1. Kye
1
Kye
O nce upon a fucking time, a fire defied the laws of nature when it shattered the surface of the sea.
The water devoured it alive, of course. Nothing burns with more rage than the sea.
I didn’t know where the fire came from. But it was suddenly at my boat, screaming as it climbed through the air on an invisible ladder, drunk on hunger for my breath. My throat closed in a raw cloud of heat, oxygen scorching my lungs.
Maren laid at my feet, fighting to stay awake.
“Don’t fall asleep,” I choked out, throwing my eyes over my shoulder toward the cliffs.
The burn of a different blaze seared down my back, pulsing under the tip of the sun-damned arrowhead lodged somewhere above my scapula. There was nothing I could do about an arrow, though. Not with my arms pressing against the angry tide, oars shaking in my grasp. “We’re almost to land. We’re almost there. We need to run. Be ready to run.”
My words meant nothing to Maren.
Her eyelids flickered, head nodding until her chin tucked into the floor of the dinghy. A wave lashed at the side of our boat, washing her hair over her nose and mouth. She didn’t move.
Hurling a string of threats to Aalto, I threw my weight into my arms. My right arm trembled, wrist refusing to bend.
My shoulder screamed.
My jaw clenched.
And the pirates slowly fucking gained on us. They wouldn’t catch up before I reached the rocks. But like at Laurier Palace, these cliffs stood high overlooking the tide. We’d have to climb.
I’d have to climb. I’d lost Maren to the Valeriany about two minutes ago—
Flames erupted again beside my boat.
They roared to life, reaching out over the surface like curled talons, engulfing the air in vivid orange color and stifling heat. Then died just as quickly, consumed by hostile ocean waves. I swore, ducking into my oars as I shot a look back at the pirates.
One of them aimed another glass bottle my way, stroking flint against the cloth that hung from the bottle’s neck.
Fuck.
The sea bucked under the dinghy. Saltwater and wind whipped in my eyes. Another pump at the oars. Muscle tore under the arrowhead. Slicing pain sent white stars across my vision. A groan rumbled out from low in my chest, my throat raw. Keep rowing. Keep rowing. Keep—
A sudden scrape of rock against wood vibrated under my feet. The cliffs.
Maren had curled into a soaked ball. She unfolded lazily as I bent to rouse her. A crash lit against the rocks.
Glass ruptured at my side. The boom of fire split the air over my head. Heat waves lashed my face, stripping the ocean-spray from my skin in an instant. I flinched away, dropping over Maren as flames licked themselves clean on the wet rock, burning dry sand and weeds in the cracks of the cliffs. It only lasted a moment, a rogue wave extinguishing the small flames. I pushed to my knees, ignoring the burn in my shoulder as I grabbed Maren at the waist and heaved her against my chest.
Fucking arrow.
Our stolen gear hung from one arm, the knapsack heavy and the pirate sword hard against my baldric and belt. My eyes cut across the rock face, searching for a route easily taken by a man weighted down with an unconscious woman and fucking dogs at his heels. Each wasted second burned against my mind.
Fucking hurry up and choose, Laurier.
Shouts and jeers came from behind me, raising the hackles at my back.
A number of rocky shelves jutted from the cliffs at my left. To my right, a straight shot up the stone wall. It would be faster. But I wasn’t certain my shoulder could stand the climb. And if I dropped Maren, she’d free fall into bare rocks and sea.
An arrow flew over my head, embedding itself in dry rock.
Left.
I hissed as I shoved Maren up over the rocky edge first, fitting my fingers into the grooves and climbing up to join her. My right hand barely moved when I tried to bend it. I heaved her up with the flat of my forearm instead. Someone yelled behind me. Not at me—at another pirate.
They were arguing over something.
I lifted Maren again, growling as I pushed her up and over, catching her legs before she fell back on me.
Shards of glass whisked past my face, and I scrambled up to shield her as fire bloomed at my feet. I dared a glance back at the fucking bastards. They glowered at me from a distance, but they’d turned their boat away, heading north along the rocks. Away from us.
Panting, I watched them go.
The arrow bit into my shoulder with each breath. My wrist throbbed.
It was entirely possible I’d broken it while rearranging Burian’s face after he touched Maren. If nothing else, I could count on the pirate being fucking dead, sunk somewhere on the ocean floor along with the ugliest Aalto-damned ship I’d ever seen.
My gaze narrowed as I watched them change direction. The pirates knew these cliffs. Knew of a more favorable place to land. They’d probably catch us before we even made it to the top. Or sit around and wait to capture us. Hands buried in lichen and rock, I craned my neck as their rowboat vanished around a misty alcove. My eyes darted back down to the empty dinghy.
It was a risk.
A calculated, possibly stupid risk.
Was it worth it?
Fuck. I didn’t know for sure. But I thought it might be.
“Come on, Leihani.” I lifted her over my shoulder again, watching her bare feet drop over the edge of the rock. Shards of glass cascaded into the water below, sparkles catching dim starlight before the sea plucked them from the air and drank them in a fury.
She murmured softly as I set her into the dinghy, the sound giving me a moment’s pause. Wind clawed at her hair, ruffling the tattered edge of that satin dress. It scraped against me too, cold against my skin, my loose shirt flapping angrily against my chest.
Aalto in the fucking sky. I could stare at her later.
The boat wobbled as I launched myself in. I settled back over my seat, facing the alcove the pirates had disappeared behind and turning the nose of the boat south. The tide that had helped push me to shore worked against me now, batting at the side of the dinghy like a bored feline, sending the boat's aft into the rocks. I pushed on, teeth bared and breath short, eyes never leaving the dark alcove.
