8. CHAPTER 8
Aveline
Iwasn’t sure what the record was for how many times one could get seasick during the two day journey across the Saltale Sea—but whatever it was—I had beaten it.
I clung to the railing as I heaved again, Enora pulling the strands of hair from my face, already streaked with vomit.
I hadn’t been able to keep much of anything down.
Luckily it was only water and bile. We were on the latter half of our journey to Scaldrithor and I could see the outline of land coated in the heavy mist that hung in the distance.
When I had the strength to lift my head, that is.
Enora rubbed soothing circles into my back as I wretched once more, the sea crashing up to greet me and splashing my flushed cheeks with its cool, salty spray.
“I never thought I would say this,” I gritted out, my grip on the rail so tight my knuckles were white, “but I cannot wait to dock in Gothryn.”
Enora laughed. “A sentence I couldn’t agree with more.”
She cringed as I heaved one final time, my stomach completely empty. I turned, slumping against the quarterdeck and pulling my legs up into my chest. I curled into myself, pressing my eyes shut as I concentrated on not getting sick again. At eliminating the surging nausea that plagued me.
It certainly didn’t bode well for me that a ship could best me. How I planned to kill a prince was beyond me. The only thing I needed to focus on right now was making it to the other side safely and not retching up any vital organs.
It hadn’t taken long for murmurings to stir among the humans about my true identity. I hadn’t introduced myself to any of them, but somehow, they still knew who I was. That I was the ‘mistress’ of Prince Kallias.
Though that would imply he was married…which he was not.
I did not bother correcting them, swallowing my ire and irritation each time their glares and whispers reached me.
Enora joined me on the sticky, soiled deck.
She leaned against me for support. I was drenched entirely through with saltwater, the entire outfit ruined, shoes included.
It was Enora’s first time on a sea vessel as well, but she had fared much better.
She had been taking care of me this last day and a half.
Quinnick, too.
We were provided stale bread, stew, and water.
I hadn’t even been able to keep the stale bread down.
Quinnick was more than happy to eat my rations lest they go to waste.
I was surprised to find that Enora wasn’t the only Veytari aboard the ship.
There were quite a few other fae bound for Gothryn alongside the humans.
The whispers I overheard about the Blackwater princes had intrigued me the most.
After dinner last night, I was utterly claustrophobic in the thin net they called a ‘bunk.’ The room was filled with strangers—men and women alike—with prying eyes and ears.
I had taken Enora and Quinnick up to the forward bow to get some fresh air.
There was a cluster of humans who had the same idea, leaning over the rail as they enjoyed the balmy night.
“I’ve heard that Emrys is the most handsome,” the one with the pale hair said, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I have my eyes set on him.”
The one with the dark, bound curls shook her head. “I’ve heard he is a debauched cretin. It is Prince Sorin you should go after.”
“You’re thinking of Valerian,” she corrected. “He has a different woman in his bed each night. I would too, if I was as handsome as he is said to be.”
“I believe they all might be equally scandalous.”
“You might be right.”
They dissolved into a fit of laughter.
I had my stale bread in my grip, but I hadn’t been able to stomach it. I leaned down to give it to a greedy Quinnick who grabbed it in his maw and scooted off to eat it in private.
“I’ve heard the crown prince is cursed.” The blonde spoke in a hushed voice, but not so quiet that the crashing waves against the hull drowned out their conversation.
“Cursed?” The black-haired woman clutched a hand to her chest. “By the old gods?”
Blondie shook her head, casting a glance over her shoulder. I dropped my gaze in time not to be caught eavesdropping.
“No, by a mage. You know as well as I do that the old gods haven’t deigned to visit Aeloria in centuries. The gods have forsaken us.”
The black-haired woman nodded. “As long as the curse doesn’t affect his fangs, wings, or his performance between the sheets, it’s of no consequence to me.” She winked.
These women were planning on entering the blood trade, then. They wanted to become glorified blood bags for the Vireth fae.
I shook my head.
They were young and misguided. There was nothing alluring about being a blood servant. Humans were used and discarded as if they meant nothing to the Vireth. These women would die soon enough, when they overstayed their welcome and were no longer of any use to those more powerful than them.
