Chapter Twenty-Three
It was time to bringan end to the madness and reclaim the throne. Celeste pulled her cloak tighter and pressed her hand to the stone wall. The secret passage swung open, and dust swirled inside the mausoleum.
Once she’d located the latch, Celeste extinguished the lantern, and inhaled deeply before opening the door to the royal gardens.
Guilt pricked at her for abandoning James after promising him she would not take this on alone. But she must. It was the only way to ensure her kingdom would endure, free of her uncle’s influence. She needed to face Caroline, sister to sister.
Henry, in his diligence as first mate, had provided her with new garments, clothing that not only befitted a pirate but a woman of her station. Where he procured them, she knew not, but when she’d stepped from the captain’s cabin, every eye on the ship focused on her.
The billowing white sleeves of her shirt and soft fabric of her trousers allowed her freedom of movement. But it was the intricacies of the bodice around her waist that completed the ensemble. Silk and leather woven together with whalebone and embroidered details along each column. Hidden along her spine, a dagger lay sheathed in the hem.
Every hand stilled as she made her way across the ship. Her previous actions rankled many of the crew, but as she stood on that deck, at that moment, she basked in their attention, using it to bolster her courage. If she drew their admiration, she would most certainly make an impression on her sister.
Her parting words to Henry had been simple. I must finish this.
Shrouded in a dark cloak, Celeste had woven her way through Port Royale, returning the way she had originally escaped. This time, she would stand her ground. Even now in the fading daylight, as she navigated the narrow paths of tall shrubberies, her heart raced.
Where could her sister be? Locked in her chambers? Attending the council after news of their uncle’s fate? Whispers of his capture had fluttered through the open windows of the port, cloaked in the hushed conversations of old men in doorways. She ignored them, knowing if she were to succeed, she needed to strike while the kingdom stood stunned by the rumors. No one knew of his death yet.
Celeste listened for the sound of crunching gravel beneath the guards’ boots, but the sea crashing on the cliffs and the early song of the nightingale were the only sounds in the desolate garden.
She slipped beneath the archway of jasmine where she’d overheard her uncle’s plot. Pushing the memory aside, she ventured closer to the palace entrance, to where she would find her sister and bring an end to whatever her uncle had concocted.
“Have you any word of my uncle’s capture?” Caroline’s melodic voice drifted among the roses.
Celeste crept closer, keeping low against the greenery to hide her approach. Her heart thundered in her chest, mind racing.
“There has been no word, Your Highness,” a man replied, his tone regretful.
Hazarding a glance into the small gap between the bushes, Celeste held her breath.
Three men from her father’s council stood at attention, facing Caroline. In a flowing pink gown and with a silver diadem woven through her hair, she looked every stitch the picture of an innocent princess.
“My sister is a growing threat. She must be stopped.” She plucked at the rose clasped in her fingers. “Uncle Peter will return.”
The three lords shared an uneasy look before bowing.
The one in the center, Lord Rowland, her father’s most trusted adviser hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Are you certain, Your Highness? Of your sister’s treachery.”
Caroline dropped the flower to the stones at her feet. “I heard her threaten my uncle, saw her draw the blade myself. She stole from the royal vault.” She pressed a delicate hand to her chest. “Celeste wants the throne for herself. With Father dead and Uncle Peter missing, nothing will stop her from returning and taking what she wants.”
“This sounds so unlike Celeste.” Lord Rowland stroked his jaw. “She might be vivacious and spirited, but she is no traitor. She loved your father and this kingdom. Why would she turn on the very principles the king instilled in her?”
“Grief does strange things to people, my lord.” Caroline straightened, her lip quivering. “I saw vengeance in her eyes. There is nothing she will not do to secure the throne for herself.”
“Have you proof of her treachery?” Rowland’s companion, Lord Flemming, asked.
“Her vile attack on Uncle Peter is proof!” Her tone rose with fervor, and Celeste’s blood turned cold at the betrayal standing before her. “You must find her. Kill her, if needed.”
Caroline’s words drove a blade through Celeste’s breast, narrowly missing her heart. Her own flesh and blood, calling for her murder over senseless and baseless accusations of treason. How would she possibly manage to convince them of the truth?
“Go.” Caroline dismissed the three lords. “I wish to be alone.”
Her sister turned her back on the men as they retreated into the palace. The sun hung low on the water, casting the sky in deep red and orange. A servant appeared to light lanterns around the small circular stone landing encased in roses and overlooking the port and sea beyond.
When the servant left, Celeste inhaled deeply. It was time to put an end to her uncle’s plot, once and for all.
Gathering her courage, she set aside her cutlass, stood, and stepped around the hedge.