Frozen stars twinkled overhead. In a pit of sand and rock, Maren groaned to life beside me.
I hadn’t carried her far. Perhaps if my shoulder and wrist hadn’t been injured, if I hadn’t been starved of nourishment and mobility for two weeks, I could have. But lugging the weight of a grown woman around while my knees threatened to give out and my shoulder screamed into the void of my mind—I’d rather set her down at my feet and take the fucking pirates head on with the sword.
She sat up slowly, blinking at the fire as if to clear fog from her head. I’d done little else than kneel behind rocks and watch our surroundings like a vigilant little fucking rodent peeping out of a tunnel in the ground. But I shifted at the sight of her moving body, drinking her in with relief.
“Where are we?” she rasped, midnight eyes roving the surrounding rock. I threw a last glance out towards the sea, but any sign of the pirates remained tucked into the dark.
For some reason, it almost made me more nervous.
“Rivea.” I muttered the word like a curse, letting my gaze trail back to her and watching the thoughts that had occupied my head for the last day and a half trickle into her cognition.
Neither of us had expected to escape the pirates. Not until the chance to do so presented itself. And when it had, there’d been little time to consider anything but taking that chance. But now, sitting in the quiet dark with only a slice of moonlight above, the thought crackled around us like quiet thunder.
We’d escaped one fucking enemy only to land ourselves in the house of another. The pirates might’ve wanted Maren, but if Rivea knew a Calderian prince trekked their countryside, there’d be a bounty on both our heads.
A drop of resin in the fire snapped, sending a small spark wheeling into the air. Maren leaned forward, opening her mouth to speak, and flinched in surprise. She pulled back the strap of her dress, fingertips brushing the curled edge of a paper, disbelief widening her eyes.
I watched as she tugged it out. “What’s that?”
Salt water had fused the edges together, but she peeled it apart with care. It crinkled as it separated, creases dried and hardened in puffy squares like the patches of a quilt. Ink streamed from letters and symbols written in Rivean, though it looked to be legible.
I ducked around the rocks, mouth parted as I sat beside her, my lips moving as I translated the words in my head. A master of foreign language, Hadrian would’ve been able to read it out loud. My Rivean was just rusty enough to require more time.
A list of features describing Maren sat on the page along with instructions to keep her whole and intact. And to kill anyone she’d been found with.
“It’s Kriska’s letter,” I thought out loud, eyes shifting back to her.
Maren cleared her throat, staring at the red seal hanging from the edge. She smoothed a fingertip over the hardened wax. Worn from Kriska’s pocket, it looked like it might have been an eight-pointed star once, though small chunks of wax had fallen away, leaving it mangled. “I’ve seen this before,” she murmured, almost as though voicing a private thought.
My brows jumped. “Where?”
She glanced at me, realizing she’d spoken out loud. Then shook her head. “I can’t remember.”
Firelight stroked her face, highlighting a fresh cut along her temple and summoning a twinge of guilt to my chest. It hadn’t been there before I’d climbed onto the cliffs. My hands itched to sweep a lock of hair behind her ear, so I could see it clearly. Purple knots had formed in a line along her cheekbone. A relic of Burian’s knuckles.
Somewhere inside me, anger sliced through the guilt.
She made to draw her arms around herself, and I reached for her hand. But by the time my fingers wrapped around hers, my mind emptied of thought, leaving me stranded and at the mercy of her piercing midnight irises. Fuck.
I couldn’t hold her gaze. My vision dropped to our joined hands. Her knuckles were cold, and I slid my thumb over them, calming the small simmer that her touch lit under my skin.
“We’ll be back before Scorreo .” I hated that I couldn’t hide the doubt in my own voice. My brows laced, chest deflating as we listened in unison to my failed attempt at confidence. “Once we're in Calder, I'll see that you're released from Thaan. Even if I have to have him hanged.”
Something in her face twinged before she schooled her thoughts into hiding.
I tilted my head. “Unless I’m misunderstanding things, and you care about Thaan’s safety.”
Maren snorted derisively. Warm satisfaction flared through my veins. “No. I’m just not sure you understand Thaan’s position at court. He’s untouchable.”
The warmth died.
“No one is untouchable except the King.”
Her gaze sobered. She took her time studying me, and I pressed my palms into my thighs to keep them still under her scrutiny. Nothing sent my blood churning like her sparkling eyes focused on me.
“Are you stupid?” she asked softly.
I huffed a laugh, though I hadn't expected such a blunt question from her. “Well. Sometimes.”
Maren didn’t smile. “Hadrian asked me what claws Thaan has in your father’s hide. You both said you didn’t trust him. If you think it will be easy to charge him for his crimes and put a rope around his neck—”
“I didn’t say I’d hang him legally .”
“Don’t.” Her voice cut into me, something like fear in its depths. “Don't try to fight Thaan. I’ll deal with Thaan. I can fight my own battles.” She gave my fingers a small squeeze, though it only sent a fist into my stomach.
I couldn’t blame her for being unwilling to confide in me.
I’d known Maren for only six months, and I’d done little in that time to deserve her faith. I wasn’t even sure where we stood. Partners, lovers, allies? We might have been married against our will, and we might be willing to climb into the same bed—or at least, we had been before the pirates stole us from the beach.
But I’d be remiss to think she considered me a friend. A confidant.
I fought to keep the burn of disappointment at bay. She still didn’t trust me. And perhaps I didn’t completely trust her either. Perhaps the events leading up to our wedding—the glares, the threats, the way we’d pushed each other, hoping the other would break—hadn’t faded enough from memory. I suppose that meant we didn’t have to share our secrets.
Though I was certain I’d never craved someone else’s secrets the way I wanted hers.