Chapter Five
Liquid Sleep was a tricky drug with lingering side-effects if used in the wrong amount.
Emmaline had studied it as part of her medic training and knew that dry mouth, headaches, nausea, and exhaustion could last for a full day afterwards.
So when she woke up with only mild grogginess, she concluded that her kidnappers understood the proper dosage, which meant she wasn’t their first victim.
She peeled her eyes open to try to orient herself to her surroundings.
Unlike when she’d woken in the cellar, her wrists and ankles were unbound.
A light, scratchy blanket twisted around her body, trapping one arm at her side, but after a little wiggling she managed to throw it off.
The bed she lay on was hard, the mattress thinner than the bedroll she used when camping.
The room was cramped, barely big enough to house the bed and a wooden trunk at the foot of it.
She glanced at the door, sizing up the lock. Can I break it like I broke the cell lock? If she was lucky, she could escape before anyone realized she was awake.
When she stood up, the whole room rocked beneath her. Unsteady, she fell back onto the bed with a small “Oof.”
The door opened immediately, and Rafe leaned against the frame. “Good, you’re awake.”
She scowled up at him. “Where am I?” And why is it ‘good’ that I’m awake?
“On the Merino.”
She frowned in confusion, then realized that the rocking beneath her meant she was on a ship. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home.”
She stood up again, this time braced for the ship’s movement. “I live in the mountains; you can’t get there by ship.”
Rafe shrugged. “Different home.”
Both of Emmaline’s homes were in the Desalore Mountains, one in the foothills, one at the top of Mount Bastepe. What other ‘home’ could he mean? “You have the wrong person,” she said. “I don’t know who you believe I am, but I demand you release me at once.”
Rafe idly scratched his stubbly cheek and said, “Sorry, princess, not gonna happen.”
She latched onto the title immediately. “I’m not a princess! I’m not royalty, or nobility, or anyone important. My name is Emmaline Orestes, and I’m a medic. That’s all.”
As she spoke, Rafe’s lips twitched in amusement, until he finally released a soft chuckle.
“Sorry, my fault. I only meant princess as an endearment, since you look so cute with your brow furrowed and your cheeks puffed up as you try to order me around. No matter how cute you are, I only take orders from the captain.”
“Then let me speak with your captain.” She needed to clear up the misunderstanding, to prove she wasn’t a valuable captive. Her first thought was to have him return her to land, but then something else occurred to her. Would he agree to take me to Litus?
Some Arnsveldians still followed the old faiths, with gods who ruled over the land and sky, life and death, and everything in-between.
Archer’s mother often prayed to the gods of fate and fortune, though if they ever existed, they’d never helped Arnsveld.
Mama never worshipped any specific god, but she had told Emmaline that some mages believed magic came from traces of the gods’ presence in their world.
Had the god of fate seen Emmaline’s plight and sent her a boon?
“Don’t worry, we’re already taking you to him,” Rafe explained. Then he gestured for her to follow.
He’s not going to keep me locked in this room? She started to follow him, then paused to open the trunk. Inside were both her bag and her mother’s. A cursory examination showed that everything remained inside, even her meager gold. Why did they leave it with me?
Rafe waited for her to catch up. He stood tall and steady even as the ship swayed beneath him. When Emmaline stepped wrong and almost fell, he grabbed her elbow to hold her upright.
A ‘thank you’ hovered on Emmaline’s tongue, but she swallowed it down. Saving her from tripping did not warrant her thanks after he had dragged her onto this ship against her will.
“So, Em—can I call you Em?”
She ignored him as she examined the ship. It was smaller than she expected. She’d imagined something crewed by a hundred men. From where she stood, she only counted three others, though perhaps there were more out of sight.
“How old are you?”
In the distance, she saw the outline of the shore. Although she could daydream about the captain delivering her to her destination faster than she’d reach it on her own, she needed to think practically as well. Escaping now, when she could still see land, would be the better option.
