5. The Devils’ Cove.
The Devils’ Cove.
JAYCE
H arlow Prince is turning out to be a skilled dragoner, to my astonishment.
He performed flawlessly on his first harvest, aside from his near fall from the rope ladder.
Keeping him alive might turn into a full-time job, but if he’s good at what he’s doing, it’ll be entirely worth it.
The fact that he’s easy on the eyes has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.
“Where are we heading?” the pretty dragoner asks a few hours after his first job.
We anchored the Blunder south of the Spine for the night, in the forest, and we’re all having dinner in the galley.
“We’re going west to sell our cargo,” I say.
Harlow frowns. “But west of our position is…”
“The Devils’ Cove.”
“We’re going to the City of Thieves?”
“It’s not called that anymore,” I say, taking a sip of red wine. “It’s now a respectful port city. And they’ll buy our liquid-fire and other organic matter at a fair price.”
The Devils’ Cove was the capital of piracy before the War of the Crimson Sea seven years ago—also called the Crimson War.
It’s nestled at the far western end of the Spine, between dangerous cliffs.
Its only access used to be by the water, which is why it endured and thrived for a hundred years.
Until, of course, the invention of airships allowed the king to rain dragonfire on the pirate port.
Surrender was the only key to survival after a bloody war that lasted weeks over the Crimson Sea.
The expanse of water separating the two sides of Hargos had never deserved its name more.
“They adapted and rebuilt,” I say. “Our benevolent king likes to pretend he has stamped them out, but the people of the Cove are as tough as devils.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, so I take another sip of wine.
Harlow nods. “I will be delighted to witness what they’ve built anew. I read that the Devils’ Cove used to be a glorious port, and the richest in Hargos.”
I smile at him. “It was. Piracy pays well.”
At least, back when it still existed. The king wrestled for control of the waters around Hargos, and we’re all united under his banner now.
“You’ll see, it’s really impressive,” Kuroki says, eyes bright.
“There isn’t enough land between the mountains and the shoreline to accommodate all the inhabitants, so they built houses over the sea.
Everything burned during the war, but they have already rebuilt most of it. They call them the Floating Quarters.”
As Harlow and Kuroki talk about the Devils’ Cove, Alara offers me a sad smile over the table.
We lost friends and family during the Crimson War, and going back to the port city always reopens old wounds.
However, it has been a long time since our last visit, and the surviving thieves and rascals of the Devils’ Cove deserve their share of liquid-fire and dragonhide.
Four days after the harvest, we land at the newly built airdocks of the Devils’ Cove in the early morning. They run along the cliffs, where the seagulls nest. They’re high enough over the water that a fall would be deadly.
“That’s a lot of steps,” Harlow says by my side as he looks at the rickety wooden stairs going down along the cliffside.
I chuckle. “They wanted to offer a warm welcome to the king’s air navy when they came to visit. One misstep and they fall to their death. Stay close to me, Your Royal Highness.”
Harlow offers me his best condescending look. “I’m a grown-up. I can walk down a few steps.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Can you?” I pause for dramatic effect. “Stay close. It’s an order from your captain, dragoner.”
He snorts and stomps away, flipping me the finger over his shoulder.
I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face. Alara gives me a knowing look from her position near the bow.
“What?” I say.
She shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Let’s play a game of fuck off. You go first.”
She cackles like an old witch and walks to her husband, who is unloading the cargo with Wilbur and Kuroki.
They rebuilt the Devil’s Cove even more since our last visit six months ago, and the Floating Quarters stretch out along the cove farther than I remember, protected from the waves.
From above, the floating houses and walkways look precarious, but I’ve run a thousand times along them as a young man, and I know they’ll withstand many storms. The only thing that would spell their end would be the king’s dragonfire—as proven seven years ago.
We leave the Blunder anchored on the airdocks, and the entire crew walks down the wooden stairs to the town, carrying our last harvest. This is the one place on Hargos where we can be sure no one will touch my ship.
Harlow walks to the front, disobeying my order to stay close. I have in mind to wait until we’ve almost reached sea level before pushing him into the cove to teach him a lesson. But he’s carrying some of our precious harvest, and I’m not one to waste anything of value on pride.
As soon as we take our first steps on solid ground, the residents of the Devils’ Cove offer us the usual warm welcome.
They are the families and friends of pirates who lost the Crimson War.
Our friends. Alara is swept up in the arms of her loved ones, while Freddy does the sweeping to his.
Wilbur’s cousins, who work on the docks—all redheads, too—salute him in the north’s custom, forehead to forehead.
I respond to those who greet me, but my heart is heavy. Seven years have passed, but I still feel unworthy of their welcome.
The city market is buzzing with activity as we make our way between the stalls and shops. This was a calculated entrance. By noon, all in the Devils’ Cove will know that fire scroungers have landed with precious cargo. The richest buyers will make an appearance.
Harlow comes up beside me. “Where are we going?” The attention of the crowd seems to make him uncomfortable.
“To the auction house,” I say. “It’s owned by a friend, and he’ll get the best price for our harvest. Stay close. We wouldn’t want to lose our precious dragoner in his first week.”
“I’m not an item to be misplaced,” he retorts.
But for once, he obeys and stays close to me.
The auction house was one of the rare buildings made of stone, and it survived the fires of the Crimson War.
The roof burned, but the walls withstood the attack.
Only the scorch marks remain as proof of that dreadful day.
Harlow stares at them before following me inside.
As a dragoner, he must recognize the damage from dragonfire cannons.
The Crimson War was the very reason the trade of liquid-fire and dragon organic matter came to be.
We leave our harvest in the vault, and the rest of my crew disappears to see family and friends. Only Harlow and Kuroki remain with me—they know no one here in the Devils’ Cove.
