Chapter Nineteen
All eyes turned to Emmaline and Echo as they entered the kitchen.
Langley had laid Captain Dresden on one of the tables, who continued to mutter protests even as he drifted into unconsciousness.
Either the pain and exhaustion had overwhelmed him, or Langley had given him a dose of Liquid Sleep to settle him down.
The guard’s eyes focused on the space behind Emmaline. “Where’s His Majesty?”
Emmaline turned to find Braden and Koen standing behind her. She craned her head, expecting Silas to be following them.
Braden shook his head. “He went to speak with General Griselda.” His hand tightened on Koen’s shoulder just as Koen shifted, as if he would run back outside to defend his brother.
The guard swore. “Does he always run headfirst into trouble?”
A strange, pained look crossed Braden’s face, and he shook his head as if he didn’t know the answer.
Not that Langley waited for one, racing past them to return to his charge.
“What’s going on?” a young woman asked, her voice high and trembling as she looked between the new arrivals. Several members of the palace staff had already gathered in the kitchen. Although the space was large, they were all huddled close together for comfort.
“We heard the warning bells,” another staff member said, “but no one’s told us what’s happening.”
“The coast is under attack,” Braden explained. Gasps rose through the crowd, and he held his hands up in a soothing gesture. “The soldiers will protect the palace. I need everyone to remain calm and shelter in here, where it’s safe. Someone will retrieve us when the coast is clear.”
Despite his attempts to calm them, distressed shouts and questions filled the room. Braden patiently answered them one at a time.
“I’ll stand guard by the door,” Koen said, raising his chin to dare anyone to argue with him.
“Do you even have a weapon?” Echo sneered.
Koen narrowed his eyes on Echo and drew a dagger from a sheath in his boot. “Do you?” he challenged, eyeing Echo up and down.
They’d discarded the dress and now stood in only their underclothes.
The thin clothes didn’t leave much room to hide weapons.
Echo rolled their eyes and reached toward their hip, fingers curling around nothing.
Yet when they drew their hand back, a sword’s blade glimmered in the light.
Smirking at Koen, they said, “Mine’s bigger. ”
Emmaline shook her head at their bickering and turned her attention back to the crowd, searching for any injuries. Everyone appeared hale and whole, the only one injured the unconscious Captain Dresden.
She leaned over him and examined his bandages.
As she’d feared, his attempts to join the fight had reopened some of his wounds.
Since she hadn’t anticipated moving from the medic tents into the palace, she hadn’t brought any supplies with her, but luckily the kitchen had some readily available.
Now that the staff members had calmed down, someone fetched her some cloth to use for bandages while someone else boiled a pot of water.
“Shit!”
Emmaline’s head jerked up at Koen’s shout from the hallway. The noise in the kitchen instantly halted as everyone turned toward the door.
“Back inside!” Echo yelled, shoving Koen through the kitchen door. They closed it together and both leaned against it.
“What is it?” Braden demanded, abandoning his conversation with the Head of Staff to check on his son. He grabbed Koen and examined him from head to toe, only releasing him when Koen batted his hands away.
“Everett’s damned crew made it into the palace,” Echo snarled through gritted teeth. “And this one”—they nodded at Koen—“just alerted them to our location.”
“I’m pretty sure the giant aiming a crossbow at me had already figured it out!” Koen snapped.
Thunk. Something heavy collided with the door.
The palace workers began to panic again. Chaos erupted inside the kitchen as people tried to stuff themselves into cabinets and cupboards. A young boy started crying while one of the maids comforted him and tucked him into a corner. Every thump at the door earned another wail of distress.
“Would you all shut it?” Echo shouted.
The wail cut off abruptly. The banging cabinet doors settled into place. A few people clamped hands over their mouths to suppress their sobs. Once the kitchens quieted, Emmaline could hear someone speaking on the other side of the door.
“The girl’s in there somewhere. Find another way around.”
“They’re here for me,” Emmaline said, an odd calm settling over her. “Echo, if I leave with them, will everyone here be safe?”
Braden stepped between Emmaline and the door, one hand raised to stop her. “No one is going anywhere.” He looked around the kitchen and demanded, “Are there other entrances?”
The Head of Staff nodded shakily and said, “Three of them. One to the herb garden, one to the pantry, and a passage to the dining room.”
“Block and barricade the doors. We’ll work together to keep them out until the soldiers arrive—”
A crack split the air as the wooden door buckled under the continuous assault. “Excellent plan,” Echo grunted, still putting their full weight against the door to keep it closed for as long as possible. “One we should have executed earlier.”
The door wouldn’t last much longer. If Echo and Koen remained where they were, they would be trampled in the assault.
Emmaline looked around the kitchen for something to push in front of the door, but the first thing her eyes landed on was the bubbling and steaming pot of water. She snatched up its handle and shouted, “Move!”
Braden’s eyes widened and he scrambled out of her way. Both Echo and Koen looked over their shoulders to see what was happening. Koen reacted first, grabbing Echo’s arm and yanking them sideways. They both landed in a heap on the floor, out of Emmaline’s path.
Emmaline tightened both hands on the pot’s handle, ignoring the way the heat stung her palms.
The next collision sent the door flying open. Two men stormed through, teeth bared and swords raised.
With one mighty heft, Emmaline sent the boiling water—pot and all—hurtling at the men. The water sprayed across their hands and faces. A howl of pain rose from both men as their skin turned an ugly, blistered red.
While the men were distracted, Echo surged up from the floor and plunged their sword into the closest pirate’s chest.
Koen tried to follow Echo’s example, but his movements were slower. By the time he aimed his dagger at the second man, the pirate had pushed through the pain enough to defend himself. He raised his sword and knocked Koen’s dagger straight out of his hand, then slashed at the defenseless prince.
Yelping, Koen scrambled out of reach, allowing the pirate to step further into the kitchen.
Braden shouted as he ran forward to protect his son.
Before Emmaline could follow him, an enormous hand clamped over her mouth.
A dark arm corded with muscle wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards.
The hand over her mouth muffled her scream and the sounds of fighting drowned out her pitiful noises.
She struggled against her attacker—bucking, scratching their arm, kicking back at their legs—yet nothing broke their hold as they dragged her through one of the other exits.
“Stop fighting,” the man growled in Emmaline’s ear. She recognized Braz, her father’s first mate, there to kidnap her a second time.
Emmaline ignored the order, redoubling her efforts to escape his grasp. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood, and she managed to free enough of her mouth to bite down into his fleshy palm.
Grunting, Braz yanked his hand out of her teeth.
Emmaline only had a moment to enjoy her victory before his grip on her shifted.
Grabbing her with both hands, Braz hauled her up onto his shoulder.
The new position pressed painfully into her stomach and prevented her from scratching or biting him.
The most she could do was pummel his broad back with her smaller fists and kick uselessly at the air.
But she could scream, and she fully used that new ability, shouting for help in between hurling every insult that came to mind. “Unhand me, you putrid, puss-filled boil!” Anything to draw more attention to herself.
Braz ignored all of it, carrying her into a sea of fighters. If anyone stopped to try to help her, Emmaline couldn’t see it from her position. She raised her voice until the screamed words stung her throat as much as she hoped they stung Braz’s ears. “Flea-riddled pig!”
The view beneath her changed as Braz stepped onto the docks and his heavy footsteps echoed across the wood. He carted her up the ramp and dumped her onto The Eyolf’s deck.
Right at her father’s feet.
Everett knelt in front of Emmaline and cupped her cheek with his hand. “I apologize for the extreme measures,” he said, his voice low and his smile soft. “But I needed to get you out of there as quickly as possible. Before you were hurt.”
She scanned his face, trying to reconcile this soft, gentle man with the ruthless villain attacking Bellacosta’s shores.
Everett had been kind to her, one of the few people willing to help her mother, and he seemed to care about her safety now.
It couldn’t all be a lie, could it? He only bargained with Varro to save Mama from Alistair.
If I tell him Mama is safe now, will he recall his men?
“Please,” she whispered. “Call off your men. You don’t need to work with Varro.”
Without acknowledging her pleas, Everett straightened up and offered his hand to her. Emmaline accepted it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “Mama is safe,” she continued. “I received a letter—”
“Safe?” he repeated, eyebrows arched. “What’s safe about being out there, alone in the world? She’ll be safe when she’s returned to me.”