“What’s your family like? Mother and father? Any siblings?”
She reached the rail and looked down into the water. White waves splashed up from the boat’s passage. Beyond that, it was a deep, dark, impenetrable blue. Swimming would be a challenge, even if she had proper experience. Paddling around in a lake or river didn’t compare to swimming in the sea.
“Just going to ignore me then?” Rafe sounded amused rather than discouraged by her cold shoulder.
“Why should I tell you anything?” she finally snapped. “You’ve done nothing to earn my kindness, respect, or trust.”
He leaned his elbow on the rail and rested his chin in his hand. “You claimed I had the wrong person, so I’m simply doing my due diligence.”
“I already told you who I am, that should be enough.” Emmaline leaned further over the edge and spotted a rowboat tied to the side. How do I untie it and get it into the water?
“What if I shared something about myself first?” he suggested. “My name is Raphael Hackett. I’m an only child who grew up to vastly disappoint my mother by following in my father’s footsteps.”
If I had a knife, cutting the ropes would be quicker than untying them.
She turned her assessing gaze to Rafe as he rattled on about himself.
He probably has one. How do I get it from him?
Archer or Griselda would fight him for it.
Silas would persuade him with logic and authority—kings outranked captains, after all.
Penn would coax him with a charming smile and whispered promises.
Rafe wanted to connect with her, so why not let him think he’d won her over? “I’m an only child too,” she said, softening her voice and her expression. “It was just me and my mother growing up.”
“Us too! Did your mother shelter you because ‘the world is dangerous’?” he asked, rolling his good eye.
She barely registered his words as she tried to remember how to flirt.
What does Penn do when he’s interested in someone?
An image came to mind of Penn and Valerian casually touching.
It wasn’t anything inappropriate, but it exuded intimacy.
She raised her hand to Rafe’s chest, right over his heartbeat, and looked up at him through her lashes. “Tell me more.”
He covered her hand with his own, grabbing her second hand reaching for his waist. “A valiant effort, Em, but next time you want to use your feminine wiles to trick someone, try not to be so obvious.”
Scowling, she tried to take her hand back, but he clutched it tighter. “I understand, so let me go!”
“Nah, I’m too afraid of what you’ll try next,” he replied, maneuvering her backwards away from the rail. “Besides, we’re almost there.”
“What?” Since he hadn’t released her yet, she had to look over her shoulder. She’d been so focused on the shoreline that she hadn’t seen their approach to a second, larger ship.
The crew of the other ship greeted them with boisterous hollering and enthusiastic waving. Someone threw a rope contraption over the side, and two of the men on the smaller ship grabbed it and tied it down.
Rafe dragged Emmaline over to the rope.
Her eyes widened as she realized it was meant to be a bridge between the ships. “You can’t expect me to climb over that! I’ll fall off!”
“Don’t worry, if that happens, we’ll fish you out of the water.” Seeing that his statement didn’t appease her, he called out, “Braz, show her how it’s done!”
The large, dark-skinned man stepped forward. He glowered at Emmaline as he passed her and grabbed the rope. He climbed it faster than a squirrel up a tree, reaching the other deck in under ten seconds.
“Your turn,” Rafe said, dropping her arm and gesturing to the makeshift bridge.
Emmaline crossed her arms and refused to budge. “Absolutely not.” The one benefit of the ropes was that they would have a hard time forcing her to cross. Both hands were needed to hold onto the rope, which meant no one could carry her over. The only way for her to cross was of her own free will.
“You’re the one who wanted to speak to the captain,” Rafe reminded her. “And he’s on the other ship.”
She pursed her lips and tried one more argument. “Braz moved too quickly to understand how he did it. I’ll need another demonstration.”
Rafe eyed her for a moment, then said, “You know what? It’ll be easier to fish you out.” Before she could process his statement, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the edge.