“Caro.” Her voice, echoing in the garden, broke on her sister’s name.
Caroline whipped around, her eyes wide. “Celeste.” Her hand gripped the balustrade behind her. “You have returned.”
“Aye.” Celeste took a step closer, her hands open at her sides to show her intention was only to converse...nothing more.
“Where is Uncle Peter?” Caroline asked.
“Dead.”
Celeste noted a shift in her sister’s demeanor—eyes darkening, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. It could have been a play of the sunset’s shadows and the flickering lantern light, but it was there.
“You lie.” Caroline stepped closer; her hands fisted against her flowing skirts.
“I killed him. Put a blade through his deceitful heart.” Caroline’s gasp shook her resolve, but she remained steadfast. “I did what I had to do. To save you.”
“Save me?” Caroline scoffed. “You have ruined everything.”
“What do you mean? He was using you, Caro. He...” Celeste shook her head, unable to put words to the atrocities he’d committed against her sister. “Uncle Peter used you for his own gain, for his own pleasure.”
Realization dawned upon Caroline’s face, and uneasy laughter bubbled to the surface. “You think he seduced me? Is that it?”
Celeste took a step back as her sister came closer.
“You know nothing of our relationship,” Caroline said. “We are bound by something more substantial.”
“Tell me. Pull back the curtain and reveal this truth you’ve embraced freely...enough so that you would disown your sister and leave her for the hangman, to die branded a traitor to the crown.”
They stood face-to-face, their gazes locked. Celeste itched to have the comfort of a weapon in her hand, but this was more than that. This was an unmasking. An unraveling of treachery and betrayal.
“We are not sisters.” Caroline’s confession hung heavy in the air.
Celeste reeled back, as though she’d been physically struck. “What did you say?”
“Peter was your uncle.” A satisfied grin appeared upon her lips. “He was my father.”
“Your...” Disbelief drove into her like a blow to the gut. She stumbled back. “This cannot be. Our mother...”
“Our mother married your father out of duty, but she loved mine.”
“No.” Celeste’s hands trembled. “Lies. All of it.” Everything she knew, everything she held as truth, the fabric of her very existence had been a facade. With her father and mother dead, she had no way to confirm Caroline’s words.
Then her uncle’s dying words drifted into her mind. My blood prevails. A guttural cry ripped from Celeste’s throat as tears stung her eyes.
“Well then, cousin, this charade has reached its end.” Caroline slid a hand into the fabric of her skirts and withdrew a dagger the length of her forearm. “A traitor’s death awaits you.”
Fury consumed Celeste, like a ship caught in a tempest tossed about on the waves. She reached beneath the laces of her bodice and removed her own dagger.
Caroline lunged forward, her blade aimed for Celeste’s heart. Celeste blocked it with her own, the clash of steel echoing among the roses.
Surprise flashed on her cousin’s face. “You came to kill me, then?”
They circled each other, taking measure.
“I came to reason with you.” Celeste growled, gripping the weapon, searching for a weakness.
“Reason.” Caroline’s derisive laugh twisted the betrayal into a physical ache in Celeste’s chest. “We are beyond reason. You must die.”
Celeste braced for impact as Caroline charged forward. Her grip was strong as they grappled and tumbled to the ground.
Rolling on the stones, Celeste marveled at Caroline’s strength. Her fighting abilities nearly matched her own. An advantage granted by Uncle Peter, no doubt, in secret, along with their collusion.
The unrelenting ground beneath her matched the ferocity of Caroline’s attack. She slid her hand higher, wrapped it in the long, glimmering tresses, and pulled.
Caroline’s scream echoed in her ears. She wrapped her legs around her opponent’s, tangling them in her skirts in an attempt to find a hold. Caroline reared back, trying to pull free, her dagger sliding higher, the tip brushing Celeste’s shoulder.
Celeste’s foot slipped free, tearing the fabric, knocking Caroline off-balance. Celeste seized the break and rolled to the side, taking Caroline by surprise and tossing her away. Scrambling to her feet, Celeste caught her breath, putting distance between them once more.
Fury burned in Caroline’s eyes. “I hate you.”
“Why?” Sadness choked her. “After all we’ve been through, how could you do this?”
“Because it is my birthright.”
“No.” Celeste murmured the word, courage building inside her. “You stole it when you joined him. When you conspired to kill the king...to kill my father.” Her voice broke. “Nevarro does not belong to you. It will never belong to you.”
“You believe the people will welcome you with open arms now?” Caroline laughed. “We worked hard to ensure they believe the very worst of you.” She sobered, her eyes shining with murderous intent. “You will die as a traitor to the crown and a pirate.”
