18. The Wooden Soldier
Chapter eighteen
The Wooden Soldier
Antonio woke, blinking his eyes and feeling like he’d gone diving in sand for all the grit that clung to his eyelids and his skin. His head pounded, which was not helped by the sunlight beating down on him, and from the heat radiating off his face, he knew he had to be sunburned.
Seagulls squawked somewhere nearby. Footsteps pounded all around, and the world swayed beneath him as he raised his head and forced his eyelids open. Blinding sun beat down, and all he saw was the blue expanse of the sky and the sea of the harbor.
He was on a ship, bound to its mast. Panic struck him so hard he couldn’t breathe.
The ship was moored in the harbor, but far enough out that Antonio could forget about swimming, even if the coral reefs and the surge of water helped him reach the docks.
Crew members walked the deck, but one face caught his eye, and his stomach lurched despite the calm waters. Red hair gleamed like fire in the sunlight.
Sir Thomas. Like a ghost from the past, he looked unchanged. The same gold-toothed sneer, overbearing frame, and pristine purple-and-gold uniform, only this time he was dressed in metal-plated armor.
“Ah,” he said, “you’re awake. Glad to see they didn’t kill you. You and I have some unfinished business yet.” He strode closer. The sun reflected off the buckle of his shoes, flashing in Antonio’s eyes, and Antonio forced his gaze up to meet his captor’s.
“What are you planning?” he spat, glaring at the man. “Are you going to kill a port of innocents this time too?” His mind flashed with the faces of some of the merchants he’d seen before the fateful day, and how their absence had been felt in the aftermath.
How many people walked on those docks now? Thousands gathered in the streets of the city in celebration of the princess’s birthday. Could Lorelle’s family be among those at risk?
Sir Thomas shrugged. “Casualties will be kept to a minimum this time,” he said. “It wasn’t me who blew up the port, anyhow. That fault lies solely on your shoulders, Captain.”
Antonio flinched as if Thomas had struck him. The guilt that plagued him cinched around his throat like a noose. But he swallowed it down. He could deal with it later, when he’d discovered the truth and made up for his failure before.
“How did you get the steward on your side?” Antonio said. He needed to gather information. His eyes darted to the island. He might not be able to swim, but maybe he could leave a note somehow. While they were still in the harbor, with witnesses, he still had hope.
Sir Thomas smiled. “It’s not as simple as you think, Captain. This side and that side”—he waved a hand—“the steward wants the best for the colony, and so do I.”
“Good thing Monte Rico isn’t a colony anymore.”
Thomas laughed. He shrugged off his silvery armor, handing pieces to waiting crew members.
Antonio glared. “There are other ways to negotiate aside from murder and treason.”
“Negotiations ended when Monte Rico sent the declaration ten years ago,” Sir Thomas said.
He unclasped his sword. “The Emperor was a lot more patient with you than I would have been. The taxes were not enough to show you how you rely on the Empire, but now, I will make it clear tonight when I dethrone your king and queen.”
“The people won’t stand for it,” said Antonio.
“There are enough that will, and there are enough that don’t care,” Sir Thomas responded. “The rest will have no choice.” He removed his leather gloves, taking a set of white gloves from a crew member.
“The people won’t give up so easily,” Antonio said, though he wasn’t sure it was true now.
Hadn’t the blacksmith in Rio Celeste said he didn’t care who was in charge as long as his work was undisturbed?
Maybe there were loyalists to the Empire, and maybe there were those who were loyal to the kingdom, but maybe there were more people who just didn’t care than Antonio had hoped.
“I’m sure some may be lost in the battle,” said Thomas, fitting on a glove.
“Some may even lose limbs, if not their lives.” He struck Antonio’s leg with his boot, letting out a resounding metal clang that vibrated up his bones.
“I heard you have won a medal. Congratulations,” he said dryly.
“Forgive me if I couldn’t attend the ceremony for a fraud. ”
Antonio scowled.
Sir Thomas shot him a triumphant glower. “Don’t be so sour, Captain,” he snapped. “I’m sure there are those who treat you with respect for your sacrifice. Maybe they even listen to you beyond what you deserve.” Sir Thomas scoffed. “But you know, Antonio, you have one thing I don’t.”
“What’s that?” Antonio said sarcastically. “Morals? Honesty? Loyalty?”
“Honor.” Sir Thomas leaned close, his eyes burning with a fire that was more than just national fervor. This was personal. “You stole it from me. You made me look like a fool in front of the Empire.”
Antonio scoffed. “How would I do that? I didn’t stop you. I couldn’t save the lives of the merchants or the families who were there. I failed. What is there in that for you but honor and glory before the Emperor?”
“You sacrificed something,” Thomas spat. “At least there’s honor in losing a limb for your country.” And now when he raised his gloveless hand, Antonio spotted it. He was missing the littlest finger on his left hand.
“But now,” Thomas went on, “I will have honor. Your colony has had time to see what life would be like on its own, without our protection. Without our endless resources. The Emperor wanted to give it time so you would come back willingly, but his patience has finally come to an end.” He accepted a navy coat from another crew member, slipping it on.
As he buttoned the gold buttons down the front, recognition struck Antonio.
Sir Thomas spread out his arms, a triumphant grin on his face. “How do I look?”
Antonio almost couldn’t draw a breath. The heat was making his head spin.
When Sir Thomas came back into focus in Antonio’s vision, he couldn’t believe it. With the addition of a mask and a musket slung over his shoulder, he looked for all the world like the wooden soldier of Lorelle’s ballet.
Sir Thomas stepped to the railing. He offered Antonio a theatrical bow. “I’ll be occupied this evening,” he said, no doubt with a smile beneath that serious mask. “I have a ballet to attend.” He nodded to his men. “Pull out to sea and get rid of him how you see fit.”
Antonio fought his bonds, but they gagged him before he could shout across the harbor. And before long, Monte Rico was a small mountain on the horizon, like a green whale breaching the surface of the ocean miles away, unaware of the harpoon aimed straight for its heart.