Chapter 12 Jax
Chapter twelve
Jax
Palazzo Prevariana was resplendent tonight.
Every exterior sconce burned with a merry, warm light, every lantern on the sand-swept boulevard lighting the sunken cobbles.
Behind the grand whitewashed stucco and gabled roof of the palazzo, a sunset so golden, it was as if the king of pirates had arranged for it, dipped toward the sea.
A cool evening breeze ruffled the fur on Sofie’s collar, the purple velvet cape flowing behind her. She had refused to walk on my arm, keeping her cape pinned close so that I could see no more than the hem of her supposedly enchanted dress.
I reached out, smoothing the fur. Predictably, Sofie jerked her head away, as if afraid I would graze her neck.
I was ashamed of my earlier conduct. Even I hadn’t known how visceral my reaction would be. A gentleman would apologize, profusely.
But I was no gentleman, no matter what I’d promised Sofie.
I wanted to blame it on irritability from a growing megrim, but I knew it was so much more than that.
Sofie was here with me because Amarylis was dead. And that had happened because of me. I could’ve drowned in my shame and regret. But as usual, I would not let myself.
There were so many more adventures to be had. For that is what Sofie had restored in me since the day she made her bargain with me: a sense of adventure as we pursued the treasure and tried to thwart the Bride.
So I should’ve apologized now, and treated her better then. I should have. But instead…
“Is this some kind of Aeglean fashion?” I questioned her, hoping she’d sense the olive branch.
Her sidelong glance was withering. “Aegleans raid to survive and to keep their enemies in check. We’re hardly stealing madder by the vatful and making the color of kings. We aren’t greedy pirates.”
“Careful, wife. While I am above your petty insults, you are surrounded by pirates, and not all of them will have such a generous temperament.” I tried to keep my tone even, but truthfully, I was elated we were still on speaking terms after my outburst.
“I’d like to see them try me. Really, I would,” she grumbled. She clutched her cloak a little tighter. “Purple is the Cottage color of Dewspell’s balancers.”
“Cottage? As in, you have a little purple house somewhere?” I knew from her inflection this wasn’t what she meant, but the opportunity to willfully misunderstand her was too entertaining to miss.
As expected, Sofie’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “A Cottage is a sub-house of Dewspell Academy. I belong to House Fairwill. Better known as the fairy godmothers.”
“Naturally.”
Her lids lowered. “It’s not as though we named ourselves that.”
“Simply took up the mantle others appointed. A clear sign you disapprove of the title.”
Sofie rolled her eyes.
“So you know,” I continued cheerily, “I wasn’t asking about textile dyes. I was simply curious whether it’s common in Aegle to overdress for the weather. That must be the cause of that becoming pink flush on your cheeks, and surely not because I look so dashing tonight.”
The color I’d noted on her cheeks darkened to red. If Sofie clasped her cloak any tighter, she’d trip herself.
She probably thought her cold behavior would change my interest in her.
In that, she was mistaken. For one thing, I could see right through her, spotting the lingering glances, the way she self-consciously touched her vivid red hair, or how she walked close to me even while supposedly furious with me.
I made it my goal then to sweep her off her feet tonight.
After all, making a woman go weak in the knees when she was more interested in going fist into face—my face—was the ultimate compliment.
Perhaps it was because she was meant to be a fearsome sorceress, but this compliment was particularly pleasing. I might have even preened a bit while walking beside her. But really, I was just glad she was here.
I also had to admit, I was in fine form tonight, ready to play the game that was pirate politics.
My tailed white coat with black piping offset the bronze and gold damask waistcoat beneath it.
I had, of course, eschewed the usual frilly cravat and the shirt it went with.
That was a style that better suited smaller, less robust men.
This way, the definition of my chest was more visible, another show of my strength in addition to the arrival of a portion of my fleet.
“I sense your disagreement,” I said when she did not respond. “So you are blushing because I’m so dashing. How flattering.”
“You’re far from dashing,” Sofie said, voice flat in a way that betrayed the lie. “Nothing you’re wearing matches, and that coat is at least two sizes too small for you.”
“I think you mean my muscles are two sizes too big.” I flexed my arms, straining the fabric. “I’ve put on a good bit of brawn since last year.”
“You look like a pauper trying to masquerade as a prince,” Sofie continued.
“So you think I look princely, then.”
“A pauper who has no idea what a prince actually looks like. Unlike you, I’ve seen them.”
“Oh?” I asked, the picture of innocence. “Did you curse them to eternal slumber, too?”
“Only the ones who annoyed me.”
She tried to surge ahead of me then, but alas, her legs were far too short for that. I quickened my pace to an easy lope, leaving her scrambling to catch up. When I glanced behind me with a wolfish grin, her entire face was flushing, this time from exertion in the lingering warmth of the day.
She really was overdressed for an isle at this latitude, even if the cool breeze of a coming storm was tempering the heat rising from the cobbles.
I called to Safira. Unlike Sofie, my navigatrix caught up with me easily.
“What do you sense?” I asked her.
“Something wicked brewing. The sea is in turmoil—but that is well in the distance yet.”
“The trajectory?”
She did not shake her head, though the elaborate knot of braids she wore like a crown was too well-bound to have a hypnotic effect. “Too soon to tell.”
“I want to know what you do, the moment after you hear it.” As a siren, she could hear the song of the sea—an invaluable tool for navigating waters during cyclone season. It was early in the summer for that, but not unheard of.
I didn’t need to be a siren to know something in the air was off. For one thing, old injuries from past battles were beginning to ache, my knees sore enough to suggest they were swelling. And just the hint of pressure was forming behind my eyes, a sign of the fierce megrim that would come.
Suddenly, the door to the palazzo seemed so far away, along with all my ambitions.