We make our way to the shops and stalls with a list of things we need before taking off again.
Tools for Wilbur, food to restock the galley…
At some point, I find myself in a bookshop, following Kuroki and Harlow.
They both whisper excitedly, and I quickly understand they’re looking for romance books from the same author as the one I stole from the Tender Caress.
Harlow sneaks awkward looks at me, and I pretend not to pay attention.
Shop owners are generous with their discounts and free samples of their goods.
Harlow seems suspicious, but I avoid his gaze.
Drinks are poured and consumed in great quantities, and by nightfall, I’m pleasantly buzzed, but Harlow and Kuroki are shitfaced.
We find a table at the Weeping Sailor , a famous inn near the port, to get some food.
Kuroki eventually disappears with some of Wilbur’s cousins working on the docks, eager to know where his beloved inventor is spending the night.
Harlow watches him go, bleary-eyed. “He really has it bad.”
I smile. “You have no idea. He’s been pining after him for two years.”
“Is it a lost cause?” he asks me, sadness in his drunken gaze.
“I don’t know. Wilbur is a mystery. All he seems to care about are the Blunder and his inventions. We’re not even sure where his preferences lie.”
“But you like men,” he blurts out.
I smile, eyes smoldering. “Yes, Harlow. I like men.”
Even in the candlelight, his blush is unmistakable. He bites his plump bottom lip, and my vision narrows down on it.
Suddenly, he gets to his feet. “I want to visit the Floating Quarters.”
“Very well. I’ll be your guide, my Prince.”
The innkeeper refuses our coin, and so we exit the place with our bellies and pockets heavy.
Harlow is more than a little drunk, and I keep an eye on him as we reach the Floating Quarters. As much as I wanted to push him into the cove earlier, the desire has passed. He looks too vulnerable tonight, and I’m far too eager to win his trust.
“Is it safe?” he asks me as we walk along the wooden walkways above the water. “It looks extremely rickety.”
“It’s safe. Most of the time.”
He snorts adorably, and sways.
We make our way deeper into the Floating Quarters. Harlow admires the houses. Most of them are built on stilts or boats, a few feet above sea level.
“Ingenious!” he says more than once.
Until we reach the far end of the quarters, near the dark water. The cove’s shape prevents waves from reaching too far, even during storms. From time to time, the slender fins of the reef sharks living in the bay cleave the surface. They’re always waiting for left-overs from the fishermen.
“Are you a pirate?” Harlow blurts out, his back to me. “Everyone here seems to know and respect you. And the Blunder —”
“Is a boat,” I cut him off with a chuckle.
“I’ve noticed. Asshole.”
I laugh some more, and he finally faces me, fuming. Drunk Harlow is endearingly hostile.
“Yes,” I say. “I was.”
“You fought here during the Crimson War.”
“Yes.”
“The brand…”
I gesture at the scar on my face. “I burned it off.”
He gasps. “But… isn’t it supposed to be on your arm?”
When the Devils’ Cove surrendered, we spent weeks in our benevolent king’s prisons. But following our capitulation, they eventually granted us freedom, but only after they tattooed the mark of captured pirates onto our skins.
“I resisted, so they inked it on my face to spite me. The very first night after my release, I burned it off with a red-hot blade in the first forge I found.”
Harlow covers his face with his hands. “Fucking hell…”
I smile. He has a dirty mouth for a scholar.
“I was lucky,” I continue. “My ship had been damaged during a previous battle, and I left her for repairs south of the Spine. She didn’t burn like the others at the Cove.
It took me weeks to get back to her. Alara and Freddy were waiting for me—they were the only survivors of my entire crew after that final battle, and they escaped the king’s army.
As former pirates, we were forbidden to sail the Crimson Sea again, so I hired Wilbur to transform my ship into an airship.
He’d never done it before, but he was eager.
Everyone called us crazy, so we joked she was our blunder, and the name stuck. ”
Harlow staggers closer, and his warm hands grab mine. They’re small and soft, made to hold books and write with fancy quills. It shouldn’t be so appealing, but it is. I can’t help imagining—
“What was her original name?” he asks.
“The Princess ,” I say with a grin.
He swats me on the shoulder. “Be serious!”
“I am. It was a frigate stolen from the king. He offered it to one of his daughters fifteen years ago. I bought it at a fair price during an auction here five years later. No one wanted a regal but useless ship. Wilbur’s family improved her for me, added a few cannons, and she was mine. We kept the name as a joke.”
I was a young pirate then, arrogant and with an invincibility complex. I took nothing seriously. Until the war happened, and almost all of my crew bled to death or drowned in the Crimson Sea.
Harlow sighs. “I promise I won’t get mad when you call me Your Royal Highness again.”
“How generous of you. Are you ready to go home?”
He’s getting dangerously close, enticing me to do something I’ll deeply regret. He’s drunker than a sailor on payday.
“Yes,” he mumbles, trailing his fingertips over my chest.
Gods give me strength.
I usher him through the Floating Quarters, his hand in mine.
By the time we make it to the bottom of the wooden stairs going along the cliff-side to the airdocks, Harlow can barely put one foot in front of the other.
“You’re such a lightweight,” I say. “Hang on, I’ll carry you.”
“What…?”
I hoist him into my arms. “Quite so. You’re as light as a feather, no wonder you can’t hold your drink. Starting tomorrow, Freddy will train you. You need to pack on some muscle if you want to be a fire scrounger, dragoner.”
He buries his face in the crook of my neck and mumbles, “Yes, Captain… Jayce.”
I smile fondly and start the horrendous climb back to the Blunder . The seagulls nesting in the rocks are only quiet at night, and I enjoy the reprieve from their maddening cries.
Harlow’s company made our visit to the Devils’ Cove bearable this time. Maybe keeping him around is really in my best interest.