Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Ezryn
E verything makes me angry.
The sun, too bright for my naked eyes. The turquoise sea in the horizon that seems too peaceful for this debauched place. The constant jabber of vendors hawking their wares and the boisterous laugh of drunks despite it being early in the morning. Three times already I’ve nearly snapped the wrist of a would-be pickpocket, making me miss my armor; no one would ever have attempted such a thing if I was dressed in Spring steel.
What else can I expect from the immoral hive that is the pirate town of Corsa Tuga?
I should count myself lucky. The deserted island Keldarion abandoned me on was one of many used by the smugglers that inhabit these isles. I spent the night alone on that island, my wolf’s body curled around a palm tree, thinking of all the ways I could have killed Caspian. He’d ended my father so swiftly; perhaps I could learn something from the murderous wretch. Don’t think. Don’t hesitate.
I won’t be taken aback by Keldarion’s betrayal again. Three times now, he’s chosen the Below spawn over me. I only have myself to blame for thinking he’ll ever choose otherwise.
This morning, I’d been awoken by a group of smugglers and bartered my way aboard their vessel to Corsa Tuga, home to the most lawless and dishonorable fae in all the four seasonal realms.
I suppose I’ll fit right in.
If there’s any word on Dayton and Rosalina’s vessel, someone here will have it. I only hope I have the right price.
The dock square is nestled on the bustling waterfront. The smell of fish guts, spices, and unwashed feet mixes with the briny sea air. Weathered wooden planks echo underfoot as I observe each vendor, looking for one that may sell information.
Patched sails are repurposed as makeshift awnings, and stalls are crafted of stacked crates or barrels of rum. One merchant sells colorful cloth said to be cut from the Queen’s own gowns, and another peddles tiny daggers, claiming they’re genuine Spring steel. I catch myself mid-eye roll, remembering everyone can now see when I do that.
But nowhere do I see the most beautiful woman to ever walk the Vale, nor the muscle-bound, most likely shirtless, warrior that I pray is watching over her.
An angry voice cuts over the din, one that sounds too innocent to be in this place of scum and villainy.
“Look, I’ve offered you ten denarii already. That’s double what it’s worth.” The girl’s voice grows louder. “Will you make the deal or not?”
My gaze drifts over to a vendor sitting on a stool behind a slanting wooden stall. The man’s frame—more barrel than man—is covered in both tattoos and what appear to be barnacles. Squinting eyes peer out from beneath a weather-beaten tricorn hat that sits atop a clump of greasy, matted hair as he sizes up the two young women before him.
Stars be damned.
The girl scowls up at the vendor, appearing very much like a mouse glaring up at a vulture, but seemingly unbothered by it. Because of course she wouldn’t be. It’s in her blood not to fear, her mother being one of the most intrepid women to ever walk the Enchanted Vale and her fathers being two of the most accomplished warriors. Not to mention the legacy of her three older brothers.
Delphia, steward of Summer and sister of the High Prince, is dressed like a common urchin. Her black hair is swept back in a tangle, and a streak of oil shines across her dark brown cheeks. Her clothes would better befit a rubbish pile than a lady of the royal family, though I can tell the fineness of the dual blades holstered at her hips. I last saw her at Princess Niamh’s funeral in Autumn, and Dayton had doted on her as he always did.
Despite her scrappy appearance, she carries such maturity in those eyes. She’s been a child ruling an entire realm with no guidance, no support, no family. Now, she’s lost the only home she’s ever known and she’s here, in Corsa Tuga. This is no place for a young person, let alone Dayton’s sister.
“I ain’t trading this valuable product for ten measly denarii,” the barnacle-covered vendor snaps. “Why should I trust the coin of a streetling, anyway?”
“Fine. We’ll keep our coin,” says the girl standing beside Delphia, her voice deadpan. “If you won’t make the trade, we will find other ways to procure the item we seek. Perhaps I shall pluck a hair from your chin and make a spell of my own, one that turns your will to mine. Or I could turn your eyes inside out with a simple incantation, and we can sift through your wares as we see fit. Would that be preferable to our streetling coin?”
“Nori, please ,” Delphia snarls.
Stars be double-damned. Not only is Dayton’s little sister here in this wretched town, but so is Farron’s. Eleanor stands with her arms crossed, her outfit equally as decrepit as Delphia’s, though she wears a skirt while Delphia wears trousers. A harsh sunburn has formed across her nose over her otherwise nearly translucent pale skin. Her long auburn hair has the bangs cut blunt over her eyes and hangs straight down to her waist.
What in the seven realms are they doing here?
“Is that a threat, streetling?” The vendor stands up, towering over the two girls. They stare up at him with matching wide-eyed gazes.
“You two dirty dock urchins get the fuck out of my sight and your hands off my wares before I take your hands for my wares.” He snags a cleaver off his belt and holds it up above them.
It’s instinct. Before I even contemplate what I’m doing, I’m in front of the girls, holding the vendor’s wrist with the perfect amount of pressure to be just on the edge of breaking.
“I would be careful with such words, merchant,” I say calmly. The cleaver falls from his hand and embeds in the stall. He stares at me with a look both fearful and angry. “You never know who will visit your fine establishment. You may find yourself speaking with Her Royal Highness, Princess Delphia of Summer, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Eleanor of Autumn. When they wish to trade you their hard-earned coin for one of your fine wares,” I give a disdainful look down at the assortment of crap he has laid out on the stall, “then you should, in fact, respond with gratitude. And dignity. And thanks.”