“Stop!” she cried, pushing against his shoulders. Hitting the water at this angle would put her at a disadvantage. She also hadn’t managed to untie the lifeboat, so she wouldn’t have any way to escape. She would have to rely on them to pull her out of the water. “Stop, I’ll climb it myself!”
Rafe grinned and lowered her back to the deck. “If you insist.”
She smoothed out her skirts and scowled at him, then turned back to the rope bridge. It seemed even less stable on closer inspection. Taking a bracing breath, she grabbed the rope with both hands and slowly crawled forward, one knot at a time.
The other ship was quite a bit taller than the one she’d woken up on, so the rope bridge rose at a sharp angle, meaning she had to climb up and across at the same time.
Halfway through, her muscles ached and quivered.
The rough fibers of the rope scraped against her palms, rubbing them raw with every movement.
The weight of both bags pulled on her shoulders, adding to the strain.
Two people from the other ship reached out and grabbed her, hauling her over the rail and dumping her onto the deck. She rested there on her hands and knees, trying to catch her breath. I should have just jumped.
A soft thump sounded behind her as Rafe landed on the ship. “Good job,” he said as he approached, offering a hand to help her up.
Emmaline ignored it and pushed herself to her feet. Her breath was still a bit short as she demanded, “Take me to your captain.”
Rafe bowed and teased, “Right this way, Your Highness.” Then he led her toward the back of the ship.
Men stared at Emmaline as she passed, their gazes a mix of curiosity and hunger. She found herself inching closer to Rafe, preferring his wastrel attitude to their predatory gazes.
They had to descend a few stairs from the main deck to reach a cabin door. Rafe knocked briskly and waited until someone called, “Enter.”
He opened the door and Emmaline followed him inside, stopping in front of a desk.
The man sitting behind it—the captain, she presumed—had bronze hair liberally streaked with silver.
Hard lines surrounded his eyes and mouth, like he spent a lot of time smiling or scowling. Emmaline suspected the latter.
“Is this the girl?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding.
“That’s what Gordon claimed, and she confirmed it. Go on, introduce yourself,” Rafe said, nudging her forward.
Swallowing nervously, Emmaline locked eyes with the man and said calmly, “My name is Emmaline Orestes. I’m a medic from Arnsveld.”
The man scanned her face, pausing on her eyes. Then he barked, “Raphael, you’re dismissed.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied obediently, slipping out the door, leaving Emmaline alone with the new stranger.
She looked behind her, wanting to follow Rafe—to simply walk away from all this confusion.
“Already attached to the boy?” the captain asked, drawing Emmaline’s attention back to him.
“Why am I here?”
The captain stood and walked around the desk. His steps sounded odd and off-beat, one heavy, one light. He was a head taller than her, with large hands and a lithe, muscled frame. Something about his face seemed familiar—the line of his jaw, the shape of his eyebrows—but she couldn’t identify why.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
Emmaline shook her head, then tentatively said, “The captain of this ship.”
His mouth twitched, though he didn’t fully smile. “Yes, but I meant something more than that. My name is Everett Shaw. You said your family name was Orestes.”
In Arnsveld, her family name was well known. Everyone revered her mother and her magic. Sometimes Emmaline heard people invoke her mother’s name as if that alone could cure their ails. Does he need a healer? “Yes, it is,” she answered carefully.
“And your mother is Adelaide Orestes?”
“She is.”
A new fire entered the man’s eyes, one she couldn’t determine the source of. Anger? Triumph? Vengeance? “Has your mother ever spoken of me?” Then he answered his own question, shaking his head. “No, if she had, you would recognize my name.”
He grabbed her shoulder with one hand, and she resisted the urge to step back. The door was the only exit, and she suspected Rafe or another crew member stood guard on the other side. Even if she escaped this man’s grasp, she didn’t have a safe way off the ship.
All escape plans flew from her mind at his next words. “I’m your father, Emmaline. And it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”