Though mindless, the conversation between the young women had my thoughts swirling. If what they said was true and each of the three princes brought women into their beds regularly, that might be something I could leverage.
If different women were entering their chambers on a revolving basis, it shouldn’t be that hard to make an excuse to enter the crown prince’s sleeping quarters myself.
Or at the very least, slip something into a drink one of the young maidens brought in.
There were a million herbs or poisons I could plant on one’s person.
The tricky part would be not killing the both of them.
It was an option I would need to think about more thoroughly, when my mind wasn’t overrun with nausea.
If the princes frequented the local taverns, I could easily slip something into their ale.
Were the princes truly so careless with their own safety?
War was brewing on the continent. Were they truly so heedless they slept with strange women and frequented taverns and brothels, exposing themselves to all manner of danger?
It sounded all too easy.
As the women drifted off into the night, so did thoughts of killing dragons.
Sitting on the deck now, my head between my knees, all I could think about was Kallias. How if I failed in this crazed mission, I might never see him again.
“Tell me more about that job the queen has secured for me. I know you are to be working in the library as an apprentice, but what has she arranged for me?” I asked Enora, concentrating on taking deep, even breaths.
“You know, I hear gazing at the horizon helps with the sickness,” she replied, amused.
“The only thing that makes me feel even slightly better is the fresh air.”
Those cramped quarters downstairs were insufferable. The swinging of the hammock did absolutely nothing to ease my unending nausea. The last two nights I had tried to stay as still as humanly possible, flat against the creaking floorboards.
That hadn’t helped, either.
We advanced on Gothryn with every breath, the land in the distance no longer a mirage. That knowledge had a nausea of an entirely different kind stirring in my gut.
“The job?” I prodded, jabbing Enora in the side without looking up.
Burying my head between my knees appeared to alleviate some of the churning in my stomach.
I knew I was dehydrated and had to be a complete and utter mess without a proper bath.
Being half covered in vomit, soaked through with saltwater on a soiled dock, was a torture I hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing before.
“Right, the job.” Enora settled back, crossing her legs before her.
“Queen Dyata said something about a maidservant. You will attend to every whim of one of the royals. Preparing their baths, cleaning their chambers, plaiting their hair. Dressing them. Emptying their chamber pot. That sort of thing.”
I nodded. “Sounds like a lady’s maid. That, I can do.”
A long beat of silence had me lifting my gaze to meet Enora’s. That was a mistake. The realm tilted before me, and I splayed my hands against the slippery deck to steady myself. I buried my head back safely between my knees and pressed my eyes shut once more.
“What?” I asked. “Why does it feel like there is something you aren’t telling me?”
Enora swallowed audibly. “Word has it that two of the three princes are seeking new maidservants.”
“And why is that a problem?” I asked, my head still buried. “That’s good news. The closer I am to them, the better. The easier it will make this undertaking. The sooner its finished, the sooner we can go home.”
“While that is true, I heard that the way in which they lost their last maids was quite…gruesome.”
This had me lifting my head once more despite knowing better. My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
She cast me a sidelong glance and turned away. I was sure my skin was as green as the sprite we had tried to capture in that river in Elenwyth when I was eleven.
“They were charged with treason, cast out of the castle,” she replied.
“And?” I prompted impatiently.
“They were burned. Put to dragon fire.”
Air caught in my chest. “What…type…of treason?” I asked slowly.
“Stealing.”
I swallowed down the fear that rose in my throat.
“They said it was quick,” Enora added, as if that was any consolation.
I met her gaze, expression serious. “They were put to dragon fire for stealing. Imagine what might happen to me if I were caught. Perhaps it would be best if I wasn’t the personal servant to one of the princes. Maybe its best if I keep my distance and avoid suspicion.”
“I think that might be wise. Though, I don’t think you’ll have a choice,” she replied.
“What do you mean I won’t have a choice? Hasn’t Queen Dyata already arranged the position for me?” I asked.
Enora nodded, her ivory hair shimmering beneath the sun as it began its descent beyond the ship’s bow behind her.