I drop his wrist and place his hand on the stall. Then, I pick up the cleaver, toss it into the air, watch it twirl three times, before catching the hilt and slamming it down right between his splayed fingers. “In fact, you may find yourself so honored to be visited by such gracious company that you gift them whatever such item has won their affections.”
I allow myself to do something I’ve never bothered with before. I smirk. “What say you, fine merchant?”
The merchant looks down at the cleaver, perfectly placed between his fingers. His barrel-like chest heaves in and out. “Fine! Fine. Take the damned feather. Probably not even real anyway.”
Nori’s hand jerks out, snagging a large, ratty black feather from the stall and stuffing it in her pack.
I nod down at the girls. “You two. With me.” No way I’m letting Dayton and Farron’s sisters walk around this wretched place alone. If I hadn’t stepped in, they could have lost their hands. Besides, if they’re here, they must know something about Dayton’s whereabouts.
The girls exchange a look with each other then follow behind me.
As soon as we’re out of the dock square, I tug the backs of their shirts and direct them into an alleyway. “All right, ladies, would you like to explain—”
Delphia shoves me into the wall of the dark alley, then swings up her dual blades, placing one at my neck and one at my ribs. At the same time, a bright light shines from between Eleanor’s hands; she’s holding a small pumpkin with a carved face, the eyes and jagged mouth glowing. Red mist wafts out of the orifices of the pumpkin, smelling of …
Apple cinnamon?
Delphia snarls up at me, then turns to Eleanor, face changing as she gives an exasperated sigh. “Nori, I thought you said it was poisonous gas!”
Eleanor smacks the pumpkin. “I think I left my gas one on the boat. This is the aromatherapy spell.”
I raise an eyebrow, and Delphia just sighs again, then turns back to me with a vicious expression. “Who the fuck are you, stranger? How do you know who we are? Speak, or I’ll gut you here in the alley!”
This would be slightly more intimidating if I hadn’t presented her with a dollhouse for her last birthday—a gift picked out by Marigold.
But, of course, the girls don’t recognize me. They’ve never seen the Prince of Blood before.
“Whoever he is, he’s no friend of ours,” Eleanor says in that detached voice of hers. “Only an enemy or an idiot would trumpet that the Princesses of Summer and Autumn are here on Corsa Tuga. Some of the pirates would sell us out to the Green Rule for a single coin.”
The Green Rule … So that’s what Kairyn’s calling his new empire. I suck my throat back a smidgen away from Delphia’s shaky blade. “Well, I’m no enemy, so I’m afraid that makes me the other one.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t bleed you out,” Delphia snarls.
I take a breath, then move. First, I knock her blade away from my throat with a strike to her forearm. Then I spin away from the blade at my ribs. A quick nudge to the pressure points on her inside wrists, and she drops her blades. I grab them out of the air, give them a spin for good measure, then hold up the tips to her and Eleanor’s throats.
The girls stare at me, wide-eyed and gasping.
I retract the blades and spin them again, presenting the hilts to Delphia. “These are good swords. Your brother has ones just like them. I’ll tell you the same thing I’m always telling him. Mind your spacing. Too close and you’ll entangle yourself; too far and your strikes will lack power.”
Delphia grabs her swords and takes a step back. “Are you a sorcerer?”
“No,” Eleanor says. Her golden eyes flash and she steps toward me. For a child, she also has so much wisdom gained too young. “It is Ezryn.”
“High Prince of Spring?” Delphia whispers.
“Not High Prince anymore,” Eleanor says. “The Prince of Blood.”
“How do you know that name?” I ask lowly.
Eleanor waves a dismissive hand. “The dead whisper it all around you.”
I pull away from her and eye the empty space around me warily.
“You look different without your armor,” Delphia says, stepping closer to me.
“Obviously. He’s got a face now.” Eleanor rolls her eyes, and Delphia sneers at her.
I back up against the wall, suddenly feeling like I’m under the spyglass of these two young fae. “All right, all right. Yes, it’s me, Ezryn. I’ve come to find your brother and the Golden Rose. Are they here?”
Delphia crosses her arms. “ We rescued the Golden Rose. The royal family still has allies. One of my sailors has a friend who was commissioned as a shipwright to work on Kairyn’s prison barge. Through him, we were able to get it all: prisoner list, schematics of the underwater cells, and even a security detail.”
I raise my brow, impressed. “You risked your lives and the lives of your crew for a woman you barely know. Why?”
Delphia’s gaze is fiery. “The Golden Rose gave Autumn the miracle they needed. Maybe she can be the miracle Summer needs, too.” Then, as if embarrassed, she waves her hand. “Of course, my dumb brother shows up at the last minute and takes all the credit.”
“Where are they?” I ask.
“They went back to Castletree,” Delphia says.
“Using the golden briars,” Eleanor adds, and I see the look of reverence on both their faces and why not? To see Rosalina’s magic for the first time is a sight never to be forgotten.
Delphia turns and starts to walk out of the alley. “We’re meeting them back at my ship in three days’ time. You can meet us there if you want. I’ll tell you where it’s docked.”
I stalk behind her. “I’m not letting you wander around this town unchaperoned.”
Delphia gives me a glare that could wither even Rosalina’s roses. “I’m the steward of Summer. I don’t need anyone to look after me.”
“I’m acting on behalf of your brother. That trumps even stewards.”
“Great,” Eleanor growls, grabbing Delphia’s elbow. “Now we’ve got a babysitter .”
High Prince to babysitter. “It’s only three days. Then you’ll be rid of me, and I’ll be pleased to be rid of you.”
Three days. I’ve survived goblins, monstrous plants, and my brother. Two teenage girls can’t be that much harder.