Chapter Seven After #4
“The pirate republic lies in ashes,” he pushed on, some frustration lacing his words.
“Or at least it should. Their great leader, this Captain Morovant, lies dead in my city. His ship is at the bottom of the sea. Most of his fleet sank with it. Any kingdom would surrender under such circumstances, their king and their armies ripped apart.”
“And yet,” Cat muttered, trying not to remember the sound Morovant made when his limbs were torn from his body.
“And yet,” Osprin repeated, sliding a piece of paper forwards.
Not a map but a short letter scratched out in harried script. Written quickly, without any formal introduction, or the usual trappings of military communication. Written in desperation, Cat knew, scanning the page.
Her eyes lingered on a single line, and a name—not of a person, but a ship.
The Covenant, spotted off Silver Key.
“Valerian Kane is alive,” Osprin said. His voice hung in the air, echoing off the bookshelves in a way that made Cat’s skin crawl.
“Or someone has his ship,” she offered reflexively, her old instincts difficult to smother. To protect Valerian, even now. “Command of a pirate vessel can change with a tide.”
Cat felt the misstep as she spoke it. No simple Meridian lady would know such a thing.
“Or so I’ve heard,” she murmured, returning the letter.
The governor took the paper with a snap of his wrist. “That ship is captained by Kane. I know it, and so does the rest of the Lyrian. He lives, Lady Rose, and while he lives, so does the pirate republic. So do these rats and wolves, gnawing on the edges of the Empire.”
“Let them,” Cat said cooly, though her mind spun. The Covenant spotted off Silver Key. “How many did you hang? How many fled? There can’t be more than a dozen ships left, with skeleton crews at best. Let them die quietly.”
To her surprise, Osprin nodded.
“I thought the same, Lady Rose,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“I am not a foolish man, and it is not in my nature to waste resources without need. I command a fleet like nothing the Lyrian Sea has ever seen. The Empire’s islands are patrolled, our harbors safe enough.
You are correct, I could let these rabble disappear, to die off or kill each other as they see fit. ”
“So why don’t you?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Valerian and his infernal ship. In her head, she saw familiar sails and a haunting black flag, embroidered with a white skull and red roses. But Val is still just one man against an empire, even with his crew, even with however many ships remain.
There can be no victory for him, not anymore.
“The King is sailing to the Lyrian Sea.”
For a harrowing second, the ground seemed to tip, and Cat feared she might fall out of her chair onto the parquet floor.
“The . . . the King?” she sputtered, her eyes going wide. “The King of—”
“The King of Meridia, yes. The Crown himself.”
Osprin looked as perturbed as she felt, his brows knitting together in a grim, dark line.
He reached for a drawer behind the desk, wrenching it open to retrieve another piece of parchment.
It was the most ornate combination of paper and ink Cat had ever seen, the script so filled with flourishes it was barely legible.
The seal at the bottom gleamed, the wax speckled with real gold, the imprint of the Meridian lion sharp and certain.
“Alexander III,” Osprin said, frowning at the letter. “The Crown has come of age, his regency has ended, and he is eager to see what I’ve accomplished.”
Despite her predicament, Cat almost laughed. What you’ve accomplished, she thought. A city filled with corpses, and little else.
Then, her eyebrow raised, her instincts taking over.
Learn what you must, learn all you can.
“How long do we have until he arrives?”
“Six months, after the hurricanes relent,” Osprin replied. He looked exhausted by the prospect, even with so much time to prepare. “The Crown descends, and there can be no mistakes, for any of us.”
Six months. Cat counted off the weeks in her head, the typical journey from the Meridian taking shape. It took over three months to sail from Brycam City to the Lyrian, and half that returning, depending on the winds.
Behind the desk, Osprin raised the King’s seal. It caught the sunlight, sparkling. His stern face turned to stone.
“There is total victory,” he muttered. “Or nothing.”
Cat watched him carefully, her words almost a purr. “It seems I am not the only person with a noose around my neck.”
The governor’s jaw tightened, and Cat wondered if she had miscalculated. Osprin was many things, but she did not think him so reckless as to execute her for a slight.
To her relief, she was right.
“Lady Rose, tell me of Valerian Kane,” he said.
She drew a shaky breath. Part of her hesitated to speak. The rest wanted to be out with it all. Cat weighed her options, horrible as they both were.
“I’m certain there is little you do not already know.”
Osprin’s red smile returned. Despite the heat, a chill ran down Cat’s spine.
“For your sake, I hope not,” he replied.