“She has, but things don’t exactly work the same in Gothryn as they do in Myros. You will be…there will be…”
My expression tightened as she fought for the right words. She turned away, avoiding my gaze.
“Well, it’s a sort of…market. You see, those searching for work are brought together and those seeking indentures will …essentially…bid on them. Negotiate.”
“Bid on them?” My voice rose. I cast a furtive glance around the deck of the ship to ensure no one had heard my outburst. I hunched my shoulders, my face buried in my hands. “I will be auctioned off to the highest bidder? One of the Vireth will own me? What in the seven hells Enora!”
Dyata had said nothing about this. But why would she? This was all working out just perfectly for her.
Enora shook her head. “Not own, not in the way you are thinking,” Enora replied softly.
“Is there another way to own a person, or am I mistaken?” I snapped.
She reached out and grasped my hand in hers despite my outburst. I didn’t mean to snap at her. I could see now why Queen Dyata didn’t want to tell me any of the details herself.
“It will be a work indenture. A contract. You can buy out your contract or work it off. In your case, you will work it off.” She glanced over her shoulder, leaning closer with a hushed voice. “Until the prince is dead, of course.”
My glare felt as though it might sear right through her.
“I’m sorry, Aveline. I know this isn’t ideal, but neither is anything else about this situation.”
“You’re telling me,” I scoffed. “This is a godsdamn nightmare.”
“Maybe you can pray to Firanor for some luck?” she suggested.
“You heard those women last night,” I said, swallowing hard. “The age of the gods is long over. The old gods have forsaken us. There is no point in any of it anymore.”
“Are you saying you don’t pray anymore?” she asked, a brow raised in my direction.
Her tone had grown uncharacteristically serious.
She knew that I still prayed. Each morning and each night.
Every solstice. Every time I needed a little luck or a little guidance.
I’m not sure it did any good. But still, I prayed.
What was this realm if there wasn’t something greater out there?
What were we all here for? She might not believe, but I did. My mother did.
“Land ho! We approach Gothryn! Make ready!”
The shouts of the deck crew drowned out everything else, including my own thoughts. I stood, brushing the dirt—or rather—mud off my borrowed trousers to no avail. We needed to go down below and gather our things to prepare to disembark.
Despite what I said to Enora earlier, I sent a silent prayer up to Firanor for luck and Orrithan for guidance. Maybe if I had prayed more to Inachus, the sea god, I wouldn’t have been so astronomically ill this entire journey.
The thought had a gentle laugh bubbling to my lips.
Before disappearing down below to prepare for docking, I took one long look at the mountains that materialized through the cloud cover in the distance.
I could make out a grand castle from here, its obsidian spires reaching up into the endless azure sky.
I couldn’t explain it, but something about the construction and architecture of it reminded me of a dragon.
I wondered if the castle had been built before the reign of the Blackwater bloodline, or after.
Scaldrithor crystalized beneath my gaze as we sailed closer.
It reminded me so much of Majur that it sent a pang through my chest. The docks weren’t too far off, bustling with trade and merchant vessels.
The Wraithwood mountains could be seen beyond if you focused your sight, so high reaching that the tips were capped with snow as they stretched into the clouds.
I had expected the Vireth to live vastly different from the Veytari.
I was surprised to find that their kingdom appeared to be thriving from this distance.
The streets were cleaner, the architecture more sophisticated.
There were no beggars on every street corner, no pick pockets weaving through the marketplace searching for their next unsuspecting victim.
The same strife that had taken root in Myros did not impact Gothryn, it appeared.
Or Scaldrithor, at the very least.
As my gaze turned toward where Enora and Quinnick had disappeared, something caught my eye in the distance. I turned back just as quickly, but the fleeting image was already gone.
Had I imagined it? I could have sworn he was right there, clear as day.
A tall, handsome stranger. Standing on the dock.
A long, gilded sword tight in his grip. Black, scaled wings unfolded at his back and flapped against the thrashing gales as inky hair beat against the wind to cover his eyes.
They hadn’t been just any shifter wings.
They were the wings of a dragon.