Chapter 5 #2
“They shouldn’t yet know about this mission,” Fel said.
“They could easily guess that we would soon make an attempt to get Harvest Island back.” She pointed toward the distant shoreline that was visible whenever the Stormslicer crested a wave.
The rain had stopped, but dark clouds on the northern horizon suggested more would come.
A storm might rage as they were engaging in battle.
Syla didn’t know if that would be more advantageous for their enemies or for them.
Most likely, it would inconvenience both sides, but only she had to worry about waves capsizing ships.
Fel frowned at an officer walking up in a black Royal Fleet uniform. A fit woman of about thirty with keen brown eyes and raven-colored hair pulled back in a bun, she wore the insignia of a captain.
She dropped to one knee and bowed her head to Syla. “May I have permission to speak, Your Majesty?”
Fel lifted a hand, as if to shoo the officer away, or maybe tell her to go through her superiors if she wanted to get word to the queen.
But Syla hurried to say, “Of course,” before he could insist on proper protocol.
Besides, the captain was being respectful.
Few of the castle staff and none of the higher-ranking officers she’d interacted with since her coronation had been dropping to a knee, and she’d almost forgotten that was the proper etiquette and that her mother had insisted it be observed.
Still kneeling, the captain lifted her head. “Might it be in private, Your Majesty?”
“No,” Fel said promptly.
“Perhaps by the railing?” Syla offered, thoughts of assassins coming to her mind as readily as they doubtless came to Fel’s.
She couldn’t count on the military to protect her, not when scant weeks had passed since several Royal Fleet ships had sailed after and attacked the whaling ship she’d ridden aboard.
Not only that, but they’d sent a team of assassins, men recruited from within her own military.
Even though nobody had tried to kill Syla since she’d returned with Wreylith and had been coronated, the back of her neck itched at the mere thought of being alone with a soldier.
The captain rose and nodded, extending her hand toward a spot between two cannons. Syla headed in that direction and caught Fel striding right behind her. The captain looked at him, opened her mouth, but when the tall, strong, and scarred Fel scowled, it was an intimidating sight.
“No, you’re right,” the captain decided, addressing Fel, though he hadn’t said anything. “You should hear this too.”
Fel grunted.
Syla rested her hand on the railing, water droplets from the rain moistening her palm. The captain glanced at it—or maybe the dragon tattoo.
“That’s beautiful, Your Majesty,” she said. “And the dragon is too. She’s wondrous.”
“She would be the first to agree.” Syla raised her eyebrows, certain this wasn’t the reason the officer had drawn her aside.
The captain licked her lips and glanced around the deck. Her gaze lingered briefly on a fellow officer standing at the bow and watching them. A major.
“What are you doing?” the senior officer mouthed to her and jerked his head to the side.
“Nothing,” the captain mouthed back and smiled innocently, then saw something out at sea—or pretended to see something?—and pointed for Syla to look in that direction.
She might not have if not for Fel watching her back, but she was curious about what the captain had to say.
“I’ll have to come up with an excuse for why I’m over here,” the officer said, looking out to sea instead of at Syla. “I’m Captain Vonla, by the way. I, uhm. I want to give you a warning.”
“Another one?” Syla sighed.
The captain glanced at her, her brow furrowed. She wouldn’t have heard Igliana’s words of trouble brewing.
“Go ahead, Captain Vonla.” Syla forced a smile. If someone wanted to offer a warning, she ought to accept it.
“Yes, Your Majesty. My superior officer told me—told all of us—not to interfere if we heard you, uhm… if something happened that seemed like it had nothing to do with us.” Again, Vonla’s brow furrowed, and she glanced at Syla.
“The vague order struck me as strange. I think…” She lowered her voice so that Syla barely heard her over the waves smacking against the hull.
“There’s a lot of chatter going around right now, and it’s hard to know the truth from lies and whether rumors mean anything, but I think there might be assassins onboard. ”
“Ah. Yes. Thank you for letting me know.”
Vonla blinked. “You’re not surprised?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time assassins from within the military have gone after me. It’s not even the first time this month.”
Vonla opened her mouth but seemed too stunned to say anything. Finally, she blurted, “But you’re the queen.”
“Last week, I was only a princess.”
“That doesn’t make it all right to assassinate you!