When I had first set out for the Queen of the Sea, it was with knowledge of the inevitable in mind: I was getting older.
And while my impressive regimen of training and strength-building had yielded good results—my tight coat was testament to that—it could not turn back the clock, nor erase my past injuries.
There were moments such as this one in which I questioned whether the Queen of the Sea would truly change that, but as I was bound to pursue the enchanted astrolabe by the conditions of the curse, I did not let myself ponder this for long.
Such was a problem for future Jax. And I, as a rule, only dealt with the present. Except, of course, for when I could not shake the past.
I thought of Amarylis guiltily…and then of Sofie.
But brine and bracken, this curse was changing me. Making me question myself more often. Making me wonder if the grand prize I envisioned for myself and my crew was even worth it.
What I wanted was that beautiful palace straight ahead of us, staffed by dignified retired pirates who’d traded treasure hunting for livery.
Palazzo Prevariana and all its fertile lands and holdings came with the only title in our line of work that guaranteed both ease and adventure in whatever ratio that lucky pirate desired.
This palace belonged to Goldenbeard, the king of all pirates.
And if I could just get my hands on the Queen of the Sea this time, I would be the next pirate to take his title.
Better than that, I would rule the unconquerable Diam Sea and become the only pirate with a direct route to the bountiful and magical City of Nox.
And if that happened, my ledger entries would be prolific beyond my wildest dreams. The current Goldenbeard would have no choice but to cede his title to me.
Thanks to my dreams of glory, some of my pains melted into the background.
I approached the towering doors of the palazzo with renewed vigor, as if ready to reap the spoils of another profitable year.
Aoki had already delivered copies of this year’s ledger, ensuring I would retain my title for the next three years.
This time, when the celebrations ended and the Council began their work tallying and weighing our accounts, I wouldn’t be there to accept my share of the dividends.
And that knowledge made my smile a little sharper, and my eyes a little merrier, when I stepped onto the checkered floor of the palazzo’s grand entryway and instantly locked eyes with the man known as Blackbeard across the room.
A hush fell over the already packed space as pirates of various ranks hurried to make room, some scuttling up the twin curving staircases that framed the foyer like parentheses, as if to get a better view.
But as I was striding confidently towards my nemesis, there came a tug on my sleeve so sharp, I heard stitches rip. It made me falter.
“What?” I snapped at Sofie, a fierce gaze full of loathing still clapped on the smarmy Blackbeard as he strutted across the foyer.
He looked as though he’d aged far more than I had in the last three years—so much so that he now looked older than me. Good.
“Who’s that?” Sofie asked. “And why does he look as though he wants to chum the bay with you?”
“That,” I said, avoiding returning my rival’s gaze, “is Blackbeard. I’ll not discuss him further. It just encourages him.”
“As if he could hear you across this room? I can barely hear you and I’m next to you.”
I gestured at the bottleneck of prettified pirates. “You’re surrounded by listening ears and watchful eyes, pet. You might not hear me, but someone will.”
A wary sidelong glance told me what she would say next. Don’t call me pet. Don’t give me nicknames. So I held up a finger as if to ask her to wait, then pressed it to her lips.
Sofie recoiled in surprise—or would have, if i hadn’t scooped my hand behind the small of her back and drew her closer, closer, until my lips were at the shell of her ear and the hand that had silenced her was reaching to unclasp her cloak.
“Be careful what you say, wife, and stay close. Looking vulnerable is not to either of our advantages here.”
“Why have you brought me to this den of thieves?” she practically snarled back. “We’re supposed to be breaking the curse.”
“Even a mighty pirate lord such as myself has his obligations.”
Just then, the clasp flicked open at her throat. The cape glided back from her shoulders as I removed it.
I was not prepared for how she looked tonight.
If this dress was an illusion, Sofie was an even better sorceress than I thought.
Silver blue silk so pale, it was like seafoam, cascaded from elegant loops of fabric at her shoulders, darkening until it transformed from blue to violet to a rich purple near the hem.
The fabric flowed as if she were dancing as I slid the cloak away.
In an instant, every eye was on her.
A half grin outfitted my face as I sensed my crew disbursing through the crowd. Safira took the cloak from me…and a few valuables from her fellow pirates as she passed them on her way to one of the servants. The others likewise did their duty, making use of Sofie’s perfect distraction.
“Well?” she asked me, stepping away as if to give me a better view of her enchanting enchantment—and suddenly there was space for her as the crowd pressed back, eager to catch sight of the magical gown that faded from starlight to night to a stormy purple dawn. “Am I as pretty as your other wives?”
She batted her lashes, mocking me. But the whispers that arose said the other pirates thought her in earnest. Good.
I would use this ruse of the happy bridegroom and bride to my advantage.
“You’re utterly captivating,” I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Clearly, I saved the best of my wives for last.”
That incited louder responses around us. It suited my plans for the evening perfectly.
For while everyone in the room stared at Sofie, Blackbeard and his crew still watched me, hemmed in by the crowd and no longer able to approach.
Pushing fifty, with more silver in his hair than black, the wily, wiry pirate nudged up the round spectacles that sat on his nose, appraising me as though he could determine my next move.
The exception was the too young woman on his arm, dressed in a gown like liquid gold. By rights, everyone should’ve been staring at her. Instead, she was as transfixed by Sofie’s spectacular gown—the sort of spectacle only magic could make—as the rest.
The crowd’s eyes remained locked on Sofie as she twirled prettily and curtseyed, rising only as I stepped forward to offer her my arm. As we made our way to the ballroom, the crowd parted for us again, as if we were Goldenbeard and his chosen. As if tonight’s celebrations were for us.
Brine and bracken, my crew was going to make an absolute killing tonight.