Celeste wanted to cut out her tongue. “You have one last chance to atone for your sins.”
“Or what?” Caroline said in a mocking tone. “You will kill me?” She smiled. “That will only confirm the truth—Princess Celeste, the murdering traitor, is no better than a thieving, bloodthirsty pirate.”
“You say that as though it’s a horrible aspiration to be a pirate.” A voice rose from the tangled vines behind them.
Both women turned to look at the man emerging from behind the roses.
James. Celeste wanted to kiss him...then throttle him. What in the devil was he doing here? And why now, of all moments, had he chosen to reveal himself?
“Ahoy, little star.” He winked as he swaggered closer. His attention shifted to Caroline. “And you...fat lot of trouble you’ve caused. All that bargaining.”
“I shall deal with you next.” Caroline pointed her dagger in his direction.
James lifted his hands, revealing a defenseless state, then pressed his palms together as though in prayer and bowed. “I beg you kindly to reconsider.”
“Surrender, Caroline.” Celeste licked her dry lips. “If you confess your sins, I will ensure you are given a fair trial. Perhaps mercy shall befall you, if you repent.”
“There will be no surrender, no repentance,” Caroline hissed. “It will be your death that heralds me as queen of Nevarro.”
With a flutter of skirts, Caroline spun, her blade clattering to the stones, a pistol rising in its place. Where in the devil—
The thought flew from Celeste’s mind at the click and snick of the hammer as it drew back and struck the flint. With a flash of light, the explosion left a plume of smoke curling through the air.
Celeste closed her eyes and crumpled to the ground as something collided with her.
A heavy, warm body.
She gasped as a groan full of pain tore through the garden.
Celeste’s eyes flew open. James lay on the ground beside her, his face pale. Red blossomed across his fingers as he pressed his hands to his chest. He’d been shot.
Twice, he had thrown himself in harm’s way to protect her, and twice, he’d been shot. Her fury toward him turned on the woman holding the smoking pistol.
Gritting her teeth, Celeste rose to her feet. Without thought, she charged forward, intent on revenge, the dagger tight in her grip.
Caroline’s eyes widened. She threw the pistol at Celeste, who knocked it aside with the hilt of her dagger. In a panic, her cousin spun, running, weaving into the garden, trying to lose her.
But Caroline’s skirts tangled in the rose briars, jerking her to a stop. She nearly fell into the bushes as Celeste caught her by the arm and twisted it behind her back.
“You would never...” Caroline pleaded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Please. Have mercy.”
“You stole everything I loved, everything I hold dear,” Celeste muttered, hatred seething, roiling beneath her skin. “I should gut you where you stand.”
Caroline whimpered and closed her eyes, bracing for the final blow.
With a heavy heart, Celeste relinquished her hold and shoved Caroline aside. “Let the people decide your fate. I am done with you.”
Turning, Celeste ran back to James, still lying on the stones, unmoving. Her heart ceased beating. He was—
“Princess!” A shout rang out behind her.
Celeste turned to find Caroline with a dagger raised above her head, running toward her.
She lifted her arms to block the blow.
A shot rang through the garden.
Caroline stumbled, her blade clattering to the ground, blood spilling over the front of her pink gown.
She collapsed, sprawling across the stone pathway.
“Princess.” Celeste’s savior stepped from the shadows. “Are you hurt?”
“Lord Rowland.” She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him.
“Go to him,” he said, pointing to James. “I shall fetch the surgeon.”
Rushing to his side, Celeste dropped to her knees. “James.” Her voice quavered with fear. “James, wake up, damn you.”
She cradled his face in her hands. His cheeks were pale, his eyes closed.
“James!” Her hands ran over his chest, his arms. Blood pooled beneath him. The shot had torn through his chest, just below his shoulder. She pressed her hand to the wound. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“You stubborn pirate...don’t you dare die on me.” She swore. “Do you hear me?”
Celeste leaned close, his soft breath caressing her cheek. Hope bloomed for a moment, but if they did not tend to the wound quickly, she would lose him. Forever.
“Where is the surgeon?” she shouted toward the house.
A flurry of movement emerged from the shadows as guards appeared, followed by the lords she’d overheard with Caroline earlier. They could arrest her, try her for treason, but they needed to tend to James first. Nothing else mattered.
“Save him!” Her tears broke free, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away with bloodstained hands.
Celeste leaned close to whisper in his ear. “I swear, if you die, I shall retrieve your soul from Davy Jones and kill you again myself.” A sob wracked her. “James...do not leave me here.”
The surgeon appeared, and she fought as they pulled her from her lover’s prone form. After they picked him up and carried him into the castle, Celeste sank to her knees in the darkness.
It was over. She had won.
But at what cost?