We’re sworn—” Vonla’s voice had risen, and she cut herself off and glanced at the major again.
The man continued to watch them. Vonla pointed to the fin of a shark swimming parallel to the ship.
“We’re all sworn to protect the royal family. And you’re… you’re a healer!”
“Yes, I’m affronted by the situation too.”
“You’re so calm about it.” Vonla looked at her with what seemed like genuine awe.
At this point, Syla didn’t feel she could trust anyone from the military, but the captain’s warning and expression touched her nonetheless. She hoped Vonla was genuine.
“I will keep an eye out for assassins. Thank you for the warning and risking going against your superior’s wishes. Is that major the one who gave you your dubious order?”
Vonla licked her lips again. Nervous about betraying her superior officer?
Probably. But she nodded. “I think he’s just following orders from above, though, Your Majesty.
He shouldn’t be if they’re immoral and criminal, but…
we’re all trained to obey our superiors.
It’s hard to go against them and risk your career. ”
“I understand. Thank you.” Syla didn’t know if there would be time to talk to that major before the engagement began, but she would if she got a chance.
What she would say, she didn’t know. She didn’t want Captain Vonla to be punished for circumventing him to speak with her.
Maybe she would have a simple chat with the major and see if he gave anything away.
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” The captain dropped to one knee again before departing. She hurried belowdecks, pretending not to see when the major lifted a hand toward her.
Syla wondered if she should start wearing armor instead of dresses.
Fel was right. She needed to assign people to do research for her—to spy for her—and figure out who she could rely upon and who was scheming against her.
But right now, with little to no relationship with the military personnel, she was as apt to recruit someone who was against her as someone who supported her.
A thought crossed her mind, one she didn’t like but had to consider anyway.
During the battle ahead, there would likely be injured soldiers.
If they allowed it, she could use her healing power and possibly gain at least temporary allies among troops who felt obliged as a side effect of her applying her magic to them.
That hadn’t worked on General Dolok, but it had on many others over the years, and she could use a few soldiers who felt compelled to report schemes to her.
“I just need to stay alive and uninjured myself,” she murmured.
Since she would be on the open deck, firing the weapon that the dragons would target as soon as they realized its power… that would be far easier said than done.
Wind gusted, bringing the first raindrops of a storm, and ominous gray clouds darkened the northern horizon.
“Lovely day to kayak through roiling waves to reach an unwelcoming island,” Vorik said, though the storm would ensure few people were out on the coastline to notice his approach.
You could swim, came his brother’s dry telepathic commentary.
Vorik flew on Agrevlari beside General Jhiton, who rode on his great black dragon, Ozlemar. More than a dozen dragons and riders were strung out in the sky behind them. Once the squadron reached the Kingdom, it would head off on its own mission, leaving Vorik to breach Bogberry Island solo.
Are you monitoring my thoughts, Jhiton? I didn’t know your ability to speak telepathically with others gave you that gift.
Agrevlari has been sharing your mutterings with me.
Has he? One would expect one’s bonded dragon to hold his rider’s mutterings in confidence. Vorik made sure to direct the words to Agrevlari as well as Jhiton.
I was merely observing to your general, Agrevlari said, that the midst of a storm might not be the ideal time to engage with the enemy—or attempt to infiltrate a protected island, leaving one’s fine and most agreeable dragon ally outside of its barrier, forced to fly about in pelting rain and wind.
There aren’t rock formations around The Island of Bogs on which a dragon might perch and relax.
Those sound like your mutterings, Vorik said, not mine.
He shared yours to add weight to his argument that we should return to the mainland and wait for a sunny day for this endeavor, Jhiton said. You have a hedonistic dragon, Vorik.
You’re not giving me new information.
Wanting to fly in less treacherous conditions isn’t hedonistic. Agrevlari flapped his wings harder, melodramatically harder, a couple of times to send rain droplets flying. It’s practical. You should be pleased I did not tell the general that earlier you were composing a ballad about Queen Syla.
I am pleased. And hush. Vorik swatted the dragon’s scaled back. That was not information he needed shared with his brother.
Perhaps, as a learned and experienced general, he can come up with a rhyme for spectacles.
I told you I’m going to use sentinels, Vorik said.
Is that a full rhyme?
It’s close enough.