18. Zai
Zai
Istumbled out of the stuffy bedroom, head pounding from last night’s drinks.
With only three guestrooms in the inn, I’d spent the night crammed into a room with eight pirates.
An endless chorus of snores, sleep-muttered curses, and enough body odor to kill a mountain cravik had kept me awake half the night.
Kestrel had somehow slept through it all, grinning even in his dreams.
In the common room, Captain Tera sat at a corner table, already working through a bowl of porridge and hard bread.
She glared at the men and women ambling out behind me. “Hurry up and fill your bellies, crew. We’ve got a new mission.”
Groaning, the crew scattered for the nearest tables, a few clutching their heads. I’d had enough drinks to blur my vision, but nothing like these poor bastards.
Within a candlemark, we trudged outside into the crisp morning air. At the center of the yard, an airship stood braced with wooden props, its balloon tucked away for the night. The hull had been painted a bluish gray, the name Skydagger emblazoned along its side.
As we climbed aboard, the crew moved with practiced efficiency despite their hangovers, hauling ropes, checking rigging, and unfurling the balloon. Two wielders positioned themselves beneath the opening, flaring heat from their palms into the light-blue fabric. Slowly, it rose and filled.
Clever choice of colors. Seen from below, the ship would likely melt into the sky.
Tera scaled the steps to the quarterdeck, followed by a shorter woman with a gray-streaked black bob. They exchanged quiet words as the ship groaned beneath us.
The crew’s mood lifted as we rose above the rooftops. Fresh air washed away the stale reek of the inn and their voices grew louder, more animated. Ropes creaked as the airship tilted, clearing the treetops.
The forest canopy spread below like a green-brown ocean, but thick clouds closed in around the ship as we rose, swallowing everything beyond a stone’s throw. The world narrowed to just the deck, the crew, and an endless fog.
Gripping the railing, I stared into nothing.
The past few days had been a tumbling ride of emotions, but the constant focus on my next step had kept the churning thoughts at bay. With nothing to distract me but fog and empty air, my walls cracked. Everything I’d shoved aside surged up my chest like bile.
Exiled. Despised. Broken. Abandoned. Almost killed by my own brother.
And this mission to capture the Dual Wielder—what chances of success did I really have?
A dark thought slithered through my mind. What if Father didn’t care about me at all?
Maybe it was just part of his schemes—saving me from death only to exile me and dangle redemption like bait. If I captured the Moon Queendom’s new weapon, his problems would be solved. And if I died trying… well, I was supposed to have died in that duel anyway.
My jaw ached from clenching. All my life, I’d trained and bled for him to look at me with anything other than disgust. And the first time he gave me something resembling warmth was the same blazing day he cast me out.
Not that I could blame him. I deserved every disdainful word, every loathing glare. Killing Mother might have been an accident, but the guilt would follow me for the rest of my life.
A bitter voice inside hissed that if I deserved to suffer for one mistake, then the world deserved to suffer with me. No one was innocent. Maybe I should burn the whole blazing Kingdom down for all the pain they’d caused.
My throat closed as shame crashed over me for allowing thoughts like that into my head. This was my fault. I was too weak, just as Father had said. If anyone had earned this punishment, it was me.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Kestrel appeared at my elbow, grinning like he’d woken in a rose garden instead of a flea-ridden bed. “I love mornings. Fresh starts, new adventures—”
“No,” I growled.
His smile faltered for half a beat, then blazed back twice as bright. “Ah, I see. Not a morning person. That’s fine, that’s fine. I can be a morning person for the both of us.”
“Leave.”
“I know just the thing to cheer you up!”
He launched into a song about “Zai the Irate” and his “unfortunate fate,” rhyming “exiled prince” with “by his brother singed,” complete with exaggerated gestures and dramatic flourishes. Laughter rippled through the nearby crew.
Heat flared in my chest. I shoved away from the railing and stalked across the deck, putting as much distance between myself and that grinning ash-wretch as the ship allowed.
The quarterdeck rose at the stern. I climbed the steps onto the raised platform, dominated by a large wheel. Tera stood at the helm while the shorter woman leaned over a table off to the side.
Tera glanced at me. “Welcome up.” She jerked her head. “Have you met Lark? Our navigator.”
Lark straightened. Her warm-brown skin bore the marks of years beneath the open sky. Gray streaks threaded her black bob, and fine creases etched the corners of her eyes.
“Lark, this is Zai.” Tera raised an eyebrow. “Or should I call you Prince Zaivareth?”
I scoffed. “Zai is fine.”
Back when Tera had been one of my masters, everyone called me Zai. After Mother’s death the palace turned painfully formal, but I’d always hated my full name, especially wrapped in titles.
Lark studied a chart spread across the table. “Two degrees starboard would be advisable, Captain, to avoid passing too close to the rift.” Her voice was quiet, measured.
“Two degrees starboard,” Tera shouted to the deck below.
The crew sprang into action, adjusting the rigging as the captain turned the wheel. Wood creaked as the ship shifted beneath us.
Once we steadied on our new heading, Tera called over her shoulder. “Lark, take the helm.”
Lark rolled up her map and placed it in the cabinet bolted to the side of the table. Then she stepped forward, her thin hands settling on the wheel.
Tera moved to the front railing overlooking the deck. “Listen up, crew! We have a new mission.”
Every face turned toward her.
She gestured to where I stood a few paces behind her. “Zai has hired us to help him capture a man called the Dual Wielder.”
Murmurs moved through the crew, some expectant, others doubtful.
A man scratched his beard and spoke up. “Ain’t that the one from the Moon Queendom?”
Whispers rippled across the deck.
Tera’s voice cut through the murmur like a blade. “We’ve hunted moonfolk before. This is no different.”
“‘Cept this one’s got both sun and moon magic,” a wiry man muttered, loud enough to carry over the wind.
“Best he pays well,” a woman called, jerking her head in my direction.
“Of course,” Tera said without a backward glance at me. “Zai has promised us one hundred crystals if we succeed.”
Cheers erupted across the deck. Fists pumped. The energy shifted into something hungry and eager.
I raised an eyebrow. One hundred crystals wasn’t at all what we’d agreed. Only Tera’s pardon in exchange for their help, nothing about rewarding her crew.
The captain caught my skeptical look. She sauntered back and leaned close, voice dropping to a whisper.
“You think I won’t ensure they’re paid for their services?”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m certain you will. But why not just be honest about our deal?”
“They need motivation, not doubt. It’s rhetorical.” She straightened, arms crossed. “I’ll see to their reward. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you kept our arrangement to yourself. Understood?”
A wry smile tugged at my lips. “Perfectly clear.”
“Good.” Her voice returned to its usual commanding cadence. “I’ll reach out to my informants. If anyone has caught wind of the Dual Wielder’s whereabouts, I’ll know within a candlemark.”
She climbed down the ladder and vanished into the room below.
Father would approve of her methods—twisting the truth just enough to get people moving. Maybe convincing him to grant her pardon wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d feared.
The crew clearly respected her too. They jumped when she spoke and worked without complaint, even hungover and exhausted. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from the captain.
I smirked.
How to earn people’s respect: lie to them.
A candlemark dragged by, and restlessness prickled beneath my ribs. I leaned over the railing, staring into the endless expanse of clouds.
Lark stood at the wheel, hands steady, gaze fixed ahead. She didn’t fill the air with meaningless chatter. Stillness settled around her like a second skin.
I liked her already.
I glanced over my shoulder at the navigator. “How does Tera consult her network? Is there a sun seer onboard?”
Lark turned to me, one dark brow lifting. “Tera is a sun seer.”
Respect swelled in my chest. Sun seers could channel light into polished metal and send their reflection to a similar surface vast distances away—a skill that took decades to develop.
Footsteps echoed on the stairs. I straightened as Tera climbed into view, her expression unreadable beneath the wide brim of her hat.
“Well?” My voice cracked like a whip.
A smile curved her lips. “We have him.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Where?”
“He’s been moving west through the Moon Queendom. Yesterday, his party was overheard at an inn, discussing their next route. They planned to cut through Blightlands, following a river westward.”
Relief surged through me. Finally something going my way. But I still had to capture him. “He’s accompanied by a party? How many are they?”
“According to my informant, about a dozen moon-wielding guards.”
I leaned back against the railing and crossed my arms. “That complicates things. How are we supposed to capture him with them protecting him?”
Tera smirked. “You forget you have a pirate crew on your side. We’ve only got three non-wielders onboard: Lark here, Carpenter Brenna, and Jorek the medic. Oh, and your buddy Kestrel, of course. But the rest are sun wielders.”
I glanced at the crew milling about on deck below. “Can they fight?”
Tera barked a laugh. “You bet your blazing hearth they can. Besides the occasional tavern fights, we kill monsters on a regular basis.”
I raised a brow.
“The parts sell for good money,” she huffed, as if answering my unspoken question.
But my skepticism had nothing to do with why they hunted monsters. The crew might handle beasts and tavern brawls well enough, but moon guards? If they were anything like our sun guard, they would have drilled daily in coordinated strikes and tactical formations.
Tavern brawls left you bruised. Battles left you dead.
Lark’s thoughtful gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “Are they traveling by foot?”
“By river boats,” Tera said. “But they’re going slow. Upstream the whole way.” She gripped the wheel, nudging the navigator aside.
Lark crossed to the navigation table and unlatched the cabinet bolted to its side, retrieving the map. She unfurled the parchment and anchored the corners with brass weights against the wind.
“They should be moving along this river.” Her finger traced a path across the shadowed region marked as Blightlands.
“We’re on the right course. Three days, maybe four, and we’ll intercept them.
” She tapped a spot on the map. “There’s an inn here we could pause at next.
It’s a stretch, but if we push hard, we can reach it before dark. ”
“Great,” Tera said, then bellowed down to the deck. “All hands—rig for speed! I want the balloon taut and the ballast trimmed!”
The crew’s whoops and shouts rose up, boots pounding across the planks as they scattered to their stations.
Excited anticipation surged through me. Just a few more days. I’d capture the Dual Wielder, drag him back in chains if I had to, and throw him at Father’s feet. Proof of my worth, laid bare for everyone to see. Even Val would have to admit to my ruthless efficiency.
We spent the next couple of days traveling through Blightlands, resting at different inns like the one where I’d first met the pirates.
Kestrel blended right in with the crew, trading jests with Flint the Furious, helping Orrin the Cook in the kitchen, and spinning clever nicknames for everyone aboard.
A woman with blunt humor became Mouthy Mara.
A wiry man with gloomy eyes earned the name Jaded Jorgen.
The lookout at the front became Sharp-Eyed Sashiva.
I stayed away, avoiding them. Or maybe they avoided me. Either way, I had no intention of befriending outlaws and criminals.
I had found my allies, but I trusted no one.