keeping its distance, going about its way.
She tied off the helm as instructed. Her knot was messy, but Serina appeared at her shoulder and said, “Like this—” and retied it in a quick, easy fashion. “Simple and strong, but easy to undo in a hurry.”
“Clever,” Reyna replied.
Serina nodded at the sword Reyna had left out to dry and smirked. “We all have our talents.”
With the helm secured, Serina motioned for Reyna to follow her below deck. “Anyway. Enough misery. We’ve just stolen Diarn Arlon’s private vessel. Let’s see what the King of Shepara has to offer, hmm?”
Reyna chuckled humorlessly, but that title stuck like a knife in her gut.
She’d have plenty to say to Kianthe the next time they found each other.
In the meantime, she trailed after Serina. The vessel was a brigantine, but it wasn’t nearly as large as the ships she’d seen at the Capital’s harbor. Still, it was large enough to have a captain’s quarters below the helm—accessible through an ornately carved door on the lower deck—and a narrow staircase leading into the ship’s belly. There were no cannons; this ship was clearly meant for luxury transportation and little else.
“I’m surprised sailing ships can operate on a river,” Reyna said.
Serina swept out her hands, gesturing at the grandeur of the Nacean. “Just this river. It’s deep enough that ships don’t have to worry about running aground, and wide enough that the wind can really pick up speed.”
“I imagine there are hazards here we wouldn’t see in the open ocean, though.” Reyna raised one eyebrow. “Is Diarn Arlon the only reason you decided to stay on the Nacean, rather than telling him to go to hells and traveling south to the Southern Seas?”
“Well, if I told him to go to hells, a lot of people wouldn’t eat this winter.” Serina stepped down the staircase below deck.
It was nearly pitch black in the ship’s belly, and both the women had to duck as they descended beneath the captain’s quarters. Once they rounded the base of the staircase, a large cargo hold spread before them. Reyna squinted into the darkness, even as Serina fumbled to light the enclosed lantern hanging on a metal peg near the staircase.
“It’s big,” Reyna remarked.
“Mmm. Bigger than my last ship, anyway.” Serina tried to sound optimistic, but her voice hitched.
Reyna glanced at her, sympathy knitting her features. “Was that ship important to you?” Reyna hadn’t seen Serina’s old one—not in daylight, anyway—but even she knew this ship was bigger and better equipped, comparatively.
Serina struck a match and held it against the wick of the lantern, then closed the lantern’s tiny glass door once the flame caught. “My dad built it. We were a family of farmers, but he loved the Nacean. We’d go sailing on that ship whenever he could take the time.”
Reyna had never known her father. Her mother, also a Queensguard, raised her, with her uncle stepping in to teach on occasion. The idea of spending day trips with her father was strange.
Bobbie had gone over this, but she wanted to hear Serina’s side—so she played ignorant. “Is he still a farmer?”
“No. We lost the land.” Serina’s bitterness was obvious. She moved past Reyna, clearly done with that conversation.
Reyna let it drop, following dutifully. Together, they explored the areas of the cargo hold: the hammocks that swung over heavy wooden crates, the tiny glass windows at the bow of the ship that brought in a little light, and a trapdoor to the bilge—where water filled during a storm, and could be removed with a specialized pump.
Reyna wrinkled her nose when they found that area. “Smells… lovely.”
“Like a brisk summer day, right?” Serina joked, letting the door drop shut. Then she plucked a long metal rod hanging on the bulkhead and pried open one of the crates. Inside were a few ornate vases packed with straw. They’d obviously fetch a sum, but Serina groaned as if she’d found dog shit instead.
“Useless,” she muttered, resetting the crate’s lid.
“You could always resell them.”
Serina tossed up her arms. “I’m not in the resale market. I’m in the ‘hey, someone can eat this’ market. Arlon may value that kind of thing, but I certainly don’t.”
Reyna couldn’t argue with that. Her eyes scanned the cargo hold one more time, noting several areas to inspect when she had a bit of privacy. Then she blew out the lantern, rehung it near the staircase, and followed Serina to the lower deck.
They explored the captain’s quarters next. Although “captain’s” quarters was misleading, since this room had obviously been designed for Diarn Arlon, not the captain of his ship. There was a gorgeous roll-top desk, stocked with ink bottles and quills and leather-bound notebooks. A real bed with silk sheets and gold embroidery anchored in the back corner. Long stained-glass windows lined the wall behind it, offering a tinted view of the river. A door on the adjacent wall revealed a small washroom—although it lacked any of the modern upgrades they enjoyed at their home in Tawney.
“This is ridiculous.” Serina rolled her eyes. “A trip downriver only takes three or four days. Upriver is a bit longer, but he could still get from Jallin to his estate in a week if the wind is good. But he can’t spend that amount of time without a real bed?”
“Are you surprised?”
Serina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not particularly.” She slammed the door shut on that room, shaking her head. “Okay. Next steps. This ship is too much for us to sail alone, especially once the river narrows. What say we take a trip to Koll?”
Reyna laughed. “